The Extra's Rise-Chapter 185: Cecilia’s Sweet Sixteen (2)

Considering it was Cecilia’s sixteenth birthday, the entire world seemed determined to put on a show.

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The Slatemark Empire had spared no expense, the palace practically glowing with gold and crimson banners fluttering against the night sky. The security was tight—guards stationed at every entrance, their sleek exo-suits glinting under the artificial lighting, mana-powered drones hovering just out of sight, scanning the incoming guests. A celebration, yes, but not without its precautions.

The Slatemarks weren’t the only ones under scrutiny. Every noble house worth its name had sent a delegation. The Creightons, the Windwards, the Viserions, the Ashbluffs—all of them had made an appearance. Even the Namgung family from the Eastern Continent had arrived, their presence an unmistakable declaration of interest.

And me?

I was here as both a participant and an observer. Because soon enough, it wouldn’t just be Cecilia’s birthday being celebrated—it would be the Crown Prince’s eighteenth.

Valerian Slatemark.

A character who, despite his royal title, was little more than a footnote in the grand scheme of history. Not particularly talented, not particularly brilliant, and most crucially, not a student of Mythos Academy. His failure to gain admission had been a quiet scandal, one his family had rushed to smother, claiming he had never intended to apply in the first place. Instead, he attended Slatemark Academy, where he languished in mediocrity, overshadowed by younger talents—by Cecilia, by the rising stars of his generation, by everyone.

And that made him dangerous.

The coup that would result from his desperate actions would fracture the Empire, leaving wounds so deep they would never fully heal. His paranoia would turn even those who loved him against him. His failure would cost not just his throne, but his world.

Because while the Slatemark Empire waged war against itself, the demons would be watching. Waiting.

They had plans for Earth. Plans that hinged on the moon base—humanity’s last line of defense against an invasion. The fortress floating above them, buried deep in lunar rock, housed an artifact the demons had been searching for across countless worlds. And when Valerian’s coup shattered the Empire’s unity, the base would fall. The demons would claim their prize. And then the war would truly begin.

I wasn’t about to let that happen.

And the first step?

Navigating this damn banquet.

It wasn’t just a party; it was a battlefield, one where words were sharper than swords, alliances were forged over wine, and every smile hid a dagger.

More than just the established noble houses, the prodigies of Slatemark Academy would be here as well. Liora Arundel, the future Ice Empress, a mage who would one day turn entire battlefields into frozen wastelands. Tobias Grimfeld, the Titan of Slatemark, a dark mage with a reputation for overwhelming brute force. Naomi Draven, the Mist Enchantress, unparalleled in illusion magic. And Elara Astoria, the Veil of Grace, her healing magic capable of turning the tide of wars.

Each of them had the potential to change the future.

And then there was him.

Jack Blazespout.

Even now, just thinking about him sent a chill down my spine. The man who, in another timeline, had annihilated the Slatemark Academy, then the Viserion family, then anyone who dared to stand in his path.

Unlike the others, his fate was already written in blood.

A wielder of both Nirvana Flames and Abyssal Flames, his soul entwined with a Legendary-grade artifact that had devoured the will of the Heavenly Demon himself. A monster in human skin. A being so powerful that even the Radiant-rank warriors of the world hesitated to confront him in the future.

The one called the Third Calamity, Hellflame Emperor in the novel.

Tonight, he would just be another noble son, blending into the crowd, smiling, speaking in polite tones.

But I knew better.

This banquet wasn’t just a celebration. It was an opportunity—to observe, to strategize, to ensure that when the time came, I would be ready.

With that thought, I turned to the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my tailored black suit, the silver embroidery catching the light. The Nightingale crest, a stylized silver bird in flight, was stitched subtly into my collar. It was formal enough for a noble gathering, practical enough to move in should things go sideways.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.

My father stepped in first, his gaze sweeping over me with the careful assessment of a man who had spent decades in high society. He nodded approvingly. "You look ready."

"Thanks," I said, offering a small smile.

Behind him, my mother entered, dressed in a shimmering midnight-blue gown, her elegance effortless as always. Aria, my sister, wore a similar dress, her eyes filled with excitement at the grandeur of it all.

"You look handsome, Arthur," my mother said warmly, adjusting my collar just slightly. "Remember, this is a celebration. Try to enjoy yourself."

I nodded. "I will, Mom."

The words were easy enough to say.

But I knew the truth.

This wasn’t just a celebration.

This was the beginning of the next chapter.

As we stepped outside, the sleek black car bearing the Minerva insignia awaited us, its surface reflecting the towering skyline of the imperial city. The journey to the palace was smooth, the streets meticulously maintained, the city humming with the presence of high-ranking officials, dignitaries, and nobles.

