The Nameless Extra: I Proofread This World

Zian was the protagonist of this world. His name should have been called. He should have been the one walking toward the stage, bearing the weight of countless judging gazes.

But he wasn’t.

And that was when Ruvian realised he couldn’t find him. His head snapped toward the sea of scholars inside the hall.

’Where is that bastard?’

His eyes darted from face to face, scanning the rows of uniforms, but there was no sign of Zian Herga anywhere.

’Where is that damn protagonist!?’

A chill spread down his spine.

’Shit. Don’t screw with me...’

The worst possible outcome, the one possibility he had never considered, slammed into him like a physical force.

’Don’t tell me that he doesn’t exist...?’

The thought sent a surge of panic through him, cold and suffocating.

This was a familiar scenario, something he had once read in another novel, a world where the protagonist was missing, erased, or had never been born at all.

But that wasn’t supposed to happen here. Yet, it had. Ruvian forced himself to breathe, his mind racing.

He had to stay calm.

’What has changed? Is this some kind of deviation? A result of my own presence?’

Around him, the celebration continued. The nobles basked in Julian’s triumph, as the hierarchy restored to its rightful order.

But Ruvian sat in silence, the lone, unmoving figure in a sea of joy. Because while they all saw a victory, he saw a catastrophe.

”As expected of House Rozenberg. Was there ever any doubt?”

”I heard he’s a genius, an elite among elites! As I thought, this year’s competition was never even close!”

Murmurs rippled through the hall, a chorus of admiration and applause.

’Elite my ass... this is the worst possible outcome.’

Ruvian clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain composed.

The academy was supposed to be shifting, slowly breaking free from the chains of status and bloodline.

Zian Herga’s presence should have been the catalyst for that change, proving that power and talent were not dictated by noble birth.

But now, his absence hung heavy.

And in his place, Julian Rozenberg stood as the representative.

The implications were devastating!

With Julian at the top, the academy would never embrace true meritocracy. Strength would remain synonymous with status. Power would continue to rest in the hands of nobility.

And worse, Ophelia would see to it that it stayed that way.

She had always believed that strength dictated hierarchy and opened a path to everyone. But if there is no challenge from the low social status scholars, nothing much would change then.

Zian’s presence should have aided in her belief, forcing everyone to acknowledge a world beyond bloodline superiority.

But now, with him erased from the picture, Julian’s authority would become absolute.

And it wouldn’t stop there.

Other key characters who in the original course of events would have sided with Zian, would now fall under Julian’s influence instead.

Ruvian’s carefully crafted plan was unraveling before his eyes. And the entire academy was already rallying behind him.

Ruvian focused on the young man with deep crimson eyes and white hair, who now walked toward the stage.

Julian Rozenberg.

The weight of thousands of gazes bore down on him, yet he carried himself with effortless grace. Unlike what should have been, a lone commoner standing in defiance of the academy’s rigid hierarchy, Julian was nobility through and through.

His uniform bore the crest of House Rozenberg, its embroidered silver trim glinting under the grand chandeliers.

His every step was measured, refined, exuding the natural confidence of one born to rule.

Ruvian felt his stomach twist.

He felt he wanted to bite someone’s skin off.

’Goddamn it!’

He doesn’t know what to say anymore; he was beyond shocked. All he could do now was just watch the scene unfold while chaotically cursing in his head.

Julian climbed the steps imposingly, with the picture of aristocratic poise. Every motion was admired, praised, and celebrated.

And worst of all, welcomed.

The highest admission score of this year’s enrollment batch.

No one questioned it or doubted it. Ruvian could see it in their faces: pride, approval, and for some, smug satisfaction.

The balance of power remained... untouched.

The instructor regarded Julian with a nod, then stepped aside as he took his place at the podium. This was now his moment.

Julian took a deep breath.

”I am honored to stand here today...”

His voice was smooth. Not a trace of uncertainty marred his tone.

”Though this result may not be surprising to some, I do not take it for granted.”

His gaze swept over the hall, meeting those who watched him with admiration, respect, and unfaltering loyalty.

”Velthia Academy has long been the cradle of the exceptional. A place where the most elite minds and talents gather, not just to prove themselves, but to lead. Strength, wisdom, and courage have shaped the history of this academy....”

”And I intend to uphold that legacy.”

