The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 146: Fire and Fragments

The sun was already up, casting golden rays through the tall arched windows of the orphanage’s dining hall. A soft buzz of chatter and laughter filled the space as the children finished their breakfast under the gentle guidance of the nuns. At one of the long wooden tables near the back, Marcus, Garron, Laziel, Clara, and Charlotte sat waiting—talking casually, though a slight air of anticipation lingered.

Fifteen minutes later, Noel walked in.

His steps were calm, steady. He wore a loose black shirt tucked into fitted black pants, the sleeves slightly rolled up. His damp blond hair was still tousled from the shower, and he had traded his usual gear for simple but clean black boots.

Without a word, he pulled out the empty chair beside Marcus and sat down.

"Morning," Noel said, voice low but composed.

Marcus turned toward him. "Morning... You good?"

Noel grabbed a piece of bread from the shared basket and bit into it. "Let’s see. I woke up drenched and got a blunt force trauma to the head before breakfast. So no, not exactly the best morning."

Clara let out a small laugh, and Laziel chuckled with his mouth full.

Marcus looked sheepish. "Right... about that. Sorry."

Garron tried to lift the mood. "It was meant as a wake-up call! Builds character, you know?"

Noel didn’t reply. He simply stared at him, expression blank. Garron raised his hands in surrender, grinning.

Meanwhile, Charlotte had barely touched her food. She seemed unusually quiet, eyes fixed on her plate.

"...Sorry," she murmured, just above a whisper.

Noel looked at her for a moment. "I already told you, I’m fine."

"See?" Marcus nudged her. "Noel isn’t the kind of guy to hold grudges."

’Since when do you think you know me that well?’ Noel thought, suppressing the urge to raise an eyebrow.

He went back to eating, the dull throb in the back of his head still present—but manageable. Compared to everything else he had endured lately, a bump and a soaked blanket were practically a luxury.

After breakfast, the group moved to the open courtyard behind the orphanage—a wide space surrounded by flowering hedges and low stone walls. This was the time of day reserved for "studies," though it resembled more of a magical show-and-tell than anything academic. The children gathered in small groups, their eager eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Clara stood near a fountain, conjuring delicate water shapes in mid-air—spinning orbs, dancing swans, even a miniature waterfall that made the little ones squeal in delight. Laziel moved around, assisting with basic spells, though his mana control made it clear he wasn’t suited for flashy magic. He stuck to minor illusions, conjuring sparkles and flickering lights that the younger kids chased through the grass.

Garron knelt near a tree, flexing dramatically. A few brave kids had climbed onto his broad shoulders, laughing as he stood up and turned in slow circles.

And Marcus—ever the golden boy—was surrounded by at least a dozen children. Using his affinity for earth magic, he shaped soft clay into miniature castles and tunnels. The kids eagerly helped, giggling as towers crumbled or little stone bridges formed.

Noel stood off to the side, arms crossed, simply observing. His gaze swept the yard until it landed on a familiar figure sitting alone on a bench near the wall. The boy from earlier—the one from the bathroom incident. Small frame, brown hair, eyes distant.

Noel walked over, slow and casual.

"Hey," he said. "I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier. I’m Noel."

The boy didn’t answer. He just stared at him, unmoving.

"...Not a big talker, huh?" Noel tilted his head. "Wanna see some fire magic?"

At that, the boy gave a slight nod.

Noel knelt in front of him and extended a hand. "Deal is, you gotta tell me your name first. Fair trade, right?"

The boy hesitated. Then, quietly—so quietly Noel had to strain to hear it—he whispered, "Erick."

Noel smiled faintly. "Erick, huh? That’s a good name. You wanna see the flame again?"

Erick nodded, eyes wide now with interest.

Noel raised a finger and whispered, "Flamethrower."

A gentle stream of fire spiraled out, hovering in his palm like a miniature comet. Erick leaned forward, eyes gleaming. Noel began shaping the flame, twisting it into birds, spinning rings, and abstract loops that pulsed with orange light.

"You like it?" Noel asked.

Erick nodded again, his lips parting slightly in awe.

