An Extra's Rise in an Eroge-Chapter 238: Surprise Visit

As I walked through the academy corridors, the shift in energy was palpable.

Students huddled in tight groups, whispering, theorizing, panicking. Notices were being pinned to boards with official seals, and one glance was all it took to confirm the truth:

[Midterm Exams Scheduled – Practical & Theory Sessions Begin This Month]

Underneath were smaller notes—class reshuffles, instructor swaps, emergency seminar listings.

The whole place was buzzing. Confused. Tense.

"Midterms already?"

"I thought we had another month!"

"Are they throwing us into live dungeons again?!"

"I heard the Royal Knights are attending the evaluations!"

Wait—what?

That last one made me pause.

Students always speculated, sure—but that wasn’t just noise.

If outside forces were being invited to observe...

Then this wasn’t just an exam anymore.

This was recruitment season.

Showtime for noble kids. Spotlight for potential "assets."

It lined up with everything I feared.

I rubbed my temple, glancing over the chaotic hallway before me.

"Great," I muttered. "Just fucking great."

Time to prepare for a midterm exam that could kill you—and get scouted while you’re at it.

Academy life sure was peaceful.

~~~~~~~~

The classroom was... louder than usual.

Not with chaos—Arcane Academy didn’t allow that—but with hushed tension, nervous energy, and the low thrum of voices trying to make sense of the sudden shift in schedule.

As I stepped inside, a few heads turned.

Some gave polite nods.

Some looked like they were waiting for me to explode into flame or walk in surrounded by a harem. I wasn’t sure which rumors had reached them first.

I spotted Akira slouched back in her chair, half-awake and lazily flipping a pen between her fingers with the kind of dead-eyed energy that screamed "don’t talk to me."

So of course, I sat right behind her.

"Yo. You look pretty energetic today," I said with a smirk.

Her ears twitched at my voice. She turned just enough to shoot me a sideways glare.

"Who gave you permission to talk to me casually?" she said, nose raised like a spoiled noble brat straight out of a theater play.

"Hah~ You and your superiority complex," I chuckled. "Need me to knock some sense into you again like I did back in the dungeon?"

Her blue eyes narrowed. "I’m much stronger now. I won’t be defeated again."

"Wanna test that out?"

She leaned in slightly, smirking. "Why n—"

Creaaaak.

The classroom door opened.

And just like that, the noise died.

Professor Samantha stepped in.

She didn’t say a word.

Didn’t need to.

The sharp click of her heels against marble was enough to reset everyone’s spine.

She walked to the front, turned, and gave the room a long, slow glance.

"Welcome back," she said, calm and razor-sharp. "I’m sure you’ve all seen the notice."

A few nervous nods.

A few people suddenly found their desks really interesting.

"Let me make things simple," she continued. "Midterms have been moved up. You now have two weeks to prepare—both for the theoretical exam and the practical."

A few quiet gasps slipped out. Even Cedric, two rows over, straightened in his seat like someone had just poured cold water down his back.

"That means," she went on, "the next two weeks will be packed with assessments, mock trials, tactical breakdowns, and combat drills. There will be no off-days. No clubs. No excuses. No second chances."

Someone whispered something near the back.

She didn’t even glance in their direction. "I heard that. Save your panic for after class."

A few nervous chuckles rippled—just enough to break the tension.

"There will be guest observers during the practical," she added. "Representatives from the Royal Knights, Magic Towers, and other organizations who’ve taken interest in this year’s... unusually strong batch."

Her eyes lingered on me for half a second.

Yeah. Real subtle, Professor.

"But this is still an exam," she said, folding her arms. "And if you underperform—don’t expect mercy. You won’t just lose grades. You’ll lose recognition. You may be deemed..." she paused, letting it hang, "not worth further investment."

That landed hard.

Even the top ranks in class went stiff.

"Any questions?"

Dead silence.

No one blinked. No one even dared shuffle in their seat.

"Good." She turned toward the board with a flick of her wrist. "Then let’s begin."

What followed was a relentless barrage of questions, quizzes, and pop drills. Samantha never stopped pacing. Her tone remained calm, but her eyes were hawk-like—pinning students mid-sentence and catching the slightest mistake. Nobody could relax.

One wrong answer, and she’d call on someone else without pause.

By the time class ended, the room exhaled in unison. Shoulders sagged. Pens dropped. Someone at the back muttered a prayer of thanks.

Then came our next class.

