Beyond the Script: The Extra Who Stole the Mangakyo

Chapter 77: Chapter 77

Chapter – The Auction's Fall

[3rd POV – Rose Valehart]

The air was electric inside the grand auction hall. The dim golden lights cast a soft glow over the masked figures seated in their private booths, each one representing power, wealth, or blood-stained influence.

From her private VVIP balcony, Rose Valehart observed the event unfold with calm detachment.

Artifacts of immense value were being displayed—a potion that could raise one's mana capacity, enchanted weapons, cloaks woven with shadow magic.

Each item sold for thousands of gold as the voices of bidders rang through the hall, filled with greed and ambition.

Valeria sat beside her, one leg propped up lazily, swirling a glass of dark red wine. "You know, Rose, for a den of criminals, they do have good taste."

Rose didn't respond, her gaze scanning the crowd beneath her hood. She wasn't here for the artifacts.

Something was coming.

And then—

BOOM!

The world shook.

A deafening explosion erupted near the entrance, shattering the silence like glass.

Screams followed, chaos erupting as masked figures rushed to their feet, weapons drawn.

Smoke billowed into the hall, thick and suffocating, and from the shadows, they emerged.

The Demon Worshippers.

Their dark robes flickered in the firelight, their faces twisted in fervent devotion.

At their center stood a man clad in obsidian armor, his presence alone warping the air around him. A cursed artifact pulsed in his grip, radiating a sickly, malevolent aura.

Valeria whistled, sipping her wine like it was just another performance. "And here I thought this was going to be boring."

Rose's eyes narrowed.

The attack had begun.

---

The demon worshippers moved swiftly, cutting down guards with brutal efficiency. Blood splattered across the once-pristine marble floors as nobles and criminals alike scrambled for safety.

Some tried to fight back—elite mercenaries, rogue awakeners, high-ranking nobles—only to be engulfed by black flames and twisted magic.

The worshippers weren't here to bargain.

They were here to take.

The artifact.

Rose watched as the obsidian-armored leader strode forward, his burning eyes locked on the auction's centerpiece—a relic encased in a glass container at the heart of the stage.

The Summoning Core.

A catalyst that could rip open a path to the Abyss.

The pieces fell into place.

Rose exhaled, stretching her fingers. "We should leave."

Valeria raised a brow. "What, no hero moment?"

Rose's lips curled into a smirk. "Hardly. This isn't our fight. But I do want to see how it ends."

Valeria chuckled, standing up and adjusting her mask. "Well, if we're just watching... might as well enjoy the show."

Below, the massacre continued.

And somewhere in the chaos... another shadow moved.

One that did not belong to the cultists.

Rose's eyes flickered toward a certain masked figure in the crowd.

She could sense it.

Something... different.

And for the first time that night, genuine curiosity sparked in her crimson eyes.

---

The auction hall burned.

Screams of agony mixed with the crackling of flames, the heavy scent of blood tainting the once-opulent chamber. The Demon Worshippers carved through the panicked crowd, their black robes swirling like specters in the inferno.

Rose stood at the edge of her private balcony, watching.

Most people below were either fleeing, fighting, or dying.

Except for one.

Her crimson eyes narrowed behind her mask as she spotted a figure moving unnaturally through the battlefield.

A man clad in dark clothes, his face obscured by a simple mask.

He didn't run.

He didn't panic.

And unlike the others desperately clashing steel against the fanatics, he wasn't even fighting.

No—he was passing through them.

A black-robed cultist swung a flaming dagger toward him—

And the blade simply phased through his body.

What?

Another man, a mercenary trying to flee, crashed straight into him—only to fall forward as if he had stepped through air.

Impossible.

Rose's sharp mind immediately considered the possibilities—Illusion? High-tier Stealth Art? A teleportation skill?

But the way he moved, the fluidity, the absolute confidence with which he weaved through the battlefield—this wasn't just another rogue using a high-level skill.

No.

This was something else.

Her lips curled into an intrigued smirk.

"What an interesting little ghost."

---

From her side, Valeria had also taken notice.

"Oho, what do we have here?" she mused, propping her chin on her hand as she leaned forward. "Now that's not something you see every day."

Rose remained silent, eyes locked on the masked figure below.

He never drew a weapon.

Never made a move to engage anyone.

He simply walked.

Demon Worshippers were too focused on their slaughter to notice him, but Rose saw everything.

There was a pattern to his movements.

He wasn't just aimlessly wandering.

He was headed somewhere.

"Interesting," she murmured.

Valeria nudged her. "You think he's one of ours?"

Rose scoffed. "If we had someone like that under us, I'd know."

Valeria chuckled. "Fair point."

As they spoke, the cultists finally noticed him.

A tall, armored figure—one of the commanders—blocked his path, a twisted grin spreading beneath his hood.

"Who are you supposed to be?" the man sneered, raising a jagged sword wreathed in dark flames. "One of these wretched nobles? A thief?"

The masked man stopped.

For the first time, he turned slightly, his head tilting toward the cultist.

Rose couldn't see his eyes, but she felt the shift in air.

A silent pressure.

The cultist snarled and swung his sword in a downward arc, aiming to cleave the stranger in half.

And then—

Nothing.

The blade passed clean through.

No blood. @@novelbin@@

No resistance.

As if he wasn't even there.

"What...?" The cultist staggered, his confidence replaced by unease.

The masked man didn't react.

Didn't attack.

Didn't even acknowledge the enemy before him.

He simply walked forward.

Through the cultist.

Through the attacks.

Through the chaos itself.

Untouched.

---

Up in the VVIP balcony, Rose felt her heart skip a beat.

This wasn't teleportation.

This wasn't a high-tier stealth skill.

This was... something else entirely.

Something she didn't understand.

And that fact bothered her.

Valeria let out a low whistle. "Well, well. That was dramatic."

Rose's lips pressed together, her mind already racing.

The masked man had vanished deeper into the burning auction hall, disappearing into the smoke and wreckage.

Rose's instincts screamed at her.

She had to find out who he was.

Whoever this phantom was...

He wasn't normal.

And that made him worth chasing.

To Be Continued...