The Extra Wants Control

[Azrael's Pov]

First place. A bittersweet victory, tainted by the unknown. The only name in the top 5 that I couldn't recognize, the raw power that he unleashed at the plains, that fighter – it had to be Neveah. Ranked third, yet unseen before the trials. My gut churned.

Vera slid a file across the table. "Congratulations," she offered, a genuine cheer in her voice.

"Who is he?" I pressed, ignoring the pleasantries.

"Here," she simply said.

Flipping through the file, my eyes narrowed. "He repelled the Dragon-blessed?" Surprise clawed at me.

"Yes," Vera confirmed, "but vanished after that match. No one saw him for the rest of the trials."

Grim understanding settled in. "He could've kept going, racked up even more points."

"Possibly," Vera conceded, "higher than you, even."

A bitter truth. My first-place finish was inflated by a lucky encounter – a rampaging seven-star ogre, fresh from its breakthrough. Seven hours of grueling combat, and then… nothing. I'd stopped further bloodshed, exhaustion claiming me. And Axl, that relentless competitor, was breathing down my neck the whole time.

"How did you get this on Neveah?" My voice was a low growl.

"My sister," Vera replied. "She says unknowns are worth keeping an eye on."

Unknowns. My gaze drifted towards Neveah, standing alone at the back, a frown etched on his face as he scrolled through the results on his phone. An unease, a prickling sensation, crawled up my spine. There was something about him, something I couldn't place, and it gnawed at me.

******************

[NEVEAH POV]

A deep furrow etched itself between my brows as I scrolled through the rankings on my phone. Third place. It wasn't bad, not at all, but the whole thing felt…off. Shouldn't they be hiding me away, burying my results deep in some dusty archive? Ashamed of the outsider who'd waltzed in and messed up their little rankings?

The thought sparked a flicker of something sharp in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, if I hadn't held back, if I'd pushed myself a little further in each match… first place could have been mine. The corner of my lip lifted in a smirk, quickly masked by a neutral expression. No need to spook them further, not yet.

Third place was good. It granted a significant amount of leeway, more freedom to move within the Academy's confines. More importantly, it gave me a reason to stay, to see what they were really up to.

Top three. That meant even more freedom to pursue my own agenda within this little academy of theirs.Third place was the perfect perch to observe the plot from, close enough to see the main cast's hands, far enough away to avoid unwanted scrutiny.

My thoughts were interrupted by the increasing temperature and looked to see who it was.

******************

A person with red hair was seen getting to the middle of the amphitheater, it was princess Eliana. A wave of heat rolled in with her, causing the room's temperature to rise a perceptible notch. The students, already on edge, watched with bated breath.

Eliana, her gaze sharp and commanding, swept over the class. "On behalf of the Council and the academy staff," she began, her voice resonating with authority, "I welcome you."

There was no warmth in her greeting, no attempt to ease their anxieties. Instead, her words were laced with a chilling clarity. "Here," she continued, "there will be no favouritism. Status will be determined by one thing only: strength."

A ripple of nervous murmurs coursed through the room. Eliana let the silence hang heavy for a moment before pressing on. "Make no mistake," she said, her voice turning colder, "this academy is not a game. It is a crucible, and mediocrity will not be tolerated."

The weight of her words settled on the students like a leaden cloak. "Failure," she went on, her gaze lingering on a student fidgeting in his seat, "can have severe consequences. Expulsion. Even death."

A tremor of fear ran through the class. Eliana's words were a stark reminder of the high stakes involved. Here, unlike the pampered environments they were accustomed to, weakness would not be coddled. It would be punished.

The students sat up straighter, their anxieties morphing into a steely resolve. Eliana's message, though delivered with an icy indifference, had gotten through.

The air shimmered for a moment before solidifying into the imposing figure of Azrael. He landed with a soft thud, a hint of surprise flickering across his face.

Eliana stood before him, her posture ramrod straight. "As you are ranked first," she declared, her voice echoing in the vast hall, "let the people see you. Give a speech."

Azrael, ever the pragmatist, didn't waste time with theatrics. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the assembled students. A sea of faces stared back, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

He cleared his throat. "To all of you," he began, his voice a steady baritone, "congratulations on making it this far. This academy is not for the faint of heart. It is a forge, a crucible that will push you to your limits and beyond."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "However," he continued, his voice hardening, "strength is not just about individual power. We stand here, a diverse collection of races – humans, elves, dwarves, dragons, Beastmen and ...vampires – yet a common enemy looms: the invaders. We cannot afford to be divided. Only through unity, through working together, can we hope to stand against them."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Unity was a familiar tune, sung by countless leaders before. Yet, beneath Azrael's words, a deeper message resonated. He was a towering figure, easily six-foot-one with a chiseled physique that spoke volumes of his training. He was also, undeniably, only eighteen years old.

