The Extra's Reincarnation

[Julian's POV]

Voices.

They were distant and muffled, coming from all directions at once.

"How long will he be out for?"

"Is he going to wake up?"

"It feels like he's recovering quickly."

The words floated around me, overlapping and distorting as I struggled to make sense of them.

Pain pulsed through my body in waves, each throb reminded me of the brutal exchange with Uzan.

My ribs felt like they were on fire, and every breath was a laborious effort.

-You're alive!

Vykekard's voice echoed softly in my mind, he sounded amused beneath the usual detachment.

"How... long?" I tried to ask, but the words came out as a pained groan.

My vision was a blur of light and shadow, indistinct forms moving in and out of focus.

The voices continued their relentless barrage, a chorus of concern and curiosity.

"He's waking up!"

"Julian, can you hear us?"

"Someone get the nurse!"

I forced my eyes to open, blinking against the harsh light.

The room slowly came into focus, and I saw several familiar faces hovering over me.

Diana Florence, her silver hair cascading like a waterfall as she leaned in with an expression of relief.

Leanne, Diana's half-wolf servant, her lupine features betraying a hint of worry.

Ezekiel, his hair more disheveled than usual, looking equal parts anxious and amused.

And Kaelen, his face still bruised from his encounter with Uzan, but standing tall and composed.

"What...?" I managed to croak, my voice barely a whisper.

"Finally," Ezekiel said, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"We thought you were going to sleep through the entire semester."

I blinked, trying to make sense of their presence.

"Why... here?"

Diana placed a reassuring hand on my arm. "We heard what happened," she said gently. "The entire campus is talking about it."

"How long...?" I asked, wincing as I shifted my position.

"About three days," Kaelen replied, his voice tinged with both admiration and concern. "You've been out cold since the match."

"Three days?" I repeated, the words sinking in slowly.

No wonder everything hurt so much.

"Three days of medical magic and healing potions," Ezekiel said, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

"The doctors and mages are actually baffled by how quickly you and Uzan are recovering. They expected you both to be bedridden for at least a week with those injuries."

"You two have some serious healing factors going on. Did you get that from your dad's side? Some hidden bloodline trait?"

The moment he said those words, I didn't know how to respond.

So I shifted uncomfortably against the stiff infirmary pillows.

"I wouldn't know," I replied flatly.

"Never had one."

Ezekiel's expression immediately shifted from curiosity to embarrassment.

"Right," he said quickly, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"I forgot, sorry about that."

Diana shot him a disapproving glance before turning her attention back to me.

"How are you feeling now? Is there anything we can get you?"

I relaxed back against the bed, waving off her concern.

"I'm fine. Just sore everywhere."

I looked at Ezekiel, who still appeared uncomfortable with his misstep.

The room fell silent for a moment before I turned to Kaelen, who had been quietly observing from the foot of my bed.

"Why are you here, Kaelen? Shouldn't you be training or something?"

Kaelen's usually composed face softened slightly. "We're friends, aren't we? I was more concerned about you than myself."

His directness caught me off guard. In the original novel, Kaelen had always been portrayed as distant and focused solely on his training, especially in the early chapters. This deviation was... unexpected.

"I'm fine," I assured him, then hesitated before asking, "How about you? Have you recovered from your match with Uzan?"

Kaelen nodded, rolling his shoulder experimentally. "I'm all okay. Nothing permanent."

A bell chimed through the infirmary, the sound echoing off the white stone walls. Everyone in the room immediately straightened.

"That's the homeroom bell," Diana said, already gathering her things. "We have to go."

Ezekiel sighed dramatically as he pushed himself away from the wall. "Back to the grind of academy life."

They moved toward the door, but Kaelen lingered for a moment longer. "Rest up," he said simply. "No need to rush back."

"We'll come check on you after classes," Diana promised as Leanne held the door open for her.

"And we'll bring notes!" Ezekiel called over his shoulder as they filed out.

When the door closed behind them, I let out a heavy sigh and sank deeper into the infirmary bed.

"Me drawing a match with Uzan Modan Jr.," I muttered to myself, shaking my head slightly despite the pain it caused.

"Never would have predicted that when I woke up that morning."

I couldn't help but smile a little. Despite the agony coursing through my body, there was a certain satisfaction in what had transpired.

Dwarven combat tradition held honor above all else—to match a royal dwarf blow for blow, to endure the same punishment he inflicted without yielding, was to earn a level of respect few outsiders ever achieved.

