The Extra is a Genius!?
Chapter 69: First Clash

Chapter 69: Chapter 69: First Clash

The hallway outside the debate chamber was quiet—surprisingly quiet for something so public.

Only the selected students had access. And among them, most had split into their usual clusters: nobles with nobles, hybrids and scholarship students off to the side.

Marcus sat with Clara, Laziel, and Garron near the archway bench. Light from a nearby mana lantern shimmered off the trim of their uniforms.

Noel approached without ceremony.

He didn’t ask for permision just sat next to Laziel.

They all looked at him—mild surprise.

Marcus smiled. "Didn’t think you’d join us."

"Change of pace," Noel muttered.

A short silence followed.

Then Noel glanced at the group, casually.

"So. Who are you all voting for?"

Clara laughed softly. "Seriously you asking that, I thought you knew us better?"

Marcus answered before anyone else.

"Seraphina, obviously."

Laziel nodded to what Marcus said. "Logically the best choice. Dior might be eloquent, but he stands for exactly what needs to be restructured."

Garron crossed his arms, nodding once.

Selene was there too even if she didn’t speak. But she didn’t look away either.

That was enough.

Noel leaned back slightly.

’Well, no harm in asking the obvious.’

’Just making sure, and I have to be hundred percent sure.’

The chamber was smaller than the main auditorium, but no less grand.

Mana-forged pillars lined the walls, each engraved with the crest of one of the founding Houses. Rows of ascending stone benches curved around a central stage—half courtroom, half arena.

Students filed in, whispering as they took their assigned seats.

Only the top-ranked and most involved had been invited to watch this first official debate in person. The rest would view it later through projection crystals and transcripts.

Noel sat between Laziel and Marcus, hands folded loosely in his lap, eyes scanning the room.

Dior was already seated on the left side of the stage—legs crossed, posture elegant, a picture of confidence.

Seraphina entered a few seconds later from the opposite side.

She took her seat without fanfare.

Then came Lereus.

The new professor moved with the grace of someone who had been part of institutions far older than the academy. His robes were perfectly tailored, his expression diplomatic.

He stepped to the podium at the center and raised a hand.

The room quieted instantly.

"Thank you all for being here."

His voice echoed with controlled clarity, boosted gently by ambient mana.

"Today, we begin the formal deliberation between the candidates for student council president."

He looked at each side without blinking.

"Each speaker will be given equal time. No interruptions will be tolerated. The questions have been pre-selected by faculty and approved by the current council."

He paused.

Then with a slight motion of his hand—

"Dior of Valor. You may begin."

Lereus remained centered at the podium, his hand resting lightly on the surface as a sealed scroll unfurled beside him. The first question hovered in glowing script above the center of the stage, clear for all to read:

"What is your vision to improve academic performance and ensure fairness across all student backgrounds?"

The words faded slowly.

Dior stood without hesitation.

He stepped forward, hands clasped lightly behind his back.

"The question speaks of fairness," he began, voice smooth and composed, "as if performance is something owed, rather than earned."

A murmur swept through one side of the audience.

He ignored it.

"This academy was built to produce the best. That is not achieved by lowering the bar for comfort. It is maintained by setting it higher—and training those capable of reaching it."

His eyes scanned the crowd.

"Reform should not mean dilution. It should mean refinement."

He turned slightly toward the council table.

"I propose increased qualification standards for advancement, a re-evaluation of admissions quotas, and the return of advanced-class isolation to preserve high-performance environments."

Back straight, tone unwavering.

"Excellence must be protected. Not compromised."

He stepped back, bowing his head slightly.

Applause rose sharply from the noble seats.

Elsewhere, the silence was heavy.

Noel didn’t move.

He simply exhaled through his nose, slow and unimpressed.

’Typical Dior. Tighten the leash, smile, and pretend it’s for the greater good.’

Lereus didn’t react to the applause. His hand moved once.

"Seraphina of Valor. Your response."

She stood with the same calm precision that marked her every movement.

She didn’t posture.

Didn’t sweep the room with her gaze.

She just looked forward, focused and steady.

"Performance isn’t something that can be manufactured. Nor is it exclusive to heritage."

A few murmurs followed—this time from the outer rows.

She continued, unfazed.

