Help! I'm just an extra yet the Heroines and Villainesses want me!-Chapter 79: Grudges

William spent the afternoon exploring his room and trying to piece together who the original William Cross had been based on the belongings left behind.

The desk was organized but dusty, suggesting it hadn’t been used much. A few old letters from academy acceptance notifications, some basic cultivation manuals that looked barely touched, and a collection of what appeared to be adventure novels stacked haphazardly in one drawer.

The closet held formal clothes appropriate for a noble’s son, there was expensive fabrics, precise tailoring and colors that matched House Cross’s blue and silver. Everything was maintained perfectly despite William having been gone for six months, which spoke to the efficiency of the household staff.

He found a small portrait on the dresser showing the Cross family from several years ago. Duke Edward Cross stood in the center — a tall man with dark hair going grey at the temples, sharp features, and an expression of stern authority. Duchess Arabella stood beside him, looking exactly as composed as she did now. Around them were William’s siblings.

Two older brothers who William vaguely remembered from the original novel as successful military officers. Four sisters of varying ages, most of whom looked as aristocratically perfect as their mother. And at the edge of the portrait, a younger Seraphine smiling genuinely while the rest of the family maintained formal expressions.

William studied the portrait, trying to understand the family dynamics. The original William Cross had been the third son — functionally useless in noble succession since his older brothers would inherit everything. No wonder his father had considered him expendable.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Master William, Her Grace has requested you join her in the private training grounds," a servant said through the door.

William checked the time. Still three hours until dinner. Apparently his mother had plans for how he’d spend his afternoon.

He changed into more practical clothes and followed the servant through the manor and out to a section of the grounds he hadn’t seen during his brief stay here six months ago.

The private training grounds were separate from the main facilities, enclosed by high walls and accessible only through a guarded gate. Inside was a large open area with various training equipment, practice dummies, and what looked like reinforced platforms for combat exercises.

Duchess Arabella was waiting in the center, now dressed in fitted training clothes that looked far more practical than her earlier formal dress. Beside her stood an older man William didn’t recognize — grey-haired, powerfully built, with the kind of presence that suggested serious combat experience.

"William," his mother said when he approached. "This is Master Henrik, the family’s chief combat instructor. He’s trained every Cross family member for the past thirty years."

The old man studied William with sharp eyes. "The disappointing one," he said bluntly. "I remember you. You couldn’t hold a stance for more than ten seconds, you complained about every exercise and quit after a month of basic training."

William felt irritation flare but pushed it down. "That was then."

"We’ll see." Henrik moved toward one of the practice areas. "Show me your current ability. Basic sword forms, essence enhancement, whatever you’ve learned at that academy."

William drew a practice sword from the equipment rack and moved to the center of the training area. He ran through the forms Kai had been drilling into him over the past weeks — defensive stances, strike patterns, footwork transitions.

He wasn’t perfect. His technique was still rough compared to real masters. But it was infinitely better than whatever the original William Cross had been capable of.

Henrik watched in silence. When William finished, the old instructor exchanged a glance with Duchess Arabella.

"He’s improved," Henrik admitted grudgingly. "Still sloppy in places, but the foundation is there now. Someone’s been training him properly."

"Can you refine it?" the Duchess asked.

"In three days? I can make him less likely to kill himself." Henrik gestured for William to reset. "Again. Slower this time. I need to see where the technical flaws are."

What followed was two hours of the most intensive combat instruction William had experienced outside of Kai’s brutal training sessions. Henrik broke down every movement, corrected every stance, and pushed William to execute forms with precision rather than just speed.

The old instructor was harsh but effective. He didn’t waste time on praise or encouragement — just direct criticism and immediate correction when William made mistakes.

"Your footwork is improving but you’re still dropping your guard during transitions," Henrik said while demonstrating the proper form. "In a real fight, that’s when you die. Again."

William reset and tried again, his muscles burning from the repeated exercises.

The Duchess watched from the side, occasionally making notes in a small book she’d produced from somewhere. When Henrik finally called a break, William was drenched in sweat and his arms were shaking.

"Better," Henrik said, which seemed to be the highest praise he gave. "You’ve at least learned how to listen to instruction now. That’s more progress than I expected."

