The Extra's Rise - Chapter 373

Chapter 373: Martial King (1)

The morning arrived too soon, daylight filtering through the curtains and gently pulling me from sleep. For a moment, I remained still, acutely aware of the four women who had somehow managed to arrange themselves around me during the night. Cecilia’s golden hair was spread across my chest, Rachel curled against my right side, Seraphina had claimed my left arm, and Rose had nestled against my shoulder. Their peaceful expressions made the prospect of leaving all the more difficult.

I carefully extracted myself, a maneuver requiring dexterity and patience, and slipped away to prepare for the day ahead. By the time I emerged from the shower, they were awake, the dreamlike quality of the night before replaced by the stark reality of my imminent departure.

“What time are you meeting the Martial King?” Rachel asked, attempting to keep her tone casual as she smoothed her rumpled clothing.

“Ten o’clock at the Imperial Grand Hotel,” I replied, checking my packed bag one final time. “He was very specific about the location. Apparently, he maintains a private suite there whenever he’s in the city.”

Cecilia raised an eyebrow. “The Imperial Grand? That’s practically a fortress with room service. The security systems there are designed to accommodate visiting dignitaries and royalty.” She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “At least we know you’ll be safe before he attempts to kill you with training.”

“How reassuring,” I deadpanned, but returned her smile.

Breakfast was a subdued affair compared to the previous day’s feast. My mother had prepared something simple but hearty—”training fuel,” she called it—while my father reviewed the details of my transportation and accommodations with the precision of someone attempting to control what little he could.

“The car will be waiting downstairs at nine-thirty,” he said, passing me a sleek black card. “This gives you access to the emergency fund if needed. I’ve also arranged for your regular allowance to be transferred weekly.”

“Dad, I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “The Martial King is providing room and board. I probably won’t have time to spend money anyway.”

He nodded, his expression betraying the concern he was trying to hide. “Just in case. The world can be unpredictable.”

If only he knew just how unpredictable it would become.

Aria, surprisingly, had been up early to join us for breakfast. She picked at her food, uncharacteristically quiet until she suddenly blurted out, “You’d better not come back all mysterious and cryptic. I hate it when people train with masters and return speaking in riddles.”

I laughed, grateful for the break in tension. “I promise to maintain my charming straightforwardness.”

“Debatable if that’s charming,” she muttered, but I caught the slight tremble in her voice. For all her bravado, my sister was going to miss me.

As nine-thirty approached, we gathered in the penthouse foyer. My bag—packed with the essentials and a few items the girls had insisted I take along—waited by the door. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions.

My mother broke first, stepping forward to embrace me tightly. “Be careful,” she whispered. “And come back to us in one piece.”

“I will,” I promised, returning her hug. “It’s just training, Mom. Not war.”

My father clasped my shoulder, his grip firm. “Listen to what he teaches you. The Martial King doesn’t take students lightly. This opportunity…” He paused, searching for words. “Make the most of it, son.”

“I plan to,” I assured him.

Aria punched my arm, then quickly hugged me before I could react. “Don’t forget about us normal people while you’re off becoming legendary or whatever.”

“As if you’d let me,” I replied, ruffling her hair and earning a scowl that didn’t hide her watery eyes.

Then it was time for the more complicated goodbyes. The four girls had been watching the family farewells with varying degrees of composure—Rose calm but sad, Rachel openly emotional, Seraphina rigidly controlled, and Cecilia with a forced casualness that fooled no one.

“We’ll walk down with you,” Cecilia announced, brooking no argument as she took my bag before I could protest.

In the elevator, descending toward the waiting car, the five of us stood in a silence heavy with everything we weren’t saying. I wanted to tell them how much they meant to me, how the time we’d spent together had changed me in ways I was still discovering, how I would carry them with me during the difficult months ahead.

Instead, I found myself saying, “I’ll write when I can.”

“You’d better,” Cecilia replied, her attempt at imperious command undermined by the slight catch in her voice.

When we reached the lobby, the sleek black car was already waiting outside, the driver standing at attention beside it. The moment could no longer be delayed.

Cecilia approached first, her royal upbringing evident in how she composed herself. “Don’t embarrass us by being anything less than exceptional,” she said, brushing an imaginary speck from my shoulder before rising on her tiptoes to press a swift kiss to my cheek. “Remember who’s waiting for you.”

Rachel was next, her sapphire eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I packed a healing kit in your bag,” she said softly. “The instructions are included. Please use them if—when—you need them.” She embraced me quickly, her whispered “Come back to us” almost too faint to hear.

Seraphina maintained her dignified reserve, extending her hand formally before apparently thinking better of it and stepping forward to embrace me briefly. “Train well,” she said simply. “We’ll be watching your progress.”

Rose approached last, her warm brown eyes meeting mine steadily. “Remember to rest when you can,” she advised, practical even in farewell. “Even the strongest need recovery time.” Her hug was gentle but lingering. “We’ll be here when you return.”

I wanted to say something profound, something that would convey everything I felt for them, but words seemed inadequate. In the end, I simply said, “Thank you. For everything.”

With a final nod to my family watching from the lobby entrance, I stepped into the waiting car. As it pulled away from the curb, I allowed myself one last glance back. The four of them stood together, a united front despite their differences, while my parents and Aria waited just behind them.

Two families, in a way. Both mine.

The Imperial Grand Hotel lived up to its name—a towering edifice of gleaming glass and stone that dominated its corner of the financial district. As the car pulled into the private entrance, I was immediately met by a discreet security team who verified my identity before escorting me through a series of exclusive corridors.

“The Martial King awaits you in the Phoenix Suite,” the lead security officer informed me, his expression professionally neutral. “You’re precisely on time. He appreciates punctuality.”

The Phoenix Suite occupied the entire top floor of the east wing, with panoramic views of both the city and the distant mountains beyond. As the door opened, I was struck not by the opulence I had expected, but by the austere functionality of the space. Training equipment had replaced most of the luxury furnishings, transforming what had once been a lavish sitting room into something resembling a spartan dojo.

And there, standing at the center of it all, was Magnus himself—the Martial King. In person, he seemed both more and less imposing than during our previous encounters. His physical presence was undeniably powerful, his posture perfect, his eyes sharp with intelligence and experience. Yet there was also something approachable about him now, a sense that the fearsome persona he projected in public had been partially set aside.

“Arthur Nightingale,” he said, his voice carrying the resonance unique to those who had transcended to mid Radiant-rank. “Welcome to your first day of training.”

I bowed respectfully, as tradition demanded. “Thank you for this opportunity, Master Magnus.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’ve said your goodbyes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He nodded once, decisively. “Because from this moment forward, your old life is on hold. Here, you are not a student of Mythos Academy. Here, you are simply Arthur Nightingale, a young man with potential who knows very little. Are you prepared for that reality?”

I thought of the people I’d just left behind—the family who had raised me in this world, the women who had claimed pieces of my heart, the responsibilities I’d temporarily set aside. All of it waiting for my return.

“I am,” I replied with quiet certainty.

Magnus allowed himself a small smile. “Then let us begin.”