I Can Extract the Plot ( As a Trash Side-Character) Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Bastard Scheduled to Die

Read chapter 1 of I Can Extract the Plot ( As a Trash Side-Character) by Arthur04 on NovelPedia.

Caelen Vance woke up to the sensation of someone trying to kill him. Not metaphorically. Actually. A thin cord dug into his throat hard enough to cut off air while a pair of gloved hands tightened from behind. His eyes snapped open. Darkness. Cold stone walls. The stink of mold and wet iron. A basement cell. The strangler hissed into his ear. "You should've stayed drunk, bastard." Caelen reacted before his brain fully caught up. Years of gaming reflexes meant absolutely nothing in a real body, but panic had a language older than reason. He slammed his heel backward blindly. Crunch. The attacker grunted. The pressure loosened. Caelen twisted violently, crashing sideways into a wooden table. Rusted tools scattered across the floor. The man lunged again. Moonlight from the barred window flashed across a dagger. Caelen stared at it and the world froze. Not literally. Something else happened. A translucent screen unfolded across his vision like shattered glass reforming itself. [SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE] [Unique Authority Detected] [Authority Name: Endless Concept Extraction] [WARNING] [Host possesses a dead mana core.] [Standard progression impossible.] [Alternative survival protocol activated.] The dagger stabbed toward his face. Instinct screamed. His hand touched the blade. A pulse surged through his arm. And suddenly he understood something. Not information. Not knowledge. A concept. [Extractable Concept Detected] [Sharpness] [Extract?] YES / NO Caelen chose yes without hesitation. The dagger disintegrated. Not dramatically. It simply... stopped being sharp. The metal edge crumbled like stale bread. The weapon folded inward with a pathetic crunch. The assassin blinked. "What—" Caelen grabbed the broken remains and drove them into the man's throat. Wet choking filled the basement. Then silence. The body collapsed. Caelen stumbled backward, breathing hard. His heart hammered so violently it hurt. "What the hell…" The screen flickered again. [Concept Extracted: Sharpness] [Concept Stored.] [Next Extraction Available In: 23:59:58] Caelen stared. Then at the corpse. Then at his own shaking hands. And finally the memories hit. Not gradually. Not kindly. An avalanche crashed into his skull. Names. Politics. Bloodlines. A game. No. A world disguised as a game. Apocalypse: Reforged. Caelen Vance. The bastard son of House Vance. Background extra. Level 3 nobody. Executed in Chapter One to establish how cruel the main villain faction was. The original Caelen had existed for exactly four pages before getting his head removed during the Equinox Gala. A disposable tragedy. A prop. And now apparently him. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He laughed once. A dry, disbelieving sound. Out of all the characters. Out of all the powerful bloodlines and chosen heroes and future legends he became the tutorial victim. Caelen leaned against the wall and forced himself to breathe. Think. Panic later. He closed his eyes, sorting through fragmented memories from both lives. The original Caelen had been pathetic. Drunk constantly. Desperate for approval. Bullied by servants. Ignored by nobles. Hated by his half-sister. And most importantly scheduled to die in exactly thirty days. At the Equinox Gala. Public execution. Reason? Attempted theft of a sacred relic. A crime fabricated by House Vance to quietly erase an inconvenient bastard before political marriage negotiations began. Caelen rubbed his face slowly. "Fantastic." Not only trapped in a death-world. Not only powerless. But trapped inside a scripted execution route. His gaze drifted toward the corpse on the floor. A servant assassin. One of many likely sent to ensure the "worthless bastard" didn't cause trouble before his official death. Which meant something important. The timeline had already started. The story was moving. And stories were dangerous. Because in Apocalypse: Reforged, fate had momentum. Characters died because the narrative demanded it. Entire kingdoms burned because prophecy