The Extra's Rise-Chapter 107: Nimran II

The sun had almost disappeared, leaving behind an amber veil of light that stretched lazily across the sky. Nimran's city lights flickered to life, dotting the landscape with a soft glow. Despite being a bustling hub, the absence of towering skyscrapers gave it an oddly tranquil feel, as though the city itself was a relic of a more grounded era. The massive pyramid dominating the skyline loomed like a sentinel, its stone sides gleaming faintly under the twilight. Smaller villas and five-story apartments peppered the cityscape, interrupted only occasionally by a skyscraper that seemed almost apologetic about its existence.

Our bus rolled to a gentle stop in front of a sprawling mansion. The doors hissed open, and we disembarked like a stream of weary travelers, stretching limbs and cracking stiff joints. My back protested loudly, and my legs felt like lead from the long ride. Despite my physical sluggishness, my mind was worse for wear—a foggy haze born of too many sleepless nights spent poring over necromancy theory and mana pathways.

I had been running on fumes for the past week, averaging only two hours of sleep a night. Each step felt heavier than the last, but I shook my head and forced myself to keep moving. Five minutes, I told myself. Just five more minutes, and I could collapse onto a bed without looking like a complete failure in front of my peers.

"Alright, let's move along," Nero called, his authoritative voice cutting through the murmur of weary complaints. He lingered briefly to speak with the bus driver before turning to face us. "Inside, everyone. Quick march."

The moment we stepped through the mansion's grand doors, a wave of fragrant air hit me like a warm hug. My stomach, which had been passively simmering, roared to life with an embarrassing growl that made me glance nervously at those around me. To my relief, I wasn't alone; everyone seemed equally bewitched by the tantalizing aroma wafting through the halls. It smelled like roasted spices, rich broths, and freshly baked bread—like heaven had hired a world-class chef and turned them loose.

Nero, ever the shepherd, clapped his hands sharply to regain control of his flock. "Alright, I know you're all hungry, but let's follow protocol, shall we?" He fished out a card and gestured toward the reception desk. "I'll call you up one by one to collect your room keys. Once you've got them, head back here and wait until everyone is sorted. No exceptions."

A collective groan swept through the group, but Nero, to his credit, smiled like a man holding the keys to the buffet kingdom. "Don't look so down. Surely you're not planning to eat before cleaning up, are you? At eight sharp, the buffet will open. You'll be free to eat and drink as much as you like. But only if you're cleaned and dressed. So hop to it."

My stomach grumbled again, but this time, with the promise of future satisfaction, I ignored it. I retrieved my key and trudged through the mansion, navigating the maze of luxurious hallways. The interior was a masterclass in excessive refinement. Velvet carpets of deep red stretched across the floors, their edges trimmed with golden patterns. Curtains of the same hue framed massive windows, their hems embroidered with intricate dragon motifs that seemed to shimmer when the light hit them just right. Statues of mythical beasts lined the halls, and each was so detailed it looked like it might come to life at any moment. Outside, the lantern-lit garden revealed a tennis court and a football field, both surrounded by lush greenery.

After what felt like an eternity, I reached my assigned room. It wasn't just a room; it was practically a miniature apartment. There was a cozy living room, a sleek bathroom with a rainfall shower, and a spacious bedroom featuring a bed large enough to fit four people comfortably. While the decor inside wasn't as ostentatious as the common areas, it was still leagues above what I was used to.

I stored my belongings in my bracelet, not bothering to unpack anything, and headed straight for the bathroom. The warm shower washed away the fatigue clinging to my skin, leaving me feeling a fraction more human.

After drying off, I collapsed onto the massive bed with an unceremonious pomf, staring up at the intricately designed ceiling. A gold-plated chandelier hung above, its crystals catching the soft lighting and scattering faint rainbows across the room. I let out a sigh, my thoughts swirling as I processed the day. The smell of the buffet still lingered faintly in my mind, spurring me to get dressed. Hunger was a powerful motivator.

As I made my way back downstairs, the soft hum of conversation reached my ears. I rounded a corner and nearly bumped into Clana. Her blue hair framed her face like a waterfall frozen mid-flow, and her expression was as unreadable as ever.

"Oh, Arthur," she said with a yawn that she didn't bother to hide. "Heading to the banquet?"

"Yeah," I replied. "What about you?"

"Same." She fell into step beside me, her pace languid.

I glanced at her, frowning slightly. "Why didn't you get promoted to Class A? Your grades and combat scores are more than enough."

She yawned again, stretching her arms overhead as if the question itself were exhausting. "Oh, that? They didn't want to break the parity. Eight students. Perfectly even number. Besides, Class A doesn't matter. Not to me."

