The Extra's Rise - Chapter 263

Chapter 263: Bishop Vale (1) Chapter 263: Bishop Vale (1) The power gap between me and the Bishop wasn’t just vast-it was insurmountable.

Despite the injuries Carrie inflicted upon him, the massive gap stil existed.

And I knew that.

But knowing didn’t change anything.

The cold reality settled in my stomach like lead, yet my grip on my sword remained steady, unwavering despite the tremors threatening to overtake my limbs.

I just had to hold on.

Because that was all it took to make the impossible possible.

One moment.

One chance.

That’s all I needed.

The air around us twisted, reality bending under the weight of something far greater than just mana.

Colors inverted, then dulled to monochrome before bleeding back into existence, distorted and wrong.

The very fabric of space seemed to fold in on itself, creating pockets of nothingness that swallowed sound.

Bishop Vale’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, a predatory light dancing in their depths.

“Is this…

a Domain?” His voice carried no fear, only intrigue, like a scientist observing an unexpected phenomenon beneath his microscope.

Something to be studied, dissected, understood.

He exhaled slowly, his grip on his staff loosening ever so slightly, the ornate wood gleaming with a sickly crimson light that pulsed in time with an unseen heartbeat.

“A supernatural Domain…

how interesting.” His gaze flickered to my side, where the translucent form of the Lich hovered, skeletal fingers weaving complex patterns through the air, its hollow eye sockets burning with ethereal fire.

“Ah.

I assume this is the Gift of your Lich?” He smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant-all teeth and no warmth, like a wound carved into flesh.

“Incredible.

Truly.” He looked back at me, the amusement in his expression curdling into something sharper, more dangerous.

“You are a terrifying talent, Arthur Nightingale.

Given time, you could become a threat.

A real one.” His eyes darkened, pupils expanding until they nearly swallowed the iris.

“Unfortunately, you are far from my level.” He raised his staff, the wood creaking as if alive, hungry, and the air grew thick with the scent of copper and decay.

I moved.

My muscles bunched, propelling me forward with every ounce of speed I could muster, Purelight blazing along my blade as I prepared to strike- Too late.

A tide of blood-forged mana erupted from his fingertips, twisting and surging toward me in an unrelenting wave.

It wasn’t just raw power-it was intelligent, alive in a way magic shouldn’t be, tendrils of crimson energy seeking me out like predators scenting prey.

I barely had time to react, to shift my stance.

I raised my sword, Purelight blazing along its edge as I swung down, cutting a diagonal arc through the air, the blade leaving trails of white fire in its wake- Impact.

The sheer force rattled through my arms, my bones screaming in protest as the shock traveled up from my hands to my shoulders, then down my spine.

I gritted my teeth, barely holding my ground as the wave of magic crashed against me, pushing me back, forcing my feet to slide against the warped ground of the Domain.

My heels dug furrows into the floor, the pressure building with each passing second.

The only reason I wasn’t already dead was the armor that clung to me like a second skin-Erebus’s Bone Armor.

The midnight-black plates absorbed some of the impact, glowing with a dull purple light as they consumed the energy directed at me.

Even so, the pressure was unbearable, like being caught in the path of an avalanche, the weight threatening to crush me completely.

The Bishop wasn’t even trying.

His expression remained relaxed, almost bored, as he directed the tide of blood magic with casual flicks of his fingers, as if conducting an orchestra rather than attempting to obliterate a human being.

I shifted my stance, digging deeper, summoning more of my own mana to reinforce the blade.

The Purelight responded, burning brighter, pushing back against the tide-but it wasn’t enough.

For every inch I gained, the Bishop’s power surged again, forcing me back two more.

“Enough of this farce,” he sighed, his voice tinged with irritation, like he was putting down a particularly annoying pet.

His mana shifted, condensing- Astral energy.

Raw.

Overwhelming.

A tsunami compared to the mere wave he’d sent before.

And then he attacked the Domain itself.

The space around us shuddered, cracks forming at the very edges of my perception, spreading like spiderwebs across the fabric of reality.

Light spilled through these fractures-normal light from the world outside, piercing the veil of the Domain.

The Lich hissed, a sound like dry leaves scraping across stone, its skeletal fingers twitching as it strained to hold the Domain together, to maintain the pocket of altered reality it had created.

I watched the cracks spread further, my time running out as the Domain began to collapse.

Now or never.

I lunged forward, pushing off the ground with such force that the floor beneath me cratered, sending chunks of debris flying.

Desperation.

