I'm an Extra, so What?-Chapter 134: Too Late

The return to the city was a quiet one.

Even Arthur didn't talk much. He limped at the back, scowling, one arm draped in a sling conjured hastily by Lysa.

Every so often, he winced when the wind caught the bruises on his ribs—or when he realized no one was paying him any attention.

The others walked ahead, their mood subdued.

"I counted three distinct mana signatures embedded in the obelisk," Fenric said as they crossed a stone bridge, the city walls just ahead. "Not just corruptive mana. Something older. Constructed."

Serene gave him a sidelong glance. "So not just someone making monsters worse. Someone building something."

"Exactly," Fenric nodded. "They're using the leyline like a scaffold."

Gregor let out a grunt. "Then the third one is already planted."

"Or close to it," Luka said, eyes sharp. "They're testing something. The creatures around each seed are evolving faster."

"And more organized," Serene added. "That ritual formation wasn't instinct. It was structured. Trained."

They passed through the city gates, the guards waving them through with familiarity—and a trace of wariness as they noticed the wyrm horn dragging behind Gregor, still smoldering faintly.

The Adventurer's Guild hall was quieter than usual.

News had begun to spread. Rumors of corrupted beasts and strange lights in the forest had reached the outer districts. More teams were preparing for recon runs. A few had already gone missing.

When Luka dropped the horn onto the front desk with a dull thud, the receptionist flinched.

He handed over the second report—still partially bloodstained.

"We confirmed a second corruption seed," he said. "Stronger than the first. It was feeding a wyrm-class target and actively broadcasting a summoning frequency."

The woman's eyes darted between the horn, Luka, and the rest of the group.

"You're saying there's a third."

"We're saying," Serene said flatly, "that if one exists, it's bigger than the last two combined."

"And closer to the leyline core," Fenric added. "If it goes active, it could taint the entire eastern territory in under a week."

The receptionist swallowed hard and reached for a speaking crystal. "I'll escalate this to the Headmaster and the Council. Don't leave the city. They'll want a direct report."

"Already planned to," Luka said.

They turned to leave—

Only for Arthur to loudly clear his throat.

"I think," he said, puffing out his chest with an awkward swagger, "you forgot to mention my contribution. I bought us time when those creatures turned. Took the brunt of the blast, too."

No one answered.

Lysa rolled her eyes and walked on.

Gregor snorted.

Arthur stepped in front of Luka. "You can't just ignore me."

Luka looked at him for a long moment.

Then said, "We'd all be dead if we followed your lead."

Arthur's face darkened. "I'm the party leader."

"Were," Serene corrected. "Until you almost got us all killed. Again."

"I acted when you hesitated—!"

"You ran into a summoning ward without even checking for anchors," Fenric snapped, surprisingly angry. "You blew the timing on every formation, ignored direct instructions, and almost lost us a caster. You're not a hero. You're a hazard."

"You're just jealous—!"

Serene's gauntlet slammed into the wall beside Arthur's head. Not a punch—just a warning. But loud.

He went pale.

"No one's jealous," she said. "We're just tired of carrying you."

Arthur stared at her, jaw tight. Then turned and stormed out the hall, shoulder slamming into the doorframe on the way.

Nobody stopped him.

Silence settled.

Luka finally exhaled and sat on one of the benches. Snow curled around his neck like a scarf, letting out a tiny snore.

Lysa sat beside him.

"That third one…" she said quietly. "Do you think we'll reach it in time?"

He didn't answer right away.

The silence stretched until a clerk brought them hot tea.

Then he murmured, "We have to."

Fenric stood near the window, watching the storm gather on the horizon.

"Because whatever's calling them… it's waking up."

They didn't have long.

Barely a day had passed since their return when the sky turned red at dusk—an unnatural bloom of crimson light that pulsed from beyond the eastern hills like a second, bleeding sun.

Guild bells rang. Emergency postings were issued. City guards mobilized. Every major adventuring party was summoned.

But when Luka and his team arrived in the central chamber, the Guildmaster didn't mince words.

"You five are already the most familiar with this anomaly," she said, voice hard. "You'll go in first. Scout and assess. If you can destroy it, do so."

"And if we can't?" Gregor asked, adjusting his gauntlets.

"Then get out alive. We'll send in platoons after your report. But if that thing roots itself fully in the leyline, there might not be a city to come back to."

They all nodded.

Even Arthur, who had sulked at the edge of the chamber, now straightened—his usual arrogance replaced by something else. A forced resolve. Or desperation.

