The Extra's Rise-Chapter 131: First Mission (1)

The streets of Marasva were alive with motion, a chaotic yet somehow synchronized dance of traders, mercenaries, and ordinary citizens. The air carried the faint scent of salt from the ocean mingled with the sharper tang of mana-powered engines. I pulled my hood a little lower as I stepped into the throng. A Mythos Academy student ID might grant me access to most places, but anonymity was still my best shield.

Seraphina had already split off, heading toward the upper districts to scout the more structured, bureaucratic parts of the city. My task was rooted in the shadows: the underbelly of Marasva’s infamous trade district, where whispers carried more weight than gold.

The trade district was a maze, its narrow alleys branching into even narrower ones, each filled with the clamor of hawkers, the hum of mana artifacts, and the occasional heated argument. I started small, blending into the crowd and letting my ears do the work. The key to intel gathering wasn’t to ask questions outright—it was to make yourself invisible, absorb the information around you, and wait for the right moment to strike.

I stopped by a stall selling intricate mana pendants, each glowing faintly with stored energy. The merchant, an older man with a face weathered by years of trade, was in the middle of haggling with a customer. I pretended to browse, running my fingers along the delicate etchings of one pendant as I listened to their conversation.

"...the shipment’s delayed because of the increased patrols near the docks. Bloody risky to move anything through Gate Nine now."

Gate Nine. That could be useful. I made a mental note of it and moved on.

My next stop was a bustling tavern, its sign swinging precariously in the wind. Inside, the atmosphere was dense with the scent of ale and roasted meat, and the chatter was almost deafening. I slipped into a corner booth, ordered something cheap to blend in, and let my gaze wander over the patrons.

The tavern was a hotbed of information, its patrons a mix of dockworkers, mercenaries, and traders. I caught snippets of conversation—rumors about beast sightings in the nearby wilds, complaints about the city’s taxation on mana goods, and a curious mention of someone matching our target’s description.

"...white-haired bloke? Yeah, he’s been hiring muscle like mad. Probably planning something big. Saw one of his guys down at the Blight Market yesterday."

The Blight Market. That was Marasva’s most notorious black-market hub, hidden deep within the district. You couldn’t find it on a map, and even asking about it openly could get you killed. But it was the perfect place for someone like our target to set up shop.

I finished my drink, paid the barkeep, and left without drawing attention. My next step was to locate the Blight Market without getting stabbed—or worse. Fortunately, Marasva had its own language of signs, subtle markings etched into walls and doorframes by those who operated outside the law. A coiled serpent carved near the base of an alley told me I was on the right track.

The deeper I went, the more the city seemed to change. The polished façade of the trade district gave way to crumbling buildings and shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally. The air grew heavier, carrying the faint metallic tang of danger. Eventually, I found myself standing before a nondescript door guarded by a figure who radiated menace.

"Password," he growled, his hand resting on the hilt of a curved blade.

I’d anticipated this. During my earlier eavesdropping, I’d caught a mercenary muttering something about "silver scales." I decided to gamble.

"Silver scales," I said, keeping my voice steady.

He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before stepping aside. The door creaked open, and I stepped into the Blight Market.

The market was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Stalls were crammed into every available space, their wares ranging from exotic beast parts to illegal mana artifacts. The air buzzed with mana energy, and the atmosphere was tense, every deal feeling like it could explode into violence at any moment.

I moved carefully, keeping my hood up and my steps purposeful. Asking direct questions here could make me a target, so I opted for indirect methods. I lingered near a stall selling enchanted daggers, listening to the merchant argue with a customer about the rising cost of "protection fees."

"...not my fault the White-hair’s jacking up prices. You want your goods to make it through Gate Nine, you pay the fee."

White-hair again. Gate Nine. I was starting to piece things together.

As I moved further into the market, I found another stall selling rare beast cores. The merchant, a wiry man with shifty eyes, seemed more than happy to chat—so long as I showed interest in his wares.

"These are genuine, straight from the Southern wilds," he boasted, holding up a glowing core. "Not like those knock-offs you’ll find in the upper districts."

