An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge

By the time they returned, the stars were high and the moon bathed the village in soft light. But instead of quiet, they were met with distant music—drums, flutes, laughter, and singing.

Morrika slowed down, frowning. "What the hell…?"

Arthur raised a brow. "Sounds like a festival."

"Did someone run ahead and inform them?" Morrika asked, looking back at her warriors.

One of them quickly shook his head. "No, Chief. We've all stayed together. None of us left the group."

Morrika muttered, "Then what are they celebrating? Don't tell me something else happened while we were gone."

Arthur shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

As they reached the wooden gates of the tribe, one guard stepped forward and saluted them with wide eyes. The other turned and sprinted inside, shouting like his life depended on it.

"They're back! Chief Morrika and the others are back!"

Within moments, a sea of footsteps thundered from within the village. Dozens of people poured out toward the entrance—men, women, even children. Faces lit up with joy, some teary-eyed, others laughing.

Morrika looked around, stunned. "What's going on? What's this about?"

A guard stepped closer, almost reverently. "It's the celebration of your victory, Chief."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you even know we were successful? No one told you."

This time, the answer came from behind the crowd.

"We didn't need to be told," said Elder Harka, stepping forward.

He reached behind his neck and pulled off his cloak. Then he turned around and pulled up his shirt—revealing a gleaming silver totem: a great wolf head marked across his back, glowing faintly in the moonlight.

Morrika's eyes widened. "You… got the totem too?"

"Not just me," Harka said. "Everyone did. Around midday, it came back to us. We felt it—heat, pain, then a surge of something… divine. The totem we thought lost forever… returned."

More elders stepped forward, one by one, revealing the same mark. A chorus of nods followed from the villagers.

Morrika let out a breath. "So we weren't the only ones blessed."

"Blessed?" said one of the older warriors. "We were reborn. That mark is more than a blessing. It's a sign our god walks with us again."

The elders stepped forward and dropped to their knees before her.

"Thank you," Harka said, voice raw with emotion. "For bringing back our god. For bringing hope back to our people."

Morrika stiffened, then quickly stepped forward, motioning for them to rise. "Come on, stand up. You're elders of this tribe. Don't kneel for me."

"You've earned it," Harka insisted.

Morrika exhaled, visibly uncomfortable but touched. "I only did what I had to. This was my duty."

Morrika exhaled and crossed her arms, a little stiff under all the praise. "I just did what needed to be done. This was my responsibility."

Then the elders approached Arthur, stopping in front of him. Without hesitation, they bowed deeply.

"Thank you," one said, voice steady. "Without you, none of this would've been possible."

"You're the reason Fenrir was freed," another added.

"I don't know how you knew so much about Fenrir," a third said, straightening up. "Stuff even we, his descendants, didn't know… but I don't care. You shared it with us. Freely."

"Yeah," another elder chimed in. "You didn't demand anything from us. No payment. No favors. Just handed us the truth."

Morrika stepped in, her gaze fixed on Arthur. "He didn't just give us information. He fought beside us. He defeated monsters that we were struggling against. He shared precious healing potions to the wounded. He faced down Fenrir's rage without flinching. If it weren't for him, we'd be corpses rotting on that field."

The atmosphere shifted. The respect in the crowd's eyes deepened. Even the most hardened warriors now looked at Arthur differently.

Then, as if guided by instinct, they all dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in unison before him.

Arthur blinked. "Hey—whoa, come on now… You're embarrassing me."

"You deserve this," Morrika said simply, her voice firm. "More than anyone."

She took a breath, then looked Arthur dead in the eye.

"No matter how much I thank you, it won't be enough. And… we don't have the gold or treasures humans usually want. But what I can give you—what we can give you—is our allegiance."

One of the elders stepped forward again, pulling a ceremonial dagger from his belt. "Yes. From this day forward, the Wolf Tribe stands as your ally. This is our oath."

He sliced a shallow line across his forearm. As blood trickled down, he raised it toward the sky and began to chant in their native tongue—an ancient vow passed down through generations.

A faint glow shimmered from the cut, responding to the magic in his words. The tribe echoed the chant, and the wind briefly howled through the trees, as if Fenrir himself acknowledged the oath.

Arthur scratched the back of his head, unsure how to respond.

"Well… guess I'll have to be worthy of that," he muttered.

Morrika smirked. "You already are."

Arthur smirked and clapped his hands. "Alright, enough bowing and heavy speeches. This is supposed to be a celebration, right? So quit crying and start drinking."

A massive cheer erupted across the village.

Someone tossed another log onto the bonfire, flames crackling and rising high into the night. Music picked up again—drums pounding, flutes whistling—and children resumed dancing around the fire in wild, laughing circles. Warriors clinked mugs, hugging each other, their totems glowing faintly like embers under their skin. The entire tribe felt alive—renewed.

Arthur took a deep breath, glancing at the scene unfolding around him. Smiling faces. Roaring fires. A reborn tribe.

He stretched his back with a grunt. "Well… that's a wrap."

Morrika stepped beside him with a smirk. "You're not slipping away before the feast, are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it. I earned a drink, didn't I?"

"A drink?" She laughed. "Try ten. We feast like gods tonight."

Arthur raised a brow. "I'll take my chances."

Nearby, the warriors who had returned from the mission had already become the center of attention. They were surrounded by groups of women, eyes sparkling, hanging on to every tale.

"And then it leapt at me—fangs bared, claws ready—and I just bam right in the gut!" one shouted, reenacting the strike with his mug sloshing.

"No way!" a girl gasped, clearly impressed.

"Swear on Fenrir!" he said, proudly thumping his chest.

Laughter, cheers, and loud howls filled the air. The mood was electric.

Arthur was just about to grab a mug when Alicia, Cedric, and Kaela cornered him.

"There you are!" Alicia said, arms crossed and eyes gleaming with questions. "You've been holding out on us. What exactly did you do that everyone is singing praises about you?"

"And you didn't answer the morning's question yet. How did you know so much about Fenrir?" Cedric asked, narrowing his eyes.

Arthur raised his hands, laughing. "Alright, alright, one question at a time—"

Before he could answer, a large arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Whoops—sorry, ladies, borrowing your hero for a bit," said a massive wolfkin warrior, grinning ear to ear.

Alicia blinked. "Wait, what? Where are you taking him?"

"He's not going anywhere," Kaela added, half-stepping forward.

The wolfkin waved them off with a wink. "Not tonight, young ladies. This one's ours for the evening."

Arthur looked confused. "Uh, what?"

"You're the tribe's hero now," the warrior said, pulling him along. "And we've got a proper celebration for heroes."

Alicia frowned. "If you come back drunk and covered in weird tribal paint—"

"No promises!" Arthur called back, smirking as he was dragged off.