Luka eyed him, but said nothing.

They left at dawn.

The red sky gave no warmth.

The third seed pulsed like a heartbeat they could feel in their teeth.

Snow rode quietly in Luka's hood, twitching every so often—uneasy.

"Something's wrong with the mana," Serene murmured after an hour. "It's not just corrupted. It's warped."

"The leyline's being rewritten," Fenric confirmed, his staff vibrating faintly as he moved. "It's not natural decay. It's a ritual. Someone is hijacking the very language of magic."

"Then we don't just stop the seed," Luka said. "We stop whoever's writing the script."

They crested a ridge—and saw it.

The forest ahead was unrecognizable.

The trees were skeletal, gnarled into unnatural spirals. The ground bled mana from cracks like veins. And at the heart of the valley—

—a monolith twice the size of the last two.

This one floated.

Held aloft by chains of bone and light, it throbbed with sigils that shimmered and rearranged in real time. Like it was thinking. Evolving.

Around it: dozens of monsters. More than they'd ever seen. Wyrms, corrupted manticores, twisted dryads. All kneeling.

"All those things…" Lysa whispered. "They're… worshipping it."

"We go in quiet," Serene said. "Strike hard, sabotage the base, and run. Same as before—"

A bright flare of light cut her off.

Arthur.

He'd already leapt down the ridge.

"Arthur, no—!"

Too late.

He slammed into the nearest beast with a roar, sword glowing wildly—no plan, no support, just a suicidal charge.

The manticore barely flinched.

Then tail-whipped him through a tree.

The entire field stirred.

The monsters turned. Not panicked. Not mindless.

Alerted.

The obelisk surged with power. The glyphs rippled outward. The ritual accelerated.

"Gods damn it," Luka hissed. "We're doing this now!"

They jumped in.

Serene charged ahead, shield raised high, smashing a corrupted troll aside. Gregor flanked her, taking a direct hit from a horned beast but holding the line.

Fenric raised barriers as fast as they were shattered. Lysa cast rapid-fire hexes, trying to slow the horde.

And Luka moved like a shadow—dodging through beasts, slashing anchors near the obelisk's base.

"Third anchor down!" he shouted.

Two more remained.

A blast of red lightning forced him back. A figure emerged from the obelisk's core.

Not a monster.

A man.

Tall. Robed in black and red, face hidden beneath a shifting veil of runes.

"You're too late," he said. His voice echoed like it came from every direction.

"Who are you?" Luka demanded.

The figure didn't answer.

But he raised his hand.

The monsters surged again—and now, they moved with direction.

Coordinated.

As if someone were playing them like pieces on a board.

Arthur finally staggered back to the group, bloodied and gasping.

"I had it under control—"

"Shut. Up." Serene didn't even look at him.

"Fenric, can we stop the ritual?" Luka asked.

"Only if we disable the obelisk now."

"Then I'll get the last anchors. Gregor, cover—"

Arthur pushed past him, eyes wild.

"I'll finish it," he said, raising his sword. "I'm the hero."

"Arthur—!"

He hurled himself at the obelisk's center—

—and triggered the final stage of the ritual.

The sky split.

The leyline screamed.

And something descended. novelbuddy.cσ๓

It wasn't fully formed.

A being made of coalesced corruption, tendrils of pure void trailing behind it like a cloak. Not a beast. Not a god. Something worse.

A mistake.

Everyone froze.

The figure beneath the veil began to laugh.

"You brought it into the world for me. The final key. A champion's spark, willingly offered. How poetic."

Arthur's sword fell from his hands.

"I—I didn't—"

"You did," Luka said coldly. "And now we have to kill it."

The corrupted being shrieked and began to unravel the battlefield.

Luka took a breath.

Then surged forward.

The battlefield exploded into motion.

The corrupted entity—the Unwritten Maw—stretched open its void-mouthed core and let loose a soundless scream. Sound bled from the air.

Magic short-circuited.

Gregor's shield shattered like glass from sheer pressure. Fenric dropped to one knee, coughing blood as his barrier spell imploded on itself.

Even Snow screeched in pain, spiraling away from the Maw's gravitational pull.

Luka didn't hesitate.

He slammed a mana capsule against his chest.

His body surged with speed as he dashed forward, weaving between collapsing terrain and twisting roots that had once been forest but now snarled like tentacles.

The corrupted monsters now moved erratically—no longer coordinated.

The summoning had consumed them.

They attacked anything, even each other, howling in agony.

But the Maw… it only focused on Luka.