"Take ten minutes," the Duchess said to William. "Drink water. Then we’re testing your essence control."

William grabbed a water flask and sat on one of the benches, trying to catch his breath. His body was exhausted but in a different way than Kai’s training — Henrik focused on technical precision while Kai focused on survival instincts.

"Your improvement is genuine," his mother said, approaching him. "I wasn’t certain until watching you train. Whatever happened at the academy, it changed something fundamental in your approach."

"I had good teachers."

"And you finally decided to listen to them." She sat beside him. "Your father will be at dinner tonight. He’ll try to provoke you, try to get you to react the way the old William would have. Don’t give him the satisfaction."

"What does he want?"

"To prove he was right about you being worthless. To justify his desire to write you out of the family entirely." Her voice was matter-of-fact. "He sees you as a stain on the Cross name that I foolishly protected out of maternal weakness."

"And what do you see?"

Duchess Arabella was quiet for a moment. "I see someone who wasted seventeen years refusing to try, but who might finally be ready to become something worthwhile. I don’t know which version will show up at dinner tonight — the old William or the new one. But I hope it’s the latter."

She stood and moved back toward Henrik, leaving William to process that conversation.

Ten minutes later they resumed training, this time focusing on essence control. The Duchess produced several crystals similar to the one from this morning and had William channel essence through them while Henrik observed his technique.

"Sloppy," Henrik said after the first attempt. "You’re forcing it instead of guiding it. Your capacity might be high but your control is still terrible."

They spent another hour drilling essence manipulation exercises. William’s headache returned with a vengeance but he pushed through, knowing he needed every bit of improvement he could get before the competition.

By the time they finally stopped, the sun was setting and William could barely stand from exhaustion.

"That’s enough for today," the Duchess said. "You have two hours to rest and make yourself presentable for dinner. Don’t be late."

William made his way back to his room on shaking legs, every muscle screaming. He collapsed on his bed for exactly five minutes before forcing himself up and into the bathroom.

The bath was already prepared — apparently the servants had predicted he’d need it. William sank into the hot water with a groan of relief, letting the heat work on his abused muscles.

He soaked for longer than he probably should have, then dried off and started the process of making himself presentable for a formal family dinner. The clothes laid out for him were expensive and formal — dark tailored pants, a crisp white shirt, a jacket in House Cross colors with silver embroidery.

He dressed carefully, making sure everything was perfect. The knife Kai had given him was concealed at his belt under the jacket, invisible unless you knew to look for it.

William checked himself in the mirror. He looked like a proper noble’s son — well-dressed, well-groomed, every detail in place. Nothing like the exhausted academy student who’d arrived this morning.

A servant knocked to escort him to dinner precisely at seven.

The formal dining room was even larger than the breakfast hall, with a table that could easily seat fifty people. Tonight only eight places were set, clustered at one end. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

William was the first to arrive. He stood near his designated seat, waiting.

His mother appeared next, now in an elegant evening gown that transformed her from combat instructor back to refined duchess. She nodded approval at his appearance.

"Remember what I said. Don’t let him provoke you."

Then his siblings began arriving.

Two older brothers — Marcus and Alexander Cross, both in military dress uniforms that displayed various medals and honors. They glanced at William with barely concealed disdain but said nothing.

Three of his sisters arrived together — Victoria, Eleanor, and Catherine. All beautiful, all perfectly composed, all treating William like he was invisible.

Seraphine came in last, grinning when she saw William and immediately moving to stand beside him despite the disapproving looks from their older siblings.

"You look nice," she said quietly.

"Thank you."

Then Duke Edward Cross entered the room.

He was taller than William remembered, or perhaps William had just felt smaller last time. The duke wore formal evening clothes with the same precision as a military uniform, every detail perfect. His dark hair was going grey but he carried himself with the authority of someone who’d commanded armies.

His eyes swept the room, pausing briefly on William with an expression that suggested he’d found something distasteful.

"Let’s begin," he said, taking his seat at the head of the table.

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[Sorry guys I had to be rushed to the hospital some days ago and I didn’t auto update any Chapters... I’m so sorry about this!]