Professor Elena Moon.

Usually, a welcome change of pace. Elena’s classes were serene, methodical, and deeply technical. She never raised her voice. Never intimidated. Just explained with the patience only a centuries-old elf could muster.

But today...?

Today, that calm shattered in a heartbeat.

BANG.

The classroom doors slammed open, the sheer force making Eveline jolt in her seat.

A gust of hot wind whooshed through the room, carrying a pulse of mana thick enough to taste—and the acrid scent of something scorched.

Then she walked in.

Hair like wildfire, tumbling in wild waves down her back, the ends slightly singed as if even her own flames couldn’t keep up with her. Tall, long-legged, and dressed like she didn’t care that every man in the room was about to sin.

Tight black trousers hugged her hips with zero shame. Her flame-red coat was open halfway down her chest, cleavage on full display, practically daring anyone to speak up.

"Yo," she drawled, her voice husky, laced with confidence that could start a war. "This the S-Class magic batch?"

A few of the boys sat up too fast. Some with wide eyes, others already drooling mentally.

Professor Elena sighed softly. "Yes. And you’re five minutes late, Lady Saria."

"Traffic in the sky," the woman replied with a lazy shrug, waving her hand dismissively. "And drop the title, will you? You know I hate that formal shit."

My eyes narrowed slightly.

Saria Flameheart.

Archmage. Fifth Circle. Tower of Fire’s combat specialist and walking catastrophe.

Known for three things:

Spells hot enough to melt dragonhide.A temper that made volcanic eruptions seem polite.And a consistent history of punching out every guy stupid enough to ogle her tits.

Naturally, the dumbasses in the back were already whispering.

"Gods, what a rack..."

"Bet she casts Fireball with those melons..."

Right on cue, a loud crack echoed through the room.

One of the boys slammed into the floor, face first, smoke rising from his collar as he twitched.

Saria lowered her hand like she’d just swatted a fly.

"Anyone else wanna comment?" she asked sweetly, eyes scanning the room.

Not a peep.

Professor Elena, barely fazed, turned to the class. "As some of you may have heard, the Mage Towers have taken interest in our students this year. Due to the accelerated midterms, each tower will be sending an observer—or instructor—to assess your performance."

My jaw tightened.

So it had already started.

The factions weren’t waiting for the end-of-year evaluations. They were already playing their cards—trying to grab students with potential before the other side could.

A political tug-of-war disguised as an "assessment."

Saria stepped forward, cutting Elena off.

"I’ll do my own introduction," she said, voice sharp, prideful, and blazing with heat.

"I’m Saria Flameheart—Archmage of the Fifth Circle. Chosen Flame of the Tower of Fire. I’m here to see if any of you are actually worth a damn."

Her tone wasn’t challenging.

It was dismissive.

Like she already assumed most of us weren’t.

And from the way she looked around, it was clear she was hoping someone would talk back—just so she could torch them next.

But no one said a word.

Not a whisper. Not a grunt. Not even a breath too loud.

The tension in the room was molten.

After a moment, Saria scoffed and shrugged, folding her arms under her exposed cleavage. "Huh. Seems you’re good learners after all," she said, glancing meaningfully toward the boys whose eyes had been locked on her chest not ten minutes ago.

Every single one of them was now pretending to study their desks like they were holy texts.

"Let’s move on."

She began pacing, slow and deliberate.

"As your lovely teacher here already mentioned," Saria nodded toward Professor Elena, "I’ll be your stand-in for today—giving you a taste of what true flame magic looks like."

She spun on her heel and pointed to the class.

"And just so we’re clear—every other Magic Tower will be doing the same in the coming days. Wind, Earth, Water, Arcane... they’ll all send someone."

"But don’t get comfy," she added, eyes narrowing. "This isn’t some fun exhibition. You’re being watched. Judged. Evaluated."

"If you don’t perform... you’ll be forgotten."

"But if you catch someone’s eye..." she smirked, "you might just get scouted. Sponsored. Pulled into the fold of one of the Great Towers. And that? That could change your entire path."

At that, the murmurs exploded across the room.

"Wait, does that mean real sponsorships?"

"Holy shit, like, actual tower contracts?"

"Does the Tower of Water do this too? I heard they only pick from the nobles..."

"I thought they only selected top ranks—like Alex or Amara—"

Nadia leaned toward Arthur, whispering, "Looks like things are heating up—no pun intended."

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