The Extra Wants Control

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the aisles overflowing with mass-produced goods. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a familiar ache in this world obsessed with bland, magic-infused mush they called food. Tonight, I craved something more substantial, something with a hint of meat, the primal satisfaction a juicy steak could offer.

Pushing open the automatic doors, I scanned the aisles, a mental list forming of ingredients. Canned vegetables and processed meats lined the shelves, a stark reminder of the limitations placed upon those who lacked the means to acquire better. Just as I reached the meat section, a wave of amusement washed over me.

Here, nestled amongst the pre-packaged mediocrity, were trays of "Prime Cut Steaks" – a bold claim for the pale slabs I inspected.

Suddenly, the air shimmered, and the door chimed, announcing new arrivals. A familiar laugh, light and airy, drifted towards me. No surprise. It was Azrael, that golden boy of the academy, and his ever-present companion, Vera. They were practically glued at the hip, their laughter echoing in the sterile environment.

They spotted me at the same time. Azrael's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of something akin to annoyance crossing his face. Vera, on the other hand, plastered on a strained smile that looked more like a grimace.

Unfazed by their discomfort, I offered a curt nod and then I completely ignored them. My focus remained on the task at hand – procuring a decent meal. With a practiced eye, I scanned the meager offerings, dismissing the pre-packaged meats as a lost cause. Perhaps some spices, a marinade of my own creation, could salvage the situation but i decided against it as I had some meat in my storage ring.

As I reached for a selection of herbs, I felt their gazes burning into my back. Their hushed whispers reached my ears, though I paid them no mind. They were likely gossiping about me, dissecting my every move, searching for some hidden meaning in my presence at the store. Let them. Their insecurities held no power over me.

Gathering my meager haul – herbs, some decent-looking potatoes, and a bottle of olive oil – I proceeded to the checkout aisle. The cashier, a young woman with tired eyes, barely registered my presence( but why is she tired we just began the academy days...). I paid for my meager bounty, the metallic clink of coins echoing in the silence I'd created by ignoring Azrael and Vera.

My stomach growled in protest as I stepped through the threshold of my apartment. Tonight, a steak feast was in order.

The kitchen was a disappointment. Functional, yes, but devoid of the warmth and soul of a true culinary haven. No cast iron skillets hung proudly on hooks, no worn wooden cutting boards awaited their purpose.

With a flick of my wrist, a shimmering portal bloomed in the air, revealing the depths of my storage ring. A marbled slab of prime beef (well it's not from a cow but from some beast that looked like it so I'll call it beef) emerged, the crimson meat boasting a richness absent from the pallid offerings in the academy cafeteria. A satisfied smile tugged at my lips.

I banished the portal with a thought and retrieved a gleaming knife from my ring, its weight reassuring in my hand. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of the blade against the cutting board became a soothing melody as I sliced the meat with practiced ease. Each piece was a masterpiece, thick enough to retain its juices yet thin enough to cook quickly.

Next came the spices. I managed to test some herbs during my stay in this world. These herbs could serve the same perpose as spices but they had some few side effects like minor hallucinations but that wouldn't affect me. A small vial from my ring held a potent blend I'd concocted myself.

The air danced with the aroma of roasted peppercorns, the earthy warmth of cumin, and the smoky whisper of paprika (all these were substitutes for those spices). A sprinkle here, a pinch there, the dance of seasoning was an art form.

The standard oven here wouldn't do. It was designed for speed, not for coaxing out the full potential of a good steak. Taking a deep breath, I channeled a sliver of magic. A vibrant blue flame ignited at my fingertips, dancing across the metal skillet I'd conjured from my ring. The heat was pure, unadulterated, exactly what the steak craved.

The sizzling of the steak in the pan was a symphony to my ears as I sprinkled on the final dash of my secret spice blend.

Just as I plated the masterpiece, a holographic shimmer materialized in the air, revealing my mother, Verona. Her crimson eyes and black hair, usually styled in a meticulously sculpted braid, seemed to vibrate with barely contained amusement.

"Neveah darling," she drawled, her voice dripping with theatricality, "tell mama all about your first glorious day at that… academy of yours."

I raised an eyebrow, the suspicion thick enough to cut with a butter knife (tsk ... This woman as if she didn't know what happened). "Oh, you know, the usual," I deadpanned. "Lectures on the history of Elnova, compulsory nap time, etiquette on the proper way to fold a napkin."

A snort escaped Verona, and I swear I saw a mischievous glint in her ruby eyes. "Somehow, I doubt that," she said, her smile widening. "But do go on, tell me of your tales of… normalcy."

I took a bite of the steak, savoring the burst of flavor. "Normalcy," I scoffed, "is a disease I have no intention of contracting."

Verona's smile slipped slightly, replaced by a flicker of concern. "Then why subject yourself to this… charade, Neveah? I could train you. Make you stronger, faster, a true heir to the-"

"Interact," I interjected, a cryptic smile playing on my lips.

She sighed dramatically, a sound that always managed to be both elegant and exasperated. "Interact with… people? But you loathe people, darling. They're messy, unpredictable…"

"Exactly, that's why I need to be close to them, to observe, describe, explain, predict their behavior and fo some hypothesis testing to verify and refine theories. Psychology 101, mother." I said, taking another bite.