Before they could continue, a soft voice called out, "Alright, little ones. Time for morning prayers."

A short blonde nun appeared, her pointed ears peeking through her wavy hair. She smiled warmly, clapping her hands as the children began to gather.

"Come now, Erick," she said sweetly. "It’s time."

Erick looked at Noel one last time before getting up silently and following the group.

"We’ll do more later," Noel said after him.

Then, unexpectedly, Charlotte appeared at his side.

"You touched Erick?" she asked, surprised.

Noel blinked. "Yeah. We shook hands. Why?"

Charlotte looked as if she’d seen a ghost. "He never lets anyone touch him. Not even me."

"Hm. Maybe he just needs time."

Charlotte tilted her head. "Like you?"

"What?"

"Nothing. I’m going to join the kids in prayer." She turned away, waving back at him. "See you later, traitor pervert."

"Tch."

’Not a pervert... Why am I always surrounded by weird women?’

He exhaled deeply, shaking his head.

With the children gone and the courtyard momentarily quiet, only the group of students remained. Clara and Laziel chatted near the well. Garron sat on a bench, peeling an apple with a small knife. Marcus approached Noel, a wooden practice sword already in hand.

"Feel like sparring?" he asked, grinning.

Noel glanced at him, then at the makeshift training area in the shade of the chapel’s west wing.

"Sure," he said. "Could use a warm-up."

’Besides... I’ve been stuck at [Current Core Progress: 08.53% – Mana Core: Adept] for a while. Last time I gained 0.40% after those five days of ship training. If I push myself hard this month, I might make some real progress... and uncover the Circle’s trail in the meantime.’

Garron tossed another sword to Noel, who caught it without looking.

"You two break anything, and the nuns will break your skulls," Laziel warned half-jokingly.

"Got it," Marcus replied, stepping onto the practice square—a patch of dirt already worn down by previous sessions.

The two faced off, both holding the wooden blades in relaxed guards. Marcus had a calm, measured stance. Noel’s was looser, shoulders slightly angled, his gaze focused.

Clara and the others took seats nearby, sensing a good show was coming.

"First to three clean hits?" Marcus offered.

Noel nodded. "Fine by me."

A pause.

Then Marcus launched forward, quick and direct. Noel parried, their wooden swords clacking sharply. The first exchange was fast, but not reckless—both feeling each other out. Marcus had the strength, but Noel had the timing.

Noel ducked under a wide swing, countered with a swipe toward Marcus’s ribs—barely stopped by a hasty block.

"One–zero," Noel muttered.

Marcus smirked, adjusting his grip. "You’re not rusty after all."

"I was never rusty."

They clashed again. Dust rose. The sound of wood meeting wood echoed across the courtyard. Garron gave a low whistle. Clara leaned forward, watching intently.

Marcus swept for Noel’s feet. Noel jumped, spun, landed, then went for a quick jab to the chest.

Blocked.

Counter.

Parry.

And then—Marcus feinted left and tapped Noel’s side.

"One–one."

Noel exhaled, flicking sweat from his brow.

Third round.

This time, neither held back. Noel’s blade moved like a blur, dancing around Marcus’s defenses. Marcus countered with heavy, arcing blows, trying to break through Noel’s agility.

They were evenly matched.

Until—

Noel stepped inside a swing and, with a sudden twist of his wrist, knocked Marcus’s blade away. He jabbed forward—gentle but clear.

"Two–one," Noel said.

Marcus grinned through heavy breaths. "Alright. Last one."

They squared off again, both more serious now.

Noel surged forward, this time feinting low—then pivoted and struck toward Marcus’s shoulder.

Marcus blocked it—barely—but his stance opened just enough.

Noel spun, dropped low, and swept Marcus’s legs out from under him.

Thud.

Silence.

Marcus blinked up at the sky, then laughed. "Okay... three–one."

Noel extended a hand. Marcus took it, pulling himself up.

"You’re in form," Marcus said. "Sharp."

"I’ve got things on my mind."

"I can tell."

They walked back toward the group. Laziel clapped slowly. "That was actually entertaining."

Clara smiled. "You two really don’t know how to go easy, huh?"

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