The Extra Can't be A Hero

In the depths of the Demon Cult's lair in Olavaguel, one figure simmered in the heat of his jacuzzi, his chiselled and breathtaking body laid bare for his female servants to ogle. Not that they dared to raise their heads from their subservient position. He floated in the tub, sipping on chilled wine as he sprawled both legs up on the tub's edges. Smiling in satisfaction, he rested his tired muscles while brushing his dampened grey hair.

"I didn't know you had a habit of peeking," Samael suddenly spoke with his eyes closed, stunning his servants into a nervous breakdown. One of the more lustful girls felt her heartbeat accelerating, as if she had been caught committing a crime. But fortunately, the Apostle's words weren't directed at her.

"There's nothing to look at," an ethereal voice called from the void as a misty figure emerged from the edge of the bathroom.

"What do you mean by that?! My dragon is easily the size of a baby's arm!"

Samael stood up from the jacuzzi and pointed his demonised arm at the newcomer. The bony figure hovered across the bathroom floor as if unrestrained by gravity and approached the naked Apostle with a mocking smile.

"Baby's arm? That noodle?"

"H-Huh?! N-Noodle?! You take that back! I-It's shrivelled up now cause of the hot tub, but it'll get bigger eventually!"

"... Seriously, I don't care about your manhood."

Zuphil tapped his staff on the ground, and instantly, the maidservants lost consciousness, like puppets whose strings had been cut. He raised his arm, and a towel came flying towards Samael.

"Dry yourself and get dressed, we have official business. The Prophet has a message for you."

"Hoh? The high and lofty Mist Warlock, the protector of the Demon Cult, actually came all this way to deliver a message?"

Samael joked as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

"So? What's the urgency?"

"Well, it isn't that important. I'll be taking over the retrieval of the 'Key Fragment' and the matter of the Clay Emperor."

"..."

Samael was stunned silent. Even as the Apostle of Chaos, this came as an absolute surprise to him. It was one thing for the Prophet to send him back-up, but to send Zuphil, who was essentially the Demon Cult's number two, not to aid, but to take over his role in Olavaguel? It was way too sudden.

And the Mist Warlock was acting as if it wasn't a big deal.

That nonchalance irked the Apostle the wrong way, but he didn't show it on his face. Rather, he beamed in delight as he declared:

"Heh, if that's the case, I'm free of my duty here?"

"Ah, that's not it."

Zuphil shook his head and pointed up to the ceiling.

"The second reason why I'm here is to pass you a warning."

"A warning?"

"Yes!"

The bony man's sinister face turned, as if he were watching the most amusing show on the planet.

"The young Hero has discovered your location and is going to raid here soon! Oh, and they'd brought Gallahad Solaris, the Commander of the Golden Dragon Order and a Sun Knight with Seven Suns condensed! I'll need you to hold them off while I deal with the Clay Emperor matter."

"..."

The Apostle of Chaos froze, utterly unsure of how to react to Zuphil's statement. But just as Samael was about to recover his wits, the hidden base quaked violently as sand flowed down from its crevices. The sudden shift woke the Apostle up as he heightened his senses, only to lock in on the domineering presence weighing him down.

"Gallahad Solaris… I'd heard rumours, but he's as strong as they say."

Even though thick walls and desert sand separated them, Samael could get a clear indication of his opponent's strength. Unlike the immature hero, the Commander of the Golden Dragon Order was on a whole other level.

There was no telling who would win if they clashed for real.

And Gallahad wasn't alone. The members of Eldorin and a few new presences were right beside the Commander, and all of them were staring daggers at the base. Seeing that he was cornered, Samael raised his arms in defeat and protested:

"Hmmm, you know what? I think I'll pass on that order."

"Hoh? You're disobeying a direct order from the Prophet?"

"Heh, I only joined the Demon Cult because I wished to live a long life where I could do whatever I pleased. If I throw my life away here, it defeats my purpose, doesn't it?"

Samael shrugged and flashed his pearly white teeth.

"Besides, I'm the Apostle of Chaos… Orders are my antithesis."

"HAHA, spoken like a true Demon!"

Zuphil paused for a moment before breaking into bellowing laughter. Impressed, or rather, satisfied with Samael's answer, he threw a grey token into the Apostle's hands. The handsome man furrowed his brows as he raised the token bearing the Demon King's sigil, unsure of what it represented.

"What's this?"

"Trust me, Apostle… Use that token and I will help you create more chaos than you'll ever imagine."

"Hoh?"

Samael held the token tight with a disgustingly bright smile. And with a wave of mana, he unleashed the carnage hidden within the grey token.

❖❖❖

Gallahad stood resolute at the edge of the ridge, his golden cloak fluttering in the wind as he surveyed the Demon Cult's hidden stronghold below. Behind him, the gathered members of Eldorin shifted uneasily, their expressions caught somewhere between awe and uncertainty. None dared to speak—the weight of the man's presence was too immense.

