Trapped like an extra in a blatant cliche

"In the crucible of his own darkness, he understood that true strength was not merely in defeating his enemies but in bearing the weight of a power he had yet to comprehend."

—Excerpt from Volume 1 of The Reborn Hero

Emma Tarkard's Perspective

For a fleeting moment, her body tensed, anticipating a possible confrontation. Her senses warned of a slight disturbance in the flow of mana approaching rapidly, and her reflexes, honed by her brief combat experiences, readied themselves. Yet, a moment later, she remembered where she was and relaxed her stance.

The Academy had its magical protections; its barriers were incredibly strong. No unwanted guest could breach them to cause harm, so the individual she felt approaching could only be another student—one very energetic in the mornings. She sighed, smoothing the frown on her face, and waited patiently. Soon, a white-and-aquamarine blur zipped past her, overtaking her in mere seconds and continuing along the well-trodden stone path.

She narrowed her eyes slightly—not at the displayed speed, which was insignificant to her, but at the person demonstrating it. With enough time to observe and in full detail, she identified that fool, Brián. Dressed like a delinquent, he passed her without even noticing, lost in his own world, a stupid smile plastered on his face.

She raised an intrigued eyebrow. Since when was he so fast? she wondered. Not long ago, the mid-term exams had been held, where every aspect of the students was evaluated—both physical and mental. That fool had only stood out academically, ranking among the top performers. But in the physical tests... well, she couldn't say he had been remarkable. So how? Could he have faked his performance during the exams to manipulate his results? She shook her head. Whatever it was... it wasn't really important. Good for that fool. In this academy, standing out with strength was essential if you didn't want all these rich, arrogant kids to crush you.

Here, it was preferable to crush others before they crushed you. She smiled faintly, relishing the thought. Perhaps she should train with Brián again; it had been over a year since they'd last done that. And while she was at it, maybe she could help fix his mess—or rather, her mess. She was tired of hiding, tired of skulking around like the coward she was. Two days of self-deception were more than enough to admit that the problem had always been her.

She wanted to move forward, to be strong like that fool and keep going. But the past was a chain that was hard to break, hard to leave behind. The anger she felt toward that vile race of invaders who had ruined her life, her home, still burned within her. Her fists clenched involuntarily. She just needed a little more time—that was all. And she believed she could untangle the emotional chaos that haunted her.

On her way to the academy, she reflected on it. Her steps were slow and deliberate, giving herself the space to think it over. Becoming a hunter, becoming the strongest swordswoman—those were her goals, as was annihilating the despicable race of invaders from her lands. But in the process, she didn't want to lose what little she had left. She didn't want to lose that fool. She didn't want to lose herself. And yet... she was so stupid that, without realizing it, she was doing exactly that anyway.

She sighed in resignation. At least now she could see the situation more clearly. Her judgment was no longer as clouded as before, though her heart still carried its share of darkness.

The buzz of laughter, murmurs, and shouts greeted her as she entered the Academy. Without hesitation, she stepped into its vast atrium. The sounds came from her left, and, like any curious human being, she turned her gaze in that direction, her steps becoming involuntary. She justified it by telling herself she had to pass through there to get to her class anyway.

"Isn't that the guy who had the worst physical performance during the exams?" The question, voiced from within the visible crowd in that hallway, immediately caught her attention.

"Exactly," someone replied, followed by laughter. "I don't know what the hell he's trying to do facing Ryan. His defensive skills are insane."

"He's an idiot," muttered another student near the conversation with disdain.

"Well... what could you expect from a pathetic commoner?" someone else said arrogantly, and more laughter echoed among the crowd of students at the remark.

"B-but isn't he one of those who placed in the top ten in the a-academic exams?" timidly asked a girl with gray hair and silver eyes, two extra appendages sticking out from her head like ears.

"What the hell are you saying, Emerly? It's obvious that bastard cheated somehow. There's no way a plain, ordinary commoner could outperform most of us here," a boy, visibly irritated, almost shouted, taking it far too personally, as if the object of his hate had stolen something he desired.

Another student, exuding evident superiority, added, "True... and you should be grateful that at least your parents can afford your tuition. It's not common to see a mixed-blood like you here." At the mocking comment, Emerly could only lower her head, too timid to even consider challenging the blatantly racist words.

