The Extra's Transcension-Chapter 66: Re - Start [1]

Three weeks had passed

Students rushed between classes, some still groggy from late-night study sessions, others buzzing with the energy of youth.

The ever-present hum of ventilation systems blended seamlessly with the chatter of students, the distant clang of weapons from the dueling halls, and the low murmurs of hushed conversations in the corners of the grand corridors.

Life had moved on.

And yet, for Silas, it hadn't.

Standing near the central courtyard, he leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, watching as the world continued its performance. It was a stage play, a perfectly scripted act where everyone followed their roles without question.

Except him.

He wasn't sure what was real anymore.

Is this how it always was?

The sky stretched above him, bright as ever, the dome's simulated sun casting warmth over the academy grounds.

A light breeze, courtesy of the climate-control system, rustled through the neatly trimmed hedges lining the stone pathways. It all felt real.

It all looked real.

But it was too perfect.

Too synchronized.

Silas exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

Three weeks of this.

Three weeks of pretending that he wasn't constantly on edge.

Three weeks of feeling watched.

Three weeks of knowing that Lyrium knew.

And yet neither of them had spoken of it again.

Because they couldn't.

Because acknowledging it meant letting it sink its claws back into them, and Silas wasn't sure if he'd ever come back if it did.

"Lost in thought again?"

The voice startled him out of his reverie, though he didn't let it show.

He turned to find Lily standing beside him, arms crossed, one brow arched in mild amusement.

He forced a smirk.

"More like strategically contemplating my next meal."

Lily gave him a deadpan look.

"Right. Because you're always this brooding when thinking about food."

Silas shrugged, pushing off the pillar.

"Hey, food is important. It deserves proper consideration."

Lily didn't respond immediately.

Instead, she studied him, her gaze lingering just a second too long.

It was subtle—so subtle that most people wouldn't have noticed. But Silas did.

She wasn't convinced.

But she wasn't pushing either.

Not yet.

"Lunch?"

She said finally, shifting topics.

"Depends,"

He said, feigning casualness.

"Are you paying?"

Lily scoffed, already walking toward the dining hall.

"Absolutely not."

Silas sighed dramatically, falling into step beside her.

"Tragic. I thought we were friends."

"If we were, you wouldn't even ask me to pay."

"Sounds like you just admitted we aren't friends,"

He pointed out with a grin.

Lily rolled her eyes.

"Silas, shut up and walk."

And so they did.

*****

The academy's dining hall was as lively as ever, filled with students chatting between bites, the occasional burst of laughter breaking through the general hum of conversation.

Floating trays carried dishes across the room, guided by enchanted runes embedded in the ceiling.

The scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and something vaguely resembling stew lingered in the air.

Silas and Lily found an empty table near the far end of the hall, away from the larger crowds.

Silas eyed the food on his plate skeptically.

"I swear, the chefs here are trying to kill us."

Lily didn't even look up from her drink.

"That's just the stew."

Silas prodded the substance with his fork. It didn't move.

"That's not stew. That's a war crime."

Lily smirked.

"Eat it and find out."

"Tempting, but I have a strict policy against eating anything that might still be sentient."

Lily shook her head, taking a sip of her drink.

"You're insufferable."

"Thank you."

Across the room, the doors swung open, and Lyrium entered.

Silas felt it before he saw it.

That weight.

That presence.

For three weeks, he had avoided Lyrium as much as possible.

Not in a way that was obvious no, he was too careful for that.

But in ways that only Lyrium would notice.

Choosing different routes, keeping conversations short, making sure their interactions stayed surface level.

Yet, despite all that, Lyrium's gaze still found him.

Their eyes met across the hall.

A second.

A hesitation.

And then Lyrium looked away, walking to his usual table in the corner.

Silas let out a slow breath.

Lily noticed.

She set her drink down, tilting her head slightly.

"Still tense around him?"

Silas forced a shrug.

"He's always intense. You know how he is."

Lily didn't respond immediately. She just watched him.

Too closely.

Too sharply.

He didn't like that look.

"You're avoiding him,"

She said finally.

Silas laughed.

"Avoiding? Please. I see him literally every day."

"That's not what I meant."

