Is It Wrong for an Extra to Steal the Protagonist's Harem?-Chapter 80: Incentive

I left Emma and Maya at the cafeteria under the pretense of needing to review magical theory before the afternoon classes. Managing a fiercely territorial yandere and a brash delinquent was entertaining, but I couldn’t afford to lose focus on my actual survival.

Once I was back in the secure confines of my private dorm, I locked the heavy oak door.

"Lily, hold my calls and visitors," I instructed my Maid, who was currently straightening the collar of her uniform with a satisfied smirk. "If anyone knocks, tell them I’m meditating. Especially if it’s blonde and answers to the name Emma."

"Understood, Master," Lily bowed, her golden eyes flashing with a shared secret before she slipped out of the room.

I walked over to my heavy mahogany desk and sat down. I pulled out my Academy-issued Trivia tablet and a rolled-up physical map of the Academy grounds and its surrounding territories.

I unrolled the parchment, pinning the corners down with a couple of inkwells. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

The Inter-Department Exchange Tournament was next week. It was a mandatory event for all first-years. I couldn’t skip it, and I couldn’t fake an injury without destroying the dominant reputation I was currently building.

I looked at my current stats floating in the corner of my vision.

[Name: Alex Edelhart]

[Class: Mage (Beginner)]

[Stamina: 31]

[Agility: 8]

[Calculation Power: 28]

[MP: 19 (Effectively 69 with Essence Spring)]

My Stamina was monstrous, practically on par with a veteran warrior, and my Calculation Power allowed me to read and theoretically counter attacks instantly. But my Agility was only an 8. It was slightly above average for a normal human, but compared to a Knight using a mana-infused Aura Dash, I was a sitting duck.

In a standard twenty-by-twenty-meter arena, a prepared Knight would close the distance before I could blink. My kinetic shockwaves were devastating, but they required physical contact or incredibly close proximity to deal maximum damage. If a Knight clad in Aura Plating tackled me to the ground, my Stamina wouldn’t save me from getting my skull bashed in with a steel pommel.

Mages were effectively stationary turrets. I needed something that could protect me or bridge the speed gap until I could land a spell.

I traced my finger over the parchment map, moving north past the Academy’s main walls, past the Whispering Forest where the Cult had planted the first Demon’s Nail, and stopped at a dense, dark patch of ink on the jagged outskirts.

The Blackwood Ridge.

In the original game, this was an off-limits zone for first-year students. It was rugged terrain infested with mid-tier beasts.

It was also the exact location of Ren Montclair’s first major solo power-up.

I leaned back in my leather chair, tapping my fingers against the armrest as I recalled the game’s original plotline. According to the script, Ren was supposed to get utterly humiliated in the upcoming Exchange Tournament by a second-year Knight. The defeat would shatter his confidence. Depressed and desperate to get stronger to protect his friends, Ren would sneak out of the Academy after the tournament ended. He would wander into the Blackwood Ridge for some reckless solo training, fall through a concealed sinkhole while fighting a Dire Bear, and accidentally discover a hidden tomb belonging to an ancient magic swordsman.

The tomb contained the ultimate prize for a close-quarters fighter.

’This is the best possible Hidden Piece for this scenario,’ I thought, a predatory grin spreading across my face.

External artifacts—like rings, amulets, and my Essence Spring—were strictly prohibited in the official tournament rings. You were only allowed your standard-issue uniform and a training weapon.

But a [Trait] wasn’t an external artifact. It was a passive modification to the user’s soul and body. The tomb contained a passive Trait called [Phantom Tread], which allowed the user to execute a frictionless, instantaneous backward or lateral step just before an impact. It was the ultimate evasion skill.

"Sorry, Ren," I muttered to the empty room, picking up a quill and marking a heavy red ’X’ over the Blackwood Ridge. "But you’re going to have to find your character development somewhere else. I need that loot."

The problem was logistics.

The Blackwood Ridge was outside the Academy’s safe zone. The perimeter was guarded by high-level magical wards and senior faculty patrols to keep foolish students from wandering into beast territory and getting themselves slaughtered.

’I’ll need to bypass the sensory wards. Which means I’ll go on a little adventure this weekend.’ I folded the map, my mind already calculating the patrol routes. The tournament was a week away. That gave me exactly two days to secure the Trait and five days to adapt it to my defective circuit.

****

The next morning, the atmosphere in the Magic Department was suffocatingly tense.

The news of the impending Exchange Tournament had spread like a plague, and the first-year Mages looked like they were marching to their own executions.

I sat in my usual seat in the amphitheater. Emma was sitting obediently beside me, practically glowing with angelic radiance, though her leg was pressed firmly against mine under the desk.

BANG.

Professor Cassandra kicked the heavy oak doors open. She marched down the steps to the podium, looking exceptionally frustrated. She didn’t even bother with her usual sleepy drawl; she slammed her clipboard down onto the wood, a cloud of lavender smoke puffing aggressively from her pipe.

