The Extra's Rise

The weeks following our return home had fallen into a rhythm that felt almost normal, despite the cosmic responsibilities weighing on my shoulders. While I focused on training and managing guild affairs, my fiancées had their own priorities to address.

Rachel had returned to the Northern Continent three days after our arrival, called back by urgent family business that couldn't be delayed. The Creighton family was in the process of absorbing the vast territories that had once been under Umbravale Covenant control, a massive undertaking that required careful political maneuvering and practical administration.

"The land redistribution alone will take months," she had explained during our last breakfast together before her departure. "But the real challenge is the miasma contamination. Centuries of cult activity have left the soil itself corrupted in ways that normal purification methods can't address."

As one of the most powerful Purelight users in the world, Rachel was uniquely qualified to handle such large-scale purification work. Her abilities could cleanse not just surface contamination, but the deep spiritual pollution that cult activities left behind. Without her intervention, the reclaimed territories would remain uninhabitable for generations.

"I'll be back as soon as the critical work is finished," she had promised, her sapphire eyes reflecting the same maternal concern that always surfaced when she worried about leaving me to handle things alone. "A month, maybe two at most."

Reika had her own territorial responsibilities to manage. Her new status as Marchioness Reika Solienne came with substantial land grants in the Slatemark Empire, rewards for her crucial role in defeating the Second Calamity. More importantly, the position provided her with the resources and authority needed to properly care for her foster parents.

"They've never lived anywhere this grand," she had said with quiet satisfaction as she reviewed the architectural plans for the manor being constructed on her new lands. "After everything they did for me when I had nothing, I want to make sure they're comfortable for the rest of their lives."

The administrative work was keeping her busy, but I could see how much the responsibility meant to her. For someone who had grown up without family, being able to provide security and comfort for the people who had taken her in was worth more than any political recognition.

Rose and Cecilia had remained closer to home, helping me manage the expanded guild operations and political complexities that came with our new status. But even they were spending increasing amounts of time on travel, visiting various continental headquarters to ensure smooth transitions as we absorbed former cult territories into legitimate guild oversight.

Which left me training primarily with Seraphina, working to master the Violet Mist Divine Art while simultaneously stabilizing before devouring Bahamut's Dragon Heart. It was demanding work, but having her guidance made the technical challenges manageable.

"Your control has improved significantly," she observed as we concluded another session with the plum blossoms. I'd managed to coax three more blooms to open using Grey energy, each one carrying the same unique silver-violet coloration that marked them as something beyond ordinary.

"Still not consistent enough," I replied, studying the branch where several buds remained stubbornly closed. "At this rate, it'll take months before I can reliably use the technique in actual combat situations."

"Patience," she said with gentle amusement. "Grade 6 sword arts aren't meant to be modified by such a degree in weeks. The fact that you're making any progress at all is remarkable."

Before I could respond, I sensed a familiar presence approaching through our home's gardens. Luna materialized at the edge of the training area, her adult form moving with the graceful precision that marked her as something beyond human classification.

"Arthur," she said, her golden eyes reflecting something that might have been determination mixed with reluctance. "I need to speak with you about something important."

"Of course," I replied, setting down the flowering branch while Seraphina stepped back to give us privacy. "What's on your mind?"

"I've been thinking about our recent battles," Luna began, her amethyst hair catching the afternoon light as she moved closer. "About how much stronger you've become, and how... limited my contributions have been in comparison."

I frowned at the self-critical tone in her voice. "Luna, your support has been crucial to everything I've accomplished. The bond between us is what makes most of my advanced techniques possible."

"I know that," she said with the kind of gentle patience that suggested she'd expected this response. "But I'm also aware that I'm currently at low Radiant-rank while you're approaching mid Radiant-rank. The gap between our capabilities is growing, and that could become a liability in future confrontations."

She was right, though I didn't particularly like hearing it stated so directly. Luna's power had grown alongside mine throughout our partnership, but the recent exponential increase in threats we were facing meant that even Radiant-rank entities could find themselves outclassed quickly.

"What are you proposing?" I asked, though something in her expression suggested I already knew the answer.

"I want to go South," she said with quiet certainty. "To meet with Tiamat again. She's the one who created me, who understands my artificial nature better than anyone else. If there's a way for me to grow stronger more rapidly, she'll know what it is."

The request hit me harder than I'd expected. Luna had been my constant companion for years, her presence so integral to my daily existence that the idea of separation felt fundamentally wrong. But I also understood her reasoning—if she felt limited by her current capabilities, then helping her overcome those limitations was the responsible choice.

"How long would you be gone?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral despite the reluctance I felt.

"I'm not certain," she admitted with honest uncertainty. "It could be weeks, or it could be months. But I need to try, Arthur. For both of us."

