The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 162: My Problem Now [PS Bonus]

Noel’s heartbeat pounded like war drums inside his ears.

The abomination loomed ahead—massive, twitching, barely stable. Flesh twisted into spirals, dozens of limbs writhing, mouths that should not exist whispering things they shouldn’t remember.

But Arya was gone from sight.

So was Noir.

Noel’s eyes scanned through the flickering light, but he couldn’t see her.

’She can’t see me either...’

He exhaled slowly.

One thought burned in his mind now—kill Arya. End her. The barrier would drop. Reinforcements would flood in. He could survive this.

But the creature still stood in his way. Alive. Dangerous. And getting worse by the second.

Noel’s grip tightened around Revenant Fang.

’If I take her out, the thing might go wild. I need to hit both.’

The moment he thought it, Revenant Fang pulsed.

Noel shifted his stance and raised his left hand toward the monster’s chest. The air around his fingers began to darken—folding in on itself like a black sun collapsing.

His mana churned.

The stone beneath his feet cracked from the pressure.

Even the abomination paused, swaying slightly, as if it could feel the weight gathering above it.

Noel didn’t blink.

He needed time.

Just a little more.

’You’re not getting back up this time.’

The circle formed in the air—wide, jagged, rippling with unstable energy.

A miniature black sun spun at its center, pulsing with voidlight, pulling strands of Noel’s mana into its core like a living thing. Heat and gravity bent around it, the edges distorting the space like a mirror breaking inward.

The abomination shrieked, its many heads howling in different tones. It began to lurch forward, dragging its bloated limbs across the stone, arms growing longer, eyes multiplying.

Too slow.

"Dark Sun," Noel muttered.

He hurled it.

The spell screamed as it flew—cutting a dark arc across the chamber—and slammed into the monster’s center mass, exploding in a burst of black flame and spiraling smoke.

The impact threw dust and gore into the air, scattering pieces of half-formed bone and flesh across the battlefield. The abomination didn’t die, but it reeled back, staggering and roaring in confusion.

A dense cloud of smoke and ash rolled outward.

Noel exhaled.

"Sorry I’m late."

He didn’t wait for the aftermath.

He turned and ran. The smoke was cover. A veil. Arya was still somewhere in the chaos, and now she wouldn’t see him coming.

He slipped into the haze, blade drawn low, breath steady.

One target.

One chance.

The smoke blanketed everything—thick, acrid, clinging to Noel’s skin and lungs.

But his eyes were sharp.

Too sharp.

[Trait: Harrowed Focus active.]

Every shape. Every breath. Every flicker of movement carved itself into his vision like lines on glass.

And then he saw her.

Arya, limping through the smoke, dragging her scythe along the floor. Her body was wrecked—half-burned, bleeding, her once graceful frame now hunched and feral. But she still moved. Still aimed herself toward something.

Noel followed her gaze.

Charlotte.

The saint sat slumped against a broken column, legs too weak to stand, eyes wide as Arya’s silhouette drew closer through the fog.

Arya raised the scythe.

Noel moved.

But someone beat him to it.

A whisper of mana trembled through the stone—then a ripple of pure darkness erupted just beneath Arya’s feet.

Noir.

She rose like a shadow reborn, lunging from the floor in her true form, eyes glowing, teeth bared.

Her jaws clamped down on the shaft of Arya’s scythe, stopping the swing mid-arc.

Metal groaned. Sparks flew.

Arya screamed, twisted, tried to wrench it free—but Noir held fast, teeth digging deeper.

And that’s when Noel struck.

Arya turned—just in time to see the blur of Revenant Fang coming low.

Noel slid in beneath her defenses, his feet silent on the stone. With one swift, brutal motion, he swung the blade in a tight arc—

And severed the tendons behind both of her knees.

Arya let out a choking cry as her legs gave out, her body collapsing in a heap. Noir released the scythe and disappeared back into the smoke.

Arya hit the ground hard. Blood smeared beneath her as she tried—furiously, stupidly—to crawl. Her fingers dug into the cracked stone. She dragged herself forward, inch by inch, leaving a red trail behind her.

Still aiming for Charlotte.

Noel’s footsteps followed slowly.

Charlotte sat motionless, her hands clenched, breath shallow. She didn’t look afraid—just tired. Watching.

Arya’s nails scratched the floor. She hissed.

Noel stood over her without a word, raised Revenant Fang with both hands—

And drove it down through her back.

The blade sank deep, straight into her spine, pinning her to the ground.

Arya howled, spit and blood pouring from her mouth. Her arms twitched, then stilled.

