I'm an Extra, so What?

Two Days Later – Path to the Eastern Ridge

The journey was rough.

Worse than rough—unnatural.

Wind howled constantly, but the trees didn't bend. Birds didn't fly. The clouds didn't move. Everything felt held in place, as if the world was holding its breath… or being watched.

Luka's squad moved cautiously along a narrow cliff trail that hugged the base of the mountain ridge. The ridge marked the edge of the leyline fracture—now visibly bleeding dark mist that spiraled skyward in threads of violet smoke.

Arthur had been quiet since the basin.

Focused. Controlled.

Too controlled.

Snow, perched on Luka's shoulder, occasionally sniffed at Arthur with suspicion, but no longer growled. That was progress. Maybe.

Gregor grunted, pointing at the sky. "That's new."

Above them, streaks of red light flared—thin like cracks in glass, spreading from the clouds down into the peak of the ridge.

Serene tightened her grip on her shield. "That's not just mana leaking anymore. That's a rift forming."

Luka nodded. "If it opens all the way, we're not just looking at monster outbreaks. We're looking at a gate. Something coming through."

Arthur stepped up beside him. "Then we destroy whatever's powering it. Fast."

Luka studied him for a beat—then passed him a mana-infusion tonic without a word.

They pressed on.

That Night – Cliffside Camp

They set camp on a slanted ledge where a natural overhang shielded them from the ever-falling ash drifting from the skies.

Arthur took first watch.

Or at least, that's what he said.

But Luka couldn't sleep.

He woke to the soft sound of muttering—barely audible. He sat up slowly, staying hidden behind the curve of a rock.

Arthur stood near the edge, facing the storm-lit horizon.

His hand hovered above the palm of his other—where the faint outline of the first shard's scar still lingered like a faded burn.

"I didn't ask for this," Arthur whispered. "But if I can use it… maybe I'm supposed to."

Snow stirred, eyes flashing in the dark.

Luka didn't intervene.

Not yet.

But he didn't sleep the rest of that night.

Next Morning – Entering the Ridge

They reached the top by dawn.

And stopped dead.

The peak had been hollowed.

Where there should have been stone was now an enormous crater, ringed with bone-like growths and obsidian towers, spiraling out around the largest obelisk yet. Easily thirty feet high, pulsing with the beat of a heart that wasn't human.

And beneath it?

A creature.

No—a vessel.

A being shaped like a dragon, but made of cracked black crystal and fungal roots. Wings of ash, eyes like lanterns. Dormant. Breathing.

Serene whispered, "That's a Construct of Decay. Ancient tier. Forbidden magic."

"And it's being grown," Luka said, horrified.

The obelisk cracked—and more rot oozed into the crater like blood in water.

The beast twitched.

They only had minutes.

"Okay," Luka said. "New plan."

He pointed at the towers. "Those spires are channeling into the obelisk. We break all three, then destroy the core. Before that thing hatches."

Gregor nodded grimly. "What about the mob below it?"

As if summoned, dozens of corrupted monsters emerged from hidden tunnels—boars with molten eyes, harpies with screaming bone masks, fungal bears.

Luka looked at Arthur. "This is your shot."

Arthur blinked. "Mine?"

"You hold the monsters here."

Arthur stared at him. "Alone?"

"No," Serene said, stepping forward. "With us."

Snow launched into the air with a screech, drawing their attention.

Luka pointed. "When the obelisk cracks, everything's going to go wild. Stick to the plan."

Gregor and Serene moved to flank, Arthur at the center.

Luka vanished into shadow—already sprinting for the first spire.

Crater Edge – Moments Later

Arthur slashed through a corrupted chimera, breathing hard.

Serene bashed a fungal wolf with her shield, roaring as her holy magic exploded in a sunburst of light.

Gregor cleaved through three undead hounds in one swing.

They held the line.

Snow blasted fire from above.

And then—

CRACK.

The first spire shattered.

The obelisk pulsed wildly, red light flickering.

Luka moved to the second, blade carving through the runes along its side. He ducked under the swipe of a blightspawn and threw an explosive vial into its chest—sending it tumbling off the cliff.

He slashed the last seal—

BOOM.

The second tower fell.

The corrupted dragon below began to stir.

Its eye opened.

A soundless scream shook the sky.

Arthur looked up and froze.

The eye looked back at him.

And it knew him.

"You are already half-mine…"

Arthur fell to one knee, clutching his head. "Shut up—shut UP—!"

Luka's voice cut through: "Arthur! Fight it!"

Arthur gritted his teeth.

"I am!"

He rose, barely steady—but raised his sword.

Luka hit the third tower just as Serene collapsed from exhaustion. Snow swooped low, shielding her with a wall of flame.

The spire cracked.

And the obelisk screamed.

It burst—mana erupting in a cascade of red and black lightning. The corrupted dragon let out a broken roar and began to fall apart—unfinished, collapsing into shards of glowing bone and rotted crystal.

