The Extra's Rise - Chapter 500

Chapter 500: Lumiaren City (6)
Vampire Ancestor.

Well, that explained the slight tickling at the back of my neck that had felt suspiciously like dread wrapped in velvet.

‘No wonder I couldn’t sense her properly,’ Luna muttered in my head, her voice edged with something close to actual alarm. ‘She’s low Immortal-rank, Arthur.’

‘Is she injured?’ I asked, hopeful in the same way someone might be hopeful when their enemy had a limp but was still driving a tank.

‘Yes,’ Luna replied. ‘She took out three Elders. Took a bit out of her. But even drained… she’s on a different level. We’re talking about someone who danced with Magnus Draykar and lived to tell about it.’

Of course she was. Because why not? The universe didn’t like me that much.

Even with Seraphina at my side, our duo had only just started reliably murdering high Ascendant-ranked Elders—plural, yes, but only with excellent teamwork and a hefty helping of divine luck. The being in front of us wasn’t just higher on the food chain. She’d opened a new restaurant, set up a table, and was about to eat us for lunch.

I glanced quickly at the suspended Elders. Elder Wei was clearly beyond help, but Lin and Zhao still had faint mana signatures. If we could disrupt the ritual quickly enough, they might survive. Might being the operative word when facing an Immortal-rank vampire.

No visible weapon, and her mana signature was crystalline-clear—mental-type, probably some rare Mind aspect specialization. If my guess was right, that put her squarely in the “eight-circle mage who plays with brains like most people fiddle with puzzle cubes” category.

She floated forward without actually doing any of the things that involved feet or physics. Her blood-red gown rippled like liquid around her slender form, defying gravity with the same casual disdain with which she regarded us. Her voice dripped charm and murder in equal measure.

“Ah. The Princess of Mount Hua and Draykar’s little protégé. How perfect.” Her smile was a crescent of perfect ivory, marred only by the delicate points of her fangs. “Your brother was quite helpful in arranging this meeting.”

The doors slammed shut behind us with a noise that said “finality” more than any speech ever could.

Great. No exits. No backup. Just us, and the vampire who was casually radiating superiority like an overclocked space heater of doom.

Reinforcements? Maybe. If they arrived. If they were close. If they didn’t immediately die. In other words, not soon enough.

‘Erebus,’ I thought sharply.

‘Yes, Master,’ came the reply, smooth and crisp like steel on silk.

Bones burst from my shadow like eager hounds. Not just any bones, mind you. Blood Wyvern bones, lovingly arranged into a full suit of Bone Armour with the efficiency of a murderous interior decorator. My Lich was good like that.

The vampire watched the transformation with a glint of amusement. “A Lich made of Blood Wyvern’s bones,” she said thoughtfully. “How interesting. My name is Carmilla. Remember it, if you live long enough for regrets.”

I didn’t bother replying. I knew her type—too old, too smug, and probably filled out more tax forms than I’d had birthdays. You didn’t beat her with speeches.

Beside me, Seraphina shifted into a perfect Mountain Wind stance, Moonfall gleaming with frost in her hands. Her face betrayed nothing, but I could feel her mana aligning with mine—the synchronization we’d perfected over years of fighting together.

The air around Carmilla shimmered faintly. Pressure built in the chamber like a storm about to break. Even Evolvis, which never cared for drama, seemed to gain weight in my hands. My instincts screamed that I was standing at the edge of a cliff looking down, and Carmilla was gravity.

But I still moved.

Because waiting never helped. And if we were going to die, I wanted to do it with a sword in my hand, not a clever plan that hadn’t had time to finish loading.

Purelight flared around me, burning bright and sharp against the crimson shadows. The ancient technique passed down through Mount Hua’s lineage—not my specialty, but necessary against the undead.

First movement: God Flash.

And the duel with death began.

I moved faster than sense, faster than thought—faster, frankly, than sanity recommended. The world turned into streaks of white and violet, sound twisted into silence, and my sword cut forward like a question that demanded answers.

The answer was a magic circle, crimson and glowing, forming in Carmilla’s palm like an arrogant “No” with artistic flair. My blade stopped dead against it with a sound like disappointed metal.

“Wow, not bad,” she said, as if she were reviewing a cup of tea she hadn’t ordered. “Most humans don’t even register to my senses anymore.”

I yanked my sword back just in time for the entire room to turn into snow and ice.

Snow plum blossoms exploded around Carmilla in a flurry of silver and pale blue, each petal sharp enough to split hairs and probably atoms. Seraphina’s sword was already mid-swing, trailing frost in precise arcs, her expression carved from marble—beautiful, unreadable, and incredibly annoyed.

“Touch him and die,” she stated simply, as if explaining a particularly obvious natural law.

Carmilla responded by bleeding into the air. Not metaphorically—actual drops of blood launched from her fingertips, turning the air into a crimson storm that pierced through the blossoms like they owed her money.

‘She’s too high,’ I thought, which, in fairness, was less an observation and more a frantic internal scream.

