The Extra's Transcension

*****

The dimly lit chamber hummed with an air of subdued anticipation.

The faint flicker of holo-screens cast eerie blue glows upon the polished obsidian walls, reflecting off the piercing crimson of Azrael’s gaze.

He sat comfortably in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his fingers idly tapping against the cold surface of the table.

Across from him, Valco stood, his posture stiff, a bead of sweat forming at his temple.

The video had ended moments ago, yet the afterimage of its contents lingered in Azrael’s mind.

The boy—white-haired, crimson-eyed—had executed his men with an efficiency that was anything but ordinary.

It was neither luck nor raw instinct.

It was skill—refined, precise, lethal.

Azrael exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable as he turned toward the subordinate standing near the entrance.

"Find out who he is,"

He ordered, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of an unspoken threat.

The man bowed before hurrying out.

Valco, who had been watching Azrael carefully, cleared his throat.

"You… You already have a suspicion, don’t you?"

His voice wavered slightly.

Azrael didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he leaned back, tilting his head as if contemplating something.

"I do,"

He finally murmured.

His gaze flickered toward the now-static holo-screen where the boy’s image had last been seen.

"But confirmation is necessary."

Minutes passed in tense silence before the subordinate returned, panting slightly as if he had run the entire way.

"Boss!"

The man straightened before speaking.

"We have the information you requested."

Azrael raised a brow, motioning for him to continue.

The subordinate took a breath.

"The boy’s name is Lyrium Blackwood. He is currently a student at Deviants Academy and—"

"Lilian Blackwood’s son,"

Azrael interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper.

A wave of silence filled the room.

Valco stiffened.

"Lilian’s son?"

His expression twisted in disbelief.

The subordinate nodded hurriedly.

"Yes, sir. It’s confirmed. His mother is Lilian Blackwood."

Azrael let out a slow exhale, a smirk creeping onto his lips.

"So, it’s true after all…"

Valco, still processing the revelation, frowned.

"But… the boy—he was nothing, wasn’t he? A failure. A spineless noble who spent his days hiding behind his sister’s shadow."

"That’s what the world believes,"

Azrael mused, his gaze darkening.

"But clearly, that was a lie."

He gestured toward the holo-screen.

"The boy in that video… does he look like a ’failure’ to you?"

Valco remained silent, the image of the white-haired youth tearing through Azrael’s men with terrifying precision flashing in his mind.

No.

He didn’t look like a failure.

He looked like a Blackwood.

A True Noble of the Blackwood Family.

Azrael’s crimson eyes gleamed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished table, fingers intertwined.

A long silence stretched between him and Valco, thick with unspoken realization.

"A true noble of the Blackwood family…"

He murmured, his smirk widening ever so slightly.

His gaze flickered back to the frozen holo-screen, to the image of the boy—Lyrium Blackwood—standing amidst the ruins of his fallen enemies, his blade dripping crimson.

It was unmistakable.

"Just like Henry Blackwood."

A name that carried weight.

A name that sent ripples through the underworld whenever whispered.

Valco stiffened at the mention, his expression shifting to something unreadable.

"Henry Blackwood… You don’t mean—?"

Azrael chuckled, a low, knowing sound.

"Who else would I mean?"

He tilted his head, crimson irises narrowing.

"The Blackwood lineage has always been formidable, but Henry… Henry was different."

Valco swallowed.

"But he’s gone, isn’t he? Vanished without a trace. No one knows where he is—not even the Blackwoods themselves."

Azrael didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled, his smirk fading into a contemplative look.

Yes, Henry Blackwood was gone. Not dead. Not imprisoned. Just… gone.

One day, he was there.

The next, he wasn’t.

And the strangest part?

There was no record of his departure.

No evidence, no trails, no whispers in the underworld.

Not a single thread leading to his whereabouts.

It was as if he had been erased.

