Transmigrating as an Extra, But the Heroine Has Regressed?!-Chapter 326: The New look!

Then Professor Sylvia left the ground after she spoke to her class.

The morning sun cast long shadows across Ground Zero, students slowly dispersing after the announcement. Their murmurs lingered behind her like fading echoes.

But something tugged at her chest.

A faint unease.

Just as she reached the podium near the teacher’s office, hurried footsteps slapped against the stone behind her.

"Madam Sylvia... Madam Sylvia!"

The voice was breathless, panicked.

Sylvia turned sharply.

A female worker—one of the academy’s maintenance staff—came rushing toward her, her face pale, hair half undone, hands trembling as if she’d run the entire way.

"What happened?" Sylvia asked immediately.

"There’s—there’s been someone in the ice chamber," the woman said, gulping for air. "I could tell... just one is there."

Sylvia’s pupils shrank.

"...What?"

Her mind moved faster than her body.

The ice chamber was restricted. Strictly monitored. Students were never allowed to enter alone—especially not overnight.

"How long?" Sylvia asked.

"I—I don’t know exactly," the worker replied. "But the mana readings... they’re steady. Too steady. That’s what scared me."

Sylvia didn’t wait for another word.

"Take me there. Now."

She turned on her heel and began walking briskly, her coat fluttering behind her. The worker scrambled to follow.

As they moved through the academy grounds, their urgency drew attention.

Several professors paused mid-conversation.

"What’s going on?" one asked.

Sylvia didn’t answer.

Within moments, footsteps joined them—heavy, deliberate.

Professor Grender Voss fell into stride beside them, his tall frame casting a long shadow.

His sharp eyes flicked from Sylvia to the worker.

(What is this situation?) he thought.

He didn’t ask.

He already sensed it.

Behind them, students began to follow.

First-years, curious and anxious.

Second-years, whispering theories.

Third-years, their expressions unreadable.

No one stopped them.

The closer they got to the lower wing of the academy, the colder the air became.

Breath turned faintly white.

Sylvia’s heart pounded harder with every step.

(Please don’t let it be what I think it is.)

They reached the reinforced steel door of the ice chamber.

Sylvia stopped abruptly.

Her eyes locked onto the glowing indicator panel.

Green.

Still active.

She stepped closer.

Her fingers hovered over the display.

"...It’s been nine hours on," she said quietly.

The worker nodded weakly. "Yes, madam."

Nine hours.

Sylvia’s breath caught.

"No student could survive that," someone behind whispered.

Sylvia ignored them.

Her mind raced.

Who could it be...?

Her lips parted.

"...Kael?"

Grender Voss’s brows furrowed. "That boy?"

Sylvia didn’t answer him.

She placed her palm against the chamber’s surface.

Cold seeped through instantly.

"By counting the mana flow," she said slowly, eyes narrowing as she focused, "it gives only one person is inside there."

The crowd stirred.

"Only one?"

"Nine hours?"

"That’s impossible..."

Sylvia straightened.

Her voice hardened.

"Turn it off."

The worker hesitated. "But madam, if we shut it down suddenly—"

"Now," Sylvia said.

The worker nodded frantically and rushed to the control panel.

With a sharp hiss, the machine powered down.

The hum of circulating mana faded.

The temperature indicator began to rise—slowly.

Too slowly.

Sylvia reached for the door controls.

Her hand paused.

For the first time since becoming a professor, her fingers trembled.

She pressed the release.

The chamber door opened with a heavy metallic groan.

Cold air exploded outward.

Several students gasped, stumbling back.

Frost spilled across the floor like smoke.

Inside—

They waited outside.

No one spoke.

The fog slowly thinned.

And there—

Kael.

He was seated upright.

Encased in ice.

From his feet to his shoulders, a translucent shell had formed, thick and crystalline, locking him in place like a statue carved by winter itself.

His head was slightly bowed.

His arms rested at his sides.

His bare hands were frozen mid-curl.

For a heartbeat—

Nothing.

Someone whispered, "He’s dead..."

Sylvia stepped forward.

Her eyes burned.

"Kael," she said softly.

No response.

She took another step.

Her mana extended, brushing against him.

And then—

"...He’s breathing."

The words escaped her lips in disbelief.

Grender Voss stiffened. "What?"

She moved closer.

The ice around Kael began to crack.

Hairline fractures spread across the frozen surface as warmth seeped in.

Slowly.

The ice melted.

Water streamed down his body, pooling at his feet.

His chest rose.

Once.

Twice.

Uneven.

But alive.

Then—

Crack.

Kael’s finger twitched.

A sharp, brittle sound echoed as ice broke around it.

Several students recoiled.

"He moved!"

Kael’s fingers flexed weakly.

His head tilted a fraction.

A low, hoarse breath scraped from his throat.

Sylvia rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside him.

