The Extra's Rise

Chapter 258: Reika Solienne (1)

The investigation, if you could even call it that, had been about as useful as a waterproof teabag. Millia had done her best to guide me through it, but really, what was the point? Redknot was the ultimate force behind everything. Of course, they wouldn't be dumb enough to leave any obvious trails. It was like trying to prove a ghost committed a crime when said ghost was also the chief of police.

Still, while that particular endeavor had been a waste of time, the rest of my plans were ticking along nicely.

My phone buzzed. A single message.

I glanced at it, and a slow smile curled my lips.

Time to go visit Baron Aldric Faulkner, the noble in charge of this city.

Barons were the sort of people who pretended to have power while being very careful not to do anything with it. This one, however, was different. Baron Faulkner was well-liked. Competent. Pragmatic. Which meant that if he hadn't already stepped in regarding Redknot, it was either because he didn't see the problem… or because he couldn't.

That made him worth talking to.

The Baron's office was a picture of efficiency—neat, practical, and lacking in unnecessary decoration. The man himself matched the room. Aldric Faulkner was in his late forties, built like someone who had once been a warrior but had since traded battlefields for paperwork. He looked up as I entered, expression neutral but sharp.

"Arthur Nightingale," he said, more of an observation than a greeting. "I've heard about you."

"All good things, I hope," I said, stepping inside and taking the seat across from him.

"Some," he said dryly, folding his hands together on the desk. "You requested a private meeting. What is it you need?"

Straight to the point. Good.

"I'm concerned about certain… disruptions in the city," I said, keeping my tone casual. "Crimes happening under everyone's noses. People disappearing. Forces moving in the background. I assume you've noticed?"

His gaze flickered, just for a second. Not much, but enough to confirm that yes, he had noticed.

"There are always problems in a city this size," he said, measured. "I address what I can."

"Of course," I nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "Though I imagine it must be difficult, with so much of the city's security focused elsewhere."

Another flicker. This time, his lips pressed slightly thinner.

"I see you've done your homework," he said.

"I try."

Aldric exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair. "I won't waste your time. I am aware that something is happening. But I can't act. Not right now."

"And why's that?"

"Because my forces, including my Knight Captain, are otherwise occupied."

Now that caught my attention.

The Knight Captain of the city wasn't just any ordinary knight—he was one of the three Ascendant-rankers stationed here. A former Imperial Knight, someone who had been deemed strong enough to serve directly under the Empire itself before being posted here. If he was busy, it meant something serious was happening.

"That's a lot of firepower to be distracted," I said, keeping my voice even.

"It is," Faulkner agreed.

"Something important, then?"

A long pause. Then, a small, nearly imperceptible nod.

Interesting.

That changed things.

I had come here expecting to nudge the Baron into action, maybe put some subtle pressure on him to shift his priorities. But if the city's highest-ranking knight was already tied up with something major, that meant my plans needed adjusting.

I had counted on the city's forces being slow, complacent, or perhaps quietly complicit. Instead, they were busy.

With what?

And more importantly—was it connected?

"Well," I said, standing up with a polite smile. "Thank you for your time, Baron Faulkner. You've given me a lot to think about."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "I imagine you have."

As I walked out of his office, my mind was already shifting gears.

Whatever the Knight Captain was dealing with, I needed to find out.

And fast.

My phone buzzed, the vibration sharp against my palm.

"Reika has been moved."

Jin's message was short, to the point, and exactly the kind of news I didn't need right now.

I inhaled slowly, exhaling through my nose. Improvise. That was the key. No frustration, no irritation. Just adapt.

Plans were like glass. No matter how carefully you crafted them, they had a nasty habit of shattering when reality decided to stomp all over them. That didn't mean you couldn't use the shards.

I flicked open my interface, thumb moving across the keyboard as I typed out a response to Jin. My mind was already recalibrating, spinning new threads into place.

Redknot had moved her. That meant they were getting cautious. Or impatient. Either way, it didn't matter. They thought shifting the board around would change the game.

But in the end, no matter how much a rabbit ran, no matter how clever it thought it was, it was still just prey.

And the hunter always had the final move.

________________________________________________________________________________

Dark shapes. Voices like echoes, stretched and warped, bleeding into each other.

Reika couldn't see them clearly—only glimpses, like watching broken footage through a cracked screen. The figures moved, blurred and indistinct, their outlines shifting as though reality itself couldn't quite settle on what they were.

"Will she be able to hold?"

"The compatibility is high. We just need more time."

"This one's different. We proceed carefully."

Hands. She remembered hands—not soft, not warm. Cold, gloved, precise. They touched her skin, traced lines along her arms, her spine, her throat. Something hummed beneath her, inside her, a vibration that wasn't natural, wasn't human.

Pain flickered in and out of awareness. It came in flashes, impossible to pin down, like her mind refused to remember it fully. She tried to scream once, but no sound came.

"She's adapting. Unbelievable."

"This could change everything."

She knew those voices. Or maybe she didn't. Maybe her mind was lying to her.

She tried to move, but her limbs weren't her own. She tried to open her eyes, but when she did, all she saw was light.

A blinding, sterile white.

And then—

Reika woke.

Her body jerked, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. For a moment, the world felt like it was slipping, the edges of her vision curling in like reality was still deciding whether or not to keep her here.

Then it settled.

She was in a room. A white room. Empty, cold, artificial. A thick glass shield separated her from the other side.

On the other end, watching her with the patience of someone who had all the time in the world, stood a man.

She knew that face.

The Guild Master of Redknot.

Her stomach twisted. The memories—the distorted, broken things in her head—threatened to surface again, but she pushed them down.

"Good," the man said, his voice smooth, almost friendly. "You're awake."

Reika forced herself to breathe evenly, to push down the trembling in her limbs. Fear was useless here. Panic wouldn't help her escape this situation. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms, grounding herself in something—anything—real.

Her voice came out steadier than she expected. "Even someone like you can't get away with kidnapping people."

The Guild Master of Redknot—Gregor Vale—tilted his head, then laughed. Not a chuckle. Not a smirk. A laugh. Amused, unbothered, as if she'd just told him the sky was made of cheese.

"Kidnapping?" he repeated, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. "Oh, Reika, no. You misunderstand. I don't care."

Reika's breath hitched.

Gregor stepped closer to the glass, his reflection distorting slightly against the surface. "You're thinking about this all wrong," he said, voice patient, like a teacher explaining something to a particularly slow student. "This isn't about what I can or can't do. It's about what I will do. And I will use you, Reika."

Her throat went dry. "What…?"

"You are a weapon," Gregor said simply. "Designed, built, and meant to serve my cult."

A weapon.

Something twisted in her gut.

Reika's mind reeled, her thoughts struggling against themselves. No. That didn't make sense. It didn't make any sense. She was just a student. A weak one, at that. She wasn't anything special. She wasn't—

"I don't… understand," she whispered, half to herself.

Gregor sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "You will," he said, watching her with a slow, creeping smile. "Soon."