'Weird,' I thought, 'I guess they thought Luke wasn't deserving since he didn't have a Gift.'

Her nonchalant tone was almost maddening, but I knew better than to press her. Clana moved at her own pace, and trying to push her was like trying to argue with a river about the direction it flowed.

By the time we reached the dining hall, the other students were already gathering. The tantalizing aroma of the feast intensified, and I realized I was far hungrier than I had thought. Clana gave me a lazy wave before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me to find my seat among my classmates.

As I settled into the dining hall, my stomach made its protest known with a low, grumbling roar that I was sure half the room could hear. Thankfully, the buzz of conversation and the clinking of cutlery drowned it out. Not that it made me feel any less like I was hosting a ravenous beast in my abdomen. I really needed food—and soon.

My exhaustion didn't help. Sleep had been something of a mythical creature for me lately, a rare and elusive being that I hadn't managed to catch. Overworking didn't even begin to cover it. My mind had been a perpetual battlefield of necromantic theories and mana equations, and while I was making progress on the whole "how to make a Lich" thing, I still felt like I was sprinting uphill through molasses.

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Just as I was about to shuffle toward the food, Jin appeared beside me, silent and sudden as a ghost. His presence startled me so much I nearly jumped out of my chair.

"Arthur," he said in his typical monotone, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Jin," I replied, nodding politely, though I couldn't help the raised brow that followed. Jin wasn't exactly one for casual chit-chat.

"If you want to make a Lich," he whispered, his voice low enough to blend with the ambient noise, "form a Black Star first."

And with that cryptic line, he turned on his heel and walked away before I could ask a single clarifying question.

'What the hell is a Black Star?' I wondered, my mind already running through every necromantic text I'd read. It wasn't something Gravemore had mentioned, and if it wasn't in Gravemore's arsenal of obscure knowledge, it had to be something serious.

"Check your spatial ring," Jin called back without even glancing over his shoulder.

My eyes narrowed as I rubbed a finger along the ring's edge, mentally cataloging the contents. When I noticed two unfamiliar items—a small potion vial and a slim, black-bound book—I froze. Neither of them had been there before. My gaze flicked back to Jin, but he was already blending into the crowd, his stoic face betraying nothing.

'Later,' I thought, forcing myself to shove down the rising tide of curiosity. Whatever Jin had given me, this wasn't the time to start investigating. There was food to eat and classmates to endure—I mean, socialize with.

Grabbing a plate piled high with an unholy amount of food, I scanned the room for a spot to sit. Rachel caught my eye almost immediately, her golden hair shimmering under the soft glow of the chandeliers. She waved at me with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just spotted a long-lost friend, patting the empty chair beside her.

"Arthur, here!" she called, her bright smile practically beaming across the room.

I made my way over, balancing my overloaded plate with the precision of a trained juggler. As I neared the table, I noticed Cecilia sitting on the other side of the seat Rachel had saved for me. She glanced up, and to my shock, she smiled at me—not her usual sly, teasing smirk, but something gentler. Softer. Almost... genuine.

It threw me off so much that I nearly dropped my plate.

I set my food down and slid into the seat between them. "You both look beautiful," I said, the words slipping out before I could second-guess them.

Rachel's smile brightened, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Thanks, Arthur."

Cecilia's reaction, however, was even more unexpected. Her crimson eyes widened slightly, and for the briefest moment, she looked... flustered? The usual smug confidence in her expression faltered, replaced by something that almost resembled vulnerability.

'Well, well,' I thought, hiding an internal smirk. 'Looks like I'm not the only one who can take surprises.'

But the compliment hadn't been a ploy or strategy. It was the truth. Rachel's golden dress sparkled like sunlight on water, and Cecilia's deep crimson gown radiated elegance. They both looked stunning, and for once, I wasn't too distracted by my own exhaustion to notice.

I dug into my food, letting the conversation flow around me as Rachel and Cecilia chatted. The rest of the Class A students were scattered at nearby tables, each lost in their own pockets of conversation. Lucifer, ever the enigma, sat quietly at a corner table with Seraphina, both of them too stoic to bother with small talk. Jin, predictably, had found a seat as far from the crowd as possible, his back to the wall like some kind of brooding sentinel. Ian, meanwhile, was regaling a group of other students with what looked like a highly exaggerated story about a training mishap.

Despite the chatter and the opulence of the banquet, my mind kept drifting back to Jin's words and the mysterious items now sitting in my spatial ring. Whatever a Black Star was, I had a feeling it was about to make my journey into necromancy even more complicated.

But for now, I let myself enjoy the moment—the food, the company, and the rare feeling of not having to run headfirst into the next challenge.

I'd deal with the rest tomorrow. Or maybe after dessert.