Silas stabbed his fork into the unidentifiable mass on his plate, watching as it barely yielded.

"You're reading too much into things."

Lily didn't look convinced, but she let it go.

For now.

*****

Up in the academy's upper library, Lyrium sat alone.

A book lay open before him, but his mind was elsewhere.

His fingers tapped against the wooden surface of the table, a slow, rhythmic motion.

Three weeks.

Three weeks, and Silas hadn't slipped.

Not once.

Not a single crack in his act. Not a single word out of place.

But Lyrium knew.

Silas remembered something.

He just wasn't saying it.

And that silence told Lyrium everything he needed to know.

Silas is afraid.

Lyrium exhaled, fingers tracing absent patterns on the table.

Fine.

If Silas wanted to pretend—if he wanted to bury the truth beneath jokes and smirks—then Lyrium would wait.

Because sooner or later, the act would break.

And when it did—

Lyrium would be there to see.

*****

The faculty hall of the academy was a place where students rarely ventured, a space reserved for those who carried the weight of knowledge and responsibility.

Here, away from the bustling halls of students, the instructors gathered—some engaging in deep discussions, others merely seeking a moment of respite from their daily duties.

At the center of the hall, a long polished oak table stretched beneath a grand chandelier of floating mana crystals.

Seated around it were several of the academy's most distinguished instructors, their expressions ranging from mild interest to outright exasperation as the conversation turned to the upcoming banquet.

"So, we're expected to attend yet another one of these insufferable noble gatherings?"

Alden Graves, the academy's senior historian, let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples.

His aged hands, lined with the marks of time and ink, rested on the table.

"I swear, the older I get, the more these events seem like a waste of time."

Across from him, Professor Shirone, master of water magic, sipped his tea with a calm expression.

"You say that every year, Alden. And yet, every year, you attend."

Alden scoffed.

"Only because I have no choice. The headmistress would have my head if I refused."

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Besides, it's not like these events change anything. Nobles preen, merchants boast, and politicians circle one another like vultures. All the while, we stand in the background, pretending we aren't being used as bargaining chips in their games."

Seated a few seats away, Professor Elara Vael, an expert in enchantments and arcane formations, folded her arms, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You underestimate the importance of these gatherings, Alden."

She tapped a finger against the table.

"For better or worse, the academy is intertwined with the affairs of the nobility. We may not be politicians, but we are still players in this grand game."

"A game I'd rather not be part of,"

Alden muttered, taking a reluctant sip of his tea.

Shirone placed his cup down gently, his silver-threaded dark hair catching the soft glow of the chandelier.

"Regardless of our opinions, we must acknowledge the reality of our position. This banquet isn't just a social affair—it's an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what, exactly?"

A new voice entered the conversation. Professor Gideon Kane, the academy's combat instructor, leaned forward, his scarred arms resting on the table.

"To rub elbows with nobles who don't give a damn about the work we do here? Or to watch as another wealthy benefactor tries to throw money at us to push their own agenda?"

Elara arched a brow.

"You're unusually cynical today, Gideon."

Gideon scoffed.

"I'm a realist. I train these students to fight, to survive. I don't waste my time entertaining pompous fools who think gold can buy strength."

Shirone sighed.

"Be that as it may, this banquet will determine much about the academy's future. The headmistress has been receiving visitors lately, some of whom hold considerable influence. I suspect the banquet will serve as a stage for more than just empty pleasantries."

Alden groaned.

"Wonderful. More intrigue. Just what we needed."

Elara smirked.

"You complain, Alden, but we all know you love unraveling mysteries."

The historian huffed.

"Academic mysteries, yes. Political ones? I'd rather not."

Gideon grunted.

"So, what's the real reason behind this banquet? The headmistress isn't the type to host an event just for appearances."

Shirone's expression darkened slightly.

"That is what I intend to find out."

Silence fell over the table for a brief moment before Elara let out a soft chuckle.

"Well, at the very least, the food should be good."

Alden rolled his eyes.

"Yes, let's focus on the real priority here."

Despite his sarcasm, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

No matter how much they grumbled, they all knew one thingbthis banquet was going to be more than just another noble gathering.

And whether they liked it or not, they would soon find themselves at the center of whatever storm was brewing.