Just An Extra

As Isabell disappeared from sight, Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

'She probably hates me.'

He caught her last glance before she left—the look of someone who had completely written him off.

'Yeah… I'm definitely on her hopeless list.'

Not that he could blame her. His "training" probably looked ridiculous from the outside. But it wasn't like he could explain that he wasn't used to these daggers, that every movement still felt slightly off, that he was trying to build muscle memory in the only way he knew how.

Shaking his head, Max slid his daggers back into their scabbards one last time. He'd done enough for today.

With a stretch, he turned toward the exit, his body already feeling the exhaustion settle in. The halls were quieter now, most students either asleep or finishing up their own training. He walked through the academy grounds, the cool night air brushing against his skin.

By the time he reached his dorm, he didn't even bother turning on the lights. Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed onto his bed, letting out a deep breath.

…

Max stepped out of the classroom, letting out a quiet sigh. 'That was painfully dull.'

The second day at Nexus Academy had been nothing but endless tours. Lecture halls, dorm buildings, training grounds—none of it was particularly useful to him. Not yet, anyway.

Phone in hand, he followed the glowing blue line on his GPS through the busy streets. Nexus City was massive, and without the built-in navigation, he was sure he'd have gotten lost by now.

'Thank god for GPS…'

After a few minutes of walking, he arrived at a small alchemy item shop tucked between two larger buildings. A chime rang as he pushed the door open.

"Welcome!" A middle-aged woman greeted from behind the counter. She had sharp, observant eyes and wore a dark blue apron dusted with dried herbs.

Max stepped forward. "Hey, uh… do you have any straw?"

The woman blinked. "Straw?"

"Yeah."

She tilted her head slightly. "Haven't had anyone ask for that in years."

"Do you have any?"

"I might, but it'll be old."

"That's fine."

She gave him a curious glance before disappearing into the back. Max waited, glancing around the shop. The shelves were packed with neatly labeled jars—powdered moonroot, crushed ember leaves, bottled mist essence. 

After a few minutes, the woman returned, carrying a dusty burlap sack. "Here. The last batch I've got."

Max took it from her and nodded. "How much?"

"Ten crowns."

Swiping his card through the reader, he heard the soft ding of the transaction going through.

"Thanks for your business," the woman said, a small smile on her face. "Hope you cook up something good with that."

Max shook his head. "I'm not cooking anything."

That made her pause. "Then… why do you need straw?"

Max hesitated for a second before answering. "I'm making a training dummy."

The woman stared at him. Then, she let out a quiet chuckle.

"Kid… what's your name?"

"Max."

"I'm Riley," she said, crossing her arms.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too," she said, though her expression still held amusement. "Back to the point, though—nobody makes training dummies out of straw anymore." 

"I figured that much, but I can't really practice on the new dummies," Max admitted.

Riley raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Too many people watching."

It was a partial truth. The real reason was that the academy's dummies could analyze his movements, and if anyone got a hold of that data, they'd realize something was off. The 5-Star Nightstalker manual wasn't meant to be seen.

"Oh…" Riley hummed in understanding. "You must be an academy student."

"Yeah. Nexus," Max confirmed.

A grin spread across Riley's face. "Knew it. I get a few Nexus kids in here every now and then."

"Really?"

"Why do you think I picked this spot for my shop?" She gestured around the store. "Closest alchemy ingredient shop to Nexus. Any student needing materials for a project ends up here eventually."

Max nodded. "Must be a cash cow."

"You have no idea," Riley said with a smirk. "So, back to my question—why don't you want people looking at you?"

Max hesitated. "Uh… just 'cause."

Riley studied him for a moment. "Yeah, I kinda figured. You seemed pretty shy when you walked in."

Max awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry."

"'Sorry…'" Riley mocked in a playful voice. "Don't apologize for nothing, kid. And don't worry so much about what other people think."

Max let out a quiet exhale but didn't respond. That was easier said than done.

"Anyway," he said, changing the subject. "Do you have any insight on how to actually make one?"

"That depends. What's your budget?"

Max pulled out his phone and checked his balance. "Nine hundred ninety crowns."

Riley whistled. "No wonder you're looking for a cheap option."

"Yeah," Max said. "A straw dummy seemed cost-effective."

Riley tapped her fingers against the counter, thinking. "If you're dead set on making one, you'll need something to reinforce the straw. A leather covering would keep it from falling apart too fast. Zipties or rope to hold it together. Maybe some wooden support for the frame."

"That works," Max said.

"Good news for you," Riley said, turning to head toward the back. "I've got everything you need right here."

Max nodded, waiting as she disappeared into the storage room. As he stood there, he glanced at the burlap sack of straw in his hands.

Riley returned from the back room, arms full with the materials Max needed. She set them down on the counter with a light thud.

"That'll be sixty crowns."

Max swiped his card without hesitation. The reader beeped, confirming the transaction.

As he reached for the materials, Riley leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Why don't you just build it here?"

Max blinked. "You sure?"

