Why is Background Character the Strongest Now?

Chapter 17

Ezra sat quietly in the far corner of the cafeteria, chewing on a piece of roasted chicken. The juicy, smoky flavor filled his mouth, but his focus wasn't on the food.

His eyes were on someone else.

Xavier Quinn.

The boy sat alone at a table near the center, hunched slightly, expression blank. His plate of food—half-touched. Roasted meat, mana rice, vegetable soup… untouched by appetite.

But it wasn't the food that made Ezra frown.

It was the mockery.

"Heh, look over there," one boy whispered loudly, leaning over his tray. "Ain't that the genius Xavier Quinn? The B-rank core prodigy?"

His friend let out a theatrical laugh. "Genius? You mean Has-Been Quinn? The guy who got folded in half by Daelen Voncrest in one move? The same guy whose ex is now walking around clinging to Daelen's arm?"

Another chimed in, smirking as he tossed a grape at Xavier's plate.

"Didn't he fail every theory paper too? Even a commoner could score higher—oh wait, he is one."

"I heard he got dumped into Class D with all the other failures," a girl with glittering bracelets said mockingly. "Imagine falling from top-tier to trash status that fast."

"He couldn't even keep his swordsmanship rank," another added. "B-rank core, but a D-rank brain."

"Hey!" a smug boy laughed. "Don't say that! Don't forget—he still has a poor little sister to feed back home."

The table burst into cruel laughter.

Xavier kept chewing slowly, face still, eyes empty.

But his knuckles were white.

The grip on his spoon trembled slightly. His jaw was clenched too tight. He didn't say a word. Didn't look up.

Ezra watched quietly from across the room.

He could see it—the fury in Xavier's eyes hidden behind that mask of indifference. Not weakness… control. Xavier could break all of them in under a minute, and he knew it. But he didn't.

Because if he caused trouble, his House would lose AP.

He'd be penalized.

More humiliation.

Ezra stood slowly, tray sliding across the table.

And began walking toward them with slow, unhurried steps.

The Red House students paused, confused.

He stopped right by their table, turned to Xavier, and asked calmly, voice clear and level:

"Hey Xavier, do you mind if I sit with you?"

Xavier blinked in shock but shook his head.

Ezra gently pulled out the chair next to him and sat, placing his tray down. Then, he looked at the loud group.

Still smiling.

Still polite.

"Excuse me," Ezra said softly. "Just wanted to thank you."

One of the boys blinked. "Huh?"

"For reminding everyone that having a famous surname and a loud mouth is not the same as having actual talent."

The entire cafeteria paused.

Another beat.

Laughter erupted.

The insult had landed so cleanly, so smoothly, that it took the bullies a second to register they'd been roasted alive.

Even some seniors chuckled into their soup.

The loudest boy from the group—a short-tempered hothead named Orien Vexhart, from a noble family in the Red House—shot to his feet.

"You bastard, what did you just say!?"

Ezra didn't even look up as he wiped his hands with a napkin.

Orien lunged forward, mana coating his arm.

Ezra casually side-stepped.

Thump.

The boy crashed into a table, landing face-first in a bowl of stew. It splattered everywhere.

More laughter.

But just then—

SLAM!

The cafeteria doors opened with a gust of wind, and in stepped a tall man with a clipboard and sharp eyes—the warden of the dining hall. A thick grey mustache sat under his nose like a war veteran's badge.

"What the hell is going on here!?"

Orien quickly stood, face dripping with stew and ego. He pointed at Ezra.

"Sir! That guy he insulted me and attacked me first!"

The warden looked at Ezra.

Ezra just smiled politely and folded his hands.

"I simply walked to my seat, sir. He tripped. I believe it was gravity's fault."

There was a brief silence before another wave of laughter broke out across the cafeteria.

Even the warden raised an eyebrow.

But then he saw Orien's uniform.

"House Ignis, huh?" he said under his breath, just loud enough.

He cleared his throat and said sternly, ".You're warned."

A few students groaned in protest.

"Seriously?" one muttered. "Everyone saw what happened."

But Ezra stood and gave a small bow.

"Understood, sir. I'll be more careful next time. Wouldn't want House Ignis to trip on their own pride again."

Oof.

That was the final blow. Even the kitchen staff were giggling behind their trays.

The warden squinted but said nothing. He turned and walked out.

Ezra sat back down next to Xavier.

The mocking table was silent now.

Xavier looked at him, stunned. "…Why?"

Ezra picked up his fork and resumed eating.

