The Extra's Rise-Chapter 134: First Mission (4)

’What the hell is he?’ Seraphina thought, her sword trembling in her grip as her gaze locked on Arthur.

The battlefield had transformed into a tempest of light and shadows, the air charged with mana so potent it felt like static against her skin. Arkell, a White-ranked light mana swordsman, moved like a force of nature, his strikes glowing with precision and power. He stood as an immovable wall, radiant and unrelenting. Yet Arthur, standing barely within the boundaries of high Silver-rank, pressed forward. Each strike of his blade grew sharper, faster, and more precise than the last.

He wasn’t just fighting Arkell. He was defying him.

Seraphina’s breath hitched as she replayed the moment in her mind—the moment Arthur had stepped into Arkell’s lethal trap. Against every instinct, against the primal fear that surged when faced with death, he had moved forward. Not away, not to the side. Forward. Into the jaws of the beast.

’He moved in the face of death,’ she thought, her pulse quickening. A chill ran down her spine as she tried to comprehend it. Who did that? Who could do that? She had seen bravery before. She had witnessed desperation turn men into reckless creatures. But this? This wasn’t desperation. This was something entirely different.

Her knuckles whitened around her blade. She wasn’t scared of Arkell. She was scared of him. Not for his strength or cunning, but for what he represented. A monster not of brawn or rank, but of will. Of resolve.

’What kind of person chooses to fight against impossible odds and then manages to claw their way upward with every second?’

Arkell’s light mana flared again, a brilliant sun that seared the room. Akrell’s grin had twisted into something furious, his earlier amusement replaced by a razor-sharp focus. He could no longer toy with Arthur—no longer afford to.

Arthur, however, was something else entirely. His breathing was steady. His sword, held in both hands, didn’t waver. And the look in his eyes, illuminated by the swirling glow of Arkell’s light mana, was that of a predator—not cornered, but patient.

Seraphina’s chest tightened as she watched him raise his hand toward her, palm outward. A silent command.

’Stay back.’

Her instincts screamed against it, the part of her trained for years to fight alongside her allies. To not abandon her partner. But despite herself, she stopped. Her boots dug into the ground, her sword still, as Arthur moved forward alone.

Arkell tilted his head, his blade humming with power as light mana radiated from him like an aura. "You’re either brave, or insane," he said, his voice tinged with something that almost resembled respect. "But you’re not the first Silver-rank to think they can defy the natural order. You’ll fall, just like the others."

Arthur’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Maybe," he said. "But you’ll bleed first."

Arkell laughed, a low, mocking sound. "Big words from someone so far beneath me. Let’s see if you can back them up."

Arthur moved first. His blade, wreathed in dark mana, carved a swift arc through the air. Arkell met it head-on, his light mana blazing as their swords collided. The resulting shockwave rippled outward, sending a wave of dust and debris across the battlefield.

But Arthur didn’t stop. He stepped into the clash, his movements precise and unyielding. Each strike of his blade was calculated, each parry designed to probe Arkell’s defenses. It was clear that he couldn’t match Arkell’s raw power, but he didn’t need to. Arthur fought with the desperation of someone who had no choice but to win, his every action laced with an intensity that bordered on madness.

Arkell gritted his teeth as he blocked another strike, his confidence wavering for the first time. "You’re good," he admitted. "Better than most Silver-ranks. But it’s not enough."

He retaliated with a blinding flurry of strikes, his light mana cutting through the air like a storm of blades. Arthur dodged and parried as best he could, but the relentless assault began to take its toll. A shallow cut opened on his shoulder, another on his leg. Blood dripped to the ground, staining the floor beneath him.

Still, Arthur didn’t falter.

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Seraphina watched in stunned silence, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. ’He’s... adapting.’ With every exchange, Arthur’s movements grew sharper, his responses faster. It was as if he was learning Arkell’s fighting style in real time, adjusting his own techniques to counter it.

’But it’s not enough,’ she realized, her hands tightening around her sword. ’He’s too far behind. No matter how much he adapts, there’s still the gap in power.’

Her body tensed, ready to jump in, when Arkell’s voice cut through the air. "Enough games." His blade flared with light, brighter than ever before, as he unleashed a devastating strike aimed directly at Arthur’s chest.

Arthur’s mind went blank. The light surged toward him, unstoppable and absolute. His instincts screamed at him to move, to retreat, to escape. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he stepped forward.

In that moment, something clicked. The fear, the desperation, the overwhelming pressure—all of it crystallized into a single, blindingly clear thought.

His body moved on its own, his blade tracing a path through the air. Time seemed to slow as he activated God Flash, his movements guided by an intuition that felt almost otherworldly. The light surged past him, missing by a hair’s breadth, as he closed the distance between himself and Arkell.

Arkell’s eyes widened in shock. "What—?"

Arthur’s blade struck true, carving a deep gash across Arkell’s side. Blood sprayed into the air, the crimson droplets catching the light as they fell. Arkell staggered back, his expression a mixture of pain and disbelief.

"You... you actually..." He shook his head, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and awe. "You’re insane."

Arthur stood tall, his chest heaving as he leveled his blade at Arkell. "You should’ve taken us seriously," he said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion etched into his features.

The room began to glow.

Not from Arkell’s fading light, but from Arthur himself. The faint radiance around him intensified, bathing him in an ethereal glow. Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the shift in the air—the hum of mana condensing, transforming.

"No way," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He’s..."

The glow around Arthur coalesced into a singular point in his chest, brilliant and radiant. It pulsed with a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat, before expanding outward in a burst of light that filled the room. When the glow subsided, Arthur stood in the center of it, his expression calm yet resolute.

Seraphina exhaled sharply, her hands trembling as she stared at him. "A White Star," she said, the words barely a whisper. "He’s formed a White Star."

The implications hit her like a tidal wave. A Black Star. A White Star. Two of the rarest and most powerful constructs, formed by the same person. She sucked in a shaky breath, her mind racing as she tried to process what she was seeing.

’This isn’t just talent. This isn’t just hard work. This is something else entirely.’

She looked at him, awe and disbelief mingling in her chest. A monster. No... something far more terrifying than that.

For the first time in her life, Seraphina felt the weight of the word destiny.