I'm an Extra, so What?

Eira's body crumpled with a thud beside the broken obelisk. Whatever lingering life had been animating her—magic, vengeance, or madness—had finally burnt out.

Luka stood slowly, wiping his blades on a nearby patch of moss that hadn't yet blackened. He stared at the shattered obelisk.

No more pulsing red light. No more hissing.

Just silence.

Serene approached, her armor scratched and her shield arm trembling faintly. "You alright?"

Luka nodded, eyes still locked on the spire's remains. "Yeah. Just… trying to figure out who the hell thought growing a corruption altar in a druidic grove was a good idea."

Serene glanced down at Eira's corpse, her brow furrowed. "She wasn't working alone. This kind of magic needs a source.

She didn't have the power to create something like this on her own."

Luka sighed. "Which means someone higher up fed it to her."

"Probably testing how far the corruption can spread before it gets noticed."

Luka finally looked away from the wreckage. "They've got their answer."

Serene grunted. "Let's just hope they don't like it."

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Later, back at the Adventurer's Guild…

The main hall buzzed as usual—clanking mugs, the shuffle of armor, a bard trying too hard in the corner. But something in the air shifted when Luka stepped through the door.

His cloak was torn. His armor was scorched. Snow peeked out from under his collar, feathers ruffled and eyes alert.

Serene followed close behind, muttering something to one of the junior scribes.

The receptionist from earlier blinked when she saw them. "You look like hell."

"We found the source," Luka said, dropping a corrupted talon and a chunk of obsidian with writhing, dead runes onto the desk. "Wasn't a natural incident. Ritual site, planted and active. We shut it down."

The woman recoiled slightly from the items. "I'll… get someone from Arcane Clearance right away."

A booming voice interrupted before she could leave.

"Well, well. Look who comes crawling back from the woods."

Arthur.

He stood near the staircase with a mug in hand, posture relaxed but his smirk sharp. "Let me guess. You killed a squirrel and twisted your ankle, so Serene had to carry you home."

Serene rolled her eyes.

Luka gave Arthur a blank look. "I killed a Nightwing. Fought off a corruption-augmented beast pack. Blew up a ritual obelisk with a prototype alchemist bomb. But sure—let's go with squirrel."

Arthur raised a brow. "A Nightwing? What, like from the old ghost stories?"

"It was real." Luka stepped aside, revealing the black feather talon he'd taken from the corrupted beast.

The room quieted slightly as a few guild members looked over.

Arthur's smile faltered—but just for a second. "If it was real, then maybe I should've gone. Sounds like it was wasted on a glorified courier boy with a pet lizard."

Snow hissed. A tiny flicker of flame escaped his nostrils.

Luka didn't even flinch. "If you'd gone, you'd be fertilizer in that grove right now."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "You think you're better than me?"

"No," Luka said simply. "I don't think about you."

That one landed. The twitch in Arthur's jaw said as much.

Before things could escalate further, Serene stepped between them. "That's enough. Luka, we need to file a full report with the Guildmaster. Arthur, go… polish your ego somewhere else."

Arthur scoffed, but turned away, muttering something about "getting the credit later anyway."

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In the Guildmaster's Office

Old scrolls lined the walls, glowing faintly with warding runes.

The Guildmaster, a broad-shouldered man with eyes like steel traps, listened silently as Luka recounted everything: the fleeing monsters, the leyline rot, the corrupted grove, Eira.

He didn't interrupt once.

When the report ended, he finally leaned back. "I've sent messages to the Druidic Circle and the Crown. Whatever this is… it's bigger than a rogue cultist."

Serene added, "It's not just corruption. It was designed. Shaped. Planted to spread."

The Guildmaster nodded. "And your actions prevented it from reaching the city. You'll be compensated accordingly—and assigned higher clearance from now on."

He turned to Luka.

"You've got instinct. And a habit of finding trouble. That's a dangerous combination—but useful."

Luka nodded. "I don't look for it. It just keeps showing up."

A rare smile tugged at the Guildmaster's lips.

"Good. Because I think it's going to show up a lot more."

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Later That Night — Elsewhere in the Guildhall

The Guild's upper floor was mostly quiet, reserved for silver-ranked and above—those with enough status to get private quarters and, more importantly, a door that locked.

Arthur sat alone in his room, the candlelight dancing shadows across his jawline. His mug of mead sat untouched. He wasn't angry, exactly.

He was insulted.

Luka—Luka—had returned from some "legendary" monster-hunt with the entire guild treating him like a hero. Again.

All while Arthur, the so-called "Main Prodigy" of the Kingdom's elite academy, was left grinding away at meaningless quests and babysitting merchants too scared to lift their own packs.

He clenched his fists.

"No one even looked at me when he walked in," he muttered.

Then a knock.

Not at the door—but at the window.

Arthur turned, scowling. "What the hell—"

Outside, perched precariously on the narrow ledge, was a woman wrapped in a dark shawl, her eyes glowing faintly violet. Her presence was quiet, but unmistakably arcane.

He cracked the window open. "You're not supposed to be here."

