Extra's Ascent

Eric stepped into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with the soft finality of solitude. The moments of the day settled on his shoulders like a shroud. Fatigue clawed at him from every joint and sinew, dragging him forward until he collapsed onto the couch. His face buried in the familiar softness of the cushions, the quiet hum of the room offered no solace.

|Dad, did you hear what Al just said|

His eyes snapped open, head jerking upright. The voice... her voice. His daughter's sweet, curious tone echoed as if it had drifted from the hallway. But it wasn't real. Just a desperate illusion conjured from the ache of missing them, his children, off chasing excellence at the academy, far from his reach.

"Sigh… The life of a man living alone really isn't made for the faint-hearted," he murmured, running a tired hand down his face.

He could have stayed like that for hours, unmoving, letting the silence blanket him. But the growl in his stomach reminded him that, regardless of how numb he felt, his body still needed attention. He hadn't eaten anything substantial all day, only grazed on a few snacks while waiting around during Dravin Ramprandt's back-to-back meetings.

If his kids had been home, the pantry would be overflowing, shelves stacked with supplies meant to last weeks. But they weren't, and his visits to the apartment were too sporadic to justify any serious grocery haul. No point letting food rot in the fridge just because no one was around to eat it.

Despite his exhaustion, he forced himself upright. Every step toward the bathroom felt like lifting sandbags strapped to his legs. He showered away the grime of the day, slipping into a pair of loose sweatpants and a simple round-neck shirt before heading out. Just something light to wear for a quick walk to the nearby convenience store.

The elevator ride down was painfully slow, the silence inside echoing louder than any noise ever could. Once on the street, the night air greeted him with its cool, almost bitter touch.

Eric soon reached the store, chose a simple meal, a cup of instant ramen and a can of soft drink and approached the counter. The transaction was brief, uneventful. He thanked the clerk with a nod and stepped back into the night, plastic bag in hand.

As he stood by the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the light to change, his gaze drifted to the stars, clear tonight, twinkling in their distant calm. He allowed his mind to wander, revisiting the better days. The ones when his wife was still around, when laughter filled every room of their home when the children's footsteps echoed like music down the hallway.

But those moments were fragments now. Her departure had been swift and irreversible, leaving a chasm no time could bridge.

"Funny," he muttered to himself. "You never truly know how much someone means until they leave you behind."

A sigh escaped his lips, deeper than before. Was it the loneliness finally getting to him? Had all these months of empty dinners and cold beds finally started gnawing through his toughened exterior?

Why did he still yearn for her, after everything?

The questions clouded his mind so completely, he didn't notice the traffic light hadn't turned green. He stepped forward.

The screech of tyres. The blinding glare of headlights.

And then—impact.

Pain exploded through his body as he was flung into the air like a ragdoll, rolling across the pavement until everything came to a crashing stillness.

A dull throb in his head. The sky above, clear and endlessly blue. And then, nothing.

…

Time passed in fragments. Distant voices bled through the fog of unconsciousness—calm, professional tones trying to coax him back from the edge.

"He'll be alright. It's just a minor concussion. With proper care and rest, he'll be good as new."

A woman's voice responded, firm yet graceful. "I'm trusting you on that. Spare no expense. His recovery is your only concern."

He stirred, his consciousness clawing its way to the surface. His eyelids fluttered, barely opening at first. The voices grew sharper.

The woman... her back faced him, yet even without seeing her face, Eric could tell she carried herself with elegance and confidence. Her presence exuded class.

The doctor, standing closer, turned to notice him. "You're awake."

Eric blinked a few times, his vision adjusting. "Seems so. Let me guess, she's the reason I'm not a corpse in a ditch?"

"You'd be correct. Marvelous Kennedy. She made sure you were rushed here and personally oversaw your admission."

At her name, Eric straightened on the bed, letting his legs dangle over the edge. "Marvelous Kennedy…" The name rang a bell, but he couldn't quite place it. The memory floated just out of reach.

"I'm assuming you've already covered the medical bills?" he asked, glancing from the doctor to the poised woman now approaching his side.

"I have. But don't worry, you're not indebted to me," she replied with a warm smile, offering a handshake.

Eric shook her hand briefly, nodding in appreciation. "Well, thank you. But I think I've rested enough. I should be on my way."

"I wouldn't recommend that," she warned, noticing him trying to push off the bed. "You still need—"

"I'm a mystic," he said with a shrug. "My body can handle a little trauma."

With that, he focused his mana, channelling it through his limbs. The warmth spread quickly, purging discomfort and tightening his muscles. It was an ability not many could perform—not at that level. His energy was refined, concentrated. The kind only achieved through years of cultivation and dedication.

"Better already," he said, rotating his shoulders.

Marvelous studied him for a moment, intrigued not just by his rapid recovery, but by his demeanor, grateful, but independent. No false humility, no inflated pride. Just a man trying to navigate the mess life had left him in.

"You paid for my treatment so that makes us even with the accident. Well then...".

Eric made his claim, about to step out. About to?...