The Extra's Rise-Chapter 192: Cecilia’s Sweet Sixteen (9)

Lucifer walked out of the room, leaving Seraphim’s Embrace behind with Arthur.

His father’s words echoed in his mind.

"Don’t worry, Lucifer. You will surpass him soon enough. After all, you unlocked even a second Gift. You are sure to be the destined Second Hero."

Lucifer hadn’t said anything to his father at the time. What was there to say?

But now, standing in the quiet corridor, looking back at where Arthur had been—at what Arthur had become—Lucifer looked down at his own hands.

’Second Hero?’

He clenched his fists.

’I am not worthy.’

Not because he lacked strength. Not because he lacked talent. No, he had both in abundance. But a hero wasn’t someone who wielded power simply because they could. And he—he had spent so long demanding, expecting, assuming his place at the top.

Arthur had done the impossible. He held both White Star and Black Star, a feat that defied everything Lucifer had believed about power. He had created a Lich as a mere White-ranker. He stood at the center of something far greater than destiny.

Lucifer exhaled.

He wasn’t going to lose this easily.

He wouldn’t allow himself to.

As he stepped into the grand hall, the shift in atmosphere was immediate. Four sets of eyes turned in his direction.

Seraphina Zenith. Cecilia Slatemark. Rose Springshaper. Rachel Creighton.

They were all looking for Arthur, scanning the room with quiet urgency. They thought he had walked in.

He hadn’t. But Lucifer had.

He set his sights on Rachel and moved toward her. She saw him approach, and for the briefest moment—so quick it might have been missed—her expression twisted. A flicker of something raw and unpleasant crossed her face before she smoothed it over into neutrality.

But Lucifer had seen it.

And it twisted something inside of him.

How foolish I was.

He remembered the things he had said to her. No—demanded of her.

He had told her she was his Saintess, that she would stand beside him because he was the Second Hero.

What arrogance.

"Rachel," he said, his voice quieter than usual.

Rachel turned to him, her gaze sharp as a blade. "What is it?"

No warmth. No kindness. Not for him.

Lucifer remembered everything—his own words, his own mistakes. How he had once believed killing Arthur was the answer. How Rachel had warned him that he couldn’t, not because she feared for Arthur, but because she knew the truth:

That Lucifer would lose.

And he had.

Even unlocking his second Gift, it wasn’t enough.

Arthur had beaten him.

Lucifer inhaled deeply and bowed.

"I’m sorry."

Rachel blinked.

"I am sorry, Rachel," he repeated, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "I know this apology isn’t enough. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But… I hope you won’t burden yourself with hatred over someone like me."

He smiled—an actual, genuine smile. The kind that didn’t hide behind bravado or arrogance. Then he turned to leave.

He had taken two steps when—

"Wait."

He stopped. Turned.

Rachel looked at him, eyes searching, weighing, deciding.

"I don’t forgive you," she said. Lucifer had expected that. He had earned that.

"But maybe," she continued, her expression shifting, softening just a little, "I can. Over time."

She held out her hand. "Let’s be friends, okay?"

Lucifer looked at the offered hand, then at her face. Her smile was there, but it wasn’t his anymore. That warmth in her eyes? That quiet affection that once belonged to him?

It was Arthur’s now.

Lucifer knew.

And yet—

He wasn’t unhappy.

He reached out, took her hand, and smiled. "Okay."

__________________________________________________________________________________

"Arthur, if you aren’t careful, that boy will leave you far in the dust," Luna warned as I stepped out of the room.

’I know,’ I replied. And I did.

The Lucifer I had fought in the tournament had only just unlocked God’s Eyes. He had barely scratched the surface of what he was capable of. If we fought again in a month? I wouldn’t just lose—I wouldn’t stand a chance.

And that was before considering his mana rank.

Lucifer had reached White-rank long before I had, though he’d paid a price for it—his reckless advancement had hurt his Soul aspect. But even with that setback, he would still reach Integration-rank before me. And once he did, I’d be staring at a gap in power that no amount of clever footwork could bridge.

I exhaled, ignoring the faint sting of bitterness curling in my chest.

He’s going to overtake me again, huh.

The Integration process—the method by which a White-ranker ascended to Integration-rank—was a delicate, brutal transformation. It wasn’t just about accumulating power; it was about breaking oneself down and reforging from the inside out. The White mana core had to be shattered—carefully, methodically—so that it could be integrated into the body itself.

And that was just Stage 1.

The first stage of Integration was the most dramatic. It tripled both the quality and quantity of mana, essentially rewriting what it meant to wield power.

Stage 2? It doubled that again.

Stage 3—the final step, the one that truly marked the crossing into Integration-rank—was another sixty-seven percent boost.

By the time it was over, a freshly ascended Integration-ranker would have ten times the mana capacity and potency of a White-ranker.

And that wasn’t just a matter of numbers.

It meant enhanced aura rather than normal aura for those using the aura method, a fundamental shift in the way mana interacted with the body. It meant the ability to wield six-circle magic—something entirely beyond the reach of those still shackled to White-rank.

And Lucifer was about to reach it before me.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the weight of that inevitability settle over me.

Well, I had to reach Integration-rank before winter break anyway.

It wasn’t just about keeping up anymore. Once I reached Integration, I’d be able to access more of Erebus’s abilities—something I definitely needed if I didn’t want to fall behind.

Right now, I can only use his Gift and treat him like a glorified necromantic skeleton—bone armor at best, I thought, somewhat bitterly.

Erebus had power. I just wasn’t strong enough to use it properly yet. That would change soon.

The party was winding down, the air shifting from grandeur to quiet conversations as the last of the guests lingered. I took the opportunity to talk to the girls a bit more before leaving.

"Sera, can I visit Mount Hua Sect?" I asked Seraphina casually.

She shrugged, as if letting someone walk into one of the most prestigious sects on the planet was no big deal. "Come whenever you want."

That was good. I needed to train my senses further and work on conceptualizing the second movement of my Grade 6 art. God Flash was just the beginning, after all.

Eventually, the time came to leave. Alongside the girls, I bid farewell to Lucifer—who was still deep in thought—and then made my way to the car with my family.

It took exactly thirty seconds of peace before Aria spoke.

"Hey, Arthur, I saw you and Lucifer sneaking off into a room together!" she said, her voice absolutely dripping with mischief. Then, before I could cut her off, she smirked—a smirk so smug, so dangerous, that a genuine chill ran down my spine.

"Were you both—"

I clamped a hand over her mouth before she could finish that sentence.

’Do NOT try to change the goddamn genre!’ I groaned internally.

Aria mumbled something indignantly into my palm before I sighed and let her go. "He gave me an Ancient-grade artifact. I won a bet against the Dark King."

That, apparently, was enough to stun my parents. My mother gasped. My father actually turned in his seat to look at me properly.

"You won a bet against King Arden Windward?" he repeated, as if he had misheard me.

I nodded.

"He bet that I couldn’t beat Lucifer," I said simply. "And I did."

Aria crossed her arms, still pouting from being silenced. "You could have let me finish, you know."

I ignored her. Some things were simply not worth entertaining.

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