"Yeah. You're already here, and I'm curious to see how this turns out."

Max shrugged. "Alright."

Grabbing the wooden support beam first, he set it upright in the middle of the shop floor.

A thought crossed his mind. "Wait… why do you even have a wooden support beam in an alchemy ingredient shop?"

Riley smirked. "Because of people like you—who need weird things at random times."

"…Checks out," Max muttered.

He grabbed a handful of straw and began layering it around the beam, starting from the top and working downward. The process seemed simple enough. Seemed.

As he crouched down to secure the waist section, he felt a slight shift in the balance of the straw. Then—

Fwump!

The entire structure collapsed on top of him, sending loose straw flying everywhere.

Max sat there, frozen under the heap of his failed creation.

"Don't laugh." His voice was instant, firm. "I need silence."

Riley lasted all of two seconds before bursting into laughter.

"Pfft—How did you even manage to do that?!" she wheezed, barely able to breathe.

"I don't know!" Max groaned, shaking off the straw. "I swear I have the worst luck."

Riley wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Alright, alright. Here, I'll hold it while you wrap it."

Max eyed her suspiciously as he stood. "If you let it fall on me again, I'm gonna be upset."

"Don't worry, I've got the grip strength of an SS-rank hero," Riley said, flexing her fingers dramatically.

Max sighed, picking up the straw again. "That doesn't inspire confidence…"

Max carefully tied off the last piece of straw, securing it tightly as he glanced up at the dummy, which was finally beginning to take shape. Riley held the frame steady, her hands strong as she supported it without a word. Max quickly wrapped the leather around the straw, his hands moving with purpose. The texture of the leather was rough against his fingers, but it gave the dummy a solid, finished look.

Once everything was covered, Riley grabbed a marker and drew several red lines over the dummy—target areas marked on the chest, neck, and abdomen, the vital points for a precise strike. The sight of the finished dummy made Max feel a small sense of pride. He stepped back to inspect it, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Beautiful," Riley said with a satisfied nod.

"Thanks, Riley." Max replied, brushing some straw from his hands.

"You're welcome, and have fun carrying it." Riley grinned, the hint of mischief returning to her eyes.

Max glanced down at the dummy, its weight not quite as daunting as he expected, though it was far heavier than he wanted to admit. "Oh... yeah," he muttered.

With a final nod to Riley, Max lifted the dummy, feeling its awkward bulk. He gave Riley a small, appreciative nod on the way out of the shop. Riley waved as he left, and Max stepped out into the street, the dummy awkwardly slung over his shoulder.

…

By the time Max made it back to the dorm, the campus had quieted down. Most students were either in training or hanging out with friends, leaving the hallways almost empty. The stillness made Max feel a bit more comfortable, and he took a slow, steady breath as he walked through the corridors. If anyone saw him, he figured they either didn't care or didn't bother to ask about the dummy. He was fine with that.

He slipped into his room, setting the dummy down with a quiet thud. For now, it was done. Now he could focus on the next step—testing it out.

Max set his daggers down on the floor for a moment, taking a deep breath before getting into position. His muscles were already aching from the constant practice, but he couldn't afford to stop now. He reached for the hilts of the daggers, fingers curling around the grips as he raised them into a ready stance.

With a swift movement, Max launched himself forward, executing the first step from the manual—a lightning-fast strike. He shot toward the dummy with an explosive force, but as he reached the target, both he and the dummy collided with the ground in a messy tangle of limbs and straw. The impact was rough, sending a sharp throb through his head.

"Goddammit," Max muttered, rubbing his forehead as he groaned. "Why did I think using that much force was a good idea?" He grimaced, pushing the dummy back into its upright position. His movements were slower now, but only out of necessity to recover.

With a deep exhale, Max reset himself. His daggers felt like an extension of his own arms, the weight of them natural, even comforting. He wasn't about to give up. He took his stance again, adjusting his grip as he focused on the next attempt.

This time, when he launched himself forward, there was more control. He moved fluidly, as if everything had clicked into place. His daggers sliced through the air with precision, landing perfectly in the red-marked target areas on the dummy. The sharp sound of the blades making contact was satisfying.

'I'm getting somewhere,' Max thought, a brief flicker of satisfaction crossing his mind.

He didn't stop there. Max repeated the motion over and over, each time refining his form, recalculating his momentum. He focused on speed, on the flow of his movements, his timing. Every strike became sharper, faster. The dummy felt less like an obstacle and more like a gauge for his improvement.

Hours passed without him noticing. Time seemed to blur together as he fell into the rhythm of his training. He reset the dummy again and again, pushing himself further, testing his limits. When the first signs of exhaustion began to creep in, Max realized he'd spent most of the evening working without rest.

But it was time to call it quits. With a final sigh of frustration and satisfaction combined, Max wiped his brow. The room was silent, save for the quiet sound of his breathing and the faint hum of the distant campus.

He sheathed his daggers and, with a grunt, dropped onto his bed, letting the quiet darkness pull him into a much-needed rest.