Emma furrowed her brow. She had enough—listening to so much accumulated stupidity would fry her brain. Without asking, she simply forced her way through. Angry glares were thrown her way as she passed through the students gathered there like moths drawn to a flame, but when they realized who she was, those same glares turned to embarrassment and regret.

She didn't care in the slightest and reached the front of the crowd. The ease with which she did it was enviable; it felt like pushing through mere twigs.

There… she saw what her mind had already suspected after hearing all those unpleasant comments: that fool, Brián, was caught up in quite a big problem, one that made her scowl.

The murmurs and amused shouts continued to ring near her ears, which was annoying, mainly because of what they said and what they seemed to expect would happen to that idiot. Her eyes took in the scene… a muscular, giant guy with a face red with fury stood in stark contrast to a much smaller boy in comparison, his face full of joy and mischief. She even had to resist the urge to facepalm when that idiot decided to stick out his tongue and wink at the brown-haired guy, who was practically foaming at the mouth.

Seeing how the muscular guy's body tensed in preparation for an attack, she did the same. She anticipated intervening as quickly as she could—she didn't want Brián to get hurt over some unknown and senseless dispute. That idiot wasn't the type to dive headfirst into trouble, so that big guy and his three unpleasantly smirking ladies behind him must have cornered him somehow to get to this point. But… she didn't give a damn. All she had to do was get that fool out of there so quickly that no one would notice.

But… just as she was about to step in to help, her senses didn't detect any real danger for Brián—anxiety, yes, but not actual danger. Almost as if… midway through that thought, she saw something that left her stunned, something she genuinely didn't expect to happen. That idiot, with his ugly grin, dodged the devastating blow, evading the giant's right arm. A strike that made the air vibrate; it came close, almost grazing him, yet he managed it—an incredible display of agility.

The same miracle repeated when he ducked under another punch. Then, finding himself in an awkward position, he spun entirely on his axis while moving to the muscular guy's right, dodging a left grab that could have been very dangerous. He didn't have time to put distance between them; instead, he threw himself to the ground, avoiding the swift, sliding backhand that could have struck his pretty face.

And there, lying as he was, his grin turned cheeky, almost as if inviting the big guy to land a hit. He didn't hesitate to get back up in the blink of an eye, nor to backpedal on his feet, sliding until his back hit the right wall of the hallway. In that position, he didn't seem cornered at all. Because, as the brown-haired guy's subsequent punches came flying, that idiot merely tilted his torso and head from side to side, evading each strike—attacks that made the refined stone wall tremble slightly, given the force with which they were delivered.

His grin remained intact, despite each attack being barely dodged, despite them all coming so close… brushing past him by mere millimeters. At one point, Brián slid away quickly, slipping between the big guy's legs, taking advantage of their size disparity to put some distance between them. Thus, with the grace of a rusty metal door, he escaped his self-imposed trap.

The crowd's clamor came to an abrupt halt, the atmosphere, once filled with laughter and arrogant chatter, falling into a sepulchral silence. Emma's eyes observed how surprise and disbelief took over the faces of the gathered students, who, moments ago, were ridiculing Brián. Most pressed their lips together, frustrated, unable to accept what they had just witnessed.

"H-how the hell can that filthy commoner move like that? Wasn't he supposed to have placed last in the physical exams? He shouldn't even be able to react to Ryan," one of those aristocratic idiots managed to stammer, only to spout more nonsense, but in the end, he said it.

Hearing the uncertainty-laden comment, her brow furrowed. What on earth was that idiot talking about? That fool had reflexes sharp enough to put most of those present to shame, and even she knew it. Despite the differences in skill, Brián possessed inhuman nerves and reaction speeds due to his trait.

This fight had proven it once again; despite his awkward mobility, his eyes and motor nerves reacted well before the muscular brute's blow even landed. It was a level of anticipation years beyond their league—an incredible reaction time that even she didn't possess and that now... was being displayed in full glory. Still, she frowned again. That fool's body didn't match his reflexes; it couldn't keep up, making him slow enough to barely dodge each attack by a hair.

