I'm an Extra, so What?

The village looked like a painting half-smeared.

Houses sagged inward, their rooftops caved in. Fields had collapsed into muddy sinkholes. A cart still sat in the main road, one wheel spinning lazily in the breeze.

But no corpses.

No blood.

Just… absence.

They reached the well at the village square. Luka crouched beside it and picked up a small shoe. Children's size.

Snow gave a low whimper.

"They didn't run," Serene said, voice flat. "They were taken."

Luka frowned, scanning the surroundings. "No signs of a fight. No mana residue. Whatever hit this place was clean. Surgical."

Just then—hoofbeats.

From the ridge behind them.

Serene whirled, hand on her weapon.

A squad of riders approached—Guild reinforcements. Three adventurers wearing light plate and blue capes stamped with the Adventurer's Guild crest.

And leading them…

Arthur.

In full parade gear. His ornate armor practically shimmered in the gloom.

"Figures I'd find you two crawling around here," Arthur called, sliding off his horse with a practiced flourish. "I suppose you're the reason I got assigned cleanup duty?"

Luka raised an eyebrow. "We're investigating. You're late."

Arthur snorted. "Please. I'm not here to track rotten trees. I'm here because some pencil-pusher thinks we're dealing with a threat above your paygrade."

Serene crossed her arms. "We handled the Grove and the Rootwraith."

"Right, right. With your pet lizard and sheer dumb luck." Arthur gave Snow a pointed look. "Does that thing even count as a combat partner? Looks like it belongs in a tea party."

Snow bared his fangs with a tiny growl.

Luka stepped between them calmly. "You're not here to help, are you?"

Arthur smirked. "I'm here to fix whatever you broke. Villagers go missing, and surprise—you're nearby. Suspicious."

"We followed the corruption west," Luka said flatly. "If you'd kept up with your reports, you'd know that."

Arthur waved dismissively and turned to his squad. "Sweep the north fields. Check the barns. Maybe our little Ranger left some tracks he forgot to erase."

Serene's glare could have curdled steel. "We don't have time for your ego."

"Oh? Is it your bedtime already, Serene?" Arthur asked mockingly, eyes glinting.

Luka ignored him and focused instead on a faint humming beneath the well. His hand hovered over the stones.

There was a pulse.

Mana.

And it wasn't dead.

"Serene," he said. "The well's a conduit."

Arthur laughed. "You're joking. The whole village vanishes and you think they crawled into a well?"

"I think someone made it look like they did."

With a flick of his wrist, Luka pulled out a thin crystal rod and tapped the well's lip. The air shimmered. A faint rune—previously invisible—flared along the stones.

A portal seal.

Serene's eyes widened. "A spatial relay."

"Exactly." Luka stood. "Whoever did this didn't kill the villagers. They moved them. Maybe as a sacrifice. Maybe as an experiment."

Arthur's smile faltered.

He hated not knowing things.

Before anyone could react, the air