The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 123: Descent and Aftermath [GT Bonus]

The summit had fallen silent.

The Ice Wyvern lay dead—its colossal body frozen mid-sprawl, streaks of pale frost still swirling in the air. The ground was littered with shattered ice and scattered blood. No sound but the soft hiss of wind over stone.

Noel let out a slow breath and dropped to his knees.

Every muscle in his body ached—tight, burning. His limbs felt heavier than lead. Mana... gone. His core felt hollow, brittle.

He clenched his jaw.

’I can’t afford to pass out.’

Biting his tongue sharply, he forced the dull pain to jolt his senses awake. The metallic tang of blood hit his mouth, grounding him.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright.

"Looks like we did it," he murmured hoarsely.

His gaze shifted to the fallen wyvern.

He dragged himself forward—step by painful step—until he stood beside the great beast. The air was colder here. He could feel the lingering chill from Selene’s spell biting through his coat.

Noel drew Revenant Fang, hands steady despite the tremors in his arms.

One precise cut.

He worked methodically—blade slicing through hardened bone. Moments later, he pulled free two massive fangs, their surfaces gleaming faintly with mana.

’Proof, also it is the thing I promised Balthor.’

As he reached to stow them, something else caught his eye—half-buried beneath the wyvern’s claw.

A wand.

Delicate, crystalline—seemingly carved from pure ice. It shimmered faintly with residual mana, untouched by the chaos of the battle.

Noel crouched, picked it up carefully.

’This must be Selene’s. I’ll give it to her later.’

He tucked the wand gently into his Dimensional Pouch, alongside the fangs.

Then his gaze shifted.

A few meters away, Selene lay curled on the ground, motionless—her breathing faint but steady. Her skin was pale, lips tinged with frost. She looked fragile—like she might shatter if touched.

And the cold...

It was unbearable now—each breath stung like knives.

Noel hesitated only a moment.

Without a word, he slipped off his cloak and crossed the distance. Kneeling beside her, he draped it carefully over her small frame, adjusting it to shield her from the worst of the cold.

She didn’t stir.

Noel rested a hand briefly on her shoulder.

’You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.’

Then—despite the weight in his limbs, the sharp ache in every joint—he slid one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back.

He lifted her into a princess carry, holding her close.

Selene’s body was cold against his own, but her pulse was steady.

Noel tightened his grip, rising slowly to his feet.

The wind howled around them.

But he would not stop.

Step by step, he began the descent.

The first few steps nearly made Noel collapse.

His legs trembled with each movement, muscles screaming in protest. Every fiber of his body wanted to stop—wanted to sink into the snow and let the darkness take him.

But he couldn’t.

Not with Selene in his arms.

Not with time running out.

The path downward stretched before him—icy, steep, but thankfully clear. They had fought their way up through this route, clearing it of monsters.

At least now... there were no more threats.

Noel shifted Selene’s weight carefully in his arms. His grip was firm but respectful—one arm supporting her shoulders, the other beneath her knees. He kept her close, shielding her from the wind as best he could.

Ahead, the mountain loomed—a long, dangerous descent.

And then—

Ding!

A system prompt flashed across his vision.

[New Mission: Treat the disease and save Elyra’s mother.Time remaining: 6 days.]

’Six days left. I need to get us down in two... no more. I can’t waste a single hour.’

He adjusted his footing, eyes scanning each patch of snow and ice before taking the next step. Every descent carried risk—one slip, and they could fall.

But stopping wasn’t an option.

He moved slowly, deliberately.

The weight of Revenant Fang was gone—safely stored in his Dimensional Pouch for now. He needed both arms free to carry Selene, and every ounce of balance he could muster.

His breath came in ragged gasps, white clouds trailing behind him.

But his mind remained sharp.

As he walked, his thoughts drifted—unbidden—back to the shadow.

’Looks like it’s gone... for good this time. Merged with Revenant Fang.’

A faint pulse of memory flickered in his mind—those final moments. The wave. The silent farewell.

And the new trait.

Will of the Forgotten.

When fighting alone or when protecting an ally, grants a surge of latent power, increasing speed and sharpness temporarily. There will be consequences later!

Noel’s brow furrowed.

