The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 299: THE ARMY OF BEASTS
Chapter 295: The Army of Beasts
The wind on the ridge didn’t howl; it whispered. It carried the scent of wet fur, pine needles, and the copper tang of blood.
I stood next to Leon, looking down at the natural amphitheater of the valley floor. The Iron-Horse lay in the center, a dark, metallic scar against the pristine white of the tundra. It was motionless, silent, and covered in a layer of frost so thick it looked like it had been there for centuries.
But it wasn’t the train that made my blood run cold.
It was the sea of grey surrounding it.
"Dear God," Leon whispered, his grip tightening on the handle of the [Breaker’s Hammer]. "There are... hundreds."
He wasn’t exaggerating.
The siege lines were drawn with military precision.
The innermost circle consisted of [Frost Wolves]—massive, pony-sized beasts with fur like steel wire. They sat on their haunches, facing the train, motionless as statues.
Behind them stood the heavy infantry: [Armored Ursas]. Bears standing ten feet tall on their hind legs, wearing crude plating made of scrap metal and bone. They paced restlessly, their breath venting like steam engines.
And in the sky, circling in a lazy vortex beneath the low clouds, were the [Frost Wyverns].
It wasn’t a pack. It was a battalion.
"They aren’t attacking," Leon noted, squinting against the glare. "Why aren’t they attacking?"
"Discipline," I said, my voice flat. "They aren’t wild animals, Leon. They’re soldiers."
I pointed to a raised mound of snow overlooking the train, about three hundred meters from the carriage doors.
A solitary figure sat there on a throne made of piled stones and skulls.
He was human—or at least, he had been once. He wore a cloak made from the pelt of a White Alpha Wolf. He held a spear carved from red weirwood, pulsating with a dull, bloody light. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. His face was scarred, weathered like old leather, and his eyes... even from this distance, I could feel them. They were yellow. Predatory.
[System Eye (Passive)]
[Target: General Vargr (The Beastmaster)]
[Rank: A (Demon Disciple)]
[Status: Waiting.]
"General Vargr," I murmured. "One of the Seven Generals of the Demon Cult. He controls beasts through a blood-pact. In the game, he wasn’t supposed to appear until the Border War expansion."
"He’s staring at the train," Leon said. "Like he’s waiting for it to hatch."
"He’s starving them out," I realized. "He knows the heating is dead. He knows they have no food. He doesn’t need to waste his army breaking the hull. He just has to wait for the students to freeze to death, then crack the can open and eat the contents."
I touched the pocket of my coat. The [Tear of Gaia] was safe, warm against my ribs.
"We can’t wait," I said. "Maria and Selena don’t have time. And neither do the others."
I looked at the jagged sheet of metal I had pointed out earlier—a piece of debris from the Dwarven ruins that had blown onto the ridge. It was curved, roughly the shape of a sled.
"Get on the metal," I ordered.
Leon looked at the sheet, then down the steep, icy slope that led directly into the rear flank of the wolf army.
"This is insane," Leon said. "We’re going to crash into an A-Rank villain’s army on a piece of trash?"
"It’s not trash," I said, stepping onto the metal and crouching low. "It’s an insertion vehicle. And we have the element of surprise."
"Surprise?" Leon scoffed, stepping onto the metal behind me. "We’re going to be screaming the whole way down!"
"Exactly," I said. "Gravity is free energy, Leon. Let’s use it."
I dug my heels into the snow.
"Push!"
We shoved off.
(Inside the Iron-Horse – Main Carriage)
Eric William’s hands were shaking, but his aim was steady.
He stood behind a makeshift barricade constructed from luggage and seat cushions, aiming a heavy crossbow at the frosted window.
"Steady," Eric whispered to himself. "Just steady."
The carriage was freezing. The temperature had dropped to minus twenty inside. Their breath hung in the air like fog. The magical lights had died hours ago, leaving them in a gloom illuminated only by the faint, grey light filtering through the ice.
Behind him, the remaining students were huddled in a pile of blankets. Lyra was crying silently, her tears freezing on her cheeks. Arthur was trying to warm his hands by rubbing them together, but his movements were sluggish. Hypothermia was setting in.
"They’re moving again," Kaelen whispered from his lookout spot near the door. He was peering through a crack in the barricade. "The wolves. They’re shifting closer."
"Let them come," Eric said, though his voice cracked. "I have three bolts left. I’ll take three of them with me."
"Eric," Arthur chattered. "Sit down. Save your energy. Michael and Leon... they aren’t coming back."
Eric spun around, his eyes wild. "Shut up! A noble does not abandon his post! And the Hero... the Hero doesn’t die in a hole!"
"They’ve been gone for ten hours," Arthur said, his voice dull with resignation. "They went into the Storm. Nobody survives the Storm."
Eric grit his teeth. "Michael survives. That commoner cockroach survives everything."
CRUNCH.
A heavy impact shook the train.
Everyone froze.
It came from the roof.
