The Extra's Rise - Chapter 360

Chapter 360: End of Inter-Academy Festival (5)
Blood magic.

The crimson tendrils writhing through the air were unmistakable—a type of magic based on miasma instead of mana that could only be wielded by vampires and, by extension, the cultists of the Red Chalice who worshipped them. Magic that should have been extinct, relegated to history books and cautionary tales.

My mind raced as Mathias stepped in front of me, his wind and dark mana wrapping around us protectively in swirling layers of midnight blue and silver. The Commander’s presence was like a fortress, his power radiating with controlled precision.

But beneath my combat focus lurked a far more troubling question: Why?

Why would a Cardinal of the Red Chalice Cult reveal themselves so recklessly? The world had believed vampires and their cult were completely eradicated decades ago. When I’d tried to expose their continued existence before, they’d gone to extraordinary lengths to maintain their secrecy, sacrificing even high-ranking members to preserve their shadows.

So why now? What had changed?

I didn’t understand, and that terrified me more than the attack itself.

“So it was you, right?” A voice boomed across the balcony, resonant with power and arrogance. The Cardinal, still obscured by swirling crimson miasma, addressed me directly.

“Me?” I managed, buying time as I analyzed potential escape routes.

“The one who fought Vale,” he clarified, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. Vale—the Bishop I’d encountered in Redmond City three months ago. The encounter that should have been a minor subplot in the novel’s progression, but had somehow escalated into something far more significant.

‘This means this Cardinal is behind him,’ I thought. ‘But the novel never mentioned a Cardinal overseer for Vale’s operations.’

BANG!

The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the night air as Mathias fired. His bullets moved too fast for my eyes to track—streaks of concentrated mana that shredded through the Cardinal’s blood constructs with surgical precision.

“As expected of the strongest Nighthawk,” the Cardinal said, admiration evident in his voice as he materialized from the miasma. “Your gun magic truly is on a different level.”

The figure before us wore elaborate scarlet robes embroidered with ancient symbols, each stitch seemingly alive with pulsing energy. In his hand, he carried a staff crowned with a crystallized drop of what appeared to be blood, buzzing with power—undoubtedly an Ancient-grade artifact.

I glanced at Mathias, struck by his unwavering composure. There wasn’t a trace of fear or concern in his stance.

‘Mathias is stronger than the Cardinal,’ Luna’s voice confirmed in my mind, her spiritual presence analyzing the power dynamics. ‘I don’t know why the Cardinal would appear here under such unfavorable conditions.’

That made sense. Commander Mathias was renowned as one of the strongest Immortal-rankers in the world—the peak of human potential before transcending to Radiant. While the Cardinal also held Immortal rank and possessed both miasma and mana, the gap between mid-Immortal and peak-Immortal was as vast as the difference between an ocean and a lake.

The Nighthawks were unique among the empire’s forces—users with unusual Gifts that weren’t traditionally powerful but instead peculiar and specialized. Gifts that conventional defense systems couldn’t easily counter.

Such as Mathias’s Gift.

His ability allowed him to properly imbue mana into firearms, making him one of the few gun users in a world dominated by more traditional magical implements. Each bullet contained magic circles of staggering complexity, compressed into projectiles smaller than my fingernail.

“I am not here to fight though,” the Cardinal stated calmly as Mathias fired another volley at him.

My eyes widened as the bullets—each imbued with eight-circle magic—all stopped midair, suspended by a single crimson thread that seemed to materialize from nowhere.

A cold wave of dread washed over me. There was only one person in the entire world with this particular manifestation of blood magic.

The Pope of the Red Chalice Cult.

“Red Chalice cult,” Mathias said, voice flat. “Finally showed yourself?”

“Well, you knew about us enough anyway,” the Cardinal shrugged, the casual gesture incongruous with the tension crackling through the air.

My thoughts stumbled over this revelation. ‘They knew? The Empire was aware the Red Chalice cult survived?’ This directly contradicted what I’d read in the novel, where their continued existence remained hidden until much later in the timeline.

“My Pope gave me this magic,” the Cardinal continued, caressing the crimson thread with something approaching reverence. “I don’t believe even someone like you can break it.”

“I agree,” Mathias nodded, his gun still trained on the Cardinal’s heart. “But they can.”

The Cardinal’s eyes widened as the space around him suddenly distorted, reality itself tearing apart like fragile paper. In an instant, he was surrounded by nearly invisible sword strikes suspended in air alongside lances of Purelight that hummed with light magic.

“You dare in my Academy?” Eva’s voice cut through the night with cold fury as she descended from the sky, her navy blue hair streaming behind her like a banner of war. The Headmistress of Mythos Academy materialized on one side of the balcony, her presence alone causing the air to grow heavy.

Opposite her, Magnus also appeared, his stormy eyes cold as winter. The Martial King’s power was more subdued but no less terrifying—a contained hurricane waiting to be unleashed.

“Do you think your Pope’s threads can stop this?” Mathias asked, his gun still aimed at the Cardinal’s heart.

“No,” the Cardinal admitted, a flicker of genuine fear crossing his features for the first time. “So I shall leave now. I will see you later, Arthur Nightingale.”

Eva and Magnus moved in perfect synchronization, their attacks converging on the Cardinal from multiple angles simultaneously. But the crimson thread flashed once, impossibly bright, halting their combined assault for a fraction of a second.

That infinitesimal pause was all the Cardinal needed to slip between the fabric of reality and escape.

I blinked, trying to process what had just happened, when a whispered message reached my ears—words meant only for me.

“I came here under the orders of my Pope. She said she liked the flower crown.”

I froze, my entire body going rigid as the words penetrated my consciousness. The flower crown. A seemingly insignificant detail from my previous life—a handcrafted gift I had made only once, for only one person.

No.

My mind spun wildly, desperately trying to find alternative explanations. The flower crown could be a code, a misdirection, a coincidence. It had to be. This world’s magic systems were complex and varied, but none that I knew of could reach across the boundaries between worlds to extract memories from a past life.

Yet the mention was too specific, too precise. In my previous life, before the accident, before the reincarnation, I had spent an afternoon in a sunlit park weaving wildflowers into a crown. A gift for someone special. Someone I had loved with every fiber of my being.

Someone who had died in my arms on rain-slicked asphalt, her blood pooling beneath us as I begged her to stay with me.

Someone who couldn’t possibly exist in this world.

My breathing grew shallow as I eliminated possibilities one by one, each deduction leading inexorably toward a conclusion too horrifying to accept. There was no way for anyone in this world to know about that flower crown. It existed only in my memories of a different reality, a different life.

Unless…

“Arthur?” Mathias’s voice seemed distant, concerned. “Are you alright?”

I couldn’t respond. The world was tilting around me, reality reconfiguring itself as pieces of a puzzle I had never wanted to solve fell into place with terrifying clarity.

It couldn’t be possible. The Pope of the Red Chalice Cult couldn’t be her. The leader of an organization of blood-drinking fanatics. The most dangerous Cardinal-level magic user in the known world.

It was impossible. Absurd. A paranoid delusion brought on by combat stress and magical exhaustion.

And yet… the flower crown. A detail so small, so personal, so specific to a life I had lived in another world entirely.

The edges of my vision began to darken as my legs gave way beneath me. I was vaguely aware of Mathias catching me, of Eva and Magnus converging with urgent voices and probing magic.

But their concerns felt trivial compared to the revelation consuming my consciousness like wildfire.

My last coherent thought before darkness claimed me was a desperate denial of the truth my mind had already accepted:

‘It cannot be Emma.’