The Extra's Reincarnation

"…!"

Kaelen and Elenore stared in disbelief as Marcel turned back to Damien and Miyuki, unfazed by the destruction he had just caused.

"Let's finish this," Marcel said with quiet confidence, the balance of power shifting unmistakably in their favor.

Marcel surveyed his opponents with a calculating gaze, his confidence unshaken by the earlier setbacks.

He nodded once, decisively.

"Damien, Miyuki," he called, his voice carrying the weight of command.

"Take care of the swordsman. Keep him occupied elsewhere."

The two second-years exchanged brief glances before nodding in unison, understanding Marcel's intent without need for further explanation.

Kaelen tensed as he realized what they were planning. He wouldn't allow them to separate him from Elenore so easily.

But Damien could care less.

With a roar, he charged straight at Kaelen, using his earth element to tank any attack that Kaelen threw and just trailing behind him Miyuki followed suit.

"Don't let them split us up!" Elenore shouted, but the distance between her and Kaelen was already growing.

Kaelen fought to hold his ground, countering Damien's relentless attacks while dodging Miyuki's icy blasts.

Their combined assault was overwhelming, forcing him back step by step.

"Get back here!" Kaelen growled, refusing to give in.

But even he couldn't keep up with their coordinated onslaught forever.

"Now!" Damien roared, and the two second-years struck in perfect tandem—a devastating blow that caught Kaelen off-guard and sent him hurtling through the trees.

BAM!

He crashed through branches and underbrush, landing far from Elenore's position.

"Kaelen!" Elenore called out, her voice tinged with both worry and determination.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Marcel had already turned his attention back to her, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"I've been waiting for this," Marcel said smoothly, stepping forward with deliberate calm. "Let's see how long you can last."

As he raised his hand, a glowing symbol appeared on the back of it—an intricate design that pulsed with wind-infused mana. Suddenly waves of air began to swirl around him as if summoned by an unseen force.

Elenore braced herself for the attack she knew was coming. She'd seen this tactic before; Marcel's wind familiar would be nearly impossible to defeat alone.

Then she saw it—a massive shadow representing a bird appeared above them, its outline dark against the sky as it descended toward the battlefield.

Marcel smirked at Elenore's reaction. "You remember Flecko? He'll make this quick."

But what he wasn't prepared for was the person clinging onto the bird as if it were nothing more than a child's swing set.

Julian hung from Flecko's leg with casual ease, despite the wind familiar's frantic attempts to shake him off.

"Master! Help me!" Flecko screamed via telepathy as Julian waved cheerfully down at Marcel and Elenore.

The sight left both stunned into silence for a brief moment—the last thing either had expected to see was Julian Uzziel crashing their battle so brazenly.

Then Marcel's expression shifted from surprise to something approaching incredulous amusement.

"So," he muttered under his breath, "you survived after all."

Elenore couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all—Julian hanging nonchalantly from Flecko's leg while Marcel stood below like some villainous caricature.

Julian released his grip on Flecko and dropped lightly to the ground beside Elenore.

He straightened up with a calm expression brushing off imaginary dust from his uniform.

"Sorry I'm late,"

-That must be the student everyone's talking about… the fourth special admission's student in this academy's history.

Marcel's eyes narrowed as he assessed Julian, trying to reconcile the unassuming figure before him with the fact that his prized familiar was trembling in the air above them.

"Go to Kaelen," Julian said without taking his eyes off Marcel.

"He needs your support more than I do."

"…?"

Elenore blinked in confusion.

"What? No, that's not the plan. I've been waiting for you to arrive so we could take Marcel down together."

"Trust me on this. Kaelen is fighting both Damien and Miyuki. Without your support, he won't last much longer."

"But—"

"I can handle Marcel," Julian said with such quiet certainty that Elenore found herself momentarily speechless.

"This is how we win."

Elenore hesitated, clutching the silver flag baton tighter.

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Call it a vision if you want. But every second we argue is another second Kaelen fights alone."

Something in his voice—an undercurrent of absolute conviction—made Elenore's resistance crumble.

She didn't understand Julian's reasoning, but instinct told her to trust him.

"Fine," she conceded.

"But be careful."