The woman smiled. "Neither are the things your classmate keeps stumbling onto. But you're right—I shouldn't be here."

She tossed a small pouch through the window. It landed on his bed with a clink of glass.

"What's that?" Arthur asked warily.

"Your shortcut to relevance."

Arthur picked up the pouch and opened it. Inside were several tiny vials, filled with a thick, purplish liquid that shimmered unnaturally.

"Mana distillate? This is—"

"Experimental," she cut in. "Borrowed from the same minds that built the obelisk your Ranger friend just blew up."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Why are you giving this to me?"

The woman's expression darkened slightly, but her voice remained smooth. "Because you hate being second. And because Luka is about to dig into things far beyond what your Guild realizes. If you want to matter when the truth surfaces… you'll need more than arrogance and a fancy sword."

Arthur's grip tightened around the pouch.

"What does it do?"

"Unlocks potential," she said, and then added with a smirk, "Or kills you. But that's the gamble, isn't it?"

She turned and began to climb down from the ledge, cloak fluttering behind her like ink in water.

Before vanishing into the night, she called up softly, "Oh—and if you see Luka again, thank him. His actions accelerated the timeline. Things are about to get fun."

Then she was gone.

Arthur stood at the window for a long time, the vials in his hand.

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Back in Luka's home.

Snow was curled up on the windowsill, snoring quietly, while Serene had taken the liberty of preparing a small kettle of calming herb tea.

Luka sat across from her, one foot bouncing, eyes distant.

"Still thinking about that altar?" she asked.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Eira wasn't supposed to be that strong. Not unless someone boosted her."

Serene nodded. "You think it's connected to the tournament?"

"The Showdown?" Luka tilted his head. "I thought that was just a publicity stunt. Tradition and spectacle."

Serene frowned. "Maybe. But three weeks ago, the Elf side requested an extra team of observers. Not warriors. Scholars."

Luka blinked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I thought it was nothing," Serene admitted. "Now I'm not so sure."

Luka leaned back in his chair. "Someone's trying to weaponize corrupted magic—and they're using the Showdown's proximity as cover."

Serene gave him a meaningful look. "And we're walking right into it."

Snow let out a soft, crackling snore.

Outside, the wind rustled through the trees beyond the city wall—blowing from the east. From the forest.

From the place the corruption had started.

Luka exhaled slowly. "Then we better be ready."

The next morning came with an overcast sky. Rain threatened, but never quite arrived—just a heavy, gray pressure in the air, like the whole city was holding its breath.

Luka stood outside the Guild headquarters, watching Snow flap lazily above the rooftops.

The little dragon chased crows half-heartedly before gliding back down and perching on Luka's shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"Still tired?" Luka asked, scratching gently behind the horns.

Snow yawned in response, a tiny spark flickering between his teeth.

Footsteps behind him.

"Figures you'd already be out here," Serene said, adjusting the buckles on her armor. "Guild wants a report from both of us. I told them you'd probably sulk your way out of it."

"I don't sulk," Luka said, starting toward the front steps. "I just don't like repeating myself for people who didn't help."

Serene arched a brow. "So, you do sulk."

Before Luka could respond, the front doors burst open.

Arthur strode out like a prince in exile, cloak swishing dramatically, sword at his hip—not in its sheath, but strapped backward for maximum visibility.

He gave them both a once-over and scoffed. "Oh, good. The sewer patrol is here."

Luka didn't look at him. "You're in my way."

Arthur stepped aside—but just barely, forcing Luka to brush past him.

"You know," Arthur said, loud enough to draw the attention of a few early-rising adventurers nearby, "some of us don't have time to stage monster dramas for attention."

Serene glanced at Luka. "Ignore him."

Luka did.

Arthur clicked his tongue. "You think you're clever. You're not. You just get lucky and hide behind your pet and your maid."

Serene stopped.

She turned slowly.

"I dare you," she said, voice cold, "to say that again."

Arthur smiled wide, arms open. "Touch a nerve?"

Serene took a step forward, but Luka placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't," he muttered. "He's not worth it."

But Arthur wasn't done.

"You think you're so much better just because a few things went your way," he said, voice rising. "You think just because Nuvian looked at you once during the match that you're the main character now?"

That drew real silence from everyone around. A few adventurers paused what they were doing.

Luka finally turned.

He walked right up to Arthur—quiet, measured, no fire, no fanfare.

Just words:

"If you ever talk to her like she's a prize again, I'll put you in the ground. And not even the Guild will dig you up."

Arthur blinked.

Luka stepped past him without another glance.

Serene followed.

Arthur stood still for a moment, fists clenched, heart pounding. Rage twisted his gut—but behind it, a deep, coiling frustration.

He's nothing.

But that vial still sat in his coat pocket. And last night, after she'd left, he'd taken just a sip.

And his strength had surged.

No one had noticed. Yet.

But they would.

Oh, they would.

Meanwhile…

Far from the city, deep in the tainted forest, the shattered remains of the obelisk still steamed.

And something… moved beneath it.

A shifting of bone.

A hand, too long, too many knuckles, reached up from the earth.