The Extra's Rise-Chapter 156: Tower of Magic Conference (2)

The girl’s emerald gaze locked onto me with an intensity that made my instincts hum with awareness. There was no hostility in her eyes—only sharp, analytical interest, the kind that weighed and measured with the precision of a master appraiser.

’Wait…’ My mind scrambled through my knowledge of Mythos Academy’s upper years. ’Isn’t she the Student Council President of the upper years?’

Luna’s voice echoed in my head, cool and composed. ’She’s a high Integration-ranker.’

My breath hitched slightly. A high Integration-ranker at Mythos Academy was no joke. That was a level of power most people never reached in their entire lifetimes. And yet, she stood before me, clad in a perfectly pressed Mythos uniform, her presence like an unsheathed blade—effortlessly sharp, naturally commanding.

Rank 2 of the fifth years. Second only to the Divine Dragon of Mount Hua, a name whispered with reverence and caution. She was the kind of individual that shaped the balance of power in Mythos Academy, and now her attention was on me.

"You’re Arthur Nightingale," she said, her voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty, as if she were confirming an unavoidable truth.

I met her gaze, resisting the urge to shift under its weight. "I am."

She studied me for another long moment before speaking again. "I’m Valencia Drahl, Student Council President of the upper years."

Ah. That confirmed it. Valencia Drahl. Not just an Integration-ranker, but one of the most powerful students in the entire Academy.

I kept my expression neutral. "It’s an honor to meet you."

She hummed, tilting her head slightly. "I wonder. Do you know why I’m here, Arthur?"

I had a few ideas, none of them particularly comforting. Instead of guessing, I simply said, "I assume you’ll tell me."

Valencia’s small smile widened just a fraction. "Smart." She folded her arms, looking me over once more before glancing toward the other upper-years gathered around. "You see, we upper years have been having an ongoing discussion about you."

"About me?" I asked, keeping my tone even.

Valencia tilted her head slightly, as if amused by my reaction. Then, with the weight of authority behind her words, she said, "We want you to be the President for the lower years."

I blinked. Once. Twice. I even glanced around, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell me I’d misheard.

Then, just to be sure, I pointed at myself. "Me?"

A few of the upper-year students smirked at my reaction, while others watched with unreadable expressions. Valencia, however, remained perfectly composed, her emerald gaze steady.

"Yes, you," she said simply. "And before you ask why, let me explain."

I crossed my arms, waiting.

"First, you’re already the most prominent first-year in the Academy," she stated. "Your achievements speak for themselves. You’ve created a Lich—an Ancient Undead, at that. You reached White-rank before the end of your first year. You’re one of the strongest combatants in your year, and you’re set to challenge Lucifer Windward in the Sovereign’s Tournament."

She took a step forward, her presence filling the room like an approaching storm. "In other words, whether you like it or not, you’re already a leader. People are watching you, looking to you. You hold influence."

Cecilia, who had been quiet until now, suddenly smirked. "So basically, they want to put a leash on you."

Valencia shot her a glance but didn’t deny it. "Not a leash. A position. You’ll have a seat at the table, a say in decisions that affect the lower years. And more importantly, you’ll gain the support of the Student Council—support that could be very useful in the coming years."

I mulled over her words. There was no doubt that this was a strategic move on their part. The Student Council was composed mostly of fourth and fifth-years, but they still needed someone to oversee the younger students. By offering me the role, they weren’t just acknowledging my strength—they were integrating me into the Academy’s power structure.

Clever.

But also dangerous.

"What’s the catch?" I asked, because there was always a catch.

Valencia’s lips quirked. "No catch. Just responsibilities. You’d have to mediate conflicts, represent the lower years in Council discussions, and ensure that first, second and third-years don’t get left behind when policies are made."

She paused, then added, "Oh, and if any issues arise between upper and lower years, you’d be expected to handle them."

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freewebnσvel.cøm.

Ah. There it was. The real reason.

This wasn’t just about offering me a position—it was about controlling the narrative. If I was in charge of the lower years, then any unrest, any disputes between younger students and their seniors, would be my problem to deal with.

