The Extra's Supremacy

Chapter 30 - Awakening

Outside the shattered ruins of the castle...

The scout crouched beside his wounded comrades, keeping watch while his companions tried to heal.

"Cough... cough..."

Dagger spat out a mouthful of blood, staining the dirt. His hands trembled as he pressed against the gaping wound in his back.

"What the hell..." he muttered. "It's not closing. The wound—it's not healing!"

Sword gritted his teeth. "Same here. I... I can't stop the bleeding."

Pain surged through them both, sharp and relentless. Their regeneration—usually fast enough to close cuts within seconds—had failed.

Dagger groaned. "I can't... I can't feel my legs anymore. That brat stabbed straight into my spine."

Scout's expression darkened.

He turned to Sword. "Can you walk?"

"I think so..." Sword pushed himself up, barely staying upright.

Scout knelt briefly and stored Archer's motionless body in his storage ring.

Scout didn't hesitate. He reached down and lifted Dagger in a princess carry.

The prideful assassin didn't protest—his face was pale, and his breathing shallow.

Then, with Dagger in his arms and Sword limping beside him, they turned their backs on the ruined castle.

They moved under cover of darkness—toward Alvida.

***

One day later.

From deep beneath the rubble, something stirred.

The remnants of the castle groaned. The air crackled.

A flash of thunder ripped through the silence.

"Lightning Dragon."

The ancient command echoed through the ruins.

Then—BOOM.

A massive dragon, forged entirely from blue and golden lightning, surged skyward. Its body shimmered like divine fire, crackling with raw energy.

Stone and dust vaporized in its wake.

The dragon soared into the night sky—before gradually dispersing into streaks of golden sparks.

Beneath the path it carved through the ruins... someone lay still.

It was Lesley.

Her limbs were twisted unnaturally—one leg crushed beneath a collapsed pillar, an arm bent at a painful angle. A jagged rock had impaled her stomach, pinning her to the earth.

But her eyes were open.

Her hand gripped the stone lodged in her gut.

With a grunt, she tore it out and tossed it aside.

The stabs to her neck and abdomen had already closed, faint scars fading with every passing second.

Black runes spiraled down her arms—glowing faintly as her body knit itself back together.

Her crushed hand straightened. Her broken leg twisted... then snapped back into place.

In seconds, she stood again whole.

'Tch... I didn't think I'd need this power again,' she thought, flexing her fingers.

She leapt out from the rubble in a single motion, landing softly on a patch of scorched earth.

Her eyes scanned the destroyed battlefield—the shattered castle, the collapsed towers, the bloodstains on stone.

'There's no way Whisper... is still alive under all that.'

She narrowed her gaze.

And turned toward the night.

The black runes faded from Lesley's arms as she dropped to her knees.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps.

A sudden wave of pain crashed over her.

"Aargh—!"

She clutched her sides, teeth clenched. Every nerve screamed in protest—the backlash of using a power she still didn't understand.

She slammed her fist against the ground.

"If I'd used it earlier... he might still be alive..."

Her voice was barely a whisper.

Memories flashed—her first meeting with Whisper, how she trapped him in an illusion without warning. Back then, she hadn't trusted him. Hadn't thanked him.

Hadn't even said goodbye.

'Tch... I was such a brat.'

'If I ever see you again... even if it's in the afterlife... I'll say thank you. I'll be polite. I promise.'

She let the thought settle in silence, then slowly stood—body trembling, but eyes firm.

***

Far from the ruins, at the edge of the northern mountain range...

Two figures stood before a pair of towering metal doors embedded in the cliffside.

Alvida, her robes fluttering in the cold wind, placed her hand on the ancient surface.

The doors were worn but unyielding etched with symbols long lost to time.

Behind her, Uncle Robert watched silently, shadows casting long across his face.

Alvida pulled out a small, curved key—the one she'd taken from the corpse—and slid it into the lock.

CLICK.

A heavy mechanism groaned to life.

With a low rumble, the gates to the Cursed Domain of Lumina Obscura began to open.

A torrent of energy burst forth the moment the gap appeared—thick, suffocating, and unnaturally cold.

Alvida's hair whipped wildly in the surge. Robert instinctively took a few steps back.

It wasn't just power.

It was corruption.

Twisted, ancient, forbidden.

But Alvida didn't flinch.

Without hesitation, she stepped into the darkened domain.

Robert followed close behind.

And behind them... the world began to change.

The landscape twisted as cursed energy flooded outward. The air grew heavy, vibrating with unstable mana.

From the broken grounds and empty winds, formless ghouls began to take shape—shadows given bodies.

The sky above cracked and reformed, as if reality itself were rewriting its rules.

Dark silver clouds spun into being, blanketing the heavens.

The moon disappeared.

Yet somehow, the land was still lit.

A false daylight—dim, eerie, and uncomfortably steady—settled over the cursed land.

The Domain of Lumina Obscura had awakened.

And it would not return to sleep.

***

Deep within the ruins of the collapsed castle...

Beneath layers of shattered stone and sunken debris, a body floated in the underground waters—motionless, lifeless.

Burned beyond recognition, the flesh was blackened and cracked. No clothes remained, only raw, blistered skin.

And yet... the hand still gripped a sword.

Tightly.

As if even in death, it refused to let go.

Then—something shifted.

The water trembled. A faint pulse echoed through the stillness.

The charred skin, flaked and broken, began to stir.

Cell by cell... it started to heal.

Muscles reformed. Nerves reconnected.

The arrow lodged in his side slipped free.

The dagger in his gut dislodged and fell deeper into the depths.

Thump.

A heartbeat.

Thump... thump.

Slow. Steady. Rising.

The wounds vanished. Burn marks faded.

Black hair unfurled, growing long before settling just above the shoulders.

And then,

Alvin's blue eyes snapped open.