The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 115: A Piece of Meat [300 PS Bonus - ]

The snow had stopped.

A pale sky stretched above them now, clear and cold. The storm had passed, leaving behind a white, silent world. They stood at the lower ridge, where the land still lay beneath thick blankets of snow, but the towering silhouette of Frostspire Peak now loomed clear ahead.

Its jagged slopes climbed higher and higher, vanishing into the pale sky. Over six thousand meters of brutal ice and stone.

Noel stood quietly, eyes narrowing as he traced the path upward with his gaze.

"Looks like it’s going to be a long climb," he said.

Selene stood beside him, hood drawn low over her face. "Yes," she replied softly.

Noel adjusted the straps on his cloak, then glanced toward her. "Do you know what kind of monsters we’ll face along the way?"

Selene was quiet for a moment, gaze on the peak. Then she answered.

"From what I’ve learned..."

"A Frosthide Bear—Rare, Novice rank. An enormous bear with frost-hardened fur that can deflect most attacks."

"A Glacier Mauler—Elite, Novice rank. A large feline predator that moves silently through the snow. Its claws can shatter ice with a single strike."

"And a Snowclad Yeti—Common, Adept rank. A towering creature strong enough to crush stone with its bare hands."

Noel listened, then gave a faint smile.

"Well... nothing we can’t handle."

Selene gave a small nod in reply.

Noel’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer.

’She’s already Adept. I don’t know when it happened, but her progress is faster than in the novel... perfect. I’m just one step away from Adept myself. If these days help me break through, it’ll make what’s coming much easier...’

He exhaled softly, then turned his gaze back toward the mountain.

"Let’s move."

The first light of day crept through the narrow windows of the fortress.

Lady Vaelora von Iskandar rose from her bed, movements sharp and deliberate. Without a word, she pulled on her heavy fur-lined armor, the thick layers built for war, not comfort. Her massive battle axe rested against the wall—she took it in hand with practiced ease.

Down the long hall, the scent of roasted meats and vegetables filled the air.

The grand dining hall waited.

As always, the table was overflowing with food—platters of game meats, roasted root vegetables, thick stews steaming in heavy iron pots. Warriors ate heartily here.

And so did Vaelora. She trained harder than any of them, and she ate as she trained—with discipline and purpose.

Her daughter was always expected to sit beside her, as tradition demanded.

But her daughter never touched the food. That was the rule.

"Mages don’t get tired like warriors." That was what Vaelora always said. The logic was simple—warriors burned energy through the body. Mages through the mind. The two were not the same. No matter how much mana both used.

As a result, Selene was never allowed to eat from the feast.

And so, most mornings, she kept to her room, conserving what little strength she could.

Today, Vaelora sat alone at the table.

After a few moments, she frowned.

"Why isn’t my daughter here?" she asked, voice cold and sharp.

The guard by the door stiffened. "I don’t know, Lady. She didn’t answer when I went to fetch her."

Vaelora rose at once, fury simmering beneath the surface.

She strode from the hall, grabbing a torch from the wall as she moved through the long, dark corridor that led to her daughter’s room.

Each step echoed in the silence.

At the end of the hallway, she stopped. The door stood closed.

Without hesitation, she slammed it open with a single, powerful strike.

Raising the torch high, she scanned the room.

The bed was unmade.

A set of nightclothes lay crumpled across the sheets.

Her daughter’s uniform was gone.

Her wand was nowhere to be seen.

Vaelora’s grip tightened on the axe handle.

Gone.

Her daughter was gone.

Moments later, she returned to the dining hall, movements fast and controlled.

The same guard waited near the table.

"You didn’t bring her back, Lady?" he asked hesitantly.

Vaelora’s glare cut through him.

"Do you see her here?"

She dropped into her chair, voice a sharp command. "Find her. She wasn’t in her room. She is to have breakfast with her mother."

The guard bowed quickly and left, the order already spreading through the fortress.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

She was getting more impatient.

Nothing.

At fifteen minutes, another guard returned, a piece of parchment trembling in his gloved hand.

"My Lady... we found this. In the boy’s room."

He handed her the note.

Vaelora’s eyes narrowed as she unfolded it.

"I have kidnapped your daughter. There was nothing in the agreement that said I couldn’t bring a guide.

1

Best regards, Noel Thorne."

A dangerous calm settled over her.

Without a word, she reached for a piece of meat, tearing into it with slow, deliberate bites.

Her mind burned with cold fury.

"You," she said to the guard. "Find them. Now."

The order rang sharp in the silent hall.

The sun hung cold and pale in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow-covered mountainside. The wind had eased, but the cold seeped deep into their bones. Hours had passed since they left the outpost behind. The fortress was now far below, out of sight, swallowed by the endless white of the landscape.

They had walked in silence. Selene barely spoke, each step mechanical, driven more by instinct than thought. Her hood shielded her face from the wind, but beneath it, her mind spun with everything that had happened—everything she had left behind.

