The Extra's Rise-Chapter 189: Cecilia’s Sweet Sixteen (6)

After finishing my dances with Seraphina, Rachel, and Rose, I finally had a moment to breathe. That moment, however, didn’t last long, because my attention was quickly drawn to a group of five students standing together, radiating an air of confidence that suggested they were quite used to people staring.

They were the pride of Slatemark Academy, the second-best academy in the world—second only to Mythos Academy, which, as a proud student, I naturally believed was the superior one.

Rank 1, Jack Blazespout. Rank 2, Liora Arundel. Rank 3, Tobias Grimfeld. Rank 4, Naomi Draven. Rank 5, Elara Astoria.

These weren’t just any students. Each one of them had a Gift, an ability that set them apart from the average elite, making them comparable in strength to my own Class 1-A at Mythos Academy.

And standing at the top of them all was Jack Blazespout.

Jack wasn’t just a prodigy—he was the heir to Duke Blazespout, one of the world’s most powerful Immortal-rankers. That alone was enough to command respect. But there was something more. Something that very few people knew.

Jack Blazespout wasn’t just some noble-born genius.

His story was one woven into the annals of fate itself, tied to an ancient nightmare—a shadow of Murim’s past that had clawed its way into the present.

Nearly two centuries ago, there had been a figure known only as the Heavenly Demon, an apostle of the Demon Overlord, a man who had risen to the pinnacle of Radiant-rank and founded the Heavenly Demon Sect. His reign had been short, but apocalyptic. Murim had burned under his rule, and the war that followed had claimed countless lives. Among the fallen was the great Liam Kagu, one of humanity’s most celebrated warriors.

In his final moments, with his physical form failing and his enemies closing in, the Heavenly Demon had attempted to cheat death itself. He had condensed his entire existence—his soul, his power, his very essence—into a single object: a Legendary-grade artifact known as the Orb of Avarice. It was a perfect trap, a flawless snare designed to consume the soul of any who dared to claim it, devouring their being to fuel its own rebirth.

It was a brilliant plan.

And, like many brilliant plans, it failed spectacularly.

The problem? The Orb was too powerful, too selective. It refused to bond with just anyone. For years, it sat in the treasury of a minor sect in Murim, its power untapped, waiting for someone worthy. That moment might never have come had it not been for a completely unrelated dispute—one of the many petty conflicts that regularly flared up between Murim’s sects and the noble families of the west.

The Blazespout family had been involved in one such conflict. They had crushed their enemies, as was their custom, and in the process, they had seized the spoils of war. Among those spoils was the Orb of Avarice.

Duke Blazespout had taken one look at the shimmering purple-red sphere and felt the weight of its power pressing against his ambitions. He was already one of the strongest Immortal-rankers in existence, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted the Slatemark throne. He wanted to ascend beyond Immortal-rank and break through to Radiant-rank—a feat that only a handful of people had ever achieved.

So he took the Orb home.

And, to his astonishment, it bonded—not with him, not with any of his seasoned warriors or mages, but with his two-year-old son.

A child. A toddler.

No one had ever bonded with a Legendary-grade artifact at such an age. It was unprecedented. Unnatural. But somehow, impossibly, the Orb of Avarice had chosen Jack Blazespout.

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And that was when things took an even stranger turn.

The Heavenly Demon’s grand scheme had been designed to resurrect himself through the artifact. Any normal bearer would have had their soul utterly devoured, their body becoming nothing more than a puppet for the ancient demon’s will.

But Jack didn’t break.

Instead of consuming him, the Orb bonded with him. Not as a parasite, not as a master overriding its host, but as something akin to a tamed beast. It could whisper to him, tempt him, but it could not control him. The Heavenly Demon, despite all his meticulous planning, had been thwarted by a toddler.

And that, ironically, was how humanity’s greatest disaster was born.

Because while the Heavenly Demon had once burned a continent and left scars on history, Jack Blazespout would go on to do something far worse.

One day, he would become the Third Calamity. The Hellflame Emperor. A name that would cast an even darker shadow than the one who came before him.

’Jack will set the South ablaze with his flames once he reaches Radiant rank.’

It wasn’t a matter of if—it was a certainty, like gravity or the inevitability of someone ruining a perfectly good sandwich by adding raisins. The bond between Jack and the Orb of Avarice didn’t just grant him power. It gave him knowledge—the memories and experiences of the Heavenly Demon himself, allowing him to ascend to Radiant rank faster than even Lucifer Windward. And when he did, he would devastate the Viserion family, leaving the South in ruins and the world reeling.

The novel had stated that Tiamat’s claws had pierced his heart, but whether he had truly perished remained a mystery. The kind of mystery that usually ended with the villain returning at the worst possible moment, probably with a new coat and a thirst for vengeance.

