The Extra's Rise-Chapter 161: Prelude to End of the Year Festival (2)

The End of Year festival was rapidly approaching, and with it, the weight of expectations. Not from the Academy, not from the world, but from within. This wasn’t just about winning a battle or proving my strength. It was about understanding myself—finally, truly knowing who I was beneath every scar and every whispered promise of destiny.

I needed to understand myself. My feelings, my desires—things I had spent too long ignoring, treating them as side quests in the grander scheme of survival. But that no longer worked. The closer I got to the battle with Lucifer, the more I realized I wasn’t just fighting for strength. I was fighting to know. To finally admit that beneath the armor and the endless training, there was a heart yearning for clarity.

The first step was letting my feelings be known—at least, in some way.

"Alright," Cecilia said first, her arms crossed and her gaze unwavering as she faced me in the twilight. "I don’t care if you win or not, Nightingale. The one whose side I want to stand on is yours." Her words, blunt and resolute, carried more weight than any promise made on a battlefield.

Rachel’s breath hitched slightly beside me. "Cecilia…" she began, hesitation mingling with hope in her tone.

"I know, but I don’t care," Cecilia cut her off, her voice firm as she added, "I trust Arthur." There was no condition, no hidden caveat—just an unwavering trust that resonated deep within me.

A warmth bloomed in my chest, not merely from the sincerity of her words, but from the clarity they brought. There was no hesitation, no "if you win, then…"—just a declaration of faith. Rachel’s sapphire eyes locked onto mine as she continued, "Same for me. Since that day, when we fought the Abyssal Tide Serpent… I knew. I wanted to fight for you, Arthur. I want to be your Saintess. Win or lose, it doesn’t matter to me—as long as I can be with you." Her voice was fragile and powerful at once, carrying the weight of shared battles and unspoken promises.

Something in me shifted then, as if the pieces of my internal puzzle were clicking into place. "That’s enough for me," I said, smiling at them both, feeling the bonds of trust and affection fortify my resolve.

But there were still others I needed to see.

At the edge of the academy gardens, Seraphina stood watching the fading hues of dusk with an expression that was almost serene—almost. "You never call me out unless you have something important to say," she said before I could even open my mouth.

I chuckled. "Am I that predictable?"

"You’re that calculated," she replied, turning to face me fully. Moonlight caught her silver hair, scattering reflections like whispers of ancient secrets. "What is it?"

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I hesitated—not from doubt, but because Seraphina demanded words chosen with care. "I wanted to thank you," I said finally.

She blinked, her violet eyes searching mine. "For what?"

"For trusting me enough to bring me to Mount Hua," I confessed. "For believing in me when I didn’t even know what I was doing. For simply being there when I needed someone to remind me of who I could become."

Seraphina’s gaze softened, her usual inscrutability giving way to a quiet pride. "You’re different now," she murmured, as if noting a subtle transformation hidden beneath layers of familiar determination.

I shrugged. "I’m still figuring things out."

She nodded slowly. "Then figure them out. And when you do—when you truly know who you are and what you want—don’t hesitate to be that person. The world needs you, Arthur."

I smiled, feeling both the weight and the lift of her words. "I won’t."

A small, almost imperceptible smile ghosted across her lips before she turned away. "Good. Now go. You have one more person left, don’t you?"

Rose was exactly where I expected her to be—perched on the balcony of her dorm, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and affection as I landed silently beside her.

"You’re visiting everyone tonight, aren’t you?" she teased, taking a slow sip of her coffee as if savoring more than just the flavor.

"Word travels fast," I replied with a light-hearted smirk.

Rose grinned. "When it involves you? It flies."

I leaned against the cold, metal railing, gazing out at the dark sea stretching endlessly around the academy’s isolated island. No distant city lights, no signs of civilization—just the vast horizon where sky met ocean in an endless embrace. The only illumination came from the academy itself, its soft artificial glow barely reaching the island’s fringes.

"I just… wanted to let you know that I appreciate you," I said quietly, my voice almost lost to the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.

Rose tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. "That sounds suspiciously like a goodbye."

I laughed, shaking my head. "No, just a thank you. For everything—for helping me battle the Lich when I was too lost in my own darkness, for dragging me to that quirky little coffee shop when I needed a reminder of light, for simply being you."

For a long moment, Rose said nothing, as if weighing each word carefully. Then, she set down her cup and turned to face me fully, her arms now crossed in that familiar, challenging stance. "Arthur Nightingale," she said, her tone light but her eyes unwavering in their seriousness, "if you ever stop being you, I will personally beat you back into shape."

I smirked. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Leaning in, her voice softened, dropping just enough for only me to hear, "You’re going to win, you know. I can feel it in every beat of this chaotic heart of yours."

A slow breath escaped me, measured and resolute. "Yeah," I replied, locking my gaze with hers. "I can feel it too."

Rose’s grin widened as she playfully clinked her coffee mug against my shoulder. "Then go prove it."

I walked away from the balcony, the cool night air wrapping around me like a promise of new beginnings. I was different now—in ways I hadn’t fully grasped yet. The faces of those I cared for, their trust and declarations, had carved a path within me, illuminating parts of my soul long left shrouded in shadow.

Every step I took reminded me that this world, even with its looming fate and its scars from ancient wars, was the only one I had ever loved. Coming to this world, even knowing its doom, felt better than anything I had experienced before. It was my world—a tapestry of light and darkness, love and duty, hope and despair. And as much as the path ahead was fraught with peril, it was mine to traverse.

I would fight for it. I would save it.

Later, I found myself back at the training grounds—a vast, deserted expanse lit only by the hum of artificial lights casting long, wavering shadows over the worn flooring. The remnants of countless battles clung to the air: a faint scent of scorched metal, lingering mana residue, and echoes of valor whispered by the wind. Here, in the silence of impending conflict, every breath felt sacred.

I took a deep breath, letting the charged air fill my lungs, and then whispered a name that had haunted me for as long as I could remember. "Erebus."

Almost immediately, a tear in space formed—a jagged slit of darkness that seemed to tear reality itself asunder. From it, Erebus emerged, his skeletal frame towering and ominous, the Evernight Staff pulsing faintly even under the limiter’s suppression. Shadows coiled around him like living serpents, restrained yet full of barely contained fury.

"Yes, Master," he intoned, his voice a deep, unnatural reverberation that sent shivers through the silent arena.

I rolled my shoulders, feeling the familiar pulse of Lucent Harmony thrumming beneath my skin, the Qilin sigils on my arms igniting with mana. Every fiber of my being resonated with the weight of what was to come.

"Alright," I exhaled slowly, cracking my neck as if to brace myself against the inevitable storm. "Let’s do this."