A last-ditch effort.

My sword struck out, a flash of Purelight arcing through the air as I aimed for the junction where his neck met his shoulder-a killing blow if it landed.

Blocked.

A single flick of his staff deflected my strike, the wood meeting metal with a sound like thunder.

The impact sent a shockwave through my arms, my wrist nearly snapping under the sheer weight of it.

The force of the collision created a blast of air that rippled outward, disturbing the dust that had settled on the floor.

I twisted in mid-air, using the momentum from the deflection to spin, attempting to bring my blade around in a horizontal slash at his midsection, my body contorting in ways that shouldn’t have been possible for a normal human.

The Bishop moved with impossible grace, stepping back just enough that my blade missed by millimeters, close enough that it severed a loose thread from his robes.

“Predictable,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that somehow cut through the chaos of battle.

I landed, my boots skidding across the floor, and immediately launched into another attack-a feint high, then dropping low to sweep at his legs.

The Bishop didn’t even bother to dodge the feint, seeing through it instantly, and simply raised his foot as my blade swept beneath, like a dancer performing a well-rehearsed routine.

In the split second of vulnerability as my blade passed harmlessly beneath him, he struck.

His staff blurred, the wood elongating, shifting, becoming something more sinister.

I brought my sword up to parry, but the staff changed direction mid-strike, curving around my defenses like a living thing.

I barely managed to land on my feet, but the moment I regained balance- He was already there.

One moment, he stood three paces away.

The next, he materialized before me, the air distorting around his form as if reality itself bent to accommodate his presence.

His hand shot forward.

A blur of motion.

A precise strike.

I dodged-or I thought I did, throwing myself to the side, my reflexes pushed to their absolute limit.

Pain exploded in my ribs.

A glancing blow-and still, it felt like being hit by a wrecking ball.

Something cracked beneath my armor, a sharp, sickening sound that resonated through my chest.

The force sent me flying, tumbling across the floor like a discarded doll.

I hit the ground, hard, my breath ripped from my lungs in a violent exhale.

Stars exploded behind my eyes, reality fragmenting into pieces that refused to come back together.

Dark spots swam in my vision.

My fingers twitched around my sword, my mind struggling to catch up, to process what had happened.

How had he moved so fast?

How had he predicted exactly where I would dodge?

I couldn’t keep up.

This was what it meant to fight someone above you.

Not a battle.

Not a struggle.

A lesson in inevitability.

Like trying to hold back the tide with your bare hands, like trying to outrun an avalanche.

I tried to rise, pushing myself up on trembling arms.

Blood dripped from my lips, spattering on the floor beneath me, each drop a testament to the gap between us.

My armor had cracked in places, hairline fractures running through the once-immaculate surface, Deepdark leaking from the gaps like smoke.

“Pathetic,” the Bishop muttered, twirling his staff with casual grace, his robes swirling around him in defiance of gravity itself.

“You’ve impressed me, Arthur Nightingale.

But tricks only get you so far.” He advanced slowly, deliberately, each step resonating with purpose.

I could feel his mana building again, gathering like storm clouds on the horizon, promising devastation.

I gasped for breath, pushing myself up, my entire body screaming in protest.

My left arm hung at an odd angle, likely dislocated from the impact.

I rolled my shoulder back, forcing the joint into place with a sickening pop that sent fresh waves of agony cascading through me.

I needed something.

Something more.

Something else.

The Domain was failing, the walls between realities thinning with each passing second.

The Lich’s power was fading, its form becoming more transparent, more ethereal.

Soon, it would collapse entirely, and with it, any advantage it had given me.

My gaze darted toward her.

Reika stood at the edge of the fading Domain, her eyes wide with horror, her body trembling as she watched the one-sided battle unfold.

Even from here, I could see the faint outline of symbols pulsing beneath her skin, a power waiting to be unleashed.

“Reika!” I called, my voice hoarse, broken, yet somehow carrying across the distance between us.

She froze, like a deer caught in headlights, her breath visibly hitching in her chest.

The Bishop’s attention flicked toward her as well, his eyes narrowing as he assessed this new factor in the equation.

His lips curled in a smirk, as if he’d discovered the punchline to a joke only he understood.

Her fists clenched, her body trembling as black inked letters shimmered into existence on her skin, pulsing, waiting.

They crawled up her arms like living things, forming patterns that hurt to look at directly, symbols from a language never meant for human tongues.

I met her eyes across the battlefield, holding her gaze with an intensity that transcended the chaos around us.

“Use it on me.”