"Listen up, you miserable lot," Cassandra snapped, her cat-like eyes sweeping over the terrified freshmen. "The Dean has officially set the dates. The Inter-Department Exchange Tournament begins next Monday. And frankly, I am already exhausted just looking at you."

She paced behind the podium, her heels clicking sharply against the stone.

Why wouldn’t she be frustrated? Every single year, without fail, the Knight Department completely humiliated the Magic Department in the arena. It was a systemic slaughter. The Knights gloated, the Mages cried, and Cassandra had to endure the smug, mocking laughter of the Knight Instructors in the faculty lounge.

But as she looked out over the tiered seating, her gaze lingered on a few specific faces, her frustration tempering into a cautious, desperate sliver of hope.

This year was supposed to be different. This batch wasn’t just filled with fragile, bookish nobles. They had the "Golden Generation."

Cassandra’s eyes flicked to the front row. Emily, the Tower Mistress’s daughter—an absolute, undisputed genius in Ice Magic who had already mastered Tier-3 spells before enrollment.

Her gaze shifted to the middle rows. Alicia Raven, the fiery prodigy of a high-ranking Duke’s family, whose destructive output was already rivaling some second-years. Ariana Flamehart, whose sheer, explosive mana capacity was legendary.

And then there was Ren Montclair. A commoner, yes, but a boy with a shockingly solid foundation, immense hard work, and an uncanny, almost unnatural instinct for combat.

’Maybe,’ Cassandra thought, taking a slow drag from her pipe, ’Maybe these brats can actually win some matches. Maybe we won’t get completely swept in the first round.’

Her eyes briefly passed over me. I offered her a lazy, polite smile.

Cassandra scoffed internally. Alex Edelhart. The defective noble. Sure, he had gained some recent limelight. He had shown an unusual, bizarre grasp of kinetic geometry yesterday, and the rumors said he had caught a meathead Knight off guard in the courtyard with a cheap trick.

But a real, sanctioned 1v1 duel against a fully armored, prepared Knight charging at him with killing intent? The boy’s defective mana circuit would overheat in seconds. He was a temporary anomaly, not a pillar she could rely on.

"For the next week," Cassandra announced, her voice snapping like a whip, "your standard curriculum is suspended. We will be conducting special, intensive practical training in the combat cubes. I am going to drill close-quarters evasion into your thick skulls until you vomit."

A collective groan echoed through the amphitheater.

"Shut it!" Cassandra barked, her eyes flashing with magical authority. The room instantly went dead silent.

"I am sick and tired of watching my students get tossed out of the ring like ragdolls by brainless apes swinging iron sticks," she growled, pulling her pipe from her mouth. "So, I’m adding an incentive."

She slammed her hand on the podium.

"If any of you manage to defeat a Knight in the primary brackets, you won’t just receive the standard Academy grade boost. I will personally grant you access to the Department’s Restricted Vault to select one magical artifact, paid for out of my own pocket."

The despair in the room vanished, instantly replaced by a wave of greedy, desperate excitement. Access to the Restricted Vault was a prize usually reserved for graduating seniors.

Cassandra smirked, sensing the shift in morale.

"So try to do your very best, brats. Because if you embarrass me out there next week, the Knights won’t be the ones you have to worry about. Class dismissed. Edelhart, stay behind."

The students quickly gathered their things and scrambled out of the room, eager to start preparing.

Emma lingered, her fingers trailing possessively over my shoulder. "Shall I wait for you outside, Sir Alex?"

"Go on ahead to the cafeteria, Emma. I’ll join you shortly," I replied.

Once the amphitheater was empty, I casually walked down the steps toward the podium. Cassandra was leaning against the heavy wood, arms crossed, staring at me with a calculating, dangerous look in her sleepy eyes.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Cut the innocent act, Alex," Cassandra sighed, rubbing her temples. "I heard what you did to Kaelen Thorne in the courtyard. You broke three of his ribs and caved in a set of Imperial-grade steel armor with a point-blank kinetic discharge."

"He tripped," I offered deadpan.

"He was launched fifteen meters," she countered, her eyes narrowing. "You’re hiding something massive beneath that ’defective’ circuit of yours. And frankly, I don’t care how you’re cheating. But you’ve painted a massive target on your back."

She stepped closer, the scent of lavender smoke washing over me.

"The Knights are furious. They are going to headhunt you in the tournament. If they get their hands on you in that ring, they won’t just knock you out. They’ll try to cripple you."

"Let them try," I smiled, my arrogance completely unfeigned.

Cassandra stared at me for a long moment, trying to read the absolute, terrifying confidence radiating from a supposedly crippled mage.

"Don’t die before the Midterms, Edelhart," she muttered, turning back to her papers. "Get out of my sight."

I walked out of the classroom, my mind already leaving the Academy behind. Let the Golden Generation stress over the hellish training week.

I had a tomb to raid.