Ruvian’s lips pressed as the nobles nodded in satisfaction.

”I do not seek to change the course of this institution. No, I will only prove why I was always meant to stand here.”

With that, he finally sealed the declaration of his authority.

”I, Julian Rozenberg, will make this academy return to its glorious days.”

Ruvian leaned forward, fingers digging into his sleeves.

’What a piece of crap.’

*****

After the opening ceremony had ended, the scholars were now allowed to rest inside their own dormitory.

Ruvian let out a tired breath as he walked.

Unlike the grand halls where the highest-ranking scholars resided, this place was even lower than the lowest.

Velthia Academy had always prided itself on its meritocratic system. Status did not determine privilege, ability did. That was the unshakable truth.

The dormitories were divided by admission rankings, which meant one thing.

He was at the bottom of the bottom.

The highest-ranked scholars were placed in [Celestia Hall], a symbol of prestige where only the most exceptional resided.

Meanwhile, those at the very bottom, like Ruvian, were assigned to [Obsidian Hall], the lowest-ranked dormitory.

The moment Ruvian stepped through the entrance of [Obsidian Hall], he was met with polished floors, well-maintained furnishings, and private quarters for each scholar, a far cry from the rundown conditions one might expect from the lowest rank.

He traced a finger along the smooth wooden railing of the staircase as he made his way to his assigned room.

The academy didn’t neglect its scholars too much, even those at the bottom, but that didn’t change the reality of hierarchy.

There was a vast major difference between [Obsidian Hall] and [Celestial Hall].

The same went for the privilege of the institution.

”Whatever. How my private quarters looks are not that important for now.”

Even now, he still couldn’t move on from the fact that Zian was not in this academy.

Reaching his door, he eyed the brass nameplate engraved with his name and ranking:

{Ruvian Castelor – Rank #384}

When he entered, he found a neatly arranged space. A bed, a study desk, bookshelves, and even a small window overlooking the training grounds.

It was more than enough.

Ruvian reached into his uniform’s inner pocket, pulling out a neatly folded orientation booklet provided during registration as he sat at the edge of his bed.

[Academy: First-Year Orientation Guide]

The cover bore the academy’s emblem.

He flipped it open.

The first few pages were filled with formalities. History, regulations, and the academy’s guiding principles.

He skimmed through until he reached the section that actually mattered.

Velthia Academy was massive, practically a city within itself. The campus was divided into key areas:

Main Academy Building – Where most lectures and theoretical classes were held.

Combat Training Grounds – For practical lessons, duels, and combat assessments.

Velthia Arena – A colosseum used for larger-scale examinations and tournaments.

Faculty Tower – Where the professors and academic staff reside.

And, of course, the four dormitory halls:

Celestia Hall (Rank #1–100)

Vermillion Hall (Rank #101–200)

Azure Hall (Rank #201–300)

Obsidian Hall (Rank #301 and below)

Velthia Academy divided first-year scholars into five class sections, each containing around 70–80 scholars.

Class A – Top-ranked, the academy’s elite.

Class B – High-performing scholars, still exceptional.

Class C – Average ranking, competent but not outstanding.

Class D – Below average, struggling students.

Class E – The bottom ranks, barely scraping by.

Ruvian’s eyes immediately dropped to the bottom of the page.

Assigned Class: [Class E]

”...Of course.”

It wasn’t surprising.

He ranked #384 out of 400 scholars, meaning he was firmly placed in Class E, the lowest section.

Not only would he be surrounded by the weakest scholars, but he’d also receive the least amount of attention from the instructors.

The academy wasn’t cruel, but they weren’t going to waste resources on those deemed unlikely to excel.

’At least, I won’t have to deal with Julian.’

For now.

He dejectedly sighed.

’Tch. What a damn mess.’

He clicked his tongue, shutting the booklet.

Ruvian stood, grabbing his uniform coat and slinging it over his shoulders. The air inside the dormitory felt stifling.

He needed to step outside.

More than anything, he needed to think.

Velthia Academy was vast, with an intricate layout that would take time to memorize. He’d use the excuse of familiarizing himself with the grounds, but in truth, he simply needed a moment to clear his head.

And now, since it comes to this, it seemed he had to create another plan. But now, with everything already diverging from what he knew...

He had no idea what to expect.

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[Chapter 35: The Opening Ceremony (2)]