The Nameless Extra: I Proofread This World-Chapter 34: The Opening Ceremony (1)

Ruvian lifted his gaze as the silence of the hall parted to make way for a single figure.

She ascended the stage gracefully, measurely, and imperiously.

Power, strength, and dominance were woven into her very presence, far from the garish spectacle of lesser nobles, and more like the effortless strength of absolute authority.

Ophelia Dumblelore

The name alone echoed through the history of the Averenthia Empire.

A former Grand Magus, a legendary mage whose strength had shaped the tides of battlefield, a woman whose intellect had once dictated the course of empires.

Now, she ruled Velthia Academy with the same adamant hand that had once commanded legions.

Her robes, a deep indigo embroidered with golden sigils of dominion, caught the soft glow of the floating chandeliers. Her fabric did not billow; it commanded the air around it, settling only where she willed.

Effortlessly, she came to a halt at the center of the podium.

For a long moment, she did nothing much. Her cool, violet eyes sharpened to the precision of a blade, passed over the scholars like the weight of judgment itself.

She was measuring and assessing the scholars in front of her.

Was the steel before her strong enough to be forged? Or would it shatter under the first strike of the hammer?

Then, finally, she spoke:

"Aspiring scholars, knights, mages, heirs of lineage, bearers of talent and fate..."

Her voice rang through the hall, each syllable laced with unshakable command.

"Today, you stand at the gates of Velthia Academy. From this moment forward, your titles, your heritage, your past glories—"

She paused, letting the silence press against them.

"Means nothing anymore."

Voices of the uneasy scholars traveled around the chamber.

Velthia Academy did not bow to bloodlines, and at the same time, it did not shelter the weak. The weight of a noble crest meant little if the hands that bore it could not wield strength.

Within this academy, competence reigned supreme.

’That is to be expected.’

Ruvian smiled proudly.

Ophelia continued. "Many of you have been cradled in praise, told since childhood that you were destined for greatness. That the stars had aligned in your favor... but here, we do not deal in empty destiny."

"Here, we deal in proof, in results carved by your own hand, not borrowed glory from your bloodline or the shallow applause of your hometowns."

"Whatever comfort you once knew, whatever hollow compliments once nourished your pride... do leave them at the gates. Here, it is not a sanctuary for fragile egos."

She let the quiet stretch before continuing.

"In my years beyond these walls, I have witnessed many who waited for destiny to lift them from the ordinary. They waited for blessings, for recognition, for the world to turn its eyes upon them."

"But sadly, the world rarely obliges such expectations. More often, it just watches quietly as those who wait become indistinguishable from those who did nothing at all."

"I have seen talent rise swiftly, only to falter when challenged by the simplest adversity. I have seen those who believed themselves prodigious crumble beneath the weight of their first honest failure."

"And I have seen individuals who arrived with very little, individuals overlooked and doubted, gradually carve a place for themselves by choosing effort again and again."

"Those are the ones who endure. And those exactly are the ones who change the shape of the world around them."

She then walked closer to the edge of the stage.

"Effort is a demanding companion, you see..."

"It does not promise that the path ahead will be kind. But it will never betray a single person who committed themselves to it wholeheartedly."

The lanternlight reflected across her face, softening nothing and revealing nothing.

"So, from now on, all of you will be asked to confront your vision of the world, and then to decide... whether it is something you truly wish to see realized, or whether it was merely just a pleasant dream."

"If you wish for a different world, begin by becoming the kind of person who can shape one. Do not ask for the world to change. Transformation must begin within you, through the choices you make each day."

"This academy will offer you a path. That I can assure. But it will not guarantee that you succeed on it. Whether you rise or fall will solely depend on you."

Later, she returned to the center of the stage.

"Today marks the beginning of your education, but more importantly, it also marks the beginning of your becoming. So again, leave behind whatever story others have written about you—"

She paused, watching them with cold stares.

"—And begin writing your own story."

The whole hall went utterly silent with that statement.

"Welcome to Velthia Academy."

Her closing words drifted gently over the hall.

’Such a grand speech.’

This had always been one of his favorite early moments in the story, one he remembered clearly even after countless Chapters.

But experiencing it now felt different.

It was as if he were seated before a grand stage, watching a theatre performance unfold in a way no reading or live adaptation could ever convey.

Speaking of that, of course, that comparison barely made any sense. This wasn’t a live adaptation. He hadn’t read or watched his way into the story; he had fallen straight into it.

So why wouldn’t it feel real?

Ruvian smiled to himself, seated among the crowd, content to simply watch the enrollment ceremony unfold.

From what he remembered in the novel, Ophelia Dumblelore was not a woman who entertained mediocrity.

Ophelia raised her hand.

Immediately, the atmosphere inside the hall trembled. A pull of raw mana came from her being, pressed upon the hall.

Above the stage, everything wavered. Space itself yielded to her command, and in its place, a mana projection appeared.

It displayed the academy grounds, grand libraries that housed centuries of knowledge, sprawling sparring arenas, towering spell chambers, and more.

After that, another instructor came and began explaining the details of the academy landscape. Meanwhile, Ophelia simply vanished into thin mist from the stage.

’She did that in the novel?’

Somehow, Ruvian couldn’t remember that detail.

’She really is a show-off.’

As the projection shifted, a few Dead Runes blazed into view, glowing with ethereal light, and the instructor continued to explain the rules, the vision, and the objectives of the academy.

The explanation went on for a few minutes long.

Once that briefing ended, with a flick of his wrist, the vision shattered into shining fragments, dissolving into the ether.

His gaze hardened. Then, with a graceful motion, he turned slightly and gestured toward the side of the podium.

"Now, in accordance with tradition, the highest-ranking scholar in the admissions exam shall now address the academy."

The air became volatile as the hall came alive in a heartbeat, whispers erupting like sparks.

The nobles straightened in their seats, already preparing for the name that would follow.

Surely, they thought it would be one of them. A noble whose name commanded respect the moment it was uttered.

’Obviously... the next words will surely shatter all of their expectations.’

Ruvian thought lightly, shaking his head.

Because the highest-ranking scholar in the admissions exam would be Zian Herga, the protagonist of this world.

Ruvian relaxed his posture as he already knew who would be called on the stage.

’Now, show yourself, you damn protagonist.’

And then, the instructor announced:

"We recognize..."

"The Top Seat of this year’s admissions goes to..."

"Julian Rozenberg!"

The hall erupted with thunderous applause.

Cheers rang like the fanfare of a coronation.

The swell of voices, unrestrained in their approval, filled the vast chamber as nobles straightened in their seats, their world neatly aligned once more.

But Ruvian...

Ruvian was left flabbergasted.

His hands had curled into fists before he even realized it.

’What?!!’

But the reality before him was something he could neither dismiss nor rationalize away.

The white-haired scholar, Julian Rozenberg rose from his seat and walked toward the stage with effortless pride.

Ruvian’s mind reeled as his thoughts lurched, scrambling for an answer.

’This.... this is not how it was supposed to go!?’

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[Chapter 34: The Opening Ceremony (1)]