As the revered Commander of the Golden Dragon Order, Gallahad's reputation was etched into the annals of history, his deeds spoken of with reverence across kingdoms. His armour, inscribed with ancient runes of valour, gleamed faintly under the overcast sky, a testament to countless battles endured and won. Each step he took seemed to carry the gravity of a hundred victories.

The Eldorin elites, though formidable in their own right, felt like untempered steel in comparison. Assembled by Amon and Yue, they were a band of gifted outliers—mavericks rather than traditional knights. While each had carved their path of strength, standing behind Gallahad made them feel like squires standing in the shadow of a myth.

And to make matters worse, their temporary commander—the one thread holding their cohesion—was notably absent. To save his friends, Leon had heeded the Herald's advice and descended into the inverted pyramid, leaving Gallahad and the rest of Eldorin to deal with the Apostle of the Demon Cult.

Logistically, it was the best move. Gallahad had far more experience as a commander, and his strength towered over Leon's. Having Leon present would just be a waste of resources. Hence, Leon brought Ellahan and Horus along in his rescue mission, while the rest joined forces with Gallahad for this raid.

In his silence, Gallahad's very presence was suffocating. But that silence was broken when one of his adjutants walked over and asked:

"Was it wise? To let Leon enter the heart of El Dorado like that?"

"He's not alone," Gallahad replied without moving his eyes away. "Sir Horus will be with him."

"Still… I'm not sure if we can trust the words of that seer. Everything about her seems suspicious."

As senior Knights who had served the Solaris House for decades, they had experienced all kinds of fraud and deception. Something in their gut was screaming at them not to trust the Herald, but alas, her information turned out to be true.

They had found the Demon Cult's base, and Leon did manage to find traces of his kidnapped friends. While they didn't like the Herald, they couldn't deny free and reliable information based on a gut feeling.

"We'll investigate the seer after this ordeal is over. Now… let's focus on smoking out the snake."

Gallahad stepped forward, the earth seeming to steady beneath him as he unslung a massive bronze greataxe from his back. Unlike his fellow Solaris warriors, who favoured swords and lances, the Commander of the Golden Order had long chosen raw power over finesse.

His weapon—Divine Severance—was a Mythic-tiered relic, a peerless artefact that stood just a level beneath Leon's Heroic-tiered Ascalon. Its burnished surface shimmered with runes, and flames of Sunfire curled lazily along its edge, as if hungering for battle.

Without a word, Gallahad lifted the axe high and brought it crashing down with titanic force. The ground beneath the Demon Cult's base cracked violently, and a deep tremor rippled through the valley. It was no actual strike—merely a warning, a seismic message meant to rattle the Apostle from whatever hole he was hiding in.

At the same time, it served as Gallahad's warm-up, a casual test of motion that would have shattered armies if he had meant it. His eyes narrowed, and he adjusted his grip. That had been restraint.

Now came the real blow.

Just as Gallahad prepared to unleash his final, decisive swing, the ground beneath his feet convulsed with violent force, like a slumbering volcano waking in rage. The tremor was unnatural, deeper than mere tectonic unrest.

Eyes narrowing in sudden alarm, Gallahad instinctively leapt back, his axe still burning with restrained might. The warriors of Eldorin followed suit, retreating in disarray as the earth split open before them. A moment later, a column of grey-black light erupted into the sky, piercing the clouds like a spear of corruption.

Space itself groaned under the pressure, tearing open in jagged rifts that bled pure demonic essence. From these spatial scars, a toxic downpour of malevolent energy began to flood the land, twisting the very soil beneath their feet.

And then came the swarm.

Demons—by the hundreds—spilt forth from the void, shrieking as they tore through the veil. The sky darkened, turning an unnatural shade of ash, and the air grew sharp and cold, as if night had fallen in an instant. Gallahad stood frozen, not out of fear, but in grim realisation. This was no mere defence. This was a summoning.

From the heart of the cult's base, a figure blurred into view and rose into the air, suspended above the chaos. Samael.

His form was wreathed in a dense, demonic energy that pulsed like a living aura. Eyes wild with ecstasy, he turned slowly in the air, basking in the torrent of power now coursing through him—power that bent the world to his will, and trembled in the palm of his hand.

"Zuphil, you madman! You broke down the barriers between the Demon Realm and this dimension!"

"Kekeke, it's not perfect. It'll last an hour at best."

"BAHAHAHA, if you could have done this, you should have done it sooner!"

Although the spatial tears were only temporary, Samael knew that this was only the beginning. By weakening the barriers between the two dimensions, demonic energy would be able to seep into this realm at a greater rate, and the summoning of demons would require fewer resources in the future.

So now… it was only a matter of time before the Demon Cult's grand plan came into fruition.

"That token in your hand gives you authority over all the Demons summoned. Use it as you see fit."

Zuphil held his arms behind his back before giving one final stare at Gallahad and the other members of Eldorin. And with a jovial smile, he said:

"All you need is to buy me one hour… It will all be over by then."