"Tell me, Valco…"

Azrael finally spoke, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

"What kind of man disappears so completely that even the most ruthless information brokers can’t track him?"

Valco had no answer.

Because Henry Blackwood wasn’t just a man.

He was a legend.

A phantom.

A force that defied common understanding.

And now, his son—the so-called failure, the boy the world had dismissed as nothing—had resurfaced, proving himself far more than anyone had expected.

Azrael’s eyes darkened.

Was this fate?

Or something else entirely?

Valco shifted uncomfortably.

"So… What now? Do we keep watching the boy?"

Azrael chuckled, rising from his chair.

He turned to the massive window overlooking the neon-lit city below, hands clasped behind his back.

"Of course,"

He said smoothly.

"After all…"

He glanced back at the frozen image of Lyrium Blackwood, his red eyes glinting with something akin to intrigue.

"If he’s truly Henry Blackwood’s son…"

His smirk widened.

"Then this is only the beginning."

Azrael’s gaze still remained fixed on the holographic screen, the image of Lyrium Blackwood frozen mid-motion, his blade stained in red, his crimson eyes burning with something eerily familiar.

A shiver of nostalgia crawled down Azrael’s spine.

Henry Blackwood.

That damn man.

Even now, his shadow loomed over the world, lingering in the form of his son.

A dangerous thought crept into his mind—a whisper, a warning.

"If one Blackwood was enough to shake the world, what would happen if another rose to power?"

His fingers tapped against the polished surface of his desk, a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if counting down the moments until something inevitable.

Then, finally, his lips parted—

"And—"

His voice was cold, a breath of winter in a room too warm.

"If we allow the bloodline of that man to continue, it will only bring trouble."

His crimson gaze flickered with something dark.

"A bloodline of monsters, bred in silence, waiting to awaken… We cannot afford another."

A long pause.

Valco stood still, his throat bobbing, but he knew better than to interrupt.

"So,"

Azrael continued, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"We must erase them. Completely. Root and stem. The Blackwood bloodline must end."

The words settled into the air like a slow-acting poison.

A name once feared.

A legacy once unmatched.

And yet—Azrael was willing to crush it, to smother it before it could fully bloom.

He exhaled sharply, as if to rid himself of lingering hesitation.

"Fortunately…"

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

"Our next move is already in motion."

Valco swallowed, eyes narrowing.

"You mean—"

"Yes."

Azrael turned away from the hologram, his long coat swaying behind him as he stepped towards the massive glass window that overlooked the neon-drenched skyline.

The city pulsed below, unaware of the storm brewing above.

"Deviants Academy,"

He mused. His voice was smooth, yet beneath it, there was something lethal.

"The grand stage of the next era… And the perfect place for a tragedy to unfold."

He exhaled, slow and deliberate.

"Where better to kill a rising star than in the place where he shines brightest?"

His fingers traced the cool glass before him, his reflection staring back—unmoving, unwavering.

He smirked.

"Soon, Lyrium Blackwood…"

"We’ll see if you truly deserve that name."

Azrael’s smirk lingered, a phantom curve of the lips that never quite reached his eyes.

The reflection in the glass twisted under the city’s neon haze, his own silhouette merging with the distant skyline, as if he were part of the very darkness that loomed over it.

"The Blackwoods…"

A name etched in history with both blood and brilliance.

A family that defied fate, bent the world’s will, and carved their legend into the bones of time itself.

And yet, legends could be erased.

"A house built on the backs of gods and devils alike…"

Azrael murmured, his fingers grazing the cold glass.

"Yet even the mightiest of towers fall when the foundation is shattered."

Valco, standing behind him, hesitated before stepping forward.

His voice was careful, almost reverent.

"…You believe he’s truly his son?"

Azrael let out a breath, slow and deliberate.

His eyes, as deep as a starless night, narrowed slightly.

"There is no doubt."

Silence stretched between them, tense and suffocating.

