The Extra's Rise

The battle had reached a crescendo that pushed every combatant beyond their previous limits. Arthur Nightingale stood at the center of competing forces, his body wreathed in Grey that pulsed with each labored heartbeat while blood streamed freely from his eyes and nose. The broken Unity that allowed him to channel the impossible fusion of Deepdark and Purelight outside his Domain was consuming his life force at an exponential rate.

"You're dying," Gideon observed with clinical detachment, his burning eyes tracking the way Arthur's body trembled with each use of Grey. "Every technique brings you closer to complete collapse. How much longer can you maintain this charade?"

Arthur wiped blood from his mouth, his grip on Nyxthar steady despite the agony. Around him, his allies fought with desperate precision. Rachel's Purelight blazed in waves that made Gideon's corruption recoil, while Erebus and Luna moved with coordinated grace that spoke to centuries of combat experience.

The Arch Lich flowed like liquid shadow, his twelve-foot frame moving with surprising agility as he wove between Gideon's attacks. Erebus didn't engage the Calamity directly—the power difference was too vast—but instead worked to create openings for Arthur. His skeletal hands traced patterns in the air that manifested as zones of absolute death, areas where Gideon's enhanced regeneration faltered and his artifact's power fluctuated.

Deepdark energy coiled around Erebus's form as he channeled the forbidden magics that defined his nature as an Arch Lich. Void lances materialized from the shadows, each one carrying enough destructive force to pierce through enhanced armor while simultaneously draining the life force from anything they touched. The spells weren't meant to defeat Gideon—that was impossible—but to disrupt his rhythm and create the tactical advantages Arthur needed.

"Eternal Night's Embrace," Erebus intoned, his voice carrying harmonics that made the air itself seem to darken. Deepdark magic flowed outward in waves that sought to blind Gideon's enhanced senses while simultaneously weakening his connection to the Infernal Armis. The technique was masterfully executed, showing why Erebus had earned his legendary classification through centuries of accumulated power.

Luna moved like a dancer made of starlight, her small form belying the ancient power she commanded. Where Erebus created zones of negation, she provided moments of clarity—her qilin nature purifying the corruption that sought to cloud Arthur's judgment while her presence stabilized the chaotic energies swirling around the battlefield.

When Gideon launched a devastating overhead strike, Erebus materialized directly in its path. The Arch Lich's robes billowed as he raised both hands, Deepdark flowing upward to meet the descending axe, barely redirecting the axe just enough to create an opening for Arthur.

Luna struck from the opposite side, her small fists wreathed in rainbow light as she targeted pressure points that existed in multiple dimensions simultaneously. Her attacks couldn't meaningfully damage a Calamity, but they disrupted the flow of power between Gideon and his artifact, creating brief moments where his defenses wavered.

But even with their coordinated support, Arthur could feel his strength ebbing away. The Grey was magnificent in its power, but it demanded a price his current body could not pay. Still, he had more than just his sword techniques to draw upon.

Nine circles of silver light blazed to life around Arthur as he channeled his self-developed Nightingale Method—the spellcasting technique he had refined during his time in the demon realm. The circles rotated in complex patterns that defied conventional magical theory, each one inscribed with formulae that optimized mana flow beyond normal parameters.

This was a spell Arthur created after fully studying Bahamut's Dragon Heart, his own superior way of casting nine-circle magic.

Chains of pure force erupted from the circles, seeking to bind Gideon's movements while simultaneously channeling Grey through their structure. The spell-work was flawless, executed with the kind of precision that marked true mastery, but even this level of magical sophistication couldn't bridge the fundamental gap between mortal and divine.

Arthur felt the familiar frustration building in his chest. He possessed nine-circle magic. He had achieved Sword Unity with Nyxthar. By every conventional measure, he should have been able to break through to Radiant-rank, to unlock the true potential that lay just beyond his current grasp. But something was holding him back, some final barrier that his current understanding couldn't overcome.

'So close,' he thought desperately, maintaining the nine-circle array while simultaneously channeling Grey through his blade. 'I can feel it right there, just beyond reach. What am I missing?'

"You cannot win," Gideon continued, batting aside Luna's strike while simultaneously parrying Erebus's follow-up assault. "Even if your technique can damage the Infernal Armis, you lack the endurance for a prolonged battle. You are fighting a war of attrition against someone who has transcended such limitations."

Arthur knew he was right. Each exchange left him weaker while Gideon's power seemed inexhaustible. The cracks that appeared in the artifact when Grey made contact were significant, but they weren't enough.

But Arthur Nightingale had not come this far by accepting that limitations were absolute.

"Then I'll have to use something that doesn't rely on attrition," he said quietly, his voice carrying a quality that made even Gideon pause.

Arthur's mind flashed back to his Master's final lesson—a strike that could cut open the sky itself, carving through the heavens with power that approached the divine. The Fifth Movement of his Grade 6 art, reserved for those who had transcended every boundary that defined mortal swordsmanship.

His mastery wasn't complete—wouldn't be until he achieved true Radiant-rank. But with Grey flowing through Nyxthar, he might be able to touch that impossible level for just a moment.