And now, here he was—the boy who would one day become the Hellflame Emperor, standing before me as just another student. A student pretending to be the perfect noble, all courteous smiles and polished manners, but beneath it was something far less civil. Jack Blazespout wasn’t just dangerous because of his strength. He was dangerous because he knew how to wait.

Jack had black hair and dark eyes, like Jin Ashbluff, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Jin was composed, refined, the product of careful grooming and aristocratic polish, Jack looked untamed—his hair always slightly unkempt, his posture relaxed but carrying a weight of quiet authority. He had the kind of presence that made people step aside without realizing why, a primal warning wrapped in nobility.

Because unlike most nobles, Jack wasn’t playing a game.

He was waiting for his turn.

Jack approached with his entourage in tow. His dark gaze swept over our group before he offered a light bow, every movement precise, deliberate. "It’s an honor to see Your Highnesses gathered here," he said smoothly. His tone was perfectly polite, but there was something else beneath it—an undercurrent of amusement, as if he found the whole thing mildly entertaining.

His companions followed suit, bowing in sync.

Cecilia responded first, her voice composed but firm. "Good to see you as well, Jack." She gave a polite nod, her expression perfectly schooled as she turned to acknowledge the others from Slatemark Academy. Her smile was warm but distant—cordial without ever inviting familiarity.

Jack straightened, his gaze flicking between us before settling on Lucifer. And just like that, the air between them changed.

There was no hostility, no outward aggression. Just tension. The unspoken kind. The kind that hung heavy in the space between two people who knew they would spend their entire lives challenging each other.

Lucifer inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Jack."

"Lucifer," Jack returned, lips curving ever so slightly, almost as if he was enjoying himself. Then, his attention turned to me, and for the first time, I felt the weight of his gaze settle fully.

"Arthur Nightingale," he said, voice carrying a note of intrigue. "It seems fate has brought us all together tonight."

"Seems so," I replied, keeping my tone even. "Congratulations on leading the Slatemark Academy group. I’ve heard impressive things about all of you."

Naomi Draven stepped forward at that, her eyes narrowing slightly despite the lingering smile on her lips. "Impressive? Flattery from a Mythos Academy student? I must say, I didn’t expect that."

"It’s not flattery if it’s true," I said smoothly, offering a small smile. "You’ve earned your reputation."

Jack’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the faintest quirk of his brow. He found this exchange amusing. Of course he did. To him, this was all a game. A dance of words before the real battles began.

Before anything could escalate, Cecilia spoke, her voice gentle yet firm. "Tonight is about celebrating, not competing. Let’s put aside our differences and enjoy the festivities."

Jack’s gaze lingered on her for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before he nodded, his smile returning in full force. "Of course, Your Highness. We’re all here to celebrate, after all."

Luna’s voice echoed in my mind, filled with something I rarely heard from her—disbelief. ’Just who the hell is he?’ she whispered, as if even speaking his name too loudly would make him more real. ’How… how is this possible? How can someone harbor so much malice?’

Luna had lived for thousands of years. She had seen monsters, tyrants, and beings who defied the natural order. And yet, even she was unsettled. Because what Jack carried inside him wasn’t just ambition. It was something older. Darker. The Heavenly Demon had once been a force of unparalleled destruction, and now, that force whispered into the mind of a boy already predisposed to malevolence.

Jack Blazespout was one of only two people in the world capable of wielding both mana and miasma. The other was Rin Ashbluff—Jin’s hidden twin sister, locked away because the miasma had corrupted her mind. The difference was, Jack wasn’t corrupted. Jack was in control. And that made him infinitely more dangerous.

Simply put, Jack Blazespout was a character without redemption.

And his fate was already set—the only end for him was death.

But not today.

Killing Jack now wasn’t an option. His personal strength aside, he was the heir to Duke Blazespout, a noble with immense influence and resources. Any attempt to kill him would be suicide, and if I died, then everything I was working for would mean nothing.

Jack, too, had limits. He couldn’t yet wield the full power of his second Gift—Abyssal Flames, a miasma-infused flame that had once belonged to the Heavenly Demon himself. If he revealed it now, it would mark him for execution. And yet, even with only Nirvana Flames at his disposal, he was in a league of his own.

Lucifer and I were strong. Close in ability. But we weren’t there yet. Not at his level. If we fought him now, we would lose.

I shifted my gaze away from Jack and toward the group standing behind him. Liora Arundel. Tobias Grimfeld. Naomi Draven.

And then, finally, my eyes landed on the one who interested me the most.

Elara Astoria.

The innocent daughter of Archduke Leopold Astoria.

The spark that would one day set the Slatemark Empire on fire.

In the novel, Elara’s fate had always been a turning point, a moment of tragedy that shattered the stability of an empire. She had been my favorite female character—a symbol of purity caught in the ruthless games of power, a character who had always left me wanting to change the course of the story.

And now, she was here.

I stepped forward.

I was going to ask her to dance.