I'm an Extra, so What?

"Tanks and Fighters step forward! The rules are simple," the elven announcer called.

"You will face six rooms. Each room contains a unique challenge. All solutions require the skills of both team members—fail to cooperate, and you fail the challenge. The team that solves the most rooms in the allotted time wins."

The two teams waited on opposite ends.

Arthur stood with his arms crossed, a bored sneer on his face.

Beside him stood Gregor. He cracked his knuckles and stared ahead with grim focus.

On the other end of the clearing, Eledrin, sharp eyes scanning the structure before him that had appeared.

Calm confidence radiated from his stance.

Vaelor was silent.

Arthur glanced at the opposing team and scoffed. "Great. We're up against these losers."

Gregor shot him a side glance but said nothing.

"I mean, c'mon," Arthur continued.

"It's a puzzle gauntlet. We're going to walk through this thing. Just follow my lead and don't screw anything up."

Gregor gave a short nod. "Understood."

As the signal horn sounded, magical doors parted on both sides of the arena, revealing identical mazes of stone and wood.

Both teams entered.

A vast chamber with a high ceiling.

Four massive stone levers protruded from the ground.

A glowing door on the far end was sealed, pulsing with a magical lock.

A plaque on the wall read:

"Balance strength and timing. Four levers. Two must be held down while the others are released in sequence. One wrong move resets the room."

Arthur snorted. "Easy."

He darted toward the nearest lever without waiting, yanked it down, and barked, "Gregor, grab the next one!"

Gregor moved, pulling a second lever.

"Now let go when I say three. One… two—"

Gregor released.

Arthur was still holding.

A flash of red light pulsed. All levers snapped back.

A low grinding noise followed. The room reset.

"Damn it!" Arthur hissed. "You're supposed to wait for me to let go first!"

"You said 'on three.'" Gregor didn't flinch, his voice calm.

"I obviously meant after three," Arthur snapped.

They reset. And failed again.

And again.

Across the arena, in the mirrored room, Eledrin and Vaelor stood quietly before the same puzzle.

Eledrin read the instructions aloud, then looked up at Vaelor.

"We'll need perfect timing. I'll take left, you take right. I'll signal the release."

Vaelor gave a single nod.

Together, they pulled their levers, counted silently, and released at the exact same moment.

A chime sounded.

The room opened.

Back in the human side, Arthur was cursing. "You're slow as a damn ogre!"

Gregor said nothing. His knuckles were white.

After five tries, they finally passed.

Precious minutes lost.

.

.

.

An array of rotating mirrors filled the room.

A beam of sunlight came through a single hole, and the goal was to reflect it onto a crystal on the far side.

To do so, the Fighter had to climb the walls and adjust mirrors at height, while the Tank rotated the base mechanisms below.

"Okay," Arthur muttered, "I climb, you spin."

As Arthur began climbing, Gregor turned the nearest mirror pedestal.

The light shifted—but not enough.

"No, left, not right!" Arthur yelled from halfway up the wall.

Gregor tried again.

"Now it's too far! Are you dumb or just deaf?!"

Gregor's jaw tightened. "The mechanism doesn't allow for fine movement."

"Well, maybe use those meat-sticks you call arms to do it right!"

Meanwhile, Eledrin and Vaelor moved with fluid synchrony.

Eledrin called each adjustment softly, while Vaelor responded with calm precision.

"Mirror three, ten degrees right. Good. Now mirror five, slight angle left. Perfect."

They cleared the room in under three minutes.

Arthur and Gregor took fifteen.

Arthur nearly fell twice.

The light never hit the crystal cleanly.

Finally, Arthur got fed up and kicked one of the high mirrors into place with brute force, nearly shattering it. It barely worked.

"Whatever," Arthur muttered as the door creaked open.

"Ugly room anyway."

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.

.

A grid of pressure plates covered the floor.

Some activated traps. Others opened gates.

Two people had to traverse in tandem, reading symbols that only the other could see from their position.

Communication was key.

Arthur stepped forward and immediately triggered a fire trap.

"Aaagh! What the hell?!"

"You stepped too fast," Gregor said, pointing to the symbol.

"You need to call out the shapes. I'll tell you which one is safe."

"I don't need you to guide me. I can see well enough!"

Another misstep.

Arrows shot from the wall, barely grazing his arm.

"You idiot!" Arthur shouted.

"Are you trying to get me killed?!"

"You're the one ignoring the instructions," Gregor said coolly.

