Aetheric Chronicles: Reborn As An Extra

"In fact, it's simple," Sia said, her tone almost casual, though her eyes betrayed the seriousness of her words. "Defeating him, I mean."

Adrian narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slightly. Was she gonna reveal it now or wait until the end?

"Simple?" he echoed skeptically. "I doubt that."

Sia chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "Well, the idea is simple. The process, though..." She trailed off, tapping her fingers against the edge of the table, her gaze distant for a moment. "That's a bit more... difficult."

Adrian raised an eyebrow, remembering it didn't match his knowledge. "Define a bit."

Sia sighed, slumping back in her chair as if already exhausted by the conversation. "Okay, fine. A lot. Let's say... a five to ten percent chance of success."
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Adrian gave her a long, disbelieving look. "Five to ten percent? That's barely anything. And you're calling this simple?"

"Hey, at least it's not zero," she shot back, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, though her voice carried a note of bitterness. "We've had worse odds before."

Adrian leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied her. "So, what is it, then? What's this 'simple' plan of yours?"

Sia's smile turned wry, and she shook her head. "You know I can't tell you that. Not yet."

"Why not?" Adrian's tone wasn't accusatory, but there was an edge of frustration. "If you want me to 'lend my hand,' as you put it, don't you think I deserve to know what I'd be getting into?"

"Trust me," Sia said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. "It's not about trust or loyalty. There are... things you're better off not knowing right now. Not until you're ready. Not until we're ready."

Adrian tilted his head, studying her carefully. "That sounds ominous."

"It's reality," Sia replied simply, her expression hardening again. "The Black Star Lord isn't someone we can just... take down in a straightforward fight. It's going to take time, planning, sacrifices... and, honestly, a little bit of luck."

Adrian's gaze didn't waver. "You're asking a lot from me without giving me much in return."

"I know," Sia admitted, her shoulders slumping slightly. "But I'm asking anyway. Because if we don't try, if we don't fight back in any way we can, then he wins. And the cycle continues."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Adrian didn't respond immediately, his mind turning over everything she'd said—and everything she hadn't.

He didn't like being kept in the dark, but there was something in her tone, her expression, that made him hesitate. Sia wasn't just holding back the vital information for the sake of it. There was a reason, one she wasn't ready to share. He had a hunch regarding the reason but chose to stay silent.

"Fine," Adrian said finally, his voice measured. "I'll play along for now. But don't expect blind faith from me."

Sia's lips curved into a small, tired smile. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Adrian's expression softened just slightly as he stood, adjusting his coat. "But know this," he added, his voice firm. "If I find out you're lying—or if you're leading me into something bad..."

Sia met his gaze, her eyes steady. "I wouldn't expect anything less." Even if she was stronger than him, she was the one asking for his help right now.

Adrian turned and walked toward the door, pausing briefly before looking back over his shoulder. "One last question."

"Shoot," Sia said, tilting her head.

"You said five to ten percent." He smiled faintly. "What makes you so sure it's not zero?"

Sia's mysterious smile returned, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—hope, determination, maybe even defiance.

"Because," she said softly, "he's not as invincible as he thinks he is."

Adrian didn't reply, but the faintest trace of a smile touched his lips.

'It's his soul, isn't it...'

_____ __ _

The farmer's rickety wooden carriage creaked as it rolled toward the city gates, its wheels crunching softly against the gravel road. A faded tarp covered the back of the cart, concealing four unmoving figures beneath it.

The farmer, an older man with weathered skin and a perpetually furrowed brow, guided his two mules forward, his face set in grim determination. He glanced back once, worry etched into his features, before pulling the reins to slow the cart as the city's guards approached.

"Halt!" one of the guards commanded, stepping forward with a hand raised. His polished steel breastplate gleamed faintly in the afternoon sun, and his sharp eyes scanned the carriage.

The farmer obeyed, bringing the mules to a stop just a few feet from the gates. "Good day, sir," he said, tipping his hat nervously.

The guard's gaze lingered on the tarp-covered figures in the back. "What's this, old man? Who are they?"

The farmer shifted uncomfortably, his voice low and tinged with concern. "Found them, sir. Just outside my farm, near the edge of the woods. They were lying there, unconscious, like they'd dropped out of the sky. None of 'em stirred, not even when I tried to wake 'em." He scratched his neck, glancing back again. "By the lord's orders, I brought them here. Figured it best not to leave them out there, what with all the strange things happening these days."

The guard's eyebrows furrowed as he considered the farmer's explanation. He motioned for another guard to approach, and the two exchanged a quiet, tense conversation. After a moment, they nodded in unison.

"Fine," the first guard said, stepping back. "Take your carriage through, but one of us will escort you. We'll need to report this to the Hunters right away."

"Of course, sir," the farmer agreed, relief washing over his face.

As one of the guards began walking alongside the cart, a commotion drew their attention. A group of young men and women approached the gate, their laughter and easy banter filling the air.

Dressed in uniforms that bore the crest of the Hunter Training Program, they carried themselves with an air of youthful confidence. The guards and the farmer both straightened instinctively, offering respectful bows as the group passed by. These were the city's future defenders, destined to take up the mantle of Hunters.

But one of the young men stopped abruptly, his brown eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the tarp-covered figures in the back of the farmer's cart.

His short, tousled brown hair and a bit more handsome than average face gave him an unassuming appearance, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that hinted at a keen mind.

"Hold on a bit."