I AM EXTRA IN A SHONEN MANGA

The woods had grown quiet again, but not empty.

The air still crackled faintly from where Ceyla's lance had ended the Echo Beast. A few scorched leaves drifted gently to the ground. Birds dared not return just yet. The silence that followed felt different. Not like fear.

But like something sacred had just passed.

Khael knelt beside the girl, brushing her hair gently behind her ear. The child trembled slightly—not from cold, but something deeper.

He lowered his voice.

"What's your name?"

The girl looked at him—eyes wide, uncertain. Then, slowly, she dropped her gaze to the dirt beneath them.

Her tiny finger moved.

Carefully. As if each stroke mattered more than breath itself.

She traced three letters:

L – I – N.

Ceyla, standing nearby, softened.

"Lin…" she whispered.

Khael nodded.

"Lin."

A name. A piece of her, reclaimed.

But Lin didn't stop moving. Her eyes darted around—searching the clearing like she'd lost something precious.

Khael tilted his head.

"What are you trying to find?"

No answer came, of course. Just more frantic glances.

Then Juno stepped forward.

His voice was calm, almost unsure.

"You mean this?"

In his hand was a small object. Worn. Slightly scorched. A flat disc of pale wood—engraved with swirling, delicate markings that seemed to glow faintly in the dusk.

Khael's eyes widened.

"That's… a Shinrei Glyph."

The moment Lin saw it, her entire body moved.

She lunged forward, almost falling, arms wrapping around the glyph like it was a piece of

her soul. And maybe… it was.

She clutched it tightly, burying her face into it. Her shoulders trembled—not in fear this

time, but in overwhelming relief.

The group stood silently, watching.

Even Ceyla said nothing.

Because they all felt it—in the way the glyph hummed faintly in the Shinrei-rich air. The way it pulsed not like magic, but like grief wrapped in light.

Juno slowly stepped back.

His usual tone was gone.

"Didn't know a kid could carry that much feeling…" he muttered.

Ceyla glanced at Khael.

He wasn't looking at her.

He was watching Lin. Still kneeling. Still holding the glyph to her chest like a lifeline.

She didn't cry. She didn't smile.

But somehow, in the quiet…

Khael felt a thread of connection bloom.

Something fragile. Something unspoken.

But real.

Suddenly

"Lin!!! Where are you!!"

The voice rang clear, feminine, firm. Not frantic. Not panicked. But there was something urgent tucked beneath the words. Not desperation… something heavier.

Duty.

From between the trees emerged a figure, her presence somehow more silent than her voice.

Ashen-silver hair spilled down her back in loose strands, catching the faint pink shimmer of the setting sun like threads of mist.

Her eyes, a stormy violet-gray, swept the field with a calm that chilled more than it comforted. They held no fear.

No warmth, either.

Only quiet resolve, like a pond that hadn't rippled in years.

Her robes fluttered softly in the wind—Verdyn Guardian attire. Pale green and white, stitched with intricate thorn patterns that curled like living secrets along her sleeves and collarbone.

But what most caught the eye was the weapon she carried.

A scythe—sleek, crescent-shaped, black as obsidian and etched with silver veins. At its base, nestled above the grip, bloomed a single unopened flower.

It pulsed faintly. Not with light. But with Shinrei.

Emotion locked in sleep.

Ceyla immediately tensed, shifting her stance.

Khael stepped forward, his hand subtly brushing the hilt of his short blade.

Juno leaned sideways to whisper, "…She's not normal."

Lin, however, lit up her body springing upright with sudden recognition. The glyph in her hands shimmered again, glowing faintly with Shinrei threads.

She dropped to one knee and began carving quickly into the earth.

The girl's fingers moved with practiced care, drawing not words but a name.

E – L – I – R – Y – N.

Khael read it aloud.

"Eliryn…"

The silver-haired girl finally reached them. Her expression remained unreadable as she locked eyes with Lin. Then she spoke.

"You carved my name, Lin."

Lin nodded.

No hug. No tears. But the stillness between them pulsed like an invisible heartbeat. A connection that didn't need sound.

Eliryn lowered her scythe. She glanced at the team but didn't introduce herself. Her eyes passed over Khael, Ceyla, Juno.

A quiet judgment.

Then she looked back to Lin.

"You used a Glyph."

Lin nodded again.

Eliryn turned her gaze down to the carving in the earth. Her fingertips hovered just above it.

The Shinrei left behind still pulsed gently—faint strands of fear, relief, hope.

"That much feeling…" Eliryn murmured. "You didn't run because you were afraid. You ran because you wanted to find me."

Lin held the glyph tightly again, like it was the only voice she had.

Khael finally spoke.

"We found her being chased by an Echo Beast. She's safe now."