"I’m impressed," I said, feigning interest. "Must be hard to move goods like this with all the patrols."

He snorted. "Not if you’ve got the right connections. White-hair’s got the whole district under his thumb. You want to move something big, you talk to him."

"White-hair sounds like a busy man," I said casually. "Where can I find him?"

The merchant hesitated, his eyes darting around. "Bloke’s paranoid. Moves around a lot. But I’ve heard he’s been using the warehouse near Gate Nine as a meeting spot."

That was enough for now. I thanked the merchant, bought a three-star beast core to maintain appearances, and left the market as discreetly as I’d entered.

Back in the open streets of Marasva, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I had a lead: Gate Nine. The mission was finally taking shape.

I returned to the hotel room with the same casual air I’d practiced back in the city. Drawing too much attention, even unintentionally, could be disastrous, and Marasva didn’t forgive slip-ups. The narrow hallways of the hotel were quiet now, the early evening hours giving way to a lull as people prepared for the night’s activities.

As I entered the room, Seraphina was already there, seated by the small table near the window. Her silver hair caught the fading light, giving her an ethereal appearance that contrasted sharply with the pragmatic expression on her face. She looked up, her piercing eyes scanning me like I was another puzzle piece to slot into her strategy.

"You took your time," she said, setting down the map she’d been poring over. It was filled with scribbled notes and arrows pointing to various locations in the city.

"Blight Market," I said simply, lowering my hood and sliding into the chair opposite her. "Had to blend in."

She nodded, unsurprised. "What did you find?"

"Our White-hair friend seems to have a presence near Gate Nine," I began, pulling out the beast core I’d purchased. I placed it on the table like a trophy, though its real purpose was to back up my story. "He’s running protection fees and controlling movement through the area. The warehouse near the gate is his current hub. Confirmed by multiple sources."

Seraphina leaned back slightly, considering. "Gate Nine," she repeated, her fingers tracing a line on the map. "That’s deep in the southern quadrant of the city, near the docks. A good spot for someone who wants access to both the market and potential escape routes by sea."

"Exactly," I said. "He’s paranoid, though. Keeps moving. If we go in without a plan, we’ll spook him or worse."

Her lips quirked in a faint smile. "And yet you have a plan."

I leaned forward, tapping the map near Gate Nine. "We confirm his presence first. I can circle the area tomorrow and look for patterns in the movement of his men. He’s paying people off, so the patrols might tip us off. If we can find a good vantage point, we could spot him ourselves."

"And when we do?" she asked.

"We wait," I said. "Rushing in without assessing the situation is stupid. If he’s meeting people, we want to know who and why. Best-case scenario, we catch him with his guard down. Worst case, we find out what he’s planning before we strike."

Seraphina considered this, then nodded slowly. "That’s sound. While you scout, I’ll handle the logistics. Find possible exit routes, narrow down the best point of entry, and prepare contingencies."

"Perfect," I said, then hesitated. "What about your findings? Anything from the upper districts?"

She shifted slightly, folding her arms. "Not much. He’s careful about keeping his operations away from the bureaucracy. What I did pick up, though, is that there’s been tension in the city guard. Some of them are on his payroll, but not all. He’s been pushing harder lately, and it’s causing friction. If we play this right, we might be able to use that to our advantage."

"Divide and conquer," I said, nodding. "That could work."

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the mission pressing down. Assassinating someone wasn’t a small task, even if it was a White-ranker in a morally grey area like Marasva. But Seraphina and I weren’t amateurs. This was what Mythos Academy trained us for.

Finally, she broke the silence. "You seem… different, Arthur. Sharper. More focused."

"Do I?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

She gave me a long look, her ice-blue eyes cutting through my defenses. "Yes. I don’t know what’s changed, but whatever it is, keep it. We’ll need it."

Her words lingered as I excused myself to clean up and prepare for the next day. Something had shifted in me, and she wasn’t wrong to notice it. This wasn’t just another mission anymore—it was a chance to prove something, to myself as much as anyone else.

Tomorrow, the hunt would begin.