I Reincarnated as an Extra in a Reverse Harem World-Chapter 95: Warning

Paladin Theron stood near the grand pillars of the cathedral, his body still and upright like a soldier at post.

But inside—

He was crumbling.

His gaze was fixed on the High Priest, who now lay crumpled at Cedric’s feet, his dignity reduced to broken whispers and a torn soul.

"I regret ever being born..."

That single phrase...

That was what shattered him.

Not the screams. Not the breaking bones. Not even the spiritual torture that had leaked into the room like blood from a cracked chalice.

It was that line.

Spoken by the highest-ranking holy figure in Velmora’s Church.

A man who once preached about endurance, penance, mercy.

Now reduced to... that.

Theron swallowed.

His throat was dry as scorched earth.

The words stuck.

He slowly turned his gaze toward Cedric.

The man stood silently before the statue of the Goddess.

A divine sculpture—majestic, radiant, crafted in honor of Elisera, the Matron of Grace.

And yet...

The man who stood before it looked like something else entirely.

His face was veiled in that same soft shadow, smooth like mist yet impenetrable as black stone. No features could be discerned, and that mystery held an unbearable weight. He looked less like a priest.

More like a curse wrapped in robes.

A devil masquerading in divine silence.

No...

Worse.

A devil wouldn’t be this calm. A devil would scream, laugh, mock.

Cedric did none of that.

He simply... existed.

And his presence alone shattered people.

’A man who can make another human being wish they were never born... in mere hours...’

Theron’s fists trembled.

He tried to reason, to anchor himself.

’Even with our most extreme confession methods, even with a team of Paladins, potions, relics—We can’t do that.We’ve tortured criminals, heretics, cult leaders. I’ve seen men go mad, beg, curse, die.

But I’ve never seen someone stripped so utterly... without a single strike...’

And then it hit him.

Theron had been standing here the entire time.

Untouched.

Unharmed.

Cedric hadn’t raised a finger against him.

Hadn’t spoken a single threat.

Hadn’t so much as looked his way more than twice.

But that was the cruelest part.

Because in that silence...

In that unspoken tension, in the expectation of being next...

He had suffered.

Theron had endured a psychological torment more effective than any brand, more chilling than fire on skin.

’He didn’t do anything. He just turned away from me.’

And That was enough. He wanted Cedric to speak to him—wanted a shout, a strike, a punishment.

Anything would be better than this feeling.

The feeling of being weighed, measured, and ignored.

And that was the worst punishment of all.

’He knew.

He knew I was watching, trembling.

He knew I’d feel this way.

He planned for it.

This wasn’t madness. It was deliberate.’

Theron felt sweat crawl down the back of his neck.

Even his divine energy couldn’t suppress the chill that had taken root in his spine.

He glanced again at Cedric, still unmoving, still gazing up at the statue of the Goddess.

As if she herself were being judged.

The silence stretched.

And in it, Theron heard the echo of his own heartbeat.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

A single thought crept into his mind, unwelcome, monstrous, but too solid to ignore.

’This man is not a prophet.

This man is not a saint.

This man is something else.

And if the Goddess truly sent him...

Then perhaps she no longer wants to save us.

Perhaps she wants to burn us to ash.’

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

Cedric raised his hand.

Golden-white light radiated from his palm, slow at first—like ripples across a divine lake—then poured down like holy rain onto the broken, writhing form of the High Priest.

The light soaked into him, thread by agonizing thread.

He could feel it—those countless bone fragments embedded in his flesh, piercing his heart, slicing his lungs, scraping his nerves—moving. Melting.

Not in comfort. No. This was not mercy.

They dissolved slowly, painfully, unnaturally.

Every second that passed felt like a scalpel dragged across his soul.

It healed him. Yes.

But not without making him feel every grain of pain along the way.

Like a man drowning who was forced to drink every drop of the sea before being pulled to shore.

At last, he breathed. A real breath.

His lungs expanded. His chest relaxed.

He was alive again.

The High Priest crumbled forward, tears and spit mixing into the cathedral floor, and with shaking hands, he bowed, rubbing his forehead against Cedric’s boot.

"T-Thank you... Thank you, Lord Cedric... I—I..."

CRACK-!

A sudden, brutal kick silenced him.

His body flew like a stone skipping across a pond—skidding and spinning across the polished marble until he stopped several meters away, limp, dazed.

It didn’t break his bones.

It didn’t tear his face.

But it hurt.

It hurt more than when his bones exploded.

Because it was humiliation.

Deliberate. Cold. Calculated.

A lesson, not just punishment.

And that—that was the most terrifying part.

Cedric could torture someone without leaving a mark.

He could crush minds without raising his voice.

He could reduce the most powerful figures in the Church to shaking, sobbing husks,

And the world outside would never even know he’d been here.

The pressure in the room thickened once more as Cedric spoke—his voice gentle, yet every word felt like the weight of mountains.

"From now on... all the earnings of this church will be spent on the people."

He took a step forward, boots echoing softly.

"High Priest,"

He said.

"I am giving you one—and only one—last chance."

The High Priest tried to lift his head. His eyes met that veiled face, still covered in that soft golden shadow. His lips trembled.

"Don’t do anything foolish. Not that you can."

Cedric raised two fingers and made a faint gesture in the air.

"I’ve placed a mark on your soul."

Silence fell like a guillotine.

"If you try anything... even whisper about what happened here... if you so much as think about betraying this moment..."

His voice did not rise, but the High Priest felt his skin grow cold, his blood still.

"You will learn what true pain looks like."

Then—without sound—Cedric vanished.

The light dimmed.

The divine pressure lifted.

And the silence that followed was crushing.

Paladin Theron collapsed to the floor like a man who had just escaped the jaws of death. His armor clanged, his body soaked in sweat. He heaved breath after breath, arms trembling, chest tight.

Across the room, the High Priest remained motionless—twitching like a leaf blown from a branch, his soul rattled, broken.

Neither of them could speak.

Neither of them dared to.

They both knew what had just happened wasn’t a negotiation...

It was a warning.

And the one who delivered it wasn’t a man.

He was something else entirely.

-To Be Continued