"They’re testing the hull again," Kaelen whimpered, backing away from the door.
SCRAPE.
The sound of claws on metal was deafening. It was slow, deliberate. A psychological torture designed to let them know that the steel walls were just a temporary inconvenience.
"Get back!" Eric shouted, raising the crossbow.
The roof of the carriage groaned. A rivet popped, shooting across the room like a bullet.
"If they breach..." Lyra sobbed. "I can’t cast. I can’t do anything."
"Then throw something!" Eric roared. "Throw a chair! Throw your shoes! We are students of Arcadia! We do not die quietly!"
He was terrified. He wanted to curl up and sleep. But someone had to be the leader. Michael was gone. Leon was gone. And Eric William, for all his arrogance, refused to die like a coward.
THUD.
The noise stopped.
Then, from outside, a different sound echoed.
A roar. But not a beast’s roar.
A human scream. Getting louder.
"What is that?" Arthur asked, lifting his head.
Eric lowered the crossbow. He crept to the window and wiped a small circle of frost away with his sleeve.
He looked up at the ridge.
"No way..." Eric breathed.
(The Ridge Slope)
The wind roared in my ears, tearing at my clothes.
The metal sheet was vibrating so violently I thought my teeth would shatter. We were accelerating. Thirty kilometers an hour. Forty. Fifty.
The slope was a sheet of ice, slick and unforgiving. We were a missile of scrap metal and desperation.
"Steer left! Left!" Leon screamed from behind me, leaning his weight to the side.
I leaned with him. The sled carved a spray of snow, narrowly missing a jagged rock that would have launched us into orbit.
We were plummeting toward the rear line of the wolf pack.
From this angle, I could see the individual hairs on their backs. I could see the steam rising from their bodies.
They hadn’t seen us yet. The wind was carrying our scent away from them, and the howling of the gale masked the sound of the sled.
"Brace for impact!" I yelled.
"I’m going to throw up!" Leon yelled back.
We hit the valley floor. The slope leveled out, but our momentum didn’t drop. We were skipping across the snow like a stone on water.
Fifty meters to the enemy line.
Forty.
Thirty.
One of the wolves on the perimeter turned its head. Its yellow eyes widened. It barked—a sharp warning.
Too late.
"Leon! Shield!"
Leon didn’t need telling. He raised his massive tower shield in front of us, turning the sled into a battering ram.
CRASH.
We slammed into the first wolf.
Physics won. The wolf crumpled, its bones snapping under the impact of two humans and a metal sheet moving at highway speeds. We didn’t stop. We plowed through it, sending the carcass flying into the wolf next to it.
The formation broke.
Chaos erupted. Wolves yelped and scattered as the metal sled cut a swathe of destruction through their ranks. We spun out of control, the sled digging into the snow and flipping.
I was thrown clear. I rolled, tucking my shoulder, and came up in a crouch, sword drawn.
Leon crashed into a snowbank, groaning, but he stood up instantly, the Breaker’s Hammer in his hand.
We were alive.
But we were standing in the middle of an army.
The silence of the siege shattered. A hundred wolves turned toward us. A hundred pairs of yellow eyes locked onto the two intruders who had just dropped from the sky.
A low, collective growl vibrated through the ground.
"Well," Leon said, spitting out snow. "We have their attention."
"Move toward the train!" I ordered. "Don’t fight! Just run!"
But before we could take a step, a voice boomed across the valley. It wasn’t loud, but it carried an unnatural weight, silencing the growls of the pack.
"Hold."
The wolves parted. They lowered their heads, stepping back to create a path.
Walking down that path, unhurried and terrifyingly calm, was General Vargr.
He stopped twenty meters away from us. Up close, he was huge—at least seven feet tall. His armor was a patchwork of beast bones and dark iron. His spear dripped with a red aura that hissed when it touched the snow.
He looked at Leon. He sniffed the air.
Then he looked at me.
His nostrils flared. A slow, cruel smile spread across his scarred face.
"The scent..." Vargr whispered. His voice sounded like gravel grinding together. "Ancient Earth. Pure Life."
He pointed the tip of his spear at my chest.
"You have been to the Roots, little mouse."
I tightened my grip on my sword, though I knew it was useless against an A-Rank. My mana was gone. My body was broken.
"And you have something that belongs to the Master," Vargr said.
He slammed the butt of his spear into the ice.
BOOM.
A shockwave of red energy rippled out, forcing the wolves into a frenzy. They howled, slobbering at the mouth, their eyes turning red.
"Kill the Knight," Vargr commanded, his voice rising to a roar. "But bring me the Carrier alive. I want to peel the prize from his corpse myself."
The army surged forward.
"Leon!" I shouted. "Snowplow formation!"
Leon stepped in front of me, slamming his shield into the snow and bracing his shoulder against it.
"Ready!" Leon yelled.
"Run!"
We charged. Not away from the army, but through it. Toward the train.
The final race had begun.
(To be Continued)