By the time we arrived, the palace was already bathed in golden light, the crimson banners of the Slatemark Empire rippling in the evening breeze.

Security was tight. Guards in ceremonial clothes stood at the entrance, their helmets sleek, their weapons charged but holstered. High above, drones flitted across the sky, scanning each incoming guest.

The car came to a slow stop, and a guard stepped forward, opening the door.

My father stepped out first, then my mother, then Aria. Finally, I followed, adjusting my suit as my gaze swept across the sea of noble guests already arriving.

The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the faint clinking of glasses. The scent of fine wines, rare perfumes, and the polished stone of the palace grounds filled the air.

And then, as the doors of the grand hall loomed before me, I took a breath.

This was the beginning of Cecilia’s birthday banquet.

The Slatemark Imperial Palace wasn’t just a building; it was a statement. A declaration of power, wealth, and history woven seamlessly with cutting-edge technology. Unlike the castles of old, where grandeur was often synonymous with impractical excess, this palace was the perfect blend of timeless elegance and modern efficiency.

Every inch of the structure was a deliberate masterpiece, a marriage of traditional craftsmanship and futuristic innovation. Discreet security measures were woven into the very fabric of the walls—holographic mana barriers, hidden surveillance drones that floated silently in the air, and defensive wards disguised as decorative engravings. Even the lighting, soft and ambient, adjusted in real time to complement the setting, subtly shifting to highlight important areas without overwhelming the palace’s regal atmosphere.

As I walked down the expansive hallway, the polished marble floors reflected the glow of the chandeliers overhead. The walls were lined with massive tapestries, their woven threads infused with a faint luminescence, depicting battles that shaped the Slatemark Empire’s rise. One in particular caught my eye.

It was impossible to ignore.

The massive tapestry dominated the hallway, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling. At its center stood a lone man, his presence towering over the battlefield he commanded. He was clad in armor that shimmered with an ethereal glow, his golden-blond hair cascading past his shoulders like a lion’s mane. Around him, chaos raged—blades clashed, storms roared, fire and lightning split the heavens—but none of it touched him.

Julius Slatemark.

The first Radiant-rank. The founder of the Slatemark Empire. The man who shaped history not through conquest alone, but through sheer, undeniable presence. His Gift, Empyrean Order, made it so that everything bent to his will. He wasn’t merely a warrior—he was a force of nature wrapped in the skin of a man.

The scene captured him at his peak, standing at the heart of a battlefield, unshaken as elemental forces swirled around him. Firestorms crashed against invisible barriers, lightning arced and froze midair, blades shattered before even reaching his skin. He commanded not just people, but the very world itself.

I stopped, staring at the tapestry longer than I intended. Something about it stirred something in me—a sense of inevitability, like I was standing at the precipice of a revelation I wasn’t quite ready to grasp.

Then I felt it.

A warmth, subtle yet unmistakable, pulsing from my arm. Beneath the fabric of my sleeve, the sigils of Lucent Harmony flickered to life, as if responding to something unseen.

And then, a voice. Soft. Wistful. Echoing in my mind like a memory surfacing after centuries of silence.

’Julius… It’s been so long since I last saw him.’

Luna.

My breath caught for a moment. She knew him.

Of course she did.

Julius Slatemark had wielded Lucent Harmony before me. He had been the one to carry Luna’s will before she ended up in my hands.

A thousand questions crashed into my mind, but only one managed to take form.

’If he had both Empyrean Order and Lucent Harmony, wouldn’t that have made him unstoppable?’

Julius wasn’t the only one in history to possess two Gifts. I knew of two others—Lucifer Windward, the supposed Child of Prophecy, and Jack Blazespout, the future Hellflame Emperor and Third Calamity. But technically, Julius’ second ability wasn’t a Gift in the traditional sense. Lucent Harmony wasn’t something he was born with—it was a beast’s will. And yet, functionally, it acted just like a Gift.

Which led me to a question the novel had never answered.

Why could only certain people wield two Gifts while the rest of humanity was stuck with one?

Lucifer hadn’t obtained Luna’s will in the original storyline, likely because it would have been his third Gift. And if that was impossible, then logic dictated that two was the absolute limit.

But why?

If obtaining multiple beast wills was even remotely possible, then surely at least one of the Radiant-rankers would have figured it out by now. Yet none had.

The answer wasn’t in the books, nor was it in any known records.

Julius. Lucifer. Jack.

Were they simply anomalies? Outliers whose very existence defied the rules?

I exhaled slowly, tearing my gaze away from the tapestry. The realization sat heavy in my chest.

There were still too many things I didn’t understand.