Valco’s gaze flickered back to the frozen hologram of Lyrium Blackwood—his white hair, his crimson eyes, the ghost of a legend long thought buried.

"But the boy is—"

Azrael’s voice cut through the air like the whisper of a blade.

"Weak? Unrefined? A child stumbling in the footprints of giants?"

Valco flinched.

Azrael turned slightly, his crimson gaze locking onto him, sharp as a dagger pressing against the throat.

"Yes,"

He admitted.

"For now."

Another long pause.

Azrael stepped forward, his coat sweeping behind him like the wings of a specter.

He loomed over the hologram, his shadow swallowing the image of Lyrium whole.

"But even a dying ember can rekindle a wildfire."

Valco clenched his fists.

"Then—"

Azrael’s voice dropped, velvet and venom entwined.

"We do not let him burn. We smother the flame before it devours the forest."

His fingers hovered over the hologram, tracing the outline of Lyrium’s frozen form—his stance, his blade, the defiance etched into every muscle of his being.

A slow, amused exhale.

"Just like Henry Blackwood."

The mere mention of the name sent a ripple through the room, the weight of it pressing against the walls, as if the ghost of that man still lingered, watching, waiting.

Valco stiffened.

The man.

The myth.

The specter that vanished without a trace.

"Henry Blackwood is dead,"

Valco muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

"The underground hasn’t seen him in years. No one even knows if he’s still—"

Azrael’s smirk deepened, cruel and knowing.

"No one knows where he is. That is different from being dead."

Valco’s throat dried.

Henry Blackwood—a man too powerful to be forgotten, too dangerous to be ignored.

And now, his son had emerged, as if fate itself had decided to spit in their faces.

Azrael turned back to the window, his expression unreadable.

"If he was here, we would know,"

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He said softly.

"A man like that doesn’t disappear. He simply waits."

His crimson eyes glowed under the dim light.

"And if he still breathes…"

His voice dipped into something low, something heavy.

"Then we are running out of time."

Valco exhaled sharply, tension weighing down his shoulders.

"And what if Henry Blackwood returns?"

Azrael let out a quiet chuckle.

"Then we will burn again."

A silence settled between them, thick and suffocating.

But Azrael did not seem afraid.

No—he seemed amused.

"The world and the servants always fears the return of its demons,"

He murmured.

"But demons do not return."

A pause.

"They simply remind the world that they never truly left."

Valco shuddered.

He had seen Henry Blackwood in battle.

He had witnessed the devastation that followed in his wake, the sheer power that made even the greatest warriors crumble.

And now… his son stood on the same path.

"Deviants Academy,"

Valco muttered, grasping onto the subject like a man clinging to a lifeline.

"If we move now, we can—"

Azrael raised a hand, silencing him.

"There is no need to rush."

"Also.. we let him grow.."

"We, the Chivalry is only going to attack the Academy just for a simple reason... We need something from there.. thats all."

Valco frowned.

"But if we delay—"

Azrael’s smirk curled at the edges.

"Why do men fear the storm?"

He asked.

Valco blinked.

"Because it brings destruction."

Azrael shook his head, eyes gleaming like embers.

"No. Because they hear it before they see it. Because they know it is coming—but they cannot stop it."

He let the words settle, let them sink into the very marrow of the moment.

"Let the boy grow."

Valco’s breath hitched.

"Let him struggle. Let him fight. Let him believe."

Azrael’s smirk sharpened.

"Because when the time comes—when we tear it all away from him, when we make him realize that hope is nothing more than a cruel joke…"

His fingers curled into a fist.

"He will break far more beautifully."

Valco swallowed hard.

Azrael turned back to the hologram, Lyrium’s frozen image still staring forward, unaware of the forces gathering against him.

"A bird does not fear the sky—until its wings are torn away."

Azrael exhaled.

"And soon, Lyrium Blackwood will learn what it means to fall."

*****

The main arc of Vol 1 incoming...!!