The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 335: THE DUEL OF IDEALS
Chapter 333: The Duel of Ideals
The corridors of the Upper Trunk were a masterpiece of architectural arrogance. The floors were seamless white marble, the walls were carved from living amber, and the windows offered dizzying views of the burning city below.
But the perfection was marring. The purple veins of the Rot were no longer hidden in the basement. They were creeping up the pristine walls like ivy, pulsing with the heartbeat of the creature sitting on the throne above.
"Efficiency check," Selena stated, running beside me. Her scythe was drawn, dragging a line of sparks against the floor. "The pumps are severed. The Heart-Root is stabilizing. However, the barrier remains active. We must neutralize the source."
"Valen," I gritted out, adjusting the grip on my sword. "Michael and Elara are already up there. We need to back them up."
We rounded a corner, sprinting toward the Grand Staircase—the final ascent to the Throne Room.
We skidded to a halt.
Blocking the stairs wasn’t a squad of Cultists. It wasn’t a Golem.
It was a single elf.
Captain Aelion stood on the first landing. He looked immaculate. His silver armor shone under the magical lights, his white cape billowing in the draft of the ventilation shafts. In his hand, he held Wind-Weaver, a legendary rapier that hummed with a pitch so high it made my teeth ache.
He didn’t look like a villain. He looked like the hero of his own story.
"Halt," Aelion said. His voice wasn’t angry. It was disappointed. "You have caused quite a mess, Leon Lionheart."
"Aelion," I stepped forward. "Move. Valen has turned into a monster. He’s feeding the city to a demon."
"I see smoke," Aelion replied calmly. "I see a foreign army in my streets. I see a Human tank destroying our gates and a Blood-Witch murdering our soldiers. The only monsters I see, Leon... are you."
"Target identified," Selena whispered. She blurred.
She didn’t ask for permission. She launched herself at Aelion, her scythe aiming for his neck.
Aelion didn’t flinch. He simply flicked his wrist.
SHING.
A wall of compressed wind slammed into Selena mid-air. It was solid as stone. She hit it with a sickening thud and was thrown backward, skidding across the marble floor.
"Your assassin is fast," Aelion noted, pointing his rapier at me. "But she lacks discipline. Order beats chaos, Leon. Always."
I rushed to help Selena up, but she waved me off, rebooting her combat subroutines.
"Let me handle this," I said to her. "He’s not a Cultist. He thinks he’s doing the right thing."
"He is an obstacle," Selena stated. "Elimination is recommended."
"No," I said, stepping between them. "This isn’t an assassination. It’s a duel."
Light vs. Light
I walked to the base of the stairs. I was tired. My armor was dented, covered in sewer sludge and Golem dust. I looked like a wreck compared to the shining Captain.
"You call this Order?" I asked, gesturing to the pulsing purple veins on the wall. "Look at the walls, Aelion! That’s not decor. That’s the Tree dying!"
Aelion’s eyes flickered to the Rot for a fraction of a second, then snapped back to me. "The Regent assured us it is a side effect of the healing ritual. A temporary blemish. We endure it for the greater good."
"Blind loyalty isn’t goodness," I said, raising my training sword. "It’s just blindness."
Aelion narrowed his eyes. The wind around him began to pick up, swirling into a miniature cyclone.
"You speak of loyalty?" Aelion scoffed. "You possess the Lionheart blood, yet you consort with necromancers and thieves. You are a stain on your own house. I will do you the honor of removing you."
He lunged.
[Wind Art: Zephyr Thrust]
He moved faster than my eyes could track. One moment he was on the landing; the next, he was in front of me.
I barely brought my sword up in time.
CLANG.
The impact vibrated through my bones. I was pushed back, my boots carving grooves into the marble. Aelion didn’t stop. He unleashed a flurry of strikes—fast, precise, and aimed at the gaps in my armor.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
I gritted my teeth, parrying desperately. He was faster. Much faster. Every time I tried to counter, he was already gone, slipping away on a current of air.
"Too slow!" Aelion shouted, slashing my shoulder. "You fight like a brute! Where is the elegance? Where is the nobility?"
"I don’t need elegance!" I roared.
[Lionheart Sword Style: Form 1 - Rising Fang]
I swung upward, a wave of golden fire erupting from my blade.
Aelion scoffed. He side-stepped effortlessly. "Predictable."
He kicked me in the chest, sending me stumbling back toward the railing. I gasped for air, looking at my health bar. It was dropping fast.
"Leon," Selena called out, preparing to intervene.
"Stay back!" I shouted. "I have to do this!"
I stood up. I wiped the blood from my lip.
Aelion watched me, tilting his head. "Why do you persist? You are outclassed. My Rank is higher. My weapon is superior. My cause is just. Surrender, and I will make it quick."