With a final concerned glance, Elenore turned and sprinted in the direction Kaelen had been forced.

Marcel watched her go with an amused expression.

"Hmph… Sending away your only ally? Not your wisest decision."

But as he turned back to Julian, something changed in Marcel's demeanor.

A bead of sweat formed on his forehead as he noticed Flecko—his A-class familiar that had faced down third-year students without flinching—was visibly trembling.

"Flecko," Marcel commanded, his voice betraying the first hint of uncertainty. "What's wrong with you? Get down here."

The wind familiar circled overhead, maintaining a safe distance from Julian.

"Master," it whispered directly into Marcel's mind, "there's something... wrong about him. I can't... I don't want to go near him."

Marcel's eyes widened slightly. A-class familiars like Flecko didn't experience fear.

Their magical constitution simply didn't allow for it—they were created to be fearless extensions of their masters' will.

Yet Flecko was clearly terrified of this first-year standing before him.

"Unsummon," he whispered, and Flecko dissipated into wisps of wind that scattered through the clearing.

A smile spread across Marcel's face—not the condescending smirk he'd worn earlier.

It was the smile of a person who had finally found someone worthy of fighting.

"You know," Marcel said, circling Julian slowly, "I've been waiting for someone like you.

"Someone like me?" Julian raised an eyebrow.

"Someone who might actually be worth my time."

"The fourth-years call me reckless. The third-years say I'm all flash, no substance. But they've never seen what I'm truly capable of."

Julian remained silent, watching Marcel's movements with careful attention.

"If I defeat you here—you, a special admission student who has everyone buzzing—even those arrogant upperclassmen will have to acknowledge my strength."

"I'll be recognized alongside Xavi Blanc and Drothgar Jorundyr as one of the academy's finest."

"That's quite ambitious," Julian replied evenly.

"But aren't you getting ahead of yourself?"

"After all, I'm only a first year."

Marcel laughed, the sound echoing through the trees.

"Perhaps. But I'm going to savor every moment of beating you. It's not often I get to test myself against someone truly interesting."

"Wind Armor: Tempest Shroud," Marcel whispered.

The swirling mana coalesced around his body, forming a second skin of constantly moving air currents.

His auburn hair lifted in the self-generated breeze, giving him an almost ethereal appearance as the wind suit wrapped completely around his form.

Julian watched the transformation with an expression of mild curiosity. "Impressive."

"Have you seen this technique before?" Marcel asked, flexing his fingers as the wind armor responded to his movements, rippling like water.

"No," Julian admitted truthfully. "I haven't."

Marcel's smile widened.

"Then I suggest you don't blink. You might miss it entirely."

One moment Marcel was standing ten paces away, and the next—

"…!"

Julian felt rather than saw the impact.

BAM!

A crushing force slammed into his chest, driving the air from his lungs and sending him skidding backward.

The impact drove Julian several meters back, his feet leaving deep trenches in the soft forest floor as he struggled to maintain his balance.

When he finally came to a stop, he straightened his posture, dusting off his uniform with casual indifference despite the clear impact of the blow.

-Ah… that hurt I think?

Marcel raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features.

"I'm impressed. That strike has sent most of my opponents flying into unconsciousness."

"Your teammates didn't fare nearly as well—one punch was all it took to put them down. But you... you're still standing."

Julian adjusted his collar, seemingly unconcerned by the attack.

"Maybe I got lucky," he offered mildly.

BAHAAH!!

Marcel laughed, the sound carrying an edge of excitement.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. I think I've found exactly what I was looking for—a proper punching bag who can actually take a hit."

"I can practice on you until we secure your flag. It's been so long since I've had a decent durability test."

Julian's expression remained neutral as he glanced toward the direction Elenore had disappeared. "That won't be possible," he said simply.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because there's already someone much stronger than me there."

Marcel's brow furrowed, the casual dismissal striking a nerve.

His lips tightened into a thin line as he processed Julian's words.

"You're mocking me," he concluded, his voice dropping dangerously.

"You think this is funny?"

Before Julian could respond, Marcel's body blurred.

WHOOOSH!

The air around Julian shimmered as five identical versions of Marcel materialized, surrounding him in a perfect circle.