Extra is the Heir of Life and Death

Chapter 226 226: Shokugeki no Soma

The cafeteria at Astralis Academy had always felt too loud for its size.

Not in a bad way. Just… full. Full of voices, trays clattering against tables, nobles pretending not to look at commoners and commoners pretending not to care, the constant hum of magic tucked beneath everything like a second heartbeat. The ceiling arched high above us, threaded with pale crystal veins that glowed softly, and the long windows along the western wall spilled afternoon light across rows of tables.

Kent and I had already secured a corner table, mostly because Kent had sprinted the moment the bell rang and nearly tackled a second-year out of the way.

"I regret nothing," he said now, grinning at me as he shoveled something that might have once been a potato into his mouth. "Strategic positioning wins wars."

"It's lunch," I said.

"Exactly."

Nora sat across from us, white hair tied back in a low ribbon, blue eyes scanning the room in a way that made it seem like she was memorizing faces. She ate neatly, quietly, as if the entire hall were a study subject and she refused to let grease stain the page.

Annalise had taken the seat beside her, brown hair falling over one shoulder, blue eyes sharp and thoughtful even when she was chewing. She held her fork like she was about to argue with it.

"You're staring again," she told me without looking up.

"I'm not."

"You are."

Kent leaned over. "He's admiring the structural integrity of the bread."

"It's collapsing," I muttered.

"It's doing its best," Kent said solemnly.

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head, and took a bite of something that tasted aggressively like seasoning and very little else. The food at Astralis Academy fluctuated wildly between divine and questionable. Today leaned toward questionable.

That was when the doors to the cafeteria swung open hard enough to echo.

Lilith entered like she owned the floor.

She didn't actually slam the doors—she just walked in with enough presence that it felt like she had. Dark hair falling over one shoulder, posture straight, eyes already scanning for us. There was something decisive about the way she moved, like every step had been agreed upon in advance.

Behind her came Xaveir, hands in his pockets, silver hair catching the light. His expression was as unreadable as ever, though there was a faint dullness to his gaze today, like he hadn't slept enough or had spent too long thinking about something he didn't want to think about.

And trailing just behind him—

Page.

Quiet. Composed. Expression flat in a way that wasn't cold, just… contained. Her dark hair was tied back, her steps light and precise, as if she calculated where the floor would creak before she touched it.

Kent stiffened.

"Reinforcements," he whispered.

Lilith spotted us and immediately adjusted course.

"Move," she said, nudging Kent with her knee.

"I live here," Kent protested.

"You're renting."

He scooted over anyway.

Xaveir dropped into the seat beside Annalise, offering a slight nod in greeting. Page took the edge of the table, sitting with her back to the wall without comment. Lilith sat next to me.

"You look smug," she told me.

"I'm eating."

"That's not what I said."

I raised a brow. "And you look like you're about to start something."

She smiled faintly. "I always look like that."

Kent leaned forward. "That's because she's always about to start something."

Lilith kicked him under the table.

He yelped. "Violence. In broad daylight."

Nora, calm as ever, folded her hands. "It is technically afternoon."

"That's worse," Kent said.

The conversation rolled easily after that. It wasn't anything important. Just small comments about class, about Belle's latest assignment, about how one of the second-years had tried to duel a practice dummy and lost.

"Lost?" Annalise repeated.

"It hit him back," Kent said.

"Dummies don't hit back," Nora said mildly.

"This one did."

Xaveir snorted softly, which might as well have been him laughing.

I found myself relaxing into it. The noise, the chatter, the clatter of plates and cutlery. For a little while, there were no locks breaking, no voids whispering, no bloodline stories that made my head ache.

Just this.

Lilith stole a piece of bread off my tray.

"You weren't eating it," she said.

"I was going to."

"You hesitated."

"That's called pacing."

"That's called weakness."

Kent pointed at her. "Finally, someone says it."

I grabbed a napkin and tossed it at him.

It bounced harmlessly off his forehead.

He froze.

Slowly, dramatically, Kent picked up the napkin and looked at it like it had personally offended him.

"You have chosen violence," he said.

"I threw paper at you."

"Intent matters."

Before I could reply, a blur streaked past our table.

Something wet smacked against the shoulder of a noble two tables over.

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

"Did you just—"

A spoonful of something orange flew across the aisle.

It hit its target.

Gasps rippled outward.

"Oh no," Kent whispered, eyes lighting up. "It's happening."

Nora closed her eyes briefly, like she was mentally calculating odds.

Another projectile sailed through the air.

Then another.

And then the entire cafeteria descended into chaos.

Food launched from every direction. Bread rolls became ammunition. Cups of juice were flung with alarming accuracy. A plate shattered somewhere near the center, drawing a cheer instead of concern.

Lilith ducked as a glob of sauce went flying overhead.

"This is why we can't have nice things," Annalise muttered, shielding her tray.