"Shut up and follow."

From the elf side, a faint melody of chimes played—Eledrin and Vaelor had already cleared the room.

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.

.

Two platforms suspended by ropes.

One person needed to move across by balancing weights while the other adjusted tension with a pulley system on the wall.

Arthur leapt onto the platform.

"Start pulling, Gregor!"

"Wait, your weights off-center."

"I said pull, damn it!"

Gregor sighed and pulled.

Arthur swung wildly. The platform tilted.

"Stop! Stop! Are you trying to dunk me?!"

"You're moving too fast."

"Maybe if you'd stop breathing so loudly, I could concentrate!"

On the elf side, Vaelor adjusted the pulleys while Eledrin balanced carefully.

They exchanged no harsh words. Only nods and clear directions.

Success.

Failure.

The contrast was becoming evident even to the audience, whose cheers grew louder with each passing room.

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Four monoliths, each inscribed with a glowing rune.

A puzzle requiring logic to determine which ones to activate.

One person read the riddle from below; the other climbed to press the correct runes.

Arthur, naturally, insisted on doing both.

"Move aside, Gregor. You'd just confuse me."

"But the riddle has multiple parts. We need to—"

Arthur climbed before Gregor finished.

He guessed.

Incorrectly.

A jolt of magic shocked him mid-climb.

He fell six feet and landed hard.

"Damn—! These stupid elf contraptions!"

Gregor moved toward the riddle. "Let me read it out loud. I think I can—"

"Don't talk like you're the brains of the team. That's me."

Gregor fell silent.

Ten minutes later, after brute-forcing combinations and taking multiple shocks, they stumbled into the final room.

The elves had been waiting for nearly fifteen minutes already, observing in silence.

...

Two massive gears needed to be turned simultaneously. One powered by strength, one by speed. Only when they turned in sync would the door open.

Eledrin and Vaelor stepped forward without hesitation. Vaelor took the strength gear, muscles flexing. Eledrin positioned himself at the speed gear.

"On three?"

"One, two, three."

They moved as one.

Click.

Whirr.

Door opened.

Human side: Arthur barked orders.

"You do the heavy gear, Gregor. I'll take the fast one. Just try not to slow me down."

Gregor took his position.

"NOW!" Arthur shouted—and spun his gear wildly.

Too fast. The timing was off.

Gears jammed. Reset.

Again.

And again.

On the fourth try, Gregor stopped moving.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur shouted.

"We need to match pace. You're going too fast."

Arthur threw his arms up. "Oh, so now you're the expert?"

"Yes," Gregor said firmly, surprising him. "And you're the reason we're behind."

Silence.

Arthur's face darkened. "Fine. We'll do it your way. Try not to mess it up."

Gregor counted aloud. They moved.

Still not enough. Just off by a fraction.

Too late.

The horn blew.

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.

.

The two teams exited their respective gauntlets into the bright clearing.

The announcer's voice rang out.

"The elves, Vaelor and Eledrin, completed all six rooms in twenty-three minutes, eleven seconds."

Applause.

"The humans, Arthur and Gregor, completed only five rooms in thirty-nine minutes, twelve seconds. The final room was not solved."

Arthur's face went crimson.

Eledrin and Vaelor stood with quiet dignity.

They offered no taunts.

Their victory was self-evident.

Arthur stormed off without a word, kicking a rock as he went.

Gregor followed slowly, his steps heavy.

Arthur paced furiously.

"Stupid elf traps. Stupid rules. They cheated, I'm sure of it!"

"You should watch the recordings," Luka said, arms crossed:

"They worked well together. You didn't."

Arthur rounded on him. "You taking their side now?!"

Luka didn't blink. "I'm just not on yours."

Arthur's fists clenched.

Gregor remained nearby, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

When Luka approached, he looked up.

"You did your best," Luka said.

Gregor gave a slow nod. "It wasn't enough."

"No," Luka replied, eyes sharp. "But the problem wasn't you."

Arthur stopped dead.

He heard the words.

Each one lodged under his skin like splinters.

'He's blaming me!?'

Arthur gritted his teeth.

His first instinct was to punch Luka, make him eat those words right in front of Gregor, the elves—whoever else was here.

To grab him by the collar and demand he say it again.

Louder.

But he didn't.

Not because he forgave.

Not because he doubted.

Because there were too many eyes.

'This bastard… I'll make sure he pays…' Arthur thought to himself, he was getting too tired of Luka.