And everything she feared was coming.

Ahead, Noel moved with quiet determination, his pace steady, measured. Noir padded lightly beside him, a shadow against the snow.

After a while, Noel glanced back. "Let’s stop and rest for a bit," he said. "We’ll need the energy for what’s ahead."

Selene simply nodded. Her throat felt tight, too tight to speak.

They stopped in a small clearing, sheltered by wind-scarred boulders. The ground here was firmer, the snow thinner. Noel knelt and pulled a bundle of dry wood from his Dimensional Pouch, arranging it with practiced hands.

"Flamethrower," he whispered softly.

A thin stream of flame flickered into life beneath the wood, quickly catching. The warmth spread, small at first, but growing steady and strong.

Selene watched from where she sat, arms wrapped around her knees, chin tucked against her scarf. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she said nothing.

She was used to this feeling.

Noel worked quietly, unwrapping pieces of pork and beef, setting them on a flat stone near the fire to cook. The smell rose into the cold air, rich and warm, and with it came something sharp and hollow in Selene’s chest.

Hunger. Real, biting hunger.

She clenched her arms tighter, fighting the instinct to reach forward.

She didn’t deserve it.

"Mages don’t get tired like warriors."

"You don’t need this."

"You’ve always been weak."

The words of her mother echoed loud and cruel in her mind. She had spent years hearing them. Believing them.

Noel said nothing. He moved calmly, tending the fire, turning the meat with slow, deliberate movements. Minutes passed.

Then, without a word, he rose.

Selene tensed as he approached, her heart pounding faster, her breath caught.

He knelt before her, holding out the cooked meat on a small plate. His voice was soft, unforced.

"Eat. It’s okay."

She stared at the plate, her hands trembling. Her breath hitched.

She wanted to refuse. To say no, to pull back. But her body betrayed her. The scent of the food, the warmth of it... the simple kindness in the gesture—something so small, so impossible in her world—broke through the last fragile wall she had been holding.

Slowly, her fingers reached out, shaking, as if expecting the plate to be snatched away.

When it wasn’t, her throat tightened even more. Her vision blurred.

She took a small piece of meat and brought it to her mouth.

The first bite hit like a blade.

The taste was rich, warm, real—and more than that, it was hers. Something given freely. No scorn, no punishment, no cold eyes watching her starve.

Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them.

One drop slid down her cheek.

Then another.

Soon the tears came faster, falling silently as she chewed. Her breath broke in uneven gasps between bites. She tried to hide it, biting her lip hard—but it was useless.

The dam had burst.

The years of holding back—years of sitting in silence, watching her mother eat while she starved—crashed through her all at once. Every small indignity, every word unsaid, every meal she had never tasted... it was too much.

Noel had already returned to the fire, adding more meat to cook. His movements were steady, unhurried.

He didn’t look at her. He didn’t shame her. He simply let her cry.

And so she did.

Curled in on herself, shoulders shaking, tears streaming down her face as she ate in trembling, broken bites.

It was just a piece of meat.

But for Selene, it was the first piece of freedom she had ever tasted.

Her tears wouldn’t stop.

Selene sat curled near the fire, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, the empty plate resting on the snow beside her. Her breath came in broken little bursts, the cold barely registering beneath the warmth still lingering in her chest.

’Why am I crying this much... it’s only a piece of meat.’

But even as the thought crossed her mind, the tears kept coming.

It wasn’t the food alone.

It was what it meant.

Noel had offered it without hesitation, without conditions, threats, or scorn.

Not once had he looked at her like she was lesser. Not once had he reminded her of her place. He had simply... handed her the food, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

’Maybe he already knew... maybe that’s why he invited me to eat at the academy...’

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind—not the words, but the tone. The cold looks. The dismissive gestures. The silent judgment every time she sat at the table but was left to watch.

"You don’t need it. You’re not like us."

"Be content with what you have."

"Stop being a burden."

Selene squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears welling again.

For so long, she had told herself it didn’t matter. That she didn’t need it. That this was how things were.

But here, now—alone in the wild, beside a boy she barely understood—one simple gesture had undone all of it.

And for the first time... she had been allowed to take.

To eat.

To exist without apology.

Her hands trembled as she wiped at her face with her sleeve. Across the fire, Noel tended the flames, silent as ever. He hadn’t looked at her once while she cried.

And that small kindness—that space—made it harder to stop.

She swallowed thickly, breath hitching once more.

’I still don’t understand him... but maybe that’s not what matters.’

Her gaze drifted to the plate again. Her fingers brushed over it softly, almost afraid it might vanish.

A simple meal.

A simple act.

Yet for her, it was more than that.

A piece of meat.

A piece of dignity.

A piece of freedom.

Her throat tightened, and without thinking, her voice came out in the faintest whisper:

"Thank you..."

The wind carried her words away, soft and unseen.

But in her heart, something had shifted.

And it would not be so easily forgotten.

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