Extra's Sign In System: The Hero's an Idiot!

Chapter 81: The Spoils of War

The Grand Hall of the Academy’s central spire was usually reserved for noble banquets.

Tonight, it served as a makeshift triage and command center.

In a quiet, roped-off section near the back, the first-year Special Class stood in a loose semicircle.

They were covered in dried mud, soot, and monster blood.

Some leaned heavily on their weapons.

Others just stared blankly at the marble floor as the adrenaline finally left their bruised bodies.

Headmaster Vane walked slowly down the line.

His stern, weathered face softened into a rare expression of profound, overwhelming relief as he checked them off his mental roster.

Aegon Logcheville.

Reina Frost.

Estella Everdawn.

Draven Mordis.

Lyra Voltaire.

Lucien Vaelmont.

Nyx Vespera.

Bram Stoneheart.

Cole Rust.

Natalie Tokks.

"Ten," Headmaster Vane said. His voice carried a heavy, emotional weight.

"Ten of you marched into an apocalyptic siege... and ten of you came back."

Vane placed a hand over his heart and offered the exhausted teenagers a deep, respectful bow.

"You were forced into a crucible that broke seasoned veterans today," Vane announced, straightening his posture.

"But you did not break. You held the residential lines, you managed the artillery, you held the skies, and you held the gates. The Academy is in your debt... and you are no longer unnoticed."

Vane’s eyes swept over the students, gleaming with pride.

"Lord Commander Helion Goldmane personally reviewed the tactical logs," Vane revealed.

A ripple of shock passed through the students.

"The Sun-Crowned Commander himself commended the Special Class for holding the Vanguard’s flanks when the lines faltered. Your names have been written into the Bastion’s history today."

Aegon stood a little straighter. Cole and Lyra exchanged a tired, proud glance.

"All classes and training regimens are suspended," Vane concluded.

"You have one week of rest to recover physically and mentally. After that, a formal notice regarding the Bastion’s reconstruction and your rewards will be issued. Until then, go home. Eat. Sleep. You have earned it."

"Dismissed," Vane ordered quietly.

He turned away to coordinate with the medics.

As the tension finally left the room, the Special Class let out a collective, shuddering breath.

Estella immediately turned her head. Her violet eyes scanned the group until she found Draven standing quietly near a pillar.

She gripped her wooden staff and marched straight toward him.

She looked agitated.

Her sharp mind was undoubtedly trying to connect the anomalies of the battlefield with Draven’s suspicious absence from her line of sight.

"Draven!" Estella called out, drawing the attention of the others.

"Where were you? When the Titan appeared, I looked down and didn’t see you anywhere! And that masked man... the way he spoke, it sounded entirely-"

Draven didn’t let her finish the sentence.

’She is entirely too perceptive,’ Draven thought pragmatically.

’If she blurts out her deductions right here in Command HQ, it’s going to be a massive headache.’

He took a step forward and smoothly pulled Estella into a firm, grounding hug. It completely cut off her words.

Estella froze.

The wooden staff slipped slightly in her grip.

Her eyes widened, and a bright flush of color rushed into her soot-covered cheeks.

"I am proud of you, Estella," Draven whispered genuinely. His voice dropped so only she could hear.

"You held the sky. You fought bravely today. We survived."

The suspicion instantly evaporated from her mind.

It was entirely replaced by a sudden, overwhelming wave of shyness and relief.

She tentatively wrapped her arms around his back, accepting the rare display of sincerity.

"T-Thank you," Estella stammered softly, her heart fluttering.

A few feet away, Lyra nudged Lucien with her elbow, smirking playfully.

Nyx just rolled her eyes from the shadows.

A little gossip murmured through the group, but no one was truly surprised.

Everyone in the Special Class knew Draven and Estella shared a tight, unspoken bond that went all the way back to the entrance exams.

Draven pulled back, offering her a faint, reassuring nod.

He then turned his attention to the tall, heavily armored boy walking toward them.

Aegon looked completely drained, but there was a new, undeniable weight to his presence.

The chaotic anger was gone, replaced by the calm, steady aura of a true leader.

Draven stepped up to him and threw his arms around the broad-shouldered spearman.

He pulled his friend into a solid, heavy bro-hug.

Aegon let out a surprised, exhausted laugh. He returned the embrace and clapped Draven heavily on the back.

"Not bad out there today, ’Hero,’" Draven teased, pulling back with a smirk.

"I hear you soloed a four-story Siege-Turtle. You couldn’t leave some for the rest of us?"

Aegon rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed but genuinely happy.

"I just did what I had to do, Draven. I wasn’t going to let them break the gates."

Draven looked around at the remaining eight students.

They were battered, bruised, and emotionally drained, but they were alive.

"Let’s get out of this mud," Draven said. His voice acted as the steady anchor for the group.

"Let’s go home."

An hour later, the atmosphere inside the Rank One Apex Villa was vastly different from the grim reality of the Great Wall.

The ten students of the Special Class had showered, washing the soot and the smell of death down the drains. They gathered in the villa’s expansive, warm cafeteria.

The long wooden table was entirely covered in hot food, roasted meats, and warm bread supplied by the Academy’s automated kitchens.