"This academy holds the best minds and the hardest workers from every corner of the continent. But not all of them arrive with the same tools."

Her voice remained firm, deliberate.

"To raise the standard, we must raise access—not lower expectation."

She took a slow breath.

"I propose a reinforced mentoring system that pairs high-performing students with those who struggle. Not as charity, but as leadership in action."

A few surprised looks exchanged across rows.

"Second, I suggest increased transparency in faculty evaluations and the formation of a neutral academic review board to monitor support distribution. Too many resources stay locked in places few can reach."

She let that hang.

And then—

"We don’t need to weaken our standards to create fairness. We need to recognize that equality of opportunity strengthens performance—across all ranks."

She bowed her head once.

No applause followed this time.

Just silence.

Then slow, scattered claps—from the upper tiers.

Then more.

Until even some among the nobles began to tap fingers or nod thoughtfully.

Seraphina sat down without looking at anyone.

Noel tilted his head.

’She’s got a good point, I don’t know how the fuck her brother won this, something is still off and I don’t like not knowing what.’

Professor Lereus raised a hand.

The next question materialized in the air, larger than the previous:

"What does leadership mean to you?"

A murmur moved through the chamber.

It was the kind of question that stripped away policy and forced candidates to show who they were—beneath the structure, beyond the talking points.

Lereus looked left.

"Dior of Valor."

Dior rose again with perfect timing.

He spoke without hesitation.

"Leadership," he said, "is inheritance. It is responsibility passed from those who built the foundation to those chosen to preserve it."

He took a slow step forward.

"It is the quiet burden of carrying the weight others cannot. And making decisions they would never dare to face."

Another step.

"A leader is not chosen by the crowd, but shaped by bloodline, legacy, and tradition. That is where wisdom lives. Where vision is born."

He paused for effect.

"Leadership is not about being liked. It is about being right—before others realize it."

He nodded once and returned to his seat.

Strong applause followed. Loud. But more controlled than before.

Seraphina didn’t wait to be called this time.

She stood.

Her hands rested calmly in front of her.

And when she spoke, the room fell quiet.

"Leadership is listening."

She waited.

"It’s knowing when to act—and when to let others speak. It’s the ability to admit when you’re wrong."

She glanced toward the upper seats.

"It’s not about being chosen by blood or name. It’s about rising because others see something in you—even when you don’t see it in yourself."

She looked back toward the front row.

"A true leader makes space for others. Even if it costs them their place."

Then:

"And if that doesn’t scare you—then you’re not ready to lead."

Silence.

Until someone stood in the back.

Then another.

Then the applause returned.

The stone doors of the chamber opened slowly, and students filtered out in groups—some talking in hushed voices, others already arguing in low, excited tones.

Noel walked beside Marcus, with Clara and Laziel just behind. Garron was unusually quiet, his arms crossed, like for the first time in his life he had a thought in his mind. Selene trailed near the edge, expression unreadable as always.

’Honestly why are you here Selene if you don’t talk to anyone, its stranger than me being with them.’

Marcus was the first to break the silence.

"He’s sharp, I’ll give him that," he muttered. "Dior knows how to speak like someone born to rule, I mean, he’s a prince I give him that."

Clara scoffed.

"Yeah. Speaks like he’s managing a kingdom, not a future student council."

Laziel added:

"He’s too polished. You can tell every word was rehearsed and probably approved by five nobles before he even opened his mouth."

Marcus nodded. "Seraphina’s words landed harder. She never raised her voice, not once—but she spoke with clarity, with confidence, and every word felt deliberate. Her speech stood apart."

They all looked at Noel.

He was quiet, watching the lanterns flicker down the long hallway.

Then, finally:

""What, you want my opinion too? Fine."

Marcus blinked.

"Yes?"

Noel’s voice was dry. Measured.

"Honestly, Dior has a way with words. Maybe it wasn’t improvised, but for people who haven’t made up their minds yet—it could definitely make them hesitate."

None of them spoke after that.

’Shit, I didn’t wanted to end the conversation like this. My bad, maybe I was as bit cringy? No that wasn’t the case, I just said the facts, right?.’

Because even if they didn’t fully grasp the details, they understood what Noel meant—and they felt it too.

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