Why the hell was he moving so clumsily? she wondered. The last time they trained, he had better footwork and solid balance. Now... he looked like a baby learning to walk. She knew that with the fighting skills she remembered and what he had shown here, Brián would have easily outmatched the giant by a far wider margin. So, what was causing this decline in combat ability?

In the past, they had trained together extensively, so she knew his fighting level. What the hell was he doing now? she asked herself. While his fighting style was never flawless, she distinctly remembered it being far more efficient before. Had he stopped training? If that were the case, it was her responsibility to sharpen him again, to restore the edge he seemed to have lost.

"Impossible! That commoner can't have such speed! If he does, th-then he'd rank in the t-top half of the clas-classifications," the same idiot spoke again, now more frightened than anything else. Emma refocused on the fight, always ready to step in if things got out of hand for that fool. Yes, she remembered... Ryan, the Tower, she thought with boredom. That hulking brute's only redeeming feature was his durability, courtesy of his trait.

His speed barely ranked above the first-year median, his agility was far below it, and his endurance was pathetic given the size of his body. She sighed in slight irritation. If that fool had shown his abilities from the start, none of these rich bastards would have dared to mess with him.

Seconds turned into full minutes—three, to be exact—and the fight finally reached its conclusion. The gathered crowd was left in shock, silent, unable to believe what they had seen. They were stunned by the physical capabilities of that idiot, who wasn't even tired, unlike the giant, who could barely breathe. Their expressions were a poem of disbelief that amused her greatly. Soon, conversations—or rather, murmurs—resurfaced. These children couldn't keep quiet and started spouting pathetic excuses for what had just happened.

Neither she nor Brián cared. Instead, that fool spoke with shameless audacity: "You're already tired? That's a relief because if one of those punches landed, my head would've been ripped clean off," he remarked with a terrifyingly cheerful tone that left her somewhat puzzled. "And seriously... you take things way too seriously; you need to relax, it'll do you good," he added with some chuckles escaping him, further bewildering her and the audience alike.

What? Where the hell did that arrogance come from? she wondered. That fool shouldn't be talking so casually; his combat skills were trash—worse than when he was nine years old. So where was that cockiness coming from? Amused, she sighed. She'd make sure to polish his abilities again so that if he wanted to be arrogant, at least he'd have something to back it up.

And now, with the brief lull in action, she could focus on something else. Yes, on that strange aura that fool's mana was giving off—something subtle but noticeable, affecting the nearby atmosphere like a kettle on the verge of boiling over.

Unfortunately, her deductive thoughts were quickly interrupted. In less than a second, her eyes widened as she felt something that left her stunned. Reflexively, her hand moved near her waist as if to draw a sword that wasn't there. When had it appeared? That was a question she had no answer to; all she knew was that an intense mana presence had manifested nearby.

The rhythmic tapping of something against the ground—something approaching—made her nervous. A cold sweat ran down her forehead, and her body involuntarily prepared to attack or defend. "Enough! This is pointless!" a young girl's voice rang out, high-pitched but with overwhelming power, pressing heavily on her shoulders.

The rhythmic sound of footsteps continued, and soon the students parted to make way for a figure—a teenager who still looked like a child, dressed in a black and white three-piece outfit that clearly marked her as a mage.

She carried a staff made of strange wood as her magical weapon. Her hair was purple, and her piercing eyes matched in color. She wasn't very tall, slightly shorter than Emma herself. On her head was an old leather hat that seemed to be napping. "Or do any of you have something to say, students?" her voice, though simple, held an unknown power that pushed Emma to the brink.

"Isn't she Aurora, the Harlequin?" a voice among the students asked, shocked to see such a celebrity in person. Murmurs grew, filled with excitement and agitation at such a unique presence. "What's she doing at the academy? Shouldn't she be fighting Monturd Resems and those things?"

Emma merely listened. She didn't know this Aurora, but one thing was clear... she was strong—very strong. Her slow movements had something that kept Emma from lowering her guard, almost as if this person were a tightly wound spring, ready to explode at any moment.

That day... Emma learned that her power was still insignificant compared to this monster in the guise of a child before her—a person who, without a doubt, could kill her with a single move if she wanted to.