The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 565: A New Weight

Five months had passed.

The Class S dormitory no longer felt like a temporary room. It carried layers now—mana residue in the walls, small scratches on the desk from long nights of study and training, the quiet familiarity of a place that had seen change.

Noel stood in the center of it, sleeves rolled slightly, calmly placing items into his Dimensional Pouch. The process was effortless now. A subtle shift of mana, a controlled expansion of internal space, and objects vanished cleanly without distortion.

Spatial Shift had become second nature.

Gravity no longer resisted him.

And combining both no longer required thought.

He could move across the academy in an instant. He could anchor space beneath someone’s feet before they even realized the axis had tilted.

He had grown.

The pouch in his hand felt heavier in memory than in weight.

"Now that I think about it, Noir," he said casually while folding a spare cloak and letting it slip into the dimensional fold, "this Dimensional Pouch has been with me since the beginning. Same with Revenant Fang. They were here even before you showed up."

Revenant Fang rested against the wall, quiet as ever.

Noir sat on the chair near the window, front paws on the edge, purple eyes watching students cross the courtyard below. The faint streaks in her black fur shimmered subtly in the daylight.

’It has been a while, hasn’t it, Dad?’ she replied inside his mind, voice softer than usual.

Noel smiled faintly.

"Longer than I expected."

Noir’s ears flicked slightly.

’Don’t forget the meat.’

He paused mid-motion and looked at her over his shoulder.

"That’s your priority?"

’Absolutely.’

He let out a low chuckle.

"Relax. When we see Balthor, we’ll eat until we can’t move. He’ll treat us like VIP guests as usual. He always does."

Noir’s tail moved once.

’Still. Don’t forget it.’

"I won’t," Noel replied, shaking his head as he reached for a wrapped bundle and added it to the pouch. "You’re relentless."

The room grew quiet again.

He closed the pouch slowly, fingers lingering over the fabric for a moment longer than necessary.

Five months.

Training. Growth. Change.

His life had shifted more in that span than in years before it.

Noel tightened the strap of the pouch and let his hand rest there for a moment, his thoughts drifting back over the last five months without him consciously trying to revisit them.

Elena had changed first.

It had started subtly, a slight shift in the way she carried herself, then the visible curve beneath her clothes that no one could pretend not to see anymore. She had become calmer in a way that wasn’t weakness but grounding, as if something inside her had anchored her more firmly to the present. She smiled more quietly now, rested more often, and yet there was a steadiness in her that hadn’t been there before.

Charlotte followed not long after.

She remained the Saint, her duties intact, though her schedule had been reduced. The church could hardly object openly, and in truth, no one dared to question her. When Orthran learned he was going to be a grandfather, he had cried openly, unashamed, holding Charlotte as if she were still the girl he had once taken in. Noel could still picture that moment clearly—the old man overwhelmed not by politics or faith, but by simple happiness.

Elyra’s case had been almost inevitable.

She had wanted it the most, teasing him about it long before anything happened, speaking about children as if it were already decided. When it happened quickly, she hadn’t left the academy as some had expected. Instead, she stayed with clear intention. Her network was already vast as an Estermont, but she had no intention of letting it stagnate. She attended events, expanded connections, strengthened alliances. Even pregnant, she moved with the quiet confidence of someone born into power and determined to increase it.

Selene had been different.

The tests with Clair had taken longer. Noel remembered the sterile room, the careful explanations, the pause before the words were spoken. Internal damage. Trauma that left marks deeper than anyone could see. Pregnancy not impossible, but close enough to it that hope felt fragile.

He had never seen Selene break like that.

Not in battle. Not in pain. But there, when the reality settled in, the tears came without restraint. He had held her that day just as tightly as he had held Elena minutes ago, though for different reasons. The others had gathered around her without rivalry, without tension, just solidarity.

And after the storm passed, Selene had lifted her head and said quietly that they would keep trying.

She hadn’t surrendered.

Noel exhaled slowly as he adjusted the pouch strap over his shoulder.

’They really are going to drain me dry.’

The thought came with a faint smile, not complaint but disbelief wrapped in satisfaction. The nights had been long. The cravings unpredictable. The small complications that came with early pregnancy had kept him awake more often than not. He had cleaned, cooked, carried, reassured, stayed up through restless hours even when they were still strong enough to move on their own.

He was tired.

Deeply tired.

And yet—

He couldn’t have asked for a better life.

The most obvious change over the last five months wasn’t the pregnancies.

It was where they lived.

They no longer stayed inside the academy dormitories. Noel was still technically registered there, still using his Class S room when necessary, but that had become more of a convenience than a home.

Elyra had "found a house."

Calling it a house was almost insulting.

It was a noble estate in the richest district of Valon, positioned along a wide, tree-lined avenue where only the wealthiest families owned property. The iron gates alone were taller than most city walls, engraved with the Estermont crest in silver relief. Beyond them stretched manicured gardens that seemed endless at first glance—trimmed hedges forming elegant patterns, fountains carved from pale marble, and stone pathways wide enough for carriages to pass comfortably side by side.

The mansion itself rose in pale stone and dark roofing, balconies framed with intricate ironwork, tall windows catching sunlight like polished glass blades. It wasn’t flashy in a vulgar way; it was controlled, deliberate wealth, the kind that didn’t need to prove itself.

Maids moved quietly through the halls in coordinated uniforms. Servants handled logistics, kitchens, maintenance. Guards were stationed at the perimeter, not overly visible but undeniably present. The security was tight enough that even high-ranking nobles would think twice before attempting anything reckless.

It was, in simple terms, overwhelming.

The only building in Valon that truly surpassed it was the Imperial Castle.

Elyra’s parents had not been cheap.

Not even slightly.

Noel adjusted the strap of his pouch and let out a faint breath.

’She really went all in,’ he thought, a trace of amusement beneath the acknowledgment.

The estate had space for everyone. Large private rooms. Separate wings if needed. Training grounds built into the back section of the property. Even reinforced areas where magic could be used without risk of structural damage. It was comfortable without feeling confined, protected without feeling trapped.

It was a place built for a growing family.

Noel was still standing in his academy dormitory for now, finishing the last of his packing, but once he left this room, he would head straight there to say goodbye before departing for Tharvaldur.

The trip itself would take seconds.

"Spatial Shift," he would say, and the world would reposition around him.

But the reason for the visit wasn’t casual.

Seeing Balthor wasn’t about food, or nostalgia, or luxury hospitality.

It was business.

Serious business.

Noel glanced around the dorm one last time before turning toward the door.

Five months had changed everything.

And now, he was stepping forward again.