Transmigrating as an Extra, But the Heroine Has Regressed?!

It was the start of a new week. 

At Ground Zero—the central training field where the first-year trains—all the students had gathered.

Even though the injured students were healed and back, they still looked weak.

Kael stood among them, his legs still aching from the weekends training, and sleepless nights. 

Professor Sylvia stepped forward from the edge of the field. 

She held a clipboard in one hand and a stopwatch in the other. 

"Start."

As soon as the professor gave the signal, all the students ran forward quickly and forcefully. 

Their footsteps made loud sounds as they hit the ground.

Kael didn't move right away. 

His fingers closed around a small glass vial. Inside—it was the Stamina Restoration Elixir he had purchased.

He hesitated for only a moment.

Then he drank it without waiting much time. 

"It is just to try this elixir, but I will not drink next time, especially during training."

It was bitter, with a slight burn—but as it settled into his core, Kael felt the tightness in his muscles begin to ease. 

His heart beat steady now, his breathing smoother.

Without wasting another second, Kael sprinted forward.

His legs no longer felt like dead weight. In fact, they moved with surprising ease—each stride smooth, each step were powerful. 

The Stamina Restoration Elixir was working.

Lap after lap, he ran. The world blurred around him, but he was very focused. 

Ten laps. 

Twenty. 

Thirty. 

Time passed like a whisper.

By the time most students were struggling to stay on their feet, Kael had already passed his fiftieth lap. Sweat soaked his shirt, but his legs still moved. 

Seventy…

Eighty…

Finally, at ninety-eight laps, Kael slowed. 

His body trembled from fatigue, but the fact he had come this far shocked even him.

"That elixir… wow," he muttered between breaths, wiping sweat from his brow. 

"It is very effective… but only for a short duration."

Just as the effects wore off, a sharp ache returned, and his lungs started to burn. 

The elixir had merely bought him time—and now the real exhaustion crept in.

After nearly two hours, the training whistle blew. Students gathered once again at the center of the field, many collapsing to the ground. 

Professor Sylvia stood before them, arms crossed, but this time there was a rare softness in her gaze.

She took a breath and spoke clearly, her voice steady but quieter than usual.

"I'm sorry… for what happened last week," she said, eyes on the crowd. 

"The incident should never have occurred. And there were no escort teachers also."

The students stood still.

"Fortunately, no one was killed." Her voice dipped slightly at that. 

"But that doesn't change the fact that you were put in danger. As your teacher, I accept full responsibility. I am truly sorry."

A pause.

Then she raised her head, firmer now.

 "From now on, I will personally escort and oversee you all in every event. You will not face danger alone again—not under my watch."

Some students exchanged glances.

Kael stood quietly in the back, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

She glanced at the paper on her hand, then addressed the group.

"We have three months and fifteen days left until the first semester ends," she announced.

"During that time, there will be two major events, followed by the First Semester Examination."

A low murmur rippled through the students.

"Each event scores marks".

"The first event will take place in just one month. The second, one month after that. Both are essential—not just for your rankings, but for your growth." 

"To get expelled or advancement may depend on your performance."

Events? Tests? He still didn't fully understand this world's power system, and now it seemed the pressure was only increasing.

Sylvia turned a page on her clipboard.

"But before we begin today's combat class," she continued, "I will announce the results of last week's trial event."

Everyone was silent instantly. All eyes were on her.

"In the first group," Sylvia began, "Group One scored the highest—taking down two Savage-rank beasts and two Feral-rank ones. Total points: 30."

A few heads turned toward a group of confident-looking students who stood with pride. 

They didn't cheer, but the silence on their faces said enough.

Sylvia continued reading.

The numbers dropped steadily as she moved down the list.

Then came the part Kael had been waiting for.

She glanced briefly at the clipboard, then said, "Group Eighteen… Fifth place. Total points: 10."

Fifth place wasn't terrible—but it wasn't good either. Especially when the difference in rewards was steep.

"However, from fifth place onward, no coins were earned."

Murmurs spread through the crowd, especially among those who had placed lower. Some looked disappointed, others frustrated.

Sylvia lowered the clipboard.

"Now that the results are out, we will begin the combat training.

Meanwhile! 

Zevir, Emberfell, and the rest of their group approached Kael, their faces serious and respectful. 

Zevir stepped forward first.

"Kael Ashford," he said, voice steady, "we're thanking you. If not for you holding off that assassin, we would have died."

Emberfell nodded beside him,his eyes showing sincereness. 

"You didn't have to help. But you did."

(The what…?), nodded myself. 

Kael looked at them for a moment. His expression didn't change. 

He simply gave a small nod and replied, "Okay."

Nothing more.

There was an awkward pause—just a flicker of it—before Zevir gave a short laugh and shook his head.

"Man of few words, huh?" he said, not unkindly.

Veyla gave Kael a final glance before the group stepped away, returning to their side of the field asif she had fallen for him. 

Kael stood still for a moment. He hadn't done it for thanks. He didn't even know why he stepped in back then.

But let this slide, time to train. 

The class goes as normal, training for heat, cold, mana class etc… 

That evening! 

At the podium stood a second year student. 

—Kayle Virehart, the number one ranked swordsman of the second year. 

He stood with the ease of someone who believed the world owed him something.

Kayle was known throughout Arcadia Academy—not just for his skill with the sword, but for his arrogance. 

Born into a noble family with rich and political influence, he carried himself like royalty. 

Rules rarely applied to him, and when they did, he ignored them anyway. 

Professors tolerated him. Students feared him. And wherever he went, trouble followed.

Kayle was the source of more disciplinary reports than most second-years combined. 

But he never faced consequences. After all, who would dare punish the Virehart heir?

He looked down at the gathered first-years with clear dislike in his eyes.

"This?"

"These are the new recruits everyone's talking about?"

"It's too much for first-year students. What's so special about them? A bunch of weaklings who barely survived an assassination and think they deserve praise?"

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

(Try surviving a duel with someone like me. Then maybe I'll care.)

(If any of you think you're special, prove it. Otherwise, stay in your lane.)

He walked away dramatically that evening.