Six-star at eighteen. The implications hung heavy in the air.

A young human at the back, barely out of his teens, leaned towards his friend. "Six-star," he whispered, awe lacing his voice. "He's just eighteen!"

His friend, a wiry elf with fiery red hair, nodded grimly. "Yeah, makes you wonder how strong the rest of the top ten are, doesn't it?"

Eliana's plan was working. Azrael's display wasn't just about a first-place speech. It was a stark reminder, a wake-up call. This academy wasn't a game. It was a desperate scramble for power, a race against time to forge warriors capable of facing an unimaginable threat. The invaders were coming, and eighteen-year-old six-star prodigies were just the tip of the iceberg.

The students needed a push, a jolt to understand the true gravity of their situation. Azrael, unknowingly, had become the catalyst.

Eliana's voice cut throughout the audience. "This, students," she declared, her voice heavy with purpose, "is what you're competing with, this is the level you must strive to achieve. This academy is not a playground. It is a place that will forge you into weapons. Only the strongest will survive."

A hush fell over the hall as Azrael finished his speech. Applause, sparse and hesitant at first, began to build, eventually filling the space. He gave a curt nod towards Eliana, then vanished in another shimmer of air.

The students, however, were no longer the same group that had filed in moments before. Their faces were etched with a newfound seriousness, their eyes burning with a mix of fear and determination. The academy had shown them its fangs, and the bite was real.

Meanwhile Nevaeh was lost in thought," did he just look at me? Mr. Protagonist what made you look at me so wearily?"

*****************

Kim slammed her dorm room door shut, the echoing thud barely registering over the roar of frustration in her head. Fifth place. That insufferable Azrael had somehow snagged first. Just thinking about his smug face made her want to rip something out of the wall.

Sinking onto her bed, she projected a shimmering image of her Aunt Kali. The woman's regal features materialized in the air, her crimson eyes narrowed in concern. "Kimberly, what troubles you?"

Kim was silent,and how utterly useless she felt, she didn't like her rank.Kali watched patiently, a hint of a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Kimberly," Kali finally interrupted, her voice calm and collected, "strength comes in many forms. Do not let rankings cloud your judgment. Focus on your training, push yourself further than you ever thought possible."

"But… but Azrael got first. And that Neveah… he just appeared and pushed everyone around! Also the other blessed are strong.."

Kali chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "First place? A hollow victory, child. Azrael is strong, yes, but not strong enough. Not yet. And about Neveah...

don't focus on him, you just continue getting stronger."

"I won't let them outshine me, Aunt Kali. I'll train harder, push myself further. I'll prove that I, the tigerkin-blessed, am the one to watch.This academy is just a stepping stone. We have a bigger plan in motion."

Kali's smile turned predatory. "Precisely. Now, focus on surpassing not just your peers, but even the Blessed. They may have a head start, but raw talent can overcome mere titles."

The portal flickered before solidifying again. Kali, now alone in her opulent study, tapped a finger against the holographic display showcasing Neveah's final match against Axl.

Rewinding the footage, Kali watched intently as Neveah effortlessly deflected Axl's attacks. Her frown deepened with each passing moment. "He's holding back," she muttered, her voice tight. "A lot.Every move calculated, every blow measured. He overwhelmed Axl, yes, but with a fraction of his true power. I wonder if the others will notice."

Kali scrubbed through the fight, pausing at specific moments where Neveah displayed bursts of raw power far exceeding his displayed ranking. "There's something… different about him," she mused, her gaze narrowed in contemplation. "He's a wild card. I need to keep a close eye on this Neveah."

**************

[Astrid Pov]

A satisfied smile curved Astrid Smidt's lips as the holographic ranking list solidified in the air before her. Fourth place. It wasn't the top, but it was a solid position, a testament to her years of rigorous training. More importantly, it placed her firmly within the upper echelon of the academy.

With a practiced ease, Astrid activated the holographic communication device embedded in her wrist. A moment later, a weathered face with eyes that mirrored her own determination materialized before her. It was Bjorn Smidt, her father, his brow etched with concern.

"Astrid," he rumbled, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand worries. "The rankings? How did you fare?"

Astrid met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Fourth place, Father," she announced.

A flicker of surprise crossed Bjorn's features, quickly replaced by a surge of pride. "Fourth! That's excellent, Astrid. You've always been a force to be reckoned with."

"Fourth is more than enough for now. Remember, this is just the first step. With this ranking, we can start building alliances, gather information, and most importantly, identify potential allies who share our… dissatisfaction with that organization. Also it makes me more credible to gather pawns for my faction."

Bjorn's expression cleared, a flicker of understanding replacing his initial disappointment. "Indeed. We cannot dismantle that organization alone. We need strength in numbers, like-minded strong individuals who yearn for true freedom, even disposable Pawns."