"Is that so. And that hideous disguise?" she asked, her gaze flicking to my reflection in the holographic display. Currently, I sported the kind of blandly handsome features one would find on the third male lead in a cheesy dating sim – handsome, yes, but not so handsome as to threaten the protagonist's love interest. My signature black hair was dull, and my crimson eyes were watered down.

I shrugged, a playful glint in my eyes. "Think of it as blending in. Besides, wouldn't want to give the competition a run for their money, would we?"

Verona's lips twitched, a silent battle raging between amusement and exasperation. Finally, she shook her head, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. "Just… promise you'll be careful, alright?"

"No promises," I grinned, winking at her holographic image.

With a final dramatic sigh, Verona shimmered out of existence. I finished my meal in peaceful silence, the only sound the rhythmic clinking of my fork against the plate. Cleaning up was a breeze with a little magic. Finally my kitchen was clean. I then headed to my bedroom and got into my bathroom.

I cranked the shower knob to its coldest setting, welcoming the bite of icy water on my skin. It was a primal cleansing, washing away the day's frustrations and leaving a bone-deep coolness that invigorated me. Stepping out, I wrapped a towel around my waist and strode to the bedroom, the hum of magic already building in my mind.

Stepping out and drying with a flourish, I padded across the cold floor to the bed. Sitting cross-legged, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, centering myself. Tonight, I would create a sanctuary, a fortress within this small apartment.

With a flick of my wrist, a surge of magic pulsed outwards. Walls shimmered faintly, infused with layers of protective barriers. Ice magic, woven with the precision of a master, formed the first layer, a defense against any physical intrusion.

Gravity magic followed, creating a subtle distortion in the air, warping the space around the apartment and making it difficult for anyone to enter or leave unscathed as they would trip and get crushed by the pressure inside here and it was connected to some ice spikes that would skewer the intruder.

Alarm spells, like thin ice tripwires hidden with darkness magic, were laid across the doors and windows. Any attempt to breach these boundaries would trigger a an alarm that would be detected by me.

Detection and surveillance spells were woven into the fabric of the room, creating a constant low hum of magical energy. Every shadow, every sound would be amplified, granting me an all-encompassing awareness of the environment.

Finally, a soundproof barrier encased the entire apartment. No unwanted conversations and noise from outside, no prying ears would penetrate this haven. On top of it all, a layer of antispy magic pulsed, a shield against any attempts to magically scry or scan my activities.( Though some really strong could easily bypass all of this, still it gave me some sense of privacy however small)

Sinking into the plushness of my bed, I traded my damp towel for a pair of comfortable pajamas. Now, the real strategizing began. The game plan, meticulously crafted in my head based on the novel 'Chronicles of the Blessed,' had to be completely rewritten.

First and foremost, the academy landscape itself had shifted. No longer were we confined to the familiar human continent. The academy, a supposed haven for magic users, now defied gravity, a floating island in the vast expanse of the sky.

The awakening of the Vampire Queen, a creature always mentioned by the author but never appeared and me becoming her son/disciple, was a wrinkle I hadn't anticipated. Her presence, a potent force in the world, would undoubtedly shift the power dynamics in ways the novel hadn't explored.

Then there was Valeriana, the human empress. Her early ascension to the throne was another unexpected twist, throwing a wrench into the delicate balance between the human themselves and between the humans and other races.

Silvencrest, the supposed battleground where the protagonist was meant to clash with the dragon, now mourned the loss of the beast at the hands of my own mother (who for some reason was randomly sleeping in the human continent, why wasn't she sleeping in her damn castle?), Verona leaving a gaping hole on how the story should have flowed.

How would this rewrite the path of the protagonist, the hero destined to face this beast. Also one very important question how was he supposed to fight a 10 star beast that early in the novel? Is that really the same dragon?

But the biggest variable, the one that loomed largest, was me. My presence, a wild card in this already unpredictable game. Babel, the ambitious project I was orchestrating, threatened to rip the established order apart. Null, the shadows I was weaving, promised to disrupt the flow of information, a thorn in the side of both the powerful and the powerless.

The lack of information was another thorn. The novel itself, the blueprint for this world, remained incomplete, a mere 200 chapters leaving the rest to the author's whims. Was it even still being written? And the void before my arrival, the memory gap that stretched between my past life as Rei and my new existence as Neveah – a frustrating blank slate.

Variables. So many of them, swirling in a chaotic dance. But amidst the uncertainty, a fire ignited within me. I would become the biggest and strongest variable, the one who bent the narrative to my will, the one who made all others seem trivial and negligible in comparison.

My head throbbed with the weight of a thousand possibilities. Curled up on my bed, the remnants of dinner sat untouched on the bedside table. I'd tried, I truly had. For hours, I'd dissected the variables, the unexpected twists thrown into the plot and the new plot holes.

With a sigh, I surrendered to the inevitable. Tomorrow would come, with its six o'clock class and the charade of normalcy. There would be time to strategize later.Closing my eyes, I pushed away the tangled mess of thoughts, focusing on the steady rhythm of my own breathing.

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