Chronicles of Forgotten Extra

[Aziel's Pov.]

In the family estate of the Ignaris family, a boy with messy brown hair and grey eyes swung his sword.

Aziel.

He had returned to his home after the attack incident.

He had been unconscious for a few days after that attack and only woke up a few days ago.

He spun mid-air, letting out a loud battle cry before his blade crashed against a training dummy.

A boom echoed as the dummy exploded into shards.

"Too slow," he muttered.

He landed with a thud, brushing sweat from his forehead.

His shirt clung to his back, soaked through.

The training dummies lined up again—automated mana puppets crafted to adapt.

The family had spent a small fortune on them.

Aziel cracked his neck.

"Again."

Before he could charge, his ManaSync beeped.

[New Message from: Alden]

He blinked.

["I'm talking from heaven. Delete my search history. RIP."]

Aziel stared at it.

Then snorted.

Then he laughed.

Loudly.

"Goddamn you," he muttered. "You edgy bastard."

He quickly typed a reply.

[You idiot. I've already printed out your search history. It's framed on my wall.

[Also, you spelt 'heaven' wrong. Lol.

[Wait… are you actually dead? Are there beautiful angels there? Give them my contact information.

He laughed again and sighed, putting the blade aside for now.

Alden wasn't the most talkative person, but that short message was enough to lift some of the weight off Aziel's chest.

He wasn't dead. He was still being sarcastic.

Things were going to be fine.

Right?

___

[Amyra's Pov.]

Within the Imperial Family estate in the capital city of the Vallorian Empire.

A girl with white hair sat by the window of the imperial palace, looking out at the silver fountain below.

She was dressed in royal robes.

Amyra had returned to the imperial palace today.

The incident at ancient ruins had caused too many deaths. And apparently some cultist had accepted they were there to kidnap her.

So public sentiment had turned against her.

"You need to show your face again, Amyra," her father had said. "People are asking questions."

Those were the words of her father.

Honestly, she didn't care what people thought of her. She wanted to stay at the academy. Stay near him.

She had no choice but to come back.

But all she could think of was him.

Alden.

She closed her eyes and remembered the way he stood still when she hugged him.

How his warmth felt—how it lingered.

He hadn't messaged her back.

That meant something, didn't it?

Maybe he didn't care.

Or maybe—just maybe—he didn't know how to respond.

She stared at her ManaSync again.

Still no reply.

Amyra bit her lip, fingers tightening around the edge of her seat.

"I won't give up," she whispered to herself.

Not this time.

Not again.

__

[Lucien's Pov]

In another private training room. A boy with messy white hair and violet eyes swung his spear relentlessly.

His expressions were focused. Too focused.

Again.

Clang.

Lucien's blade met the training post, sparks flying.

His muscles burnt, shirt drenched in sweat.

He gritted his teeth.

Again.

He remembered the fight at the ruins.

The monsters. The chaos.

How he had run away… how he had abandoned his friend.

He was helpless then.

A side character.

He wasn't supposed to be.

He had a system. Noble blood. Good potential.

But he wasn't enough.

He had heard about how others had defeated stronger foes.

Lucien wasn't jealous.

No.

He was ashamed.

Ashamed that he couldn't keep up.

Ashamed, he had to be saved.

He grunted and slashed again. The training post shattered.

Blood dripped from his calloused hands. But he didn't stop.

"I'll catch up," he whispered.

"I'll surpass everyone."

__

[–Zephyr's Pov–]

Within a dungeon.

A boy with pitch-black hair and golden eyes was locked in fierce battle with a boss monster.

"RAAAAAAH!"

The tiger-beast roared, pouncing across the dungeon floor with claws the size of blades.

Zephyr ducked beneath it, legs sweeping low.

Mana surged around him as he delivered a spinning kick.

Boom!

The tiger was sent flying, crashing into the wall, leaving a crater.

Zephyr exhaled slowly.

The cracked earth around him hissed with leftover energy.

He brushed dust off his bare arms and checked his surroundings. Four other monsters lay twitching or unconscious.

"That's all?"

He cracked his knuckles and looked around with a bored expression.

No challengers.

He sighed.

"Too easy…"

Monsters weren't enough anymore.

Sparring with his friends? Child's play.

He needed something more.

Then he remembered a boy.

Someone who has stood against him in the academy entrance test.

Alden Draven.

No… only Alden now.

"I should go pick a fight with him again sometime."

He smiled.

Blood stained his knuckles. His heart raced.

That was what living felt like.

__

[Nyx's POV.]

Within a restaurant a black-haired girl sat by the window. Her blue eyes filled with scrutiny.

"...Hm. Too sugary. The custard's trying too hard."