Eliryn offered a faint bow not deep. Not warm. But genuine.

"Then I thank you. I was separated during the perimeter sweep. She never cries, but she left this—" she held up a small satchel "—so I knew something was wrong."

Juno whispered to Ceyla, "I feel like even her thank yous are scary."

Ceyla didn't laugh, but her mouth twitched.

Then, Eliryn turned slightly toward the path leading to Vernara Village.

"Come. The ritual begins tomorrow. The elders will want to see you all tonight."

She didn't ask permission. She didn't wait for a vote.

She simply started walking.

Khael looked at the others.

"Guess we follow the scary moon-girl now."

Lin took Ceyla's hand unexpectedly, like a whisper of trust.

And for the first time, Ceyla didn't flinch. She squeezed gently.

They walked together, the team following Eliryn's silver hair into the village shadows…

Unknowing of the ancient echoes waiting for them in Vernara.

They continued walking along the moss-lined forest path, the sunlight dimming into scattered amber beams through the thick canopy above. Vernara's scent—floral, damp, and faintly electric—was growing stronger with each step.

Noah Matsuda, the Bloom Clan emissary, and an undeniable coward with a ceremonial title, clutched his scroll pouch like it was a lifeline.

His eyes darted from tree to tree, shoulders tense, flinching at the distant cry of some unseen bird.

"S-So scary…" he muttered, glancing over his shoulder for the fourth time in a minute.

Then, cautiously, he stepped closer to Eliryn, walking a few paces ahead with her scythe casually slung over one shoulder like it was nothing more than a farming tool instead of a reaper's crescent.

He cleared his throat.

"Um… excuse me, Eliryn?"

She didn't respond immediately. Just kept walking, gaze steady, boots soft on moss.

"Why does Lin… I mean, why does she write Shinrei Glyphs like that? You know you can project them, right? With Echo? I-I've seen others do it. You can speak with them, even make the words float in the air like illusions…"

There was a pause.

Then, without stopping, Eliryn answered quietly, evenly.

"She's shy."

Noah blinked.

"That's… it?"

Eliryn tilted her head slightly, her violet-gray eyes catching the last sliver of sun. She didn't look at him, but her voice carried deeper meaning than her words suggested.

"Lin doesn't speak because she doesn't want to. Not because she can't use the glyphs."

Khael, walking just behind them, raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.

"And the way she uses glyphs—drawing them with her fingers into the dirt, onto leaves, or carving them in the air?" Eliryn continued. "That's not weakness. It's honesty."

She finally glanced over her shoulder, her gaze locking with Noah's nervous one.

"You write with Echo. She writes with her heart."

Noah blinked, face slowly reddening.

"O-Oh. I didn't mean to sound rude… I was just curious…"

Lin, still holding Ceyla's hand, looked up at Eliryn, then back down at the dirt path, her small fingers fidgeting around the glyph she still clutched.

Ceyla said nothing, but her grip never loosened.

Khael, voice low, said quietly to Noah, "Next time, ask questions with a little more respect. Or don't ask at all."

Noah gulped again.

"R-right. Sorry."

And so they walked on, the shadows growing longer as the road curved up toward Vernara's outer ridge—where a ritual of renewal waited...

...and something darker, older, began to stir beneath the roots.

As they walked through the soft crunch of wildroots and fallen petals, the silence between them wasn't tense, it was watchful. Khael glanced sideways at Ceyla, her grip still firm around Lin's tiny hand, the way she subtly matched the child's pace without seeming obvious.

Ceyla's eyes remained forward, expression unreadable. But every so often, she would glance down just for a moment to make sure Lin wasn't struggling with the uneven path.

Khael looked at her a little longer than he meant to.

He thought:

"(Now that I think about it… in the manga, even when Ceyla was cold or blunt to everyone else… she never treated children the same way. Never once. No matter how angry or sharp she was, she always softened when it came to kids. Like something in her remembered… or refused to forget.)"

Lin tugged a little at her sleeve to avoid a thorn bush, and without a word, Ceyla gently pulled her closer to the inside of the trail.

Khael smiled faintly to himself.

That's right.

(That's one of her traits.)

But then—

Ceyla's voice cut in. Dry. Sharp.

"What?"

Khael blinked. Looked away quickly.

"Nothing," he said, too fast.

Ceyla narrowed her eyes.

"You were smiling like a dumbass."

Khael coughed. "Just… remembered something funny."

She didn't respond. But she didn't press.

A few steps later, Khael caught a flicker of something strange—her lip twitching. Like maybe… maybe… she almost smiled.

But she said nothing.

Lin squeezed her hand, looking up.

And this time, Ceyla didn't look away.

To be continue