The Extra Who Shouldn’t Exist

In the heart of Avaloria's capital city, Imperius, the ground was slick with blood, the air thick with the coppery scent of death.

The city—once a place of commerce and laughter—was now a graveyard of power.

Dozens of Grandmaster-ranked warriors and Abyssal creatures lay scattered across the cracked marble, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing, limbs and heads severed cleanly from their bodies.

The carnage painted a silent picture of what it meant to stand against Serena von Crestvale, Selena Vega, and the famous Elric—the former commander of the Shadow Guards.

Serena stood amidst the wreckage, her white hair streaked with crimson, her silver eyes cold and calculating.

Selena, the raven-haired beauty whose aura still rippled with residual battle energy, turned toward her.

"Let me ask again—are you sure all of my students are safe and sound, Serena?" She paused, her tone dipping lower. "Except one."

Serena's gaze softened slightly. "Yes. Calm down, Selena. All of them are alright." But then, as if a shadow passed over her memory, her lips tightened. "Except that Alex kid."

Serena continued, recalling the look on Alden's face as he had begged Reynard to save him. "According to what Alden told us… he was on the verge of dying when they teleported out of that dimension. He was fighting a Grandmaster when it happened."

Selena exhaled slowly, her voice faint. "So chances of him being alive are almost non-existent."

Her eyes lifted toward the fractured sky, shame weighing heavy on her. 'I wasn't even able to protect them when they needed me most… my own students at that.'

Serena read her thoughts instantly—they had been friends since their days at Zenith Academy, and no one could hide from the other's heart. "Don't beat yourself up for it, Selena. It's not your fault.

"I'm sad about his death too… I had plans for him. He was a great man, one who faced even a Grandmaster to save his friends." She gave her a small, meaningful smile. "He was your student. Be proud of that."

Selena said nothing, her jaw tightening. 'Dead or not… I'll always regret not being there for him.'

Her thoughts were shattered by a deafening crack—like glass under divine pressure—as the sky above them tore apart with a thunderous boom.

From the rift in the heavens, a single slash of pure purple energy erupted, its edge singing with divine fury. At first, it was the size of a house.

Then, with each heartbeat, it grew—expanding, stretching—until it became a titanic blade of annihilation, cutting through the air with unstoppable momentum.

The slash tore downward, obliterating anything in its path—Abyssals, structures, even the lingering miasma of the rift's corruption—each erased as if they had never been.

It did not slow, did not waver, its killing intent absolute.

With an earth-shaking roar, the colossal strike collided with the massive Abyssal rift that had been spewing monsters without end.

The impact was cataclysmic, the sky itself trembling as shockwaves rippled across the city.

The fabric of reality screamed, space folding and twisting before a blinding flash swallowed it all.

When the light faded, the rift was… gone. Not sealed, but destroyed, as though it had been nothing more than fragile parchment beneath the weight of an immortal's wrath.

The soldiers, adventurers, hunters, and civilians who had been fighting for their lives froze, staring upward in disbelief.

Then, one by one, many fell to their knees, tears streaking their dirt-stained faces. They prayed aloud, thanking the Goddess of Light for saving them from the endless nightmare.

Far away, Reynard, Albert, and Navia had witnessed it too.

Albert's breath caught in his throat. "Impossible… how could this happen? Only our leader could have closed that rift… only he wields the power of a Primordial."

Reynard's head tilted back slightly, and then—much to Albert's confusion—he laughed. The sound was rich, full of life, and it stung Albert more than any blade could.

"You should see the look on your face," Reynard said, smirking. His gaze turned toward where the rift had been moments ago. "For once in my life… if it was a god helping us, then I'm grateful to Him."

His eyes locked back on Albert and Navia, his voice dropping into a predator's growl.

"Now… I can take my time killing you."

He surged forward, his astral form blazing like a sun brought to earth. The clash was immediate—steel meeting steel, soul energy colliding in dazzling bursts of light and sound.

Albert's defenses cracked with every exchange, each block sending tremors through him.

Navia darted in from the side, her attacks swift and precise, but Reynard read her movements as if they were in slow motion, parrying with contemptuous ease.

A soul-crushing blade to the ribs sent Albert staggering. A palm strike to the chest sent Navia spinning through the air, her astral form flickering. Reynard pressed forward relentlessly, a tempest of controlled violence, each strike carrying the weight to shatter mountains.

Albert coughed blood, his vision tunneling. "Navia… we have to leave!" He fumbled into his robes, pulling free a black, rune-carved artifact that pulsed with unstable energy.

Reynard closed in, sword raised for the killing blow. The artifact flared.

In a burst of radiant motes, Albert and Navia's bodies dissolved into streams of light, vanishing from the battlefield entirely.

Reynard's blade sliced through the empty air where their necks had been a moment ago, the lingering force cleaving a distant tower in half. His jaw tightened, but his eyes remained cold and certain. 'Run as far as you like… next time, there won't be an escape.'

Reynard lowered his sword, the last remnants of Navia and Albert's light fading from the air. The bastards had escaped. Again. He exhaled sharply, forcing down the irritation, and let his eyes scan the city.