So I did what all smart people do when things get too hard.

I cheated.

I pushed every ounce of power into overdrive. Deepdark wrapped around Evolvis like shadow given purpose. My aura flared—fire, ice, wind, lightning, gravity, all ten elements howling in synchrony like a very angry orchestra. The Blood Wyvern bones on my arms cracked under the pressure. Something inside me protested in a language made of pain.

Second movement: Hollow Eclipse.

A crescent of annihilation slashed forward, pure energy condensed into a single, vicious arc. Carmilla’s eyes narrowed. This time her circle didn’t form as quickly, and when it did, her hand trembled ever so slightly.

The collision was like a sun having an argument with a black hole. The circle held—but only barely. A hairline fracture appeared across its surface, spreading like a spider’s web.

And then she moved.

One moment she was there. The next she was everywhere. A hundred crimson threads carved through the air like reality had sprung a leak. Seraphina raised her blade, but she wasn’t fast enough. Her ice couldn’t keep up. The blood spears came for her chest like they had appointments to keep.

Time slowed. I saw each crimson needle with perfect clarity, calculated their trajectories with mathematical precision. I saw where they would pierce Seraphina’s body, which organs they would shred, how her blood would spray across the chamber walls.

I saw her death.

Something inside me—something primal, something beyond reason or calculation—screamed in defiance.

“NO!”

I moved.

No thoughts. No hesitation. Just desperation, wrapped in bone and lit on fire.

My core screamed. I felt it break—no, not break—ascend. A final barrier shattered inside me, something cosmic clicking into place. The sensation was like waking up and realizing the dream was real and also trying to kill you.

It was as if I’d been looking at the world through frosted glass my entire life, and suddenly someone had wiped it clean. Mana pathways I’d never noticed before revealed themselves like constellations. The universe’s underlying structure—its rules, its patterns, its secrets—suddenly made a kind of terrible, beautiful sense.

Peak Integration-rank.

Power surged into me like I’d grabbed a live wire made of mana and bad decisions. Every cell in my body rewrote itself, recalibrated to contain the new influx of energy. Bones broke and remade themselves. Muscles tore and reformed. My blood boiled and cooled in the span of a heartbeat.

I screamed—not in pain, though there was plenty, but in transcendence.

Evolvis answered my call, resonating with my new power, ancient inscriptions glowing with white-hot intensity along its blade. The sword, which had always felt like an extension of my arm, now felt like an extension of my soul.

My sword swung in a blur, intercepting the spears. I caught three. The fourth sliced across my side, drawing a line of fire across my ribs. The fifth went through my chest with a wet, terrible sound.

Carmilla tilted her head. “Interesting,” she said, the way an autopsy technician might describe a particularly curious organ. “A breakthrough in the face of death. How… quaint.”

I fell to one knee. Everything—lungs, heart, ribs—complained. Loudly. And in unison. Blood pooled beneath me, darkening the stone floor. The world swam in and out of focus, painted in shades of agony.

Yet, even as my body failed, my mind remained crystal clear. I could see every mana strand in the room, could follow them to their sources and destinations. I could see the ritual Carmilla had crafted, the way it drained life from the Elders to fuel her power. I could see the weakness in its structure, the critical junction point where everything connected.

I raised my head, meeting Carmilla’s eyes. She stared back, amused at first, then with growing confusion as she realized what I was seeing.

“Impossible,” she whispered. “You’re just a human.”

I smiled through bloody teeth. “Not anymore.”

With the last of my strength, I plunged Evolvis into the floor—directly into the center of the blood sigil that powered her ritual. The ancient-grade artifact sword pierced the stone like it was air, driving deep into the very foundation of the pavilion.

The effect was immediate and catastrophic.

The sigil fractured. The blood ritual collapsed in on itself, feedback surging through Carmilla’s carefully constructed spell network. The suspended Elders dropped to the floor as their bonds dissolved. Power meant to flow into Carmilla reversed direction, tearing back through her like a tsunami.

Seraphina caught me just before I could fall face-first into the floor. Her arms shook. She was speaking, but her voice sounded distant, like someone yelling through a waterfall.

The world tilted.

As I teetered between life and the other thing, I saw Carmilla’s blood circle—the shield she had so smugly maintained—begin to crack. Not shatter. Not explode. But crack, like ice under a gentle boot.

The chill of the Northern Peak.

It was silent. Absolute.

And then—her mana trembled.

Not much. Not nearly enough. But it was the first time Carmilla had looked concerned.

She raised her hand, blood gathering at her fingertips for a final, fatal strike. Even wounded, even with her ritual disrupted, she was still an Immortal-rank vampire. Still powerful enough to end us both with a thought.

But before she could release her attack, the temperature in the room plummeted.

The chill of the Northern Peak.

I felt something behind me. A touch on my back—warm, desperate. A sensation I hadn’t felt since I was a child being carried through snow too deep for my legs. And then… wetness.

Tears.

I lost consciousness.