At least I honored his tradition, for someone so focused on family honor and heritage like Uzan, that should put me in his good graces.

The thought was strangely comforting. In the original storyline, Uzan had become an antagonist to many of the main characters, his arrogance and sense of superiority driving him to clash with them repeatedly. But perhaps this change—this unexpected connection forged through combat—might alter that trajectory.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind drift to the question that had been nagging at me since I regained consciousness.

Was it really a draw, though?

Or did Drothgar just call it that way to end the fight before we killed each other?

As if responding to my question, a familiar notification appeared in my field of vision.

[Quest Complete!]

[MAIN STORY QUEST LOG - THE CHALLENGER'S GAMBIT]

[Description: You have been challenged by Uzan Modan Jr. in the first-year combat ring. This unexpected confrontation represents a critical divergence from the original timeline.]

[Objective: Achieve a draw against Uzan Modan Jr.] - [Complete!]

[Calculating Rewards…]

[Rewards Calculated!]

FWANG!

[Important Side Character Has Been Beaten: 1700 SP]

[Defeated Future Antagonist: 1000 SP]

[Difficulty Of Quest: A+]

[Complete Calculation of Rewards: 2700 SP + 1000 SP For Quest Completion.]

I blinked in surprise at the substantial reward.

Three thousand seven hundred SP was far more than I'd received for any previous quest.

It was nearly three times what I'd earned for surviving the Capture the Flag game.

[Additional Bonus: Soul Core Stage: Intermediate (11.5%) → 75% (63.5%+)]

"Holy shit…" I whispered, genuinely impressed by the system's generosity.

My fingers traced the bandages wrapped tightly around my ribs as I contemplated the rewards.

The SP gain was large, but the soul core advancement was even more valuable.

To jump from early intermediate to late intermediate in a single bound would normally take months, if not years, of dedicated cultivation.

"I guess nearly dying has its perks," I said with a dry chuckle that immediately made me regret the attempt at humor as pain lanced through my chest.

The infirmary fell quiet, with only the soft hum of healing magic generators breaking the silence. I closed my eyes, ready to drift back to sleep when a slight rustling sound caught my attention.

"Are you awake?" a deep, familiar voice called out quietly.

My eyes snapped open as the privacy curtain around my bed shifted, parting just enough for a massive head to poke through.

Uzan Modan Jr.'s face was still discolored with bruising, one eye swollen nearly shut, but his expression was surprisingly gentle.

"I am now," I replied, trying to sit up before wincing and abandoning the effort.

"I... apologize for disturbing your rest," Uzan said.

He pushed the curtain aside further, revealing that he too was in a hospital bed, wheeled close to mine.

His massive frame was wrapped in bandages, and several monitoring crystals pulsed with healing magic around his bed.

"I wanted to speak with you while we're both still here," he continued, adjusting himself with a wince. "About our fight."

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

Uzan looked down at his bandaged hands, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his demeanor.

"I misjudged you, Julian Uzziel. I thought you were weak and unworthy of notice." His voice carried genuine regret.

"I was wrong."

The admission seemed to cost him something, his pride perhaps.

For someone of Uzan's standing, acknowledging an error wasn't trivial.

"Your defense of your family name, your willingness to stand against me despite the odds... these are traits of great honor."

He looked up, meeting my gaze directly.

"Few would have done what you did. Fewer still would have matched me blow for blow."

I considered my response carefully. While the acknowledgment was satisfying, I had no desire to become entangled in Uzan's social circle or political machinations.

"I appreciate that," I replied evenly. "Let's just say we've both learned something and leave it at that. No hard feelings going forward."

Uzan nodded, seeming relieved.

"I would like that. Truth be told, our battle was exhilarating—the best I've experienced since my encounter with the man in the black mask."

My attention sharpened instantly, though I kept my expression neutral.

Black mask? Both the Demonic Order and the World Order operatives wore distinctive black masks during their operations.

I wondered which one had Uzan encountered? And how had he survived such an encounter?

For a moment, I considered pressing for details. The information could be valuable, potentially revealing which faction was already making moves within the academy. But something held me back—intuition perhaps, or the simple desire not to prolong our interaction.

I nodded instead, letting my head sink back into the pillow. "We all have our memorable battles."

Uzan seemed to accept this, a faint smile crossing his battered face. He began to wheel his bed back to his side of the infirmary, pausing briefly.

"Rest well, Julian Uzziel. When we are both recovered, perhaps we might train together sometime."