Kent was grinning like a madman.

I leaned back just in time to avoid a fork skidding across the table.

"Stay low," I said.

"To whom?" Kent asked. "The sky is falling."

A piece of fruit bounced off Xaveir's shoulder.

He stared at it.

Then at the direction it had come from.

His expression didn't change.

That was somehow more ominous.

And then—

A chunk of something—mashed, unidentifiable, definitely wet—came sailing in from the left.

It hit Page.

Squarely.

On the side of her face.

Time slowed.

The cafeteria noise seemed to thin, like someone had drawn a line through the air.

Page didn't move at first.

The food slid slowly down her cheek.

Kent swallowed.

Our entire table went silent.

The person who had thrown it—a third-year noble with perfectly styled hair and a grin still lingering from the throw—realized, a second too late, what he had done.

Page lifted her hand.

Wiped her cheek once.

Set the napkin down.

Then, very calmly, she reached across the table.

And took Kent's plate.

Kent didn't protest.

He didn't even breathe.

Page stood.

Walked three steps forward.

And slammed the plate directly into the noble's face.

Not threw.

Not tossed.

Slammed.

The sound was spectacular.

Silence held for exactly half a heartbeat.

Then everything exploded.

Students screamed—not in fear, but in delight. More food flew. Someone overturned a tray entirely. A second-year tried to shield himself with a chair and failed miserably.

Kent turned to me slowly. "I respect her."

Lilith was already on her feet, ducking another incoming projectile.

"Defensive formation!" she shouted.

"There is no formation!" Annalise snapped, but she was laughing.

Nora adjusted her sleeves and calmly picked up a roll.

She weighed it once in her hand.

Then launched it with terrifying precision.

It hit a noble square between the eyes.

"Direct hit," she said softly.

Xaveir flicked his wrist, sending a spoon spinning like a coin. It clattered against someone's tray, sending their drink into their own lap.

Page had already moved.

She slipped through the chaos like it had parted for her, reappearing behind the noble she'd struck and nudging him forward just enough that he stumbled into another table.

I found myself grinning before I could stop it.

Fine.

If this was how it was going to be—

I grabbed a handful of sliced fruit.

Turned.

And threw it at the nearest cluster of impeccably dressed nobles.

It hit one in the shoulder and another in the hair.

They stared at me in disbelief.

I raised a brow.

"Afternoon," I said.

A cup of juice came flying at my head.

I ducked, laughing.

Kent was cackling beside me, flinging mashed vegetables with reckless abandon. Lilith moved with sharp efficiency, retaliating only when targeted, her aim clean and brutal.

Annalise tried, at first, to maintain dignity.

That lasted about ten seconds.

Then she got hit with something purple and snapped.

"Absolutely not," she muttered, and joined in.

The cafeteria had become a battlefield of carbohydrates.

Somewhere near the center, a group of first-years had formed an alliance and were launching synchronized volleys of bread. A second-year stood on a chair like a commander, only to be dragged down by his own teammate.

I grabbed another handful of something—didn't check what—and hurled it toward a particularly smug noble who had just thrown a fork at Kent.

It splattered across his pristine uniform.

He looked horrified.

I felt deeply satisfied.

"Sebastian!" Lilith called, ducking beside me. "Left!"

I turned just as a plate came flying.

It shattered against the wall behind us.

Kent blinked. "They're escalating."

"They started it," I said.

"That's not how escalation works!"

Another projectile hit our table, flipping a tray entirely. Sauce dripped off the edge.

Xaveir calmly picked up a cup, took a sip, then used the empty cup as ammunition.

Page reappeared beside us, utterly unruffled, though there was a faint smear of something green on her sleeve.

"You missed a spot," I told her.

She glanced down.

Then wiped it off with clinical precision.

A whistle shrieked from the far end of the cafeteria.

One of the instructors had arrived.

That did not immediately stop anyone.

It took three more whistles and a sharp burst of magic that froze a cluster of bread rolls mid-air before the chaos began to slow.

Students gradually lowered their arms.

Food dripped from hair, shoulders, tables.

The floor was unrecognizable.

Kent had sauce in his eyebrows.

Lilith had a streak of orange across her cheek.

Nora looked mostly untouched, somehow.

Annalise had something pink in her hair and looked offended by it.

Xaveir was suspiciously clean.

Page stood straight, hands behind her back, as if she had not just initiated the turning point of the war.

I glanced around at the wreckage.

Then at my friends.

And I started laughing.

Not loud.

Not wild.

Just a steady, breathless laugh that I couldn't quite stop.

Kent joined in immediately.

Lilith shook her head but smiled.

Nora's lips curved faintly.

Annalise exhaled through her nose in reluctant amusement.

Even Xaveir's dull eyes seemed a shade brighter.

The instructor was still shouting about decorum and responsibility and consequences.

I barely heard it.