The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 555 - 554: The Diary

The guest chamber inside Valon Castle was quiet in a way the garden had not been. The weight of the funeral still lingered, but here it settled into something more contained, less exposed. Evening light filtered through tall windows, soft and muted, brushing the stone walls in pale gold.

A low table stood between them with two cups of tea, steam rising slowly into the still air.

Noir rested beside Noel on the sofa in her wolf pup form, small and compact, tail wrapped near her body. She looked half-asleep, though the faint movement of her ears suggested she was listening to everything.

Noel held his cup loosely, gaze lowered for a moment before lifting again. Across from him, Director Daemar sat upright, hands folded calmly, his expression measured but not distant.

"I see..." Daemar said after a pause. "You’ve endured more than most would in such a short span of time."

He studied Noel carefully, not as a director evaluating a student, but as a mentor weighing what stood before him now.

"The Northern Isles changed you," he added quietly. "That much is clear."

Noel gave a small nod. He had already told him what happened—about the islands, the battle, Roberto, the truth of the First Pillar. He had left out only one thing. The part that did not belong to this world. That remained where it always had.

Daemar leaned back slightly. "You mentioned that Nicolas told you something before he passed," he said, voice steady. "Something important."

His gaze sharpened just a fraction.

"What was it that required my help?"

"It was about his diary," Noel said without hesitation.

Daemar’s eyes narrowed slightly in focus.

"He told me to seek it out," Noel continued. "Right before he..." His fingers tightened faintly around the porcelain cup before relaxing again. "He said it holds things I’ll need. Teleportation magic. His own spells. The originals."

A brief silence followed.

"I see," Daemar murmured.

He did not look surprised.

"I know exactly where it is," he said. "It never left the Director’s office. I kept it there after Nicolas became bedridden." His gaze shifted momentarily toward the window, thoughtful. "I haven’t opened it since. There hasn’t been anything new written in it for months." A faint exhale left him. "That alone was difficult to accept."

Noel listened quietly.

"Nicolas’s magic was never simple," Daemar went on. "His teleportation formulas in particular are layered—multi-sequence constructs with spatial anchoring that most archmages struggle to maintain." His eyes returned to Noel. "His theories often bypass traditional casting logic. He didn’t like limits."

"I know," Noel replied calmly. "That’s why he told me to take it."

Daemar studied him again, measuring.

"I believe I can learn them," Noel added. "I’ll ask Redna for guidance as well, if she agrees. Though she may return to Elarith soon."

"She likely will," Daemar said. "Her academy requires her."

A short pause.

"Very well," he concluded. "We will retrieve the diary tomorrow."

Noel nodded once. "Understood."

"There’s something else," he said at last.

Daemar’s attention sharpened.

"I’m not asking you as Director," Noel continued, lifting his eyes to meet his properly. "I’m asking you as my professor."

A brief pause.

"I have to face Roberto."

The name carried weight.

"In one year," Noel added. "That’s the time I have."

Daemar did not interrupt. He let the silence stretch just enough to understand the scale of it.

"And you want my help," he said.

"Yes."

There was no pride in it. No hesitation either.

Daemar inclined his head once. "You have it."

Relief did not show openly on Noel’s face, but something in his shoulders eased.

"There’s one more thing," Noel said. "I want to pause the academy for a year."

Daemar’s expression shifted slightly.

"I’m not abandoning it," Noel clarified. "I’ll return and finish properly. I just can’t divide my focus right now. If I’m going to do this, I need to commit fully."

Silence filled the room again, heavier this time.

Daemar looked at him not as a student requesting leave, but as a young man carrying something far larger than his age should allow. The world’s balance rested on choices Noel did not ask for, yet continued to accept.

"You’re still young," Daemar said quietly. "You shouldn’t have to shoulder this alone."

"I’m not alone anymore," Noel replied.

That earned the faintest nod.

"Very well," Daemar said at last. "You may suspend your studies for a year. Officially."

A subtle sadness lingered in his gaze, though it was tempered by understanding.

"You will have access to the underground training facilities," he continued. "Use them as you wish. I will assist you personally after classes each day."

Noel bowed his head slightly. "Thank you... Professor."

Daemar remained silent for a second longer, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Noel more closely.

"...When did you reach Archmage?" he asked.

Noel’s expression did not change.

Daemar tilted his head faintly, then exhaled through his nose.

"No," he said, shaking his head once. "That’s not the correct question. Let me rephrase it."

His gaze sharpened, measuring.

"Since when have you surpassed half of Archmage’s path? With this, you could reach Manacode for the first in centuries..."

The room felt smaller for a moment.

"Since when have you surpassed half of Archmage’s path?" Daemar asked, eyes steady on him. "At this rate, you could reach Manacode. For the first time in centuries."

The room felt smaller for a moment.

Noel didn’t look away. "It just happened," he said. "I kept gaining experience."

"Experience..." Daemar repeated, thoughtful rather than doubtful. "Perhaps that is what this new generation truly lacks. Something that forces growth. Something that pushes you forward because your life depends on it." His gaze lowered briefly before returning. "It may be that we grew too comfortable."

Noel remained silent.

Daemar straightened slightly. "Very well. We’ll test it. A sparring match."

"Now?" Noel asked.

"No," Daemar replied at once. "Not today."

His tone softened, though the weight behind it did not.

"Everyone has gone through a great deal today," he continued. "You included. Rest. All of you deserve that much."

He stepped back toward the door.

"Tomorrow, after we retrieve the diary," he said calmly. "Then we begin."

Daemar remained still for a moment longer, watching him.

Then he rose from his seat.

The movement was unhurried, measured, as if he were closing a Chapter without making a ceremony of it. The cups of tea had gone untouched for a while now, steam long faded. Evening light stretched across the floor, thin and pale.

"Tomorrow," Daemar said, adjusting the sleeves of his coat. "We retrieve the diary. After that, we begin properly."

Noel nodded.

For a brief second, Daemar’s gaze lingered on him—not evaluating, not calculating, simply observing. The boy who had once sat in the front rows, absorbing every word, was no longer standing in front of him.

What stood there now carried weight. Choice. Consequence.

And yet—

"You may have surpassed expectations," Daemar said quietly, "but that does not change one thing."

Noel tilted his head slightly.

"You are still my student."

There was no authority in the statement. No command. Just something steady. Something rooted.

A faint smile touched Noel’s lips. "I know."

Daemar inclined his head once, satisfied.

"Rest tonight," he added. "Tomorrow, we move forward."

He turned toward the door, pausing just before stepping out.

"See you tomorrow, Noel Thorne."

The door closed gently behind him.