"I don't like noise," he said quietly

Then he added, without looking up:

"And I really don't like bullies who can't take their own medicine."

Xavier didn't say anything at first.

He simply gave Ezra a brief glance… then returned to his meal in silence.

Ezra didn't mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. The two sat there quietly, side by side, as the rest of the cafeteria buzzed around them like a hive of noise and gossip.

When both were done, they stood and made their way toward the exit. Just as they reached the hallway where their paths would split—

Xavier spoke, voice quiet, almost hesitant.

"…Thank you."

He didn't wait for a response. He simply turned and walked away.

Ezra blinked, then smiled to himself as he watched the boy's back fade into the distance.

"Can't let him turn into a villain," he thought. "Not this time."

⸻

Meanwhile, inside the House of Flames…

Far away from the calm halls of Azureus House, deep within the massive Ignis House castle—crafted from blood-red marble and etched with gold—the atmosphere burned with frustration.

The walls of the central corridor glowed with embedded mana stones, their crimson shimmer reflecting off polished armor sets that lined the path. At the very top flew a giant banner: a golden phoenix over a field of red.

It was the proud symbol of House Ignis, the most aggressive and elite house in the academy.

And pacing furiously under that banner was Orien Vexhart.

"How dare he," Orien snarled, fists clenched. "How dare that Class D trash humiliate me in front of everyone?"

His group of sycophantic friends surrounded him, trying to douse the flames.

"Calm down, Orien. He's nothing. Just a nameless, faceless newbie. Not worth your temper."

"Yeah, your reputation's too valuable to throw away over some polite-talking peasant."

Orien slumped onto a velvet-cushioned chair and drank a full glass of water in one gulp, still fuming.

"Yeah… you're right," he muttered. "If I act now, it'll look like I'm threatened. But…" His fingers tightened around the glass. "If we meet in tomorrow's special test… I'll crush him. Personally."

His closest friend smirked. "We'll make sure of it. Who even is that guy anyway? I'll send a message—someone in logistics will know."

As he typed on his academy communicator, a new voice entered the room, casual but laced with disgust.

"Oh? Who are we crushing now? Someone dented your ego again, Orien?"

Marcus Ardent.

He strolled in with his usual composed aura. Dressed in his crisp red-and-gold coat, the heir to the Ardent Family stood out like a lion among jackals.

Right behind him walked another towering figure, eyes cool and distant:

Daelen Voncrest.

Orien's face darkened. "Tch. Not your business, Ardent."

Marcus's eyes narrowed. "When someone acts like a brute under the Ignis banner, it is my business. Don't forget—you tarnish the House, you tarnish us all."

Orien slammed his glass down. "What are you gonna do, Marcus? This is an academy, not your family estate. Go back to polishing your sword."

Daelen, uninterested, glanced around lazily. "Let's go, Marcus. Talking to insects only wastes your breath."

Marcus didn't break eye contact with Orien until the two walked out.

Orien stared at their backs, teeth gritted.

He wouldn't dare say more. Not to them. Not outside the academy either—their families dwarfed his like dragons to ants.

But deep inside…

"That pretty-faced bastard from earlier… I'll destroy him. Just wait."

His friend returned from the hallway, whispering something in his ear.

"We got a name?"

"Not yet. But someone from Class D is checking. All they said was—he's a transfer. A 'special case.'"

⸻

Meanwhile, in another corridor…

As Marcus and Daelen walked calmly under the evening lanterns of Ignis House, Daelen finally spoke again.

"I heard from Mitchell… there's a new student in Class D."

Marcus arched an eyebrow. "A transfer student? In first year?"

Daelen nodded. "Apparently, he missed Semester One due to a long illness. Enrolled this term under special clearance."

"Must be weak then," Marcus muttered.

Daelen shook his head. "Mitchell said something I still can't believe. He claims this guy disarmed Autobot 17 in a single strike."

Marcus stopped walking.

"…Autobot 17? The one they use for sword-level testing?"

Daelen nodded again. "The same. It's rated with Intermediate-level sword mastery, and even top-tier second years struggle to beat it."

Marcus stared at him. "That's not possible. Even I didn't clear it in one strike."

"I thought Mitchell was exaggerating," Daelen said. "But he doesn't lie. If it's true…"

Marcus's expression grew sharp. "Then this guy isn't some sickly transfer. He's dangerous."

Daelen smirked faintly.

"We'll know tomorrow. The test roster comes out in the morning. Then we'll get a name."