"Your weapon is superior," I admitted, looking at the gleaming Wind-Weaver. "And your technique is perfect. But you’re missing something, Captain."
I sheathed my sword.
Aelion frowned. "Giving up?"
"No," I said. I reached behind my back. My hand closed around the leather-wrapped handle of the weapon Michael had given me back in the Academy. The weapon I had used to shatter the Golems.
I pulled out the [Breaker’s Hammer].
It was ugly. It was a lump of black iron, heavy and scarred. It didn’t hum. It didn’t shine. It just looked heavy.
"I’m switching styles," I said, the golden aura around me shifting from the sharp, flickering flame of a sword to the dense, crushing pressure of a star.
Aelion laughed. "A hammer? You intend to fight a swordmaster with a construction tool? You truly are a peasant."
"It’s not a tool," I said, taking a low stance. "It’s a reality check."
The Breaking Point
Aelion shook his head. "Enough. Die."
He charged. This time, he went for the kill.
[Wind Art: Gale Cutter - Final Form]
His rapier glowed with blinding green light. He thrust forward, the air compressing into a needle-point capable of piercing dragon scales. It was a beautiful, perfect strike.
I didn’t dodge.
I stepped into it.
"Lionheart Art..."
I swung the hammer. I didn’t aim for his body. I aimed for his sword.
"...Crushing Claw!"
TIMING CRITICAL.
Aelion’s eyes went wide. He tried to redirect his thrust, but he was committed.
The heavy, black iron of the Breaker’s Hammer collided with the delicate, enchanted steel of Wind-Weaver.
In a normal duel, the superior steel wins. But this wasn’t a contest of sharpness. It was a contest of weight.
CRACK.
The sound was like a gunshot.
Shards of silver steel flew through the air.
Wind-Weaver, the legendary blade of the Silver Guard Captain, shattered into a thousand pieces.
The momentum of my swing didn’t stop. The hammer continued its arc, slamming into the ground next to Aelion.
BOOM.
The marble staircase fractured. The shockwave lifted Aelion off his feet and threw him backward. He crashed against the wall, sliding down to the floor, stunned.
He looked at his hand. He was holding nothing but a broken hilt.
"My... my sword..." Aelion whispered, staring at the ruins of his weapon. "Broken... by a hammer?"
I walked up to him. I didn’t raise my weapon. I leaned the hammer against the railing and looked down at him.
"Your sword broke because it was brittle, Aelion," I said, breathing hard. "Just like your honor. You polished it so much you forgot what steel is supposed to do. It’s supposed to protect, not just look pretty."
Aelion looked up at me. His helmet was cracked. For the first time, I saw doubt in his eyes.
"I... I served the Crown," Aelion stammered. "I followed orders."
"Look," I said. I grabbed his head and forced him to look up—not at me, but at the ceiling of the stairwell.
The impact of my hammer had dislodged a section of the pristine amber paneling. Behind the beautiful façade, the "wall" was revealed.
It was a mass of writhing, black worms. The Rot wasn’t just on the surface; it was the structure. The "amber" was just an illusion covering a nest of corruption.
Aelion stared. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, waiting for the illusion to return. But the truth remained.
"The Rot..." Aelion whispered. "It’s... inside the walls."
"It’s been there for years," I said gently, letting him go. "Valen isn’t saving the city, Captain. He’s embalming it."
Aelion slumped. The fight went out of him. He looked at the broken hilt in his hand, then at the disgusting mass of worms writhing inches from his face.
He had fought for perfection. He had fought for a lie.
Slowly, painfully, Aelion stood up. He unclasped his white cloak—the symbol of his rank—and let it fall to the floor.
"Go," Aelion said, his voice hollow.
"You’re letting us pass?" Selena asked, scythe raised.
Aelion didn’t look at her. He looked at the stairs leading up to the Throne Room.
"My sword is broken," Aelion said. "A knight without a sword is no knight at all. And a Captain who defends a rot-nest..."
He spat on the floor.
"...is a traitor."
He stepped aside, leaning heavily against the wall.
"Valen is above," Aelion warned, not meeting my eyes. "He has engaged the ’Avatar Protocol’. Be careful, Lionheart. He is no longer an Elf."
I nodded. "Thank you, Captain."
I picked up my hammer.
"Selena. Let’s go."
As we ran up the stairs, I looked back one last time. Captain Aelion was standing before the exposed wall of rot, staring at it as if trying to memorize his failure.
We reached the massive double doors of the Throne Room.
The doors were already open.
From inside, a roar shook the foundations of the tower. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t elven.
"Michael," I whispered.
We charged into the dark.
(To be Continued)