I studied her face, seeing the resolve that had already crystallized into firm decision. This wasn't really a request for permission—it was notification of something she'd already committed to doing. The fact that she was discussing it with me spoke to respect for our partnership rather than uncertainty about her choice.

"When would you leave?" I asked, accepting the inevitable while trying to focus on practical considerations.

"Tonight," she said simply. "There's no point in delaying once the decision is made. And honestly, the longer I wait, the harder it will be to actually go through with leaving you."

The casual admission of emotional attachment made something warm spread through my chest despite the circumstances. Luna's feelings about our bond were usually expressed through actions rather than words, so hearing her acknowledge the difficulty of separation was both touching and concerning.

"It's dangerous to travel alone," I pointed out, though even as I said it I realized how ridiculous the concern was. Luna was a Radiant-rank qilin whose abilities operated on principles that most entities couldn't even comprehend.

"I'll contact you immediately if there's any real danger," she promised with the kind of patient amusement that suggested she'd expected this objection. "And honestly, aside from Alyssara, there isn't anyone or anything on this planet that could seriously threaten me. Most threats would have trouble even detecting my presence if I didn't want them to."

She was right about that. Luna's artificial nature gave her capabilities that transcended normal qilin abilities, including the kind of dimensional manipulation that made her nearly untouchable when she chose to be.

"Besides," she continued with a slight smile, "Tiamat's territory is probably the safest place on Earth for someone like me."

I nodded slowly, recognizing that my concerns were more emotional than practical. Luna was incredibly capable, her destination was secure, and her reasoning for the journey was sound. The reluctance I felt was purely selfish—the simple fact that I'd grown accustomed to having her presence as a constant anchor.

"Alright," I said finally, pulling her into a careful embrace. "Go get stronger. But promise me you'll be careful, and that you'll come back as soon as you've accomplished what you're setting out to do."

"I promise," she replied, her arms tightening around me with surprising strength. "Thank you for understanding. For not trying to talk me out of something I need to do."

"Thank you for trusting me enough to explain rather than just disappearing," I replied, thinking about how different this conversation could have gone if she'd simply vanished without warning.

We stood there for several moments, both of us processing the reality of impending separation. Finally, Luna pulled back enough to meet my eyes directly.

"You're the best contractor anyone could ask for," she said with the kind of sincere affection that transcended simple professional appreciation. "Most beings like me never get to experience the kind of partnership we've built. I'm grateful for that, regardless of what else happens."

"Luna—"

"Take care of yourself while I'm gone," she interrupted with gentle firmness. "Train hard, but don't push beyond what Rachel would consider safe. And remember that being strong enough to protect everyone doesn't mean you have to carry every burden alone."

Before I could respond, she stepped back and began to shimmer with the kind of dimensional energy that marked her departure preparations. "I'll be back before you know it," she said with a smile that managed to be both reassuring and heartbreaking.

Then she was gone, leaving only the faint scent of starlight and the echo of amethyst hair catching afternoon sun.

I stood in the suddenly empty garden for several minutes, processing the strange hollow feeling that came from Luna's absence. It wasn't just the loss of her physical presence—it was the sudden quiet in my consciousness where her mental voice usually provided commentary and companionship.

"She'll be fine," Seraphina said softly, her hand finding my shoulder with comforting warmth. "Luna is remarkably capable, and her instincts for self-preservation are excellent. This separation is temporary."

"I know," I replied, though knowing something intellectually and feeling it emotionally were entirely different experiences. "It's just... strange. She's been a constant presence for so long that I'd forgotten what it feels like to not have her voice in my head."

"It will help you both grow," Seraphina observed with characteristic insight. "Luna needs to explore her own potential without constantly adapting to support your needs. And you need to remember how to operate independently of the bond that's shaped so much of your development."

She was probably right, though that didn't make the immediate adjustment any easier. But before I could dwell on Luna's departure any further, the sound of rapid footsteps drew our attention toward the house.

Seraphina's expression shifted to immediate alertness as she recognized something in the approaching movement pattern. "That's urgent," she said with growing concern.

A moment later, one of the household staff appeared at the garden's edge, his face pale with the kind of controlled panic that suggested serious problems.

"Lady Seraphina," he said with careful formality that couldn't hide underlying distress. "There's been a message from the Mount Hua Sect. It's marked as emergency priority."

Seraphina's ice-blue eyes narrowed with immediate focus as she accepted the sealed communication. Her fingers moved with practiced efficiency as she broke the magical seals that protected high-priority sect correspondence.

As she read, I watched her expression shift from professional attention to genuine alarm.

"What is it?" I asked, though something in her body language suggested I wasn't going to like the answer.

"Ren has gone missing," she said quietly, her voice carrying the kind of controlled tension that marked someone processing unexpected crisis.