The Extra's Reincarnation

"If what you're saying is true," Uzan said slowly, "then why does he look half-dead now? Look at him—he's covered in blood and can barely stand."

Franz's lips curved into a thin, knowing smile.

"Simple. He's faking his injuries."

"Faking?" Uzan scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Nobody can fake that much blood."

"The blood isn't his," Franz replied with absolute certainty.

"If you had been paying attention to the earlier footage, you would have noticed that Marcel's familiar was injured in their encounter. The blood on Julian is from Flecko, not from himself."

"That's absurd," Uzan protested. "No first-year could possibly injure an A-class familiar, especially not one as powerful as Flecko. And even if that were true, how do you explain his torn uniform and the way he's struggling to stand?"

Franz sighed, the sound dripping with condescension.

"Appearances can be deceiving. The tears in his clothing were likely self-inflicted after the fact, and his current posture is nothing more than theater—a performance for the benefit of those watching."

Uzan shook his head, unconvinced. "I can't believe you're actually defending him. Just admit you were wrong about him being special."

"I don't require your belief," Franz replied coolly. "The evidence speaks for itself to those with eyes capable of seeing it."

He returned his attention to the screens, watching as Elenore carefully helped Julian to his feet.

The special admission student winced convincingly, leaning on her for support as Kaelen raised both flags in triumph.

A smirk played across Franz's lips as he considered what he had witnessed.

Julian Uzziel was far more interesting than he had initially anticipated.

Not only had the boy managed to neutralize Marcel's most powerful attack with minimal effort, but he was now intentionally downplaying his abilities while maintaining the facade of being seriously injured, when Franz was certain he could have walked away from that encounter without a scratch.

This was not the behavior of someone seeking recognition or praise.

This was the action of someone who wished to remain unnoticed despite possessing extraordinary capabilities.

-He's toying with them all… Everything he's done until now—from solving the Zagata Theorem to this pathetic display of weakness—has been carefully orchestrated to hide what he can truly do.

What truly fascinated Franz was not merely Julian's attempt to hide his strength, but the nature of his deception.

Everything about Julian Uzziel—from his unassuming demeanor to his insistence on being classified as a support specialist—now appeared in a different light.

This was no ordinary student trying to avoid attention. This was someone constructing a false identity, someone powerful enough to toy with second-years while maintaining the pretense of struggling.

-He chose the support role specifically to avoid scrutiny, just as I initially positioned myself as a tank before circumstances forced me to reveal my true capabilities as a battle mage.

The parallel was too perfect to be coincidental.

Julian had evidently recognized the same truth Franz had discovered years ago: true power thrived in obscurity. By downplaying his abilities and choosing a role that naturally kept him in the background, Julian ensured that no one would look too closely at what he could really do.

-But why? What is he hiding that requires such elaborate misdirection?

As he watched Julian's "injured" form disappear from the screens.

The boy was clearly playing a long game, one that required patience and careful planning.

It was almost exactly what Franz himself would have done, had his own exceptional abilities not drawn unwanted attention so early in his academic career. The difference was that Julian seemed to be executing his deception flawlessly—or would have been, had Franz not been watching so carefully.

"The question now," Franz murmured to himself, "is whether he's simply hiding his strength... or something far more significant."

"What was that?" Uzan asked, turning toward him.

"Nothing that would interest you," Franz replied coolly, rising from his seat.

"This match's is over."

***

[Julian's POV]

After the match, I found myself in the academy's medical wing surrounded by the rest of the first-year team.

My staged injuries weren't serious, but the academy's protocols required all participants to be checked after such an intense competition.

I leaned back against the crisp white sheets, watching with amusement as Elenore recounted our victory to anyone who would listen.

I couldn't help but smile at how things had turned out.

When I first arrived at this academy, I had no intention of becoming involved in these events.

My plan was simple: stay in the background, observe the main characters, and nudge the plot along when necessary.

Yet here I was, part of a historic first-year victory that would be talked about for weeks.

The funny thing is, I barely had to do anything.

Kaelen and Elenore were naturals, born protagonists with all the talent and determination the plot required.

After they helped me from my "near elimination" by Flecko's attack, I casually suggested they forget about the traditional flag-combining victory condition.

"You know," I'd told them as I leaned on Elenore for support, blood (mostly Flecko's) making me look far more injured than I was,

"Marcel is the real problem here. Take him out, and you win this thing outright."

Something about nudging the main character toward conflict just feels right.

Call it a character flaw if you want, but I prefer to think of it as efficient storytelling.

After all, they didn't hesitate.

With Elenore supporting Kaelen with her magic and Kaelen's own incredible swordsmanship, they tracked Marcel down in record time.

I hobbled along behind them, maintaining my injured act while enjoying the show.

Marcel never stood a chance.

For all his bluster and reputation, he folded like wet paper against Kaelen's first attack.

One clean slash from that soul-infused blade, and the second-year captain was eliminated from the competition

The simplicity of it was almost disappointing.

In the original novel, their confrontation should have been an epic back-and-forth battle that pushed both to their limits.

Instead, Kaelen had grown stronger faster than expected, making the outcome almost anticlimactic.

But a win is a win, and as the medical staff finished their examinations, I felt the familiar tingle of the system activating.

FWANG!

[MAIN QUEST COMPLETED: CAPTURE THE FLAG TOURNAMENT]

[Description: You have successfully participated in the annual Capture the Flag competition between first-year and second-year students at Aethel Academy.]

[Objective Completed: Secured victory for the first-year team]

[Reward: 500 SP added to your account]

[Bonus Objective Completed: Marcel Dorn was defeated]

[Bonus Reward: 1000 SP added to your account]

[Total SP Earned: 1500]

[CONGRATULATIONS! Your contribution to this historic victory has been noted by the system and added to your Archive Logs.]

I almost laughed at the "your contribution" part.

Sure, I'd kept Marcel busy for a while, but the real victory belonged to Kaelen and Elenore.

Still, I wasn't about to turn down the SP.

Those system points would come in handy later, especially if things started deviating further from the original plot.