She couldn’t move.

Noel didn’t look away.

And he didn’t pull the blade out.

Arya writhed beneath him, impaled, her breath ragged and wet. The scythe had clattered out of reach, her limbs barely twitching now. And yet... she grinned.

A mangled, bloody grin.

Noel crouched beside her, his eyes cold, voice low.

"Why did you do this?"

Arya’s grin widened, red running down her teeth.

"...Because someone had to."

He didn’t react.

Just leaned closer.

"Why involve children?"

Her laugh came out in broken coughs.

"Haha... because they break easy. You mold what’s soft. And no one misses them when they’re gone."

Noel’s jaw tensed. His knuckles turned white around the hilt still buried in her back.

He looked her dead in the eyes.

"How do I fix them?"

Arya’s smile didn’t falter.

"You don’t."

She coughed again, blood trailing from the side of her mouth.

"There’s no reversing it. No spell. No light. You think this world forgives what’s been reshaped?"

She laughed, louder this time.

Mocking. Triumphant.

"They’re monsters now... just like us."

Noel stood slowly, eyes still fixed on her broken form.

She kept laughing, even as her breath rattled. Even as her blood pooled beneath her.

"You’re the sixth Pillar," Noel said quietly.

Her laughter paused, just for a second.

"But I’ll come for the fifth next. The twins. Then the rest of them."

Arya’s gaze flicked upward, her one good eye narrowing.

He took a step back.

"This world... it wasn’t mine at first."

The blade of Revenant Fang still pinned her to the stone.

"But now?"

He looked over his shoulder at Charlotte—still watching, still breathing.

"It’s my world."

Back to Arya.

"My people."

He tightened his fists.

"My problem."

Arya tried to curse him—her mouth moving, voice gone hoarse.

Noel didn’t wait.

He turned to the shadows.

"Noir," he said calmly. "Eat."

Noir didn’t hesitate.

With a silent lunge, she sank her fangs into Arya’s side and began to feed.

Slow. Methodical. Unforgiving.

Arya screamed once.

Then again.

And then—nothing.

Piece by piece, the Sixth Pillar disappeared into the shadows.

Her legs. Her ribs. Her chest.

Her neck twitched as the last breath left her lungs. Even in death, her expression fought to smile. It didn’t last.

Noir swallowed the rest.

Only the head remained.

One final chomp.

Gone.

Noel didn’t move. He just stood there, unmoving, as the barrier flickered, its core disrupted—

and shattered.

The silver shimmer collapsed like falling glass. The others burst inside.

But before anyone could speak—

The abomination roared.

It had recovered. Regrown. Reformed.

Dozens of mouths howled at once.

One of its massive limbs swung toward Noel—

But a wall of stone slammed upward, intercepting the blow with thunderous force.

"Get away from him!" Marcus shouted, launching forward with a cry.

A wave of earth erupted under his feet as he leapt at the beast, fists glowing, face set with grief and fury.

"Sorry I was late too."

Noel didn’t fall.

He sat down slowly, legs folding beneath him, his breath shallow.

His body trembled—not from fatigue alone.

[New mission: Defeat Arya the Scytheborn – Completed. Congratulations!!]

[Sixth Pillar Arya the Scytheborn is dead.]

[Reward available. Do you want to claim now?]

The system window hovered in front of him, blue and still. Waiting.

Noel stared at it.

’I don’t want anything from this right now.’

A sharp pain pierced his side.

Then his chest.

Then—his skull.

The consequences hit.

The trait—Will of the Forgotten—demanded its toll.

His muscles spasmed. Blood trickled from his nose. His vision dimmed at the edges.

But he stayed conscious.

He had to.

The abomination shrieked again—but it sounded distant now.

Within the twisted body, through the mist and deformity, Noel saw something.

A small, familiar face.

Erick.

For a fleeting second, his real face. Clear.

Smiling.

Noel’s voice barely reached past his lips.

"...See you, Erick. Thanks for being my friend."

The vision faded.

The abomination pressed forward—but that wasn’t his problem anymore.

Charlotte stumbled toward him, pale, drained, still bleeding. Her hands glowed faintly with golden light.

She reached out.

But Noel caught her wrist.

His voice was firm. Low.

"...No. I don’t want you to heal me."

She looked confused.

He looked up at her, the blood under his nose staining his mouth red.

"I know what it costs. I won’t let you spend your life to fix mine."

Charlotte’s eyes welled, but she nodded.

And Noel sat there, breathing, not for victory—

but for those who no longer could.

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