Smart.

Still, the benefits were undeniable. Influence, resources, information. And I’d get to see how the Academy’s power structure actually worked from the inside.

I glanced at Cecilia, who was watching me with lazy amusement, and then at the other upper-years, some of whom still seemed skeptical.

Then I turned back to Valencia. "I’ll think about it."

"Of course," she said smoothly. "Take your time. But don’t take too long—the Council needs an answer before the Festival."

With that, she gestured toward the door, signaling that the conversation was over.

Cecilia and I exchanged a glance before leaving the suite.

As soon as we were in the hallway, she let out a low whistle. "You really are making waves, huh? President of the lower years? That’s quite the offer."

"Offer or trap," I muttered.

Cecilia grinned. "Aren’t they the same thing?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I need to think about this."

"You do that," she said, giving me a playful nudge. "But if you ask me, you’d make a great tyrant—I mean, leader."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smirking. This was going to be interesting.

"Also, you’ll need a team, you know," Cecilia added, tilting her head with a smirk. "A President can’t rule alone."

"A team?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Vice President, Secretary, Treasurer—at the very least," she listed off effortlessly. "Unless you plan on handling all the paperwork yourself, which, knowing you, would drive you insane."

"And I suppose you want to be Vice President?" I asked dryly.

Cecilia’s smirk widened. "Only if you make Rachel my Secretary."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "You just want to bully her, don’t you?"

She gasped dramatically. "What? Me? Bully precious Rachel? Arthur, I am offended."

I gave her a flat look, and she dropped the act with a chuckle. "Fine, maybe a little. But honestly, I wouldn’t mind the position. You’d be terrible at handling all the social dynamics on your own."

That… was probably true.

Before I could answer, she hooked her arm through mine, dragging me forward. "Anyway, ready for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I replied, exhaling slowly. "Time to stun them."

__________________________________________________________________________________

Cecilia was humming as she walked through the hotel corridors, her hands in the pockets of her stylish jacket. The anticipation of tomorrow’s event had left her in a good mood, a pleasant little thrill running through her veins.

Then she overheard something.

A few familiar voices, snickering, whispering—about him.

"They bullied Arthur, huh?" she murmured under her breath, the hum in her chest turning into something cold. Of course, Arthur was more than capable of dealing with them if he wanted. He probably didn’t even consider it significant enough to retaliate.

That was the problem with him. He let things go too easily.

But Cecilia? She was petty as hell.

She leaned against the wall, tilting her head slightly, eavesdropping without shame.

"Did you see the way he just smiled at us?" one of them muttered. "Like we weren’t even worth his time."

"Of course he thinks that," another voice scoffed. "Mythos students are all the same. Arrogant bastards."

"He’s not just some Mythos student," the first one grumbled. "He’s the one who made a Lich. You saw how everyone looked at him today."

"Yeah, but at the end of the day, he’s just another overhyped first-year. Let’s see how he handles the actual conference."

Cecilia’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.

She pushed off the wall and strolled into view, the clack of her heels making the small group of students freeze.

"Talking about Arthur, are we?" she asked sweetly, resting her chin on her palm.

The group tensed. One of them, a second-year from another academy, stiffened as he recognized her. "Princess Slatemark—"

"Ah, so polite all of a sudden," she drawled. "Funny, considering just a second ago you were slandering my friend."

The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop a few degrees.

"I—w-we weren’t slandering him—"

"Of course not," she cut him off, smiling. "You were just whining, weren’t you? Like little children upset that someone else is better than them."

The boy flinched. The others averted their gazes.

Cecilia took a step closer, lowering her voice just slightly. "Arthur is too nice to deal with insignificant things like this, so I’ll do it for him. Consider this a warning."

Her smile sharpened, her crimson eyes glinting under the soft hotel lights. "Because if you ever try to undermine him again, I won’t be so kind."

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

Then, satisfied, Cecilia turned on her heel and walked away, her mood significantly improved.

Because no one was allowed to touch what was hers.

Perhaps she should teach them a lesson tomorrow.

In the Conference.