The monsters convulsed.

Then fell, motionless.

Silence.

The ridge calmed.

Smoke drifted.

The sky… cleared.

And Arthur?

Still standing.

Chest heaving.

Scar glowing faintly—but no darker.

He looked at Luka.

"...We're not done, are we?"

Luka shook his head slowly. "No. But you didn't fall."

Arthur let out a shaky breath.

"…Then maybe I can still be more than a mistake."

.

.

.

Two Days Later – Adventurer's Guild, Grand Hall

The Guild buzzed like a kicked hornet's nest.

Messengers came and went. Maps were re-drawn by the hour. Magical pulses were monitored like incoming weather.

And in the center of it all—Luka stood at the map table, arms folded, eyes scanning the latest leyline readings.

Serene stood to his right. Arthur, silent and restrained, stood to his left. Snow sat between them like an overworked supervisor, munching a fire-kissed apple and looking very unimpressed with humanity.

The Guildmaster, stern as ever, finished reading the latest field report.

"You neutralized the ridge's obelisk?"

"We broke its supports and destroyed the core," Luka said evenly. "The dragon construct never reached full awakening."

The Guildmaster gave a thin nod. "And Arthur?"

Arthur met her gaze. "I did my job."

She studied him for a long moment—then looked to Serene.

"Does he still pose a threat?"

Serene didn't hesitate. "Not more than any of us."

The Guildmaster sighed, then pulled a sealed scroll from her sleeve and handed it to Luka.

"You're being sent west."

Luka raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because a third obelisk just activated," she said grimly. "And this one isn't emitting corruption. It's something else entirely."

Arthur stepped forward. "You're saying it's clean?"

"I'm saying it's ancient. Older than the leyline network itself. And it didn't awaken by accident."

Serene looked over the map. "Who found it?"

"A druid outpost," the Guildmaster said. "Just south of the Mirror Lakes. They sent a single burst—then went silent. No bodies. No signs of battle. Just... gone."

Luka's hand slowly closed around the scroll.

Arthur's voice was quiet. "You think this one's different."

"I know it is," the Guildmaster said. "The corruption was planted. This was buried. Someone—or something—wants it found now."

Later – Leaving the Guild

As they saddled up for departure, Luka paused at the gate.

Arthur was already waiting at the edge of the caravan, double-checking gear. He didn't say anything—just nodded once.

Luka raised an eyebrow. "You're not complaining?"

Arthur shrugged. "I've got something to prove."

"Still?"

"No," Arthur said. "This time, just to myself."

Serene watched them both, then climbed onto her steed. "Let's hope this one doesn't talk to you."

Snow let out a proud trill and flapped his wings.

The group rode west.

Toward something ancient.

.

.

.

Western Wilds – Mirror Lakes Region

The land here was beautiful.

Pristine, untouched, filled with glittering water and high grass. Not a trace of corruption.

But something was wrong anyway.

Too quiet. Too still.

They reached the druid outpost by midday.

It was intact.

Unburned.

No blood.

But… no people.

Luka crouched beside a cold firepit. "This was used recently."

Serene examined the food stores. "No signs of panic. They didn't leave. They just… stopped."

Snow sniffed the air and growled. His wings flared.

Luka stood slowly.

"…Something's watching."

Then he saw it.

A tree—at the very center of the glade.

Not a natural tree.

It pulsed with faint light, its bark a spiral of glowing gold and pale stone. Vines floated in the air around it, weightless.

At its base was the third obelisk.

Unlike the others, this one was not decayed.

It shone. Smooth, symmetrical, pulsing with a quiet rhythm—like breath.

No monsters.

No corruption.

But the ground hummed.

Arthur approached slowly. "It's… beautiful."

Serene's brows furrowed. "Then why do I feel like it's holding its breath?"

Luka stepped closer—and this time, the obelisk didn't pulse red or black.

It turned blue.

And spoke.

Not in words, but in music.

A low, distant harmony—like a choir echoing through stone and sky.

Snow hovered closer and chirped nervously, as if he recognized it.

Luka froze.

A symbol had appeared at the obelisk's base:

A winged dragon curled around a sun.

Serene whispered, "That's a First Era sigil. One of the oldest—back when dragons ruled the leyline gates."

Arthur's eyes widened. "You think this isn't a weapon?"

"I think this is something else entirely," Luka said.

He stepped closer.

And the obelisk sang louder.

A pulse ran through the land—harmless, but deep. The wind changed. The water stilled.

And in the distance… something answered.

A chime.

A toll.

Like a second beacon responding to a forgotten friend.

Luka turned slowly to the others.

"…This wasn't meant to be found by just us."

Arthur looked grim. "Then who?"

Luka's eyes met Snow's.

The baby dragon was shivering—not in fear, but in memory.

Serene stepped beside him.

"What do we do?"

Luka exhaled.

"We follow the song."