’Will of the Forgotten... forgotten son. Is that what this is about?’

The words echoed too clearly.

A trait bound to his bloodline? Or something deeper?

’Guess I’ll need to start digging through the Thorne archives when I get back. There’s too much I don’t know about this family. Too many pieces missing.’

He exhaled slowly, another sharp breath in the freezing air.

’The novel never touched any of this... It focused on Marcus’s adventures. But here... it feels like every character has their own life. Their own path. Including me.’

He glanced down at Selene—still unconscious, her head resting lightly against his chest beneath the cloak.

’I’ll get us down. Then... we start again.’

With renewed determination, Noel tightened his grip and continued downward—step by careful step—against the biting wind.

--

Warmth.

That was the first thing Selene felt.

Not the biting cold she had expected—not the unbearable chill left behind by her own spell.

Warmth... and movement.

Her lashes fluttered.

Slowly, her eyes opened—vision blurred, breath shallow. Her body felt impossibly heavy, drained of every ounce of strength.

Then her gaze focused.

Above her—lit softly by the pale mountain light—was Noel’s face.

His hood was down. For the first time, she could see him clearly.

Blond hair tousled by the wind, strands drifting gently across his brow. Emerald eyes narrowed in deep focus, lips pressed into a thin line. A faint cut marked his cheek, the skin beneath pale from exhaustion.

Yet he looked composed.

’Eh...? Are we moving...?’

The realization struck her.

She wasn’t lying on the cold ground anymore.

She was being carried—arms secured beneath her, body wrapped in warmth.

That was when she noticed it.

The cloak.

Noel’s cloak surrounded her, its scent faint but unmistakable.

’It smells... like him...’

A soft flush crept across her cheeks—one that the cold couldn’t explain.

This had never happened to her before.

Not once.

She shifted slightly, voice barely a whisper:

"Noel... you can put me down."

Noel’s eyes flicked down—surprised.

"Oh! You’re awake. Good." His tone eased, a rare warmth behind the words. "Don’t worry. I’ll set you down when we stop for the night. For now... I don’t think you can move."

Selene hesitated.

She tested her legs—tried to flex her toes.

Nothing.

No strength.

She sighed softly, closing her eyes again.

’He’s right... I can’t move at all.’

She stayed still, heart racing faintly beneath the cloak.

Noel didn’t speak again—focused fully on the descent.

Yet every step he took seemed to echo louder now in her ears.

She could feel his heartbeat beneath the fabric. Hear the steady rhythm of his breath.

For a moment—despite everything—she allowed herself to rest against him.

And Noel, though worn and battered, kept moving.

One step after another.

He would not stop.

Not until they were safe.

--

Far from the frozen peaks—beyond the borders of kingdoms—a different kind of cold surrounded the sea.

Suspended high above the endless expanse of black waters, a lone structure floated in the sky.

An ancient circular chamber, crafted of obsidian stone and bound by powerful wards. Its foundation was invisible—held aloft by layered enchantments lost to all but the oldest bloodlines.

Here, surrounded by clouds and distant lightning, only the sea below bore witness to the meeting.

And only five individuals in the entire world held the right to enter.

Tonight, just two had come.

At the heart of the chamber stood a simple round table—no ornament, no gilded edges.

Driven deep into its surface—four swords, each representing one of the realms. Their presence was a vow: while the blades remained in place, no war would be declared among them.

An unbroken pact... for now.

Only two seats were filled this night.

On one side—King Alveron IV of Valor.

Broad-shouldered, clad in a crimson-lined military cloak. His golden hair was tied back, sharp crimson eyes surveying the table. Weariness lingered behind them—but his gaze remained unyielding.

Across from him sat a figure wreathed in darker shadows.

King Deyrion Neral—ruler of Velmora.

His skin gleamed black as polished stone. Two sweeping horns rose from his head—black with a faint red aura pulsing softly. His eyes—pure crimson, deep and old.

He wore a flowing black noble robe, every thread heavy with mana. The fabric seemed to drink the faint light that reached the chamber.

Between them, two swords remained buried in the table.

Two seats stood empty.

The sea below churned in distant silence, its waves unseen through the clouded mists.

At last, Alveron spoke.

"We need to discuss a very serious problem."

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