The battlefield had shifted—the coordinated defense of the top guilds and their allies had finally thinned the Abyssal numbers.

Only scattered remnants of Abyssal creatures remained, most of them already falling beneath the steel and magic of the surviving warriors.

The scent of burnt flesh and scorched earth still lingered, but the tide had turned.

A smirk tugged at Reynard's lips. He tilted his head back toward the sky. "Thanks for the assist—whoever you are. God or not." His voice was laced with rare sincerity.

---

Meanwhile, far from the plaza, the one who had done that took a punch straight to the face so hard his world blurred.

"Dammit—not my face!"

His body snapped backward, feet leaving the ground, before he crashed and skidded across fractured stone, leaving a deep trench until he came to a bone-jarring stop.

Standing before him was Aaron—his expression pale, body battered and bleeding, but still radiating that suffocating presence.

Behind him, Veyra and Veyron loomed like mirrored nightmares, their cold gazes locked on Alex, the twins' scythes reflecting the flicker of dying fires.

Before Alex could steady himself, they were on him. No pause, no warning—three predators pouncing at once.

Aaron's axe came down in a brutal arc, forcing Alex to twist away, only for Veyra's knee to slam into his midsection, driving the air from his lungs.

He staggered, barely getting his sword up in time to deflect Veyron's horizontal slash, the impact rattling his bones.

They didn't stop. Punches, kicks, and cuts rained on him in a suffocating rhythm, forcing him into pure survival mode.

He ducked under a scythe slash, only for Aaron's fist to slam into his jaw. He blocked a follow-up from Veyra, but the force still sent tremors through his arms.

If Alex's body hadn't adapted through Aaron's earlier assault—making it multiple times more durable—then he would have already been done for.

Alex seized an opening, pivoting into a counter against the twins. His blade carved a clean arc toward Veyron's chest—only for Aaron to intercept, his axe knocking the strike wide.

The bastard was half-dead, but every time Alex tried to focus on one, the other covered them.

'If my body wasn't adapting to their hits in real time… I'd be dead already. But I can't keep this up. I have to do something, or I'm done.'

---

Aaron's roar cut through the clash. "Because of you, I failed the mission. So no matter what happens… I'll at least kill you!"

Alex's grip tightened, jaw set. 'Partner, any bright ideas? At this rate, we're finished.'

The System's voice crackled through his mind: [ Focus on escaping instead of fighting, host. ]

"You make it sound like it's a piece of cake!" Alex hissed through gritted teeth, dodging Veyra's roundhouse kick by a hair. "And for your information—I'm trying to do exactly that!"

Veyra's foot still caught his ribs, the devastating force launching him backward—straight into Veyron's waiting scythe.

The blade came down in a killing arc toward his neck. Alex barely raised his sword in time to block, the impact sending a white-hot ache up his arms.

Then Aaron was there again, his shadow swallowing Alex's vision. The axe came down with such raw, crushing strength that Alex couldn't deflect it fully.

It tore through his guard, slammed into his chest, and sent him crashing through multiple stone walls before cratering into the ground.

Alex spat blood, his breathing ragged as crimson gushed from his body. His limbs refused to respond properly. Dust rained down around him as Aaron's footsteps drew closer, each one heavier than the last.

The man's towering frame blocked the light, the axe in his hands pulsing with ominous energy. "It's over for you, you monstrous bastard."

Alex stared up, barely able to lift his sword.

'Is this it…?'

But before the killing blow could land, a blur of motion shot between them—faster than Alex could track.

A single, devastating kick smashed into Aaron's face with the sound of thunder. His head snapped sideways, a roar of pain tearing from his throat as his massive body was sent hurtling through the air, crashing through multiple buildings and disappearing in a storm of rubble.

Alex blinked, dazed, until his eyes focused on the figure now standing before him.

A woman in a tight, jet-black battle suit that clung to her like it had been made for her alone, highlighting her curves. Her stance was confident, lethal, her silhouette framed by the rising dust and fading embers of battle.

Alex, confused, muttered, "Thought… who is it?"

But then his gaze landed on a particular spot.

His breath hitched instantly as it drifted lower. 'That ass… how could I forget that ass?! She's here… my guardian angel.'

With effort, he pushed himself to his knees.

"Ma'am…"

Before he could say more, the air was knocked from his lungs—not from an attack, but from the sudden warmth of arms wrapping tightly around him.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered, her voice low but trembling with genuine relief.

Alex allowed himself a faint smile, returning the hug as best as his battered body could.

'Warm…'

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed the two figures standing just behind her. One was a striking white-haired woman whose beauty carried a regal, almost ethereal quality.

The other was a stoic, broad-shouldered old man whose very presence seemed to weigh on the air.

The white-haired woman's gaze met his, and she smiled at him in a way that made his skin crawl—not with fear, but with something deeper.

Almost… familial. As if she had just found her long-lost son.

And that single look sent a shiver down Alex's spine.

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A/N:

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