Is It Wrong for an Extra to Steal the Protagonist's Harem?-Chapter 46: Mock Battle [3]

I walked back to the spectator stands, wiping the grime from my cheek. My body ached slightly from the explosion recoil, but my Stamina was already knitting the minor bruises back together.

The silence that followed me was heavy. It wasn’t the mocking silence from this morning; it was the silence of fear. I had just physically dominated a High Noble, kissed her to shut her up, and then blown her up with her own scroll.

"You..." Martin stared at me as I sat down, his eyes wide as saucers. "You’re a monster. You actually kissed her? On the lips?"

"It was a tactical maneuver," I shrugged, stretching my legs. "Distraction is key in warfare."

"Tactical..." Martin muttered, looking pale. "If the Duke finds out, you’re dead. We’re all dead."

"Nice show."

A cool voice cut in from my left.

I turned. Emily Frost was sitting there, legs crossed, looking at the arena with boredom. But her index finger was tapping rhythmically on her armrest.

"You fight like a street rat," she commented, not looking at me. "Dirt? Grease? Kissing?"

"A win is a win, Princess," I replied, leaning back. "Unlike some people who rely on bloodlines, I use what I have."

Emily finally turned her head. Her blue eyes scanned me, lingering for a split second on my neck where a bruise was forming from the shockwave.

"Hmph. At least it wasn’t boring."

She turned back to the arena.

"Next Match! Ren vs. Trixie!"

The announcer roared, and the crowd’s attention shifted.

*****

The Protagonist’s Stage

Ren. The main character of the original game.

He walked onto the stage carrying a simple iron longsword. He had messy black hair, average looks, and an aura of "I just want to live a quiet life" that somehow attracted every woman within a five-mile radius.

His opponent was Trixie, a girl from the assassin course. She wore a tight, leather bodysuit that hugged every curve of her athletic frame. She held two daggers, and her random scroll box was already open.

"Begin!"

Trixie moved instantly.

[Scroll: Haste]

Her body blurred. She wasn’t a mage; she was a speedster. She closed the distance in a blink, aiming a kick at Ren’s head.

Ren didn’t panic. He didn’t even use a scroll immediately.

CLANG.

He blocked the kick with the flat of his sword.

"Fast," Ren muttered, sliding back.

Trixie grinned, her leather suit creaking as she spun. She ripped her second scroll.

[Scroll: Shadow Bind]

Black tendrils shot out of the ground, wrapping around Ren’s ankles.

"Gotcha!"

Trixie lunged, her dagger aiming for his throat (stopped by the barrier, obviously).

Ren sighed.

"Sorry."

He ripped a scroll from his box.

[Scroll: Burst of Strength]

His muscles bulged visibly under his shirt. With a grunt, he ripped his legs free from the shadow bindings, shattering the magic with brute force.

Then, he swung his sword.

WHOOSH.

The wind pressure alone blew Trixie back. She tumbled, her leather suit straining against the friction of the ground.

RIP.

The sound was audible.

Because she was sliding across the rough dirt in a tight suit, the fabric gave way. A large tear appeared on the side of her thigh, running all the way up to her hip.

"Kyaa!"

Trixie yelped, trying to cover herself. The tear revealed a generous amount of pale skin and the strap of her black thong.

Ren, being the dense protagonist he was, didn’t stop. He charged forward to "finish the duel."

He tripped.

Of course he tripped.

THUD.

He landed right on top of Trixie. His face buried itself directly into her cleavage. His hand, flailing for balance, grabbed onto her torn thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh near her crotch.

"Mmph?" Ren muffled against her tits.

"Get off! You pervert!" Trixie screamed, her face red, beating his head with her dagger hilt.

The crowd cheered wildly.

"As expected of the Protagonist," I muttered, shaking my head. "His luck stat must be maxed out in the lewd department."

Unlike my calculated assault on Ariana, Ren’s "accidents" were purely passive skills. It was annoying.

[Winner: Ren!]

Ren stood up, rubbing his head and apologizing profusely to the half-naked girl, who ran off the stage crying but also looking back at him with a blush.

Classic.

****

"Final Match of the Day! Emily Frost vs. Tanker Bruno!"

Emily stood up. She didn’t say a word to me. She just floated down the stairs—literally floated, using a subtle wind spell to cushion her steps.

Her opponent, Bruno, was a mountain of a man holding a massive tower shield. He had drawn three defensive scrolls.

[Scroll: Iron Skin] [Scroll: Fortification] [Scroll: Barrier]

"Come at me, little girl!" Bruno roared, activating all three. His skin turned gray, a golden wall appeared in front of him, and he hunkered down behind his shield. He was an unmovable object.

Emily looked at him with dead eyes.

She opened her box.

[Scroll: Water Splash] [Scroll: Freezing Wind] [Scroll: Ice Spear]

She tossed the [Water Splash] scroll into the air.

SPLASH.

A gentle wave of water washed over Bruno’s shield and feet.

"Hah! Is that a bath?" Bruno laughed.

Emily snapped her fingers.

[Scroll: Freezing Wind]

CRACK.

The temperature in the arena dropped twenty degrees in a second. The water that had soaked Bruno’s feet and shield flash-froze.

"W-What?"

Bruno tried to move, but his feet were welded to the ground by thick ice.

"Freezing is absolute," Emily whispered.

She activated the [Ice Spear] scroll. But she didn’t just fire it. She poured her own immense mana into the scroll, overloading the matrix.

The small ice spear grew. And grew. And grew.

Until a ten-meter long icicle hovered above her head, gleaming like a guillotine.

"Surrender," she said coldly. "Or I’ll turn you into a popsicle."

Bruno looked at his frozen feet. Then at the massive death-spike aimed at his head.

"I... I give up!"

[Winner: Emily Frost!]

She dispelled the magic with a wave of her hand and walked off the stage without breaking a sweat.

As she passed me on her way back to her seat, she paused.

"That," she said, looking down at me, "is how a noble fights. Clean. Efficient."

"Boring," I retorted, closing my eyes. "But effective."

Emily didn’t reply, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward.

****

The sun was setting by the time the mock battles concluded. The arena was battered, scorched, and frozen in patches.

Professor Cassandra stepped onto the podium again. She looked delighted. The chaos, the drama, the near-death experiences—it was everything she loved.

"Excellent!" she beamed, clapping her hands. "I haven’t seen this much spirit from a freshman class in years!"

She scanned the crowd.

"The grades will be posted tomorrow. But I think we all know who the MVPs of today were."

Her eyes lingered on Ren, Emily, and finally, me.

"Remember this feeling," she said, her voice turning serious. "The adrenaline. The fear. The desperation. Because tomorrow... you go into the Dungeon."

She pointed her staff at the exit.

"The Freshman Expedition begins at 0600 hours. Pack your bags. Sharpen your swords. And pray to whatever gods you believe in."

"Dismissed!"

The students began to file out, buzzing with exhaustion and excitement.

I stood up, stretching my stiff muscles.

"Let’s go, Martin," I said to my shell-shocked teammate. "We have a written exam exemption to celebrate."

As I walked toward the exit, I felt a vibration in my pocket. It wasn’t my student ID. It was the system.

[Quest Complete: Win the Mock Duel.] [Reward: +500 XP] [Stat Points: +2]