"Arthur," Rachel called out, sensing the shift in his energy signature. "Whatever you're planning—"

"Trust me," Arthur interrupted, raising Nyxthar while Grey flowed through the blade in patterns that made the air itself seem to thicken.

Gideon's enhanced perception immediately recognized the threat. The Second Calamity responded by channeling everything into a preemptive strike, the Infernal Armis blazing as he brought his axe down in a devastating arc that could split mountains.

Erebus moved like flowing darkness, his skeletal form interposing itself between the axe and Arthur. The Arch Lich's hands came together in a complex gesture, and Deepdark energy erupted outward in patterns that defied mortal comprehension. "Legion of the Damned," he commanded, his voice carrying the authority of true necromantic mastery.

The space around him filled with spectral warriors—not mere fragments of death, but souls bound to his will through Deepdark magic. Each ghostly figure blazed with void-touched energy as they swarmed Gideon's weapon, their sacrificial assault dissipating on contact but slowing the axe's descent by precious milliseconds while draining infinitesimal amounts of power from the Infernal Armis.

Luna spun in place, her small form becoming a whirlwind of purifying light that struck Gideon from multiple angles simultaneously. Rainbow energy flowed from her fists in patterns that disrupted the Calamity's connection to his artifact, making his devastating strike waver just enough to miss its intended target.

It was enough. Barely.

Arthur completed his preparation and raised Nyxthar toward the heavens, Grey flowing through the legendary blade in concentrations that made his entire body convulse in protest.

Fifth Movement of his Grade 6 art.

The strike began as a simple vertical cut, Nyxthar moving through the air with deceptive casualness. But as the blade reached its apex, something fundamental shifted. Grey exploded outward in patterns that defied conventional understanding, while the technique's true scope became apparent.

The sky split.

A line of perfect division appeared in the heavens above them, stretching from horizon to horizon as Arthur's technique carved through atmospheric layers and the fabric of space itself. Stars became briefly visible through the opening, while the edges glowed with Grey that refused conventional containment.

The attack descended toward Gideon with the weight of heaven behind it, carrying power that operated on scales normally reserved for demigods. The air itself seemed to part in reverence as the technique approached its target.

Gideon's eyes widened with genuine terror. The Infernal Armis blazed with desperate power as it manifested every defensive capability, while the Body aspect of the Heavenly Demon reinforced his form to withstand continent-shattering impacts.

The technique struck with a sound like the world's heartbeat stopping.

Mythical-grade artifact and impossible technique ground against each other in a display that challenged fundamental laws. Grey carved into the Infernal Armis, creating a network of cracks that spread across its surface like lightning frozen in metal, while the artifact's accumulated power fought to maintain coherence.

When the exchange concluded, both combatants stood motionless, the weight of what had occurred settling over the battlefield.

Then Gideon smiled.

"Magnificent," he breathed, genuine appreciation in his voice despite the cracks covering his artifact. "You actually damaged a weapon with a technique that should be impossible at your level. But..."

The Infernal Armis pulsed once, and the cracks began to seal as the artifact drew upon reserves that transcended normal understanding. The damage was significant, but not permanent.

"But it wasn't enough," Arthur whispered, feeling his strength finally give out as the technique's completion left him utterly drained.

Gideon's counterattack came with the fury of someone genuinely threatened for the first time. The molten axe carved through the air in a strike that promised to end everything, while the Infernal Armis channeled power that sought to impose absolute destruction.

Arthur tried to raise Nyxthar in defense, but his body betrayed him. His muscles, pushed beyond breaking by the strain of channeling Grey, simply refused to respond. His vision blurred as his broken Unity finally collapsed completely.

The axe struck with mountain-shattering force, launching Arthur's body across the battlefield like a broken doll. He felt ribs crack, felt organs rupture under the tremendous impact, felt consciousness beginning to fade as his form approached complete failure.

He was falling, the ground rushing up with fatal certainty, when something impossible happened.

A single crimson thread caught him.

Not rope or chain, but a strand that looked like crystallized light, materializing from nowhere to wrap around his torso with gentle precision. The thread stopped his descent as easily as if he weighed nothing, holding him suspended while its surface pulsed with inexplicable energies.

Gideon's follow-up attack came immediately—the molten axe carving toward Arthur's helpless form with enough power to end the fight permanently. But when the weapon struck the crimson thread, something unprecedented occurred.

Nothing happened.

The Infernal Armis, one of the seven most powerful artifacts in existence, simply could not cut through the delicate strand. The axe's edge, wielded by a transcendent being, met the thread and stopped as though it had struck something fundamentally immutable.

"What?" Gideon breathed, striking again and again, each blow failing to even scratch the strand's surface. "What power dares interfere with my authority?"

But the thread offered no explanation. It simply held Arthur suspended above the battlefield, pulsing with quiet confidence that suggested its presence was both intentional and absolute.

Arthur's consciousness hung by the same delicate strand that supported his body, his vision fading as his shattered form struggled to maintain function. Through the haze of approaching unconsciousness, he felt something stirring in the depths of his being—not the broken Unity that had failed him, but something else entirely.