"Kael!" she called. "Kael, look at me!"

His eyelids fluttered.

Slow.

Pain etched into every inch of his face.

His lips parted, blue and cracked.

No sound came out.

But he was alive.

The ice finally gave way completely, collapsing around him in chunks.

Water soaked his uniform.

His body slumped forward—

Sylvia caught him.

He was freezing.

Too cold.

His skin was pale, almost translucent.

Grender Voss placed two fingers against Kael’s neck.

"...His pulse is weak," he said. "But steady."

Sylvia exhaled shakily.

"Bring healers," she ordered. "Now!"

Students scattered.

But Sylvia didn’t let go.

As the last shards of ice melted away, something else became visible.

Kael’s hair.

It was no longer its original dark shade.

It had turned ice blue.

Pale.

Shimmering faintly under the chamber lights.

And it was longer.

Not dramatically—but noticeably, falling closer to his shoulders.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"Did his hair... change?"

"Is that a mutation?"

"A backlash?"

Grender Voss stared.

"...Interesting."

Kael’s fingers curled again.

This time with intent.

His nails dug weakly into Sylvia’s sleeve.

She leaned closer, her voice trembling despite herself.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why would you do this...?"

Kael’s lips moved.

Barely.

A breathless whisper escaped.

"...Pain..."

Sylvia swallowed.

"...Pain is temporary," Kael finished faintly.

Her eyes widened.

He wasn’t unconscious.

Still refusing to fall.

The cold around him began to dissipate fully.

But the silence that followed was heavier than the ice ever was.

Because they all understood one thing now—

This was resolved and taken to the brink of death.

And Kael—

Had crossed it.

Without asking permission.

Without stopping.

Without breaking.

Sylvia tightened her grip around his shoulders.

Her voice, when she spoke again, was low.

"Someone get a stretcher," she said. "Carefully."

Kael’s eyes opened a little more.

Kael stepped outside the ice chamber.

The heavy metal door slid shut behind him with a dull thud, sealing away the biting cold and the frost-covered walls that had nearly claimed his life.

For a brief moment, the warmth of the corridor struck him like a wave, making his skin prickle and his lungs burn as they adjusted.

He swayed.

Not enough to fall—but enough that several people nearby sucked in sharp breaths.

Students crowded the hallway. First-years who had followed out of curiosity. Second-years whispering urgently.

Even third-years who usually looked down on everyone else now stared with expressions they didn’t bother to hide.

Kael stood there, silent.

Ice-blue strands of hair slipped over his eyes, longer than before, catching the light in a way that looked almost unreal.

His uniform clung slightly to his frame, still damp from melting frost, outlining a lean body marked with faint bruises and scars—proof of a night no one here had witnessed.

And yet... he was standing.

Unbowed.

A soft murmur rippled through the crowd.

"Is that... him?"

"He stayed inside for nine hours..."

"Is he even human?"

Among the onlookers, a group of second-year girls stared openly.

One of them covered her mouth, eyes wide. "He looks different..."

Another swallowed, cheeks faintly pink. "He’s kind of... handsome."

A third-year girl crossed her arms, trying—and failing—to hide her interest. "That aura... it’s strange. Cold, but calm."

Kael didn’t look at them.

His eyes were unfocused, distant, as if part of him was still inside the ice chamber, still wrapped in frost and silence.

He took one step forward. Then another.

Each footstep echoed softly down the corridor.

Some students instinctively moved aside, creating a clear path without realizing why.

A second-year girl hesitated, then spoke softly, "Um... are you okay?"

Kael paused for half a second.

Not to look at her—but to register the sound.

"...Yeah," he said hoarsely.

Just one word.

But it was enough to make her heart skip.

He continued walking.

Whispers followed him like shadows.

"That’s Kael, right?"

"The one who fought a demon?"

"The one Ethan went after?"

"No way..."

Kael passed them all, head slightly lowered, shoulders straight despite the exhaustion screaming through his body.

His hands trembled faintly at his sides, fingers still numb from the cold, but his steps never faltered.

Outside, sunlight spilled across the academy grounds.

The warmth should have felt comforting.

Instead, it felt distant.

Kael crossed the courtyard alone, ignoring the stares, the curiosity, the admiration he didn’t notice and wouldn’t have cared about even if he did.

His thoughts were simple.

Behind him, Professor Grender Voss stood near the chamber entrance, arms folded tightly across his chest.

His sharp eyes followed Kael’s retreating figure.

Ice-blue hair.

Prolonged exposure.

No mana fluctuation consistent with a normal mage.

"...Nine hours," Grendar muttered under his breath.

That wasn’t training.

That was defiance of death.

Something about the boy unsettled him.

A will that didn’t bend when it should have shattered.

Grendar turned sharply, his coat swaying as he walked away from the gathering crowd.

"I’ll look into this myself," he said quietly.