The Extra's Rise-Chapter 163: The End of the Year Festival (2)

The countdown ticked down like the final beats of a war drum, each number tightening the coil of tension winding through the 100 students scattered across the battlefield.

Arthur stood amidst it all, a quiet force bracing for the inevitable storm.

Then, the world shifted.

A flash of light enveloped him, and when it faded, the roar of the crowd in the stadium was gone, replaced by the hush of the wild. He landed in a dense forest, the ground beneath him soft with fallen leaves, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. A breeze rustled through the towering canopy, shafts of filtered sunlight breaking through in patches.

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Arthur let out a slow breath, his muscles already coiled in readiness. A battle royale wasn’t about being the strongest. It was about being the last one standing.

Above him, mechanical drones flitted through the sky, their sleek forms barely noticeable against the clouds. The spectators—millions of them—were watching through countless camera feeds. Some were probably placing bets. Others were eagerly awaiting the first elimination, the first dramatic clash.

Arthur ignored all of it. This wasn’t a show. This was a test.

He had no idea where his opponents had landed. The entire battlefield was massive, spanning biomes ranging from barren rock formations to treacherous swamps, from open plains to crumbling ruins half-devoured by nature. It was a carefully designed chaos, meant to push the students to their limits.

Arthur moved quickly, scaling the nearest tree in a few swift leaps. From his new vantage point, he surveyed the terrain, eyes sharp. The arena wasn’t empty.

Mana beasts lurked beneath the foliage, waiting.

Arthur spotted a Horned Rat scuttling through the underbrush—a 2-star mana beast, harmless alone, but dangerous in packs. That was another thing about this round: the environment itself was an enemy.

Not just the students.

He let his breathing slow, his mind ticking through possibilities. Recklessness would get him eliminated. This was a battle of attrition. Charging into a fight would only draw more combatants like vultures to a fresh carcass.

Arthur’s best strategy? Let the fools whittle each other down. Pick his battles. Conserve energy.

He tensed as a movement caught his eye. Not a mana beast this time.

A group of three students, already forming an alliance. Idiots.

Alliances in a battle royale were as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane. They worked—until they didn’t. Until someone saw an opportunity to betray, and the whole thing collapsed in on itself.

Arthur shifted slightly, staying completely hidden. Let them fight amongst themselves first. He had no intention of being their first opponent.

Elsewhere, Jin Ashbluff was already reaping eliminations like a silent executioner.

He moved like a whisper in the wind, his twin swords mere extensions of his will. Two girls stood by a riverbank, unaware, too comfortable in their momentary truce. Jin didn’t hesitate.

His form blurred.

The flat of his blades tapped against their backs.

Two startled gasps. A second later, their bodies dissolved in light, their emergency teleportation artifacts activating.

Eliminated.

Jin didn’t watch them vanish. He had already melted back into the shadows, his mind already calculating his next move.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The air in the VVIP box buzzed with quiet conversation, the faint hum of screens displaying the battle royale feeding the anticipation.

"That Ashbluff kid is as impressive as ever," Leon mused, his red eyes gleaming as he watched Jin dismantle his opponents with surgical precision.

"The rulers of the West have always been monsters in the sword," Duke Blazespout agreed, nodding approvingly. "Even without his family’s necromantic heritage, the boy would still be a force to reckon with."

Kem Kagu, his expression contemplative, turned to the Duke. "Speaking of prodigies, your son is still at Slatemark Academy, isn’t he? Why not enroll him here at Mythos Academy?"

The Duke smiled, the kind of smile that hinted at deeper calculations. "Jack is special," he said simply. "And for now, I’d rather keep him close."

Kem chuckled. "Parental love, is it? Your son is said to be exceptionally talented. Perhaps on par with our dear prodigies here."

"Jack is strong," the Duke admitted, though his tone remained measured. "But let’s not place him above his station just yet."

Leon smirked. "Humble as always, Duke. The inter-academy festival next year will be quite the spectacle. I’ll have to convince my brother to attend again."

"We’ll see then," the Duke said, his smile deepening. "Who truly deserves to be called the strongest."

Back in the battle royale, the weaker contestants were falling like dominos, some taken out by their peers, others by the mana beasts lurking in the arena. Though the students of Mythos Academy were far from weak in the grand scheme of things, against the true elites, they were little more than stepping stones.

The camera feed shifted to Ren Kagu. He stood among three downed opponents, his breathing steady, his purple eyes glinting with cold indifference.

A punch aimed at him from behind.

Ren didn’t turn.

Instead, he shifted his weight just so, letting the fist brush past his shoulder as if he had predicted the attack before it was even conceived. The counter came in an instant—a ruthless elbow to the ribs that sent his opponent crumpling to the ground, gasping for air.

Kem’s lips curled into a pleased smile. ’That’s it, Ren.’

Ren barely glanced at his fallen foes before moving on, his mind already dissecting his next confrontation. God’s Eyes wasn’t just about sight—it was perception, a map of the battlefield sketched out in his mind with the clarity of prophecy.

The feed lingered on his expressionless face before flickering away.

Leon sighed, tapping his fingers against the edge of his seat. "He’s quite something, your son."

Kem nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Indeed. But this is only the beginning. Ren will continue to rise, and soon enough, the entire world will recognize the strength of the Kagu family once again."

Li Zenith, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. "Ren is certainly talented," he admitted, his fingers tapping against his screen. "But I wouldn’t count Arthur out."

The monitors shifted again. Arthur Nightingale.

Arthur moved through the forest like a ghost.

His steps were silent on the mossy ground, his posture unhurried. He was not searching for a fight.

No, the fight was coming to him.

He could feel it.

’Two, three, four...’ He mentally counted the mana signatures edging closer, their owners doing a poor job of masking their intentions.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense. Just waited.

"Are you going to attack," he finally said, his voice carrying a note of dry amusement, "or are you planning to stare at me from the shadows until the round ends?"

The ambush came immediately.

A mana-infused arrow hissed through the air from his left. Too predictable.

Arthur caught it mid-flight, his fingers closing around the shaft like a vice. With a sharp squeeze, the projectile crumbled to dust in his grip.

The second attacker lunged from behind. An axe. A wild, heavy strike meant to cleave him in two.

Leon leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "Will he block?"

Arthur did not block.

Instead, he redirected.

With a twist of his wrist, his sword met the axe not with force, but with precision—guiding its momentum off-course as if it had never belonged in his opponent’s hands to begin with. The attacker stumbled forward, thrown off balance.

Arthur let him fall. He had bigger problems.

Three more figures burst from the underbrush, magic blazing in their hands.

The strongest among them was a girl with a katana—Aki.

Her blade vibrated with a high-frequency sonic wave, the air itself splitting with each strike. A Grade 4 art.

Arthur exhaled, adjusting his stance.

"That’s Aki," Valerie noted, her voice composed. "She’s strong."

Aki surged forward, her katana a blur of afterimages. She was fast. Faster than most would expect.

Arthur’s sword multiplied.

No, not really.

Illusion Sword.

Three copies of his blade danced in the air, shifting positions so seamlessly that even a trained eye struggled to follow. Which was real?

Aki’s hesitation cost her.

Arthur’s real sword found its mark, the flat of the blade tapping against her wrist.

A subtle, almost mocking strike. He could have ended the fight right then and there.

But instead, he waited.

Aki’s breath hitched. She understood.

She’d already lost.