Astrid leaned back in her chair, a steely glint in her eyes. "Exactly. This ranking gives us credibility. People will listen now. We can use this to our advantage, subtly gauge who might be receptive to our cause. It will take time, Father, but I'm optimistic.

We will find others who crave autonomy or revenge against that organization "

Bjorn nodded, a hint of pride softening his features. "You are wise beyond your years, Astrid. Remember, though, caution is key. We don't know who our true allies might be, and our enemies are undoubtedly watching."

"Of course, Father," Astrid replied, her voice laced with a steely resolve. "I'll move carefully, one calculated step at a time. But make no mistake, we will break free, this… organization… they will not control us forever."

"Sigh ... I don't like how you shoulder this burden, you should just live...." Before Bjorn could finish he was interrupted by Astrid

"I have to do it father, we shouldn't just sit and hope for a hero."

" Okay...but please be careful and don't force yourself too much." Said Bjorn.

" I can't promise that." Said Astrid as she hung up.

The holographic image flickered and faded, leaving Astrid alone in the quiet room. A determined glint remained in her eyes. Fourth place was just the beginning. It was a stepping stone on the path to a far greater goal – freedom for her, her father and her race.

*******************

[Axl Pov]

Axl's phone buzzed, a tremor that sent a jolt of unease through him. He recognized the private dragon-fire encrypted signal – a direct call from King Aethelred himself. With a shaky hand, he answered.

The king's voice boomed through the receiver, a storm cloud of fury crackling with each word. "Axl Magnus! Second place? Explain yourself!"

Axl winced. Shame coiled in his gut, heavy and suffocating. "Your Majesty, I—"

"Silence!" King Aethelred roared. "Second place is an embarrassment! You, a blessed star, nearly bested by a vampire a whole star below you?"

Aethelred scoffed. "Best involves winning, Axl. Not letting some pipsqueak of a vampire nearly knock you out of contention!"

Axl flinched. The news of Neveah's surprise attack during the combat evaluation hadn't reached the public yet, but clearly, the important figures, the race leaders, were privy to the details. Shame burned hot in Axl's cheeks.

"Being a Lightning Mage of such caliber," Aethelred continued, his voice laced with icy contempt, "and needing to be saved from a Vampire who is a star weaker than yourself? Shameful, Axl. Shameful."

"Many may not have seen it," Aethelred continued, "but those who matter did. And they will not forget. You are a disappointment, Axl. A disappointment that needs rectifying."

"There were… unforeseen circumstances, Your Majesty," Axl stammered, the excuse sounding hollow even to himself.

"Unforeseen circumstances?" the king scoffed. "There are no unforeseen circumstances for a blessed star, Axl. You brought shame upon yourself, upon the Lightning Clan, upon all dragons! And on a global stage no less!"

"I… I understand, Your Majesty," Axl choked out, his voice hoarse. "It will not happen again. I will train harder, refine my skills. First place will be mine next time."

"You better live up to your word, Axl," the king growled. "The Lightning Clan needs a strong heir. Disappointment is not a trait we tolerate."

The line went dead, leaving Axl staring at the phone, his hand trembling. Shame simmered, morphing into a steely resolve. He wouldn't be a disappointment. He wouldn't let the king down. He wouldn't let himself lose again, not to anyone.

Axl clenched his fist, the image of the holographic ranking list flashing in his mind. Second place. A glaring blemish on his otherwise perfect record. It was a stain he would erase. He would rise to the top,

***************

Queen Ilyana, her face etched with the wisdom of centuries, studied the rankings with a critical eye. A hint of disappointment flickered across her features. "Lara," she began, her voice as crisp as a winter breeze, "well done. Seventh place is a commendable achievement."

Lara dipped her head in a respectful bow. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I did my 'best'."

"Indeed," the Queen continued, her gaze lingering on Neveah's name at the top of the list. "But the academy… it requires a firmer hand, a leader with unwavering control."

Lara straightened, a glint of understanding sparking in her cerulean eyes. "You believe I should… exert more influence?"

"Influence," the Queen echoed, her tone laced with meaning, "is a delicate art, Lara. You possess the intellect, the charm, to navigate its intricacies. But sometimes, a show of strength is necessary."

Lara's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Should I reveal more, Your Majesty?" she inquired, a hint of mischievousness dancing in her voice.

Queen Ilyana's lips curved into a rare, fleeting smile. "Reveal just enough," she said, her voice softening. "Enough to secure a grip on the academy, to bend it to our will. You are a skilled player, Lara. Adjust your strategy based on the circumstances, and remember, subtlety can be a weapon as potent as brute force."

"Of course, Auntie," Lara replied, her voice brimming with cheerful confidence. "The academy will be ours, just like you planned."