The Extra's Rise-Chapter 400: Luna

The silence of my bedroom pressed against me like a physical weight.

'It feels wrong that there's no danger anywhere,' I thought, staring at the ornate ceiling of my room.

The Well of Miasma had been hell incarnate—a place where even sleep offered no sanctuary. I'd survived on water conjured through magic, sustained myself on miasma-resistant plants that somehow thrived in that corrupted environment. Day after day, I'd fought miasmic beasts whose very existence defied natural law.

My senses had adapted, evolving to detect the subtlest shifts in my surroundings—the whisper of movement in the dark, the almost imperceptible change in air pressure before an attack, the distinctive scent of different predators. That heightened awareness had kept me alive.

Now, those same finely-tuned senses searched fruitlessly for threats in a place where none existed. The safety felt alien. Unnatural.

A fresh breath, yes. But profoundly disorienting to the creature I'd become.

I knew sleep would elude me tonight. My body had grown accustomed to surviving on mere fragments of rest, snatched in brief moments when the environment permitted. The soft mattress beneath me felt like a trap, too comfortable, too exposed.

'You aren't surviving anymore, but living,' Luna reminded me gently as I closed my eyes in a futile attempt to quiet my mind.

I knew she was right. This discomfort was merely misalignment—my adapted self struggling to recalibrate to peace after living so long in war.

Here, in my home, I was safe. I could breathe.

The adjustment reminded me of another life—the one after Emma's death. Despite her final plea that I forsake vengeance, how could I not yearn for justice? For retribution? That path had led me to eliminate countless enemies, to exist in perpetual motion, always one step ahead of those who hunted me.

Kill or be killed. A simple philosophy that had kept me breathing.

But I'd grown soft in the comfort of this world, forgotten the harsh lessons of my previous existence. Perhaps that's why Arthur had cast me into the Well of Miasma—to strip away the complacency, to reforge what had begun to dull.

"After all, it is better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war," I murmured to the empty room, the ancient proverb taking on new meaning.

I could allow myself happiness, but not softness. Not when I knew what waited beyond Avalon's borders. Not when I knew what was coming.

"I'm surprised you were able to grow so much," Luna said, materializing beside me in her chibi form, golden eyes luminous in the dim light.

Despite my significant growth in power, I remained within the Integration-rank in terms of mana capacity—not enough to manifest Luna in her full glory. The tiny spirit hovered near my pillow, her diminutive stature belying the ancient power she contained.

"Well, I am too," I admitted, gently brushing my fingertip across the top of her head. She scowled at the gesture, but the effect was undermined by her current form—fierce intent delivered through a vessel that could fit in the palm of my hand.

"You want me to put you to sleep?" Luna asked, noting my restlessness.

I nodded, grateful for the offer. "Yes, please."

Luna drifted above me, her tiny form haloed by faint golden light as she settled against my forehead. The cool touch of her essence began to spread, a welcome counterpoint to the hypervigilance that kept my muscles tense.

"Goodnight, my contractor," she whispered, her magic seeping into my consciousness like gentle rain on parched earth. I felt the rigid alertness begin to dissolve, my breathing slowing to match the rhythm she imposed.

For the first time in eleven months, I surrendered completely to sleep.

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Luna gazed down at her sleeping contractor, her diminutive hand still resting against his forehead. In the darkness, her golden eyes glowed with ancient wisdom as she studied his features, softened now in slumber.

So young.

He had not yet reached his eighteenth year. Even by human standards, he remained barely more than a child—and in the eyes of a qilin like herself, practically an infant against the vast expanse of her existence.

"From him, I once saw only potential," Luna whispered to the silent room. "Now I see greatness realized." freewebnσvel.cѳm

Her thoughts drifted to Julius Slatemark, whose Fate had once burned with such radiance. The Emperor of the World—that had been his destiny, to ascend and rule from atop civilization itself. As a qilin, it had been her sacred duty to guide and support that greatness.

But Julius's brilliance had dimmed after conquering merely the Central continent, his ambition satisfied too easily, his greatness unfulfilled. And so Luna had waited—a thousand years of solitude, watching, searching for another whose Fate might burn with similar fire.

Many had come to her in that millennium. Many who might be called exceptional.

Liam Kagu, the First Hero, had possessed power even greater than Julius, but his Fate had been bound to sacrifice from the moment of his birth. And sacrifice—Luna had witnessed enough of that to last eternity. The memory of such heroes turned to ash still haunted her. No, Liam had not been the one.

Then Lucifer Windward had emerged, his destiny blazing so brilliantly it threatened to blind even her. If Julius had been the North Star in Earth's night sky, then Lucifer was the sun itself—overwhelming, undeniable, inevitable.

Luna had prepared herself to serve this new Emperor, waiting patiently for him to seek her out as prophecy dictated. But Lucifer never came.

Instead, Arthur Nightingale had stood before her—an impossibility made flesh.

The Fateless One.

In a world where Luna could read the destiny of every living creature, Arthur existed beyond her sight—a void where Fate should be, a blank canvas that refused the brush of predestination. Her most fundamental ability, the power to perceive and shape Fate, rendered useless before him.

She had chosen him on whim initially, perhaps even out of spite toward the destiny that had failed her before. Julius had died before fulfilling his potential; this time, she would place her faith in one whom destiny itself could not claim.

Through their bond, she had witnessed Arthur's journey—his rise to heights that defied expectation, his falls that would have destroyed lesser beings. She had shared in his fleeting happiness and endured his profound sorrows. But beyond all that, she had glimpsed something in him that shone too brilliantly for even her immortal eyes to fully comprehend.

"I chose correctly," Luna acknowledged, a rare smile gracing her delicate features. "You, my contractor, were the right choice after all. If ever you doubt yourself, trust in this: I have seen empires rise and crumble, heroes ascend and fall, and still, I choose you. I will support you until my very essence fails, until the last spark of my immortal soul extinguishes. For that is why I bound myself to you."

Luna gazed at the sleeping form of the boy who carried burdens no child should bear, her expression resolute as she made her decision.

"You are more than merely my contractor," she whispered, her form beginning to shimmer as though composed of starlight. "From this moment forward, I bind myself to you by sacred oath. When the time comes that I can manifest in my true form, I will fight at your side and, if necessary, die for your cause." Her voice dropped lower still, resonating with power ancient as the mountains. "Arthur Nightingale, the Fateless—I pledge myself to you alone."

It was the most solemn vow a qilin could make—a pledge not to destiny or prophecy, but to the one being who existed outside their reach. A vow to someone the world had overlooked, had never believed belonged in the annals of greatness.

And simultaneously, a promise to the broken boy who had once lost everything and determined never to experience such loss again.

Luna's presence in Arthur's life was more than companionship or power—it was hope incarnate. A guiding light illuminating the darkness that had threatened to consume him. When she had extended her hand to Arthur that first day, she had offered not just a contract, but salvation itself.