For a while, they just ate in silence. They savored the simple, profound joy of a warm meal. It was a well-deserved, chill moment amidst the horrors of war.

But as their stomachs filled, the adrenaline began to process. The conversation finally started to flow.

"I’m just saying, my body count was easily in the triple digits," Lucien Vaelmont bragged. He leaned back in his chair and spun a clean dagger on the wooden table.

"Nyx and I were in the eastern shadows. Every time a Razor-Hound tried to flank the Vanguard, I was already there. Slash, slash, dead. I made it an art form."

"You stabbed distracted dogs, Lucien. Congratulations," Aegon retorted with a tired grin. He took a massive bite of roasted meat.

"Try standing in front of a Goliath when it’s charging at full speed. I thought my Crucible was going to melt my own hands off before it pierced the shell."

"You wouldn’t have pierced anything if I didn’t hold the line for you," Bram Stoneheart grunted. His massive frame slumped heavily in his chair.

"I took a hit from a Cult Elite’s mace that would have shattered a normal shield. We lost a lot of good Vanguard Knights today..."

A brief, solemn silence fell over the table as they remembered the fallen comrades.

"But we made them pay," Lyra Voltaire suddenly spoke up. Her chaotic energy returned with a vengeance. She pointed a bread roll at Cole Rust.

"Those Void-Core Charges you forged... I packed them as dense as the casing would hold. I saw the artillery mages drop three of them on the swarm. The resulting vacuum literally sucked the eyeballs out of the vultures! It was beautiful!"

Cole gave her a slow, respectful nod. His soot-stained hands wrapped around a mug. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Your powder formulas are flawless, Voltaire. The blast radiuses were exactly as calculated. We make a good team."

"And then there was... him," Natalie Tokks whispered. She stared down at her cup of tea.

As a sensory scout, the battle had taken a massive toll on her mind.

The entire table went dead silent. Everyone knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Zero," Reina Frost said. Her expression turned incredibly serious.

"He killed a Cultist that was trying to backstab me. He didn’t even use a spell circle. He just used an invisible blade... and then he bowed and made a dark joke about a stage play."

"He hijacked the Lord Commander’s communication array," Nyx added, shivering slightly despite the warm room.

"He announced himself to the entire Bastion. The First Finger of the Embracing Hands. And then he just... snapped his fingers. The Titan imploded. The sensory feedback from that explosion nearly knocked me unconscious."

"Who has that kind of power?" Lucien asked. His bragging was entirely forgotten.

"To vaporize a planetary threat with a snap?"

Draven sat at the head of the table. He quietly sipped a cup of black coffee.

He listened to the ten most talented students in the Academy fanboy and shudder in terror over his alter-ego.

’If only you knew,’ Draven thought. A highly amused smirk hid behind the rim of his coffee mug.

"There are monsters in this world far older and stronger than we realize," Draven chimed in casually. He set his mug down.

"We should just be grateful this ’First Finger’ decided to point at the Cult instead of the Academy."

He stood up from his chair, stretching his shoulders.

"I’m turning in for the night," Draven announced.

"Don’t stay up too late reflecting on ghosts. Get some sleep."

The squad bid him goodnight. They instantly returned to their excited, terrified speculation as Draven walked up the stairs.

---

The moment Draven stepped into his bedroom, the relaxed, approachable persona vanished entirely.

He locked the heavy oak door and drew the curtains.

He sat on the edge of his bed.

"System," Draven whispered.

A bright golden screen materialized in the dark room. It illuminated his sharp features.

[System Interface Online.]

[Current System Points: 53,200]

[Item: 1x Mythic-Grade Gacha Token available.]

[Would you like to initiate the Mythic-Tier Roulette?]

"Yes," Draven commanded.

VWOOM!

The interface expanded into a massive, blindingly bright roulette wheel.

Instead of the usual silver and gold slots, this wheel was painted in deep, cosmic hues of purple, black, and iridescent rainbow light.

Every single item on this wheel was a world-breaking anomaly.

The wheel began to spin.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

It spun so fast it became a blur of cosmic light. Draven watched it with razor-sharp focus.

Slowly, the friction kicked in. The wheel began to decelerate.

Tick... tick... tick.

It bypassed a glowing blue skill book. It slowly clicked past a set of shimmering, indestructible armor.

Tick... tick.

The needle finally stopped on a pitch-black, jagged stone. It seemed to actively absorb the ambient light of the room.

DING!

[Congratulations! You have obtained a Mythic-Grade Item!]

[Item Acquired: The Sovereign’s Soul Stone]

A heavy, jagged black crystal materialized in Draven’s palm. It was freezing cold to the touch.

Deep inside the crystal, a faint, pulsing crimson light beat steadily. It looked like a trapped, ancient heart.

[Item Description: The Sovereign’s Soul Stone]

[Rank: Mythic]

[Details: Contains the fragmented soul of an ancient, hyper-intelligent entity. When implanted into a deceased vessel, the soul will resurrect the body, inheriting the physical stats and memories of the host. The resurrected entity is bound by an absolute, unbreakable blood-pact of loyalty to the user.]

[Requirement: Must be implanted into a deceased vessel with an S-Rank or higher innate talent.]

’And I know exactly where I will use this one.’