The Nameless Extra: I Proofread This World

The next day arrived, marking the first of January in the 473rd Year of the Necraz Calendar.

The world outside continued with its usual early-morning rhythm, yet for Ruvian, the day felt as though it had been pulled reluctantly from the remnants of the night.

After yesterday’s event, after the revelation of Zian’s sudden and inexplicable absence from the academy, Ruvian had fallen into a state of disbelief.

He had struggled to make sense of it, circling the truth again and again, only to reject it each time.

Zian could not simply vanish from the center of a future Ruvian that had already mapped out so clearly.

It felt absurd that every careful plan he had constructed for that protagonist had now collapsed, shattered, and burned away.

But morning had a way of reassembling what the night broke apart. After a full sleep, and after a few meals that coaxed life back, Ruvian found himself returning to his calm version.

There was no value in lamenting a single truth that lay beyond his capacity to alter.

Whether this circumstance represented the worst possible outcome or something far more catastrophic, it remained a reality already carved into the stone.

No measure of grief, frustration, or futile hope could chisel it into anything else.

With his thoughts settled into an almost resigned clarity, Ruvian walked toward his classroom.

Orientation would continue for the entire first week, and attendance remained compulsory, even for those who already understood the inside-out of the academy’s structure.

As he walked, Ruvian could feel the sense of awe that he refused to openly acknowledge.

The academy insisted on being impressive, almost aggressively so, as if daring anyone to overlook its grandeur.

Situated deep in the southeastern stretch of the Averenthia Empire, Velthia Academy prided itself on being a monumental institution dedicated to shaping scholars who could, in theory, change the world.

The place certainly had the size to support that claim. Its grounds expanded so widely that one could mistake them for a small, decently managed city, complete with too many buildings.

Towering structures loomed over him; their stone walls were made by ancient runic artistry that likely meant something profound.

Sprawling courtyards filled the spaces, along with enchanted pathways that shined depending on the time of day.

Far beyond, the training fields were already occupied by some seniors, designed to push scholars to their limits, or past them, as Velthia had never been known for moderation.

Roughly 2,000 scholars attended the academy, and to keep them working perfectly in place, a formidable faculty of about 800 instructors supervised their progress.

Each instructor was an expert in combat masters, spell theorists, alchemists, or the rare few who somehow enjoyed teaching teenagers.

And, of course, the academy did not function on brilliance alone. It also supported an entire ecosystem of people who kept the grand machine running.

Medical staff, groundskeepers, security personnel, cleaners and add in the rest of the workers, the academy’s population swelled to nearly 10,000, making it a bustling world all on its own.

By the time Ruvian finished navigating this maze of architecture, he found himself before the door of Class E.

He breathed in slowly.

Then, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Class E unfolded before him. The room resembled a compact auditorium, shaped in a gentle semi-circle that guided every sightline toward the front.

Whoever planned this space had clearly valued clarity as each row rose just enough to give a clean view, and the arrangement created an atmosphere that expected attention without loudly demanding it.

At the center of this intentional layout stood the manaboard. In its quiet state, it looked almost modest.

But anyone who had seen it knew better.

Once switched on, it could conjure holographic illusions, vivid enough to imitate moving diagrams, complex spell formations, or full scenes reconstructed from memory.

’It’s surprisingly bigger than I thought.’

Ruvian watched the room, registering the distribution of scholars and the available seating.

Most scholars seated toward the front rows were likely out of ambition or a desire to appear attentive.

As for him, he preferred a different approach.

His eyes paused on an empty seat near the outermost edge of the room. It was slightly removed from the others, a place that offered a broad vantage point over the class.

The choice felt natural, almost inevitable.

He walked over and lowered himself into the seat, letting his posture settle as the room continued to fill slowly.

The clock on the wall read 7:50 AM in the morning. The class had not begun yet, and it would still be a few minutes before anything officially started.

He turned to his left, and the glass panes trembled faintly as the winter breeze traced along their surface.

The cold still lingered outside, an indication that the season had not yet surrendered to spring.

’Here I am. Back to school, how lovely and wonderful.’

Ruvian allowed his gaze to move across the assembled scholars. His expression remained neutral, the sort of measured indifference he adopted when he did not expect anything from the people around him.

At first glance, the conclusion presented itself clearly.

Everyone here appeared to be a commoner, or at least, no one carried the kind of presence that marked a notable figure.

Most of them were extras in the story he knew, minor names or entirely unfamiliar ones, which made them effectively unreadable to him even with [Character Sheet] skill.

His [Character Sheet] skill required a name before it could identify a person’s Runeheart, and without that, his ability remained inert.

Anyway, the class, for the most part, existed beyond his immediate interest. He was ready to dismiss them entirely and let his attention drift elsewhere.

Yet just as his thoughts began to drift, something small and persistent stirred at the edges of his memory.

It urged him to look again.

’Hm, I guess I was being careless.’

’I almost forgot about them.’

There were, however, a few remarkable individuals seated among the group in Class E.

The first that came to mind was the former noblewoman, Vanessa Eldrienne.

Within the academy, she had set aside her original name and enrolled under a false identity known as Violet.

Ruvian remembered her from the early Chapters of the novel.

She often clashed with Julian Rozenberg, arguing with him at every opportunity, as if the act itself fueled her spirit.

She had been one of the more intriguing characters. Yet her arc, much like many others in the story, had been left to wither.

The moment Zian was expelled from the academy, she disappeared from the narrative altogether.

The author simply never came back to her.

Ruvian had once entertained the idea that she followed Zian during that period and encountered something unexpected.

Perhaps that was why she vanished. Perhaps she stepped into a problematic situation. But in the end, he had come to the simpler conclusion that the author had simply neglected her.

Then, aside from Violet, he recalled another figure worth noting.

A scholar who stood out for the strange sense of irregularity surrounding him. He was an unknown, a character so minor that the novel barely spared him a sentence for detailed descriptions.

Yet he had played a curious role in one moment of the story.

During an expedition, he had crafted a healing potion for Zian at a speed beyond what ordinary first-year scholars should have been capable of. It was a small detail, almost insignificant, but Ruvian remembered it.

But that was the extent of his knowledge. Ruvian did not know the scholar’s name, nor any part of his background.

The novel had offered nothing but just that.

If he wished to understand who this person truly was, he would need to look beyond and investigate with his own eyes.

For the moment, all he possessed were the faint impressions left by that particular scene.

So, he needed to learn who that boy was just from his personality and his dialogue in the novel.

’That’s very troublesome.’

As these thoughts drifted through his mind, the door at the front of the classroom opened with a soft creak.

The idle chatter that had filled the room gradually faded until silence settled over the scholars.

Someone had arrived in their classroom.

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[Chapter 36: First Day of Orientation (1)]

Plot Points = 11120