The Extra Who Shouldn't Exist-Chapter 72: Chaos in the cafeteria (2)

The cafeteria had always been a lively place—a spot where laughter mingled with the clinking of plates, and students of Zenith Academy students gathered to eat and chat. But today, that atmosphere was shattered by chaos.

"Did... did that just happen?" Seraphina muttered, wiping mashed potatoes off her cheek.

Alden, ever the graceful noble, was frozen mid-motion, a glob of pie sliding slowly down his chiseled cheek like it had somewhere better to be.

Ethan, stunned, looked like someone had just asked him to recite the entire economic policy of Avaloria backwards. And Charlotte—poor, furious Charlotte—had just taken a full tray of pizza directly to her face.

It slapped her with enough force to leave tomato sauce dripping like war paint.

Everyone stared.

Then, they all slowly turned to trace the trajectory of the flying food.

Nothing.

Not a single soul stood in that direction. Just air. Empty space. As if the food had been hurled by an invisible prankster (it had been).

"No one?" Ethan whispered.

Seraphina squinted. "I swear, I saw a glimmer. But it’s gone."

Ava blinked, shocked into silence, her tiny mouth opening and closing like a goldfish who’d just witnessed its entire aquarium explode.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A massive figure approached, casting a hulking shadow across the table. It was Carl Dimitri. Muscles rippled under his tight academy uniform, face stoic and dangerous. The kind of man who screamed power with just his appearance.

And in his wake came chaos incarnate: the limp body of Lorenzo D’Vaire, still twitching after being launched halfway across the cafeteria.

Carl stopped right in front of them.

Alden’s face returned to its usual unreadable coldness. His pie-soaked cheek didn’t move an inch.

Carl looked at the table. Then at the food-covered nobles. And something in his eyes shifted.

Everyone knew these names—Ethan Williams, heir to House Williams and the prophesied hero. Seraphina Starlight, the Ice Queen. Alden von Crestvale, the smug heir of crestvale. And Charlotte Evans Avaloria, the first literal princess of Avaloria.

Carl swallowed.

Ethan Williams. Charlotte Evans Avaloria. Seraphina Starlight. Alden von Crestvale.

They were not just students. In noble society, they were celebrities. Everyone knew their names, their backgrounds. And he had just thrown food on them—accidentally or not.

A bead of sweat slid down Carl’s temple, but he kept his composure. Straightening his back, he stepped forward and bowed respectfully toward Charlotte.

"I greet the princess," he said bowing, voice calm but firm, "and I apologize for the disruption. It was never my intention."

Charlotte, seething under a layer of greasy mozzarella, narrowed her eyes. Her pride—no, her royal dignity—was in tatters. Just as she opened her mouth, ready to lash out, a cold, sharp voice cut through the air.

It was Alden.

"Are you the one who threw this trash at our table?" he asked icily, eyes locked on Carl with dangerous calm.

Carl felt the pressure shift immediately. He raised his hands slightly in a placating gesture.

"I apologize," he said, trying to maintain authority. "It was not my intention to disrupt your meal."

His voice was stern—he had to maintain some level of dignity. He was a second-year, after all.

Just then, Carl’s friends arrived—Maximus, Ian, and Tucker—striding in confidently after thoroughly demolishing Lorenzo’s so-called friends. The three looked smug, especially Tucker.

Tucker stepped forward, not recognizing the table’s occupants under all the food splatter. He glanced at the messy uniforms and huffed arrogantly.

"Yeah, we’re the ones who did it," he sneered. "You got a problem with that, worm?"

Carl’s eyes widened in horror.

"You idiot, do you not recog—" he started to shout.

But before the sentence could even finish—

BAM!

Carl’s head was slammed down hard—face-first onto the table, directly on top of the unconscious Lorenzo.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Tucker’s bravado evaporated instantly. He stared at Carl, mouth agape, then slowly turned his gaze to the one who’d done it.

Ethan.

The heir of House Williams and the preophesized hero stood still, his hand casually brushing crumbs off his sleeve. His expression was emotionless, but his eyes—his eyes—screamed:

"Yes, we do have a problem."

Tucker felt his knees wobble.

"I-I didn’t kno—"

But before he could finish, a suffocating chill ran through his entire body. He couldn’t move. He was frozen in place.

Not by fear—though that was definitely part of it.

But by ice.

A cold voice followed.

"Looks like you guys are trying to be bullies," Seraphina said, stepping forward.

Her face was beautiful, framed by her long raven-black hair—but right now, it was cold and stern. Deadly.

"Bullying is forbidden here."

She raised her hand slightly, and a wave of pressure fell over the area, heavy and undeniable. Tucker whimpered as the frost-like mana snaked around his body.

Her golden eyes flicked to Carl’s groaning form.

"And you might want to teach your friends not to speak before thinking next time."

Tucker couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even nod. All he could do was pray to the goddess. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Ian and Maximus, having just watched Carl get turned into a human cushion for Lorenzo, felt a primal instinct kick in—run.

They spun on their heels, but before they could take more than two steps, a crushing force slammed them flat onto the cold cafeteria floor.

It was like gravity itself had decided to make them one with the tiles. They couldn’t even lift a finger.

From behind, a calm, chilling voice floated through the air like silk over steel.

"My, my," Charlotte said, sauntering toward them, brushing pizza crumbs off her uniform. "Trying to escape after ruining our lunch? How very brave of you."

Maximus grunted, trying to raise his head, only to have gravity pin it back down. Ian, face squished against the ground, squeaked something that might have been an apology.

Charlotte stepped closer, her tone sweet but her eyes glowing with dangerous curiosity. "Before you get beaten to a pulp, I just want to ask something."

The pressure lessened just slightly—enough for them to breathe, not enough to move. They all swallowed hard like a synchronized orchestra of fear.

"Did you see anyone with silver hair and blue eyes near Lorenzo?" she asked.

Ian, his face contorted in strain, finally gasped out, "N-No... we just came up here to beat up that trash Lorenzo because he threw food at us. That’s all!"

Charlotte and Ethan exchanged glances and nodded in sync.

"Yup," Ethan said casually, dusting cheese off his shoulder. "Definitely that guy."

"Lorenzo doesn’t have the balls to offend Carl," Charlotte added dryly.

A sudden, loud, villainous voice thundered through the cafeteria.

"ALEX, YOU BASTARD, I’LL KILL YOU!" Alden roared, pointing to the ceiling like he expected Alex to fall out of a vent.

Everyone in the cafeteria froze.

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A/N:-

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