Nyx delicately placed her fork down, looking unimpressed at the strawberry tart in front of her.

She scribbled something down in a notebook titled "Sweets of the World – By Nyx".

The café around her was peaceful, filled with soft music and couples whispering sweet nothings to each other.

She sat alone. By choice.

She took another small bite. Chewed slowly. Judged the texture.

6.8/10. Could be improved with a vanilla bean base and less gelatine.

She glanced out the window at the passing clouds.

Her fork twirled in her hand, idle. Thoughts wandered.

Alden.

She wondered how he was doing.

She wasn't the sentimental type. But she felt bad for misunderstanding him.

Especially after what he had muttered in his sleep back then.

She saw herself in him.

He is just like me.

She took a sip of her tea.

"I'll check on him later."

___

[Alden's Pov]

Unbeknownst to shifting wind. Alden returned back from his meeting with the principal.

He didn't really have anything planned for the day.

He didn't collapse onto his bed. Didn't check his ManaSync. Didn't even bother to grab a drink.

Instead, he wore his training suit and moved towards the door at the far end of his room.

The room greeted him with silent walls and a smooth floor enchanted to absorb shock.

No distractions. No noise.

Just him.

This room had seen his worst moments. His best ones too.

Today, it would see something new.

Alden entered.

He didn't hesitate.

There were no spectators here, no applause, no enemies to beat or sisters to piss him off.

Only him.

And that was more than enough.

He cracked his knuckles.

His Sword of Chaos appeared in his hands. Its pitch-black blade shone as elegantly as ever.

It trembled slightly as if feeling the same excitement Alden was feeling.

Perfect.

He took his stance.

Feet apart. Core steady. Mind quiet.

He had no plans to rest today.

Because he had seen it—during the battle with Gravius, at the edge of his transcendence, right before he delivered the finishing blow. A glimpse.

The next step of his weapon art.

He hadn't used it.

Not because he was afraid.

But because it wasn't ready.

He wasn't rushing to it yet. First, he needed to reinforce the foundation.

"Ruinous Severance", Alden murmured.

His sword changed into a katana. He held it in a quick-draw position within his sheath.

The sheath was an artefact and could change shape with weapons.

He had previously ordered it specifically for his sword from Cipher.

He calmed his mind.

He was just going over the first step because the second step was connected to it.

He unsheathed his katana at blurring speed with a burst of mana, and right before it hit the dummy, he burst mana once again, accelerating it the second time.

The world stilled for a moment. Alden felt no resistance as his blade sliced through the neck of the metallic dummy cleanly without any resistance.

A small smile appeared on his face.

He has mastered Ruinous Severance. He could now easily control the unpredictability of the attack.

That was the benefit of mastery.

But he wasn't satisfied.

Again.

He swung once more.

And again.

And again.

The blade flew through the air like a phantom of destruction.

Each strike was just slightly different.

But this time, each was deliberate.

The lines it carved through space grew cleaner.

More precise.

He closed his eyes on the tenth strike.

And saw it.

A phantom afterimage.

The memory from his transcendence.

Not a cut.

A crescent.

A sweeping arc of ruin that extended far beyond the blade.

A projection.

A wave.

The second step.

Alden opened his eyes.

The training room felt heavier now. The very air pressed in around him, as if the room itself knew what was coming.

He gripped the sword tighter.

"Let's see if I can reach it," he whispered.

And swung.

Not just a cut—but with intent.

With focus.

He poured mana into the blade.

But nothing came.

The blade hissed through the air, potent and sharp, but still just a cut.

He didn't stop.

He moved again and again.

He was drenched in sweat now. His breath came heavier. His muscles strained.

But he wasn't giving up.

Because he had seen it.

He knew it existed.

The energy was there.

Just beyond his fingertips. Waiting.

Testing him.

He took his stance again.

And began.

This time, there were no wasted swings.

Each one was a whisper closer.

Each cut a demand.

He was close.

So close.

His vision blurred from exhaustion, but that only made his focus sharper.

Something changed.

The blade swept down.

And the air did not simply part.

It shattered.

A line of pitch-black energy burst forward from his blade, sweeping in a devastating arc across the training chamber.

It screamed as it travelled—not with sound—but with sheer pressure.

A perfect crescent of destruction.

Like a wave of black moonlight.

The training dummies vaporised.

The far wall cracked down the middle, despite the reinforcement runes.

Silence fell.

Alden stood in place, the mana blade fading from his hand.

His breathing is ragged.

But his eyes – his eyes were alive.

A notification pinged faintly in his mind.

__

[Second Step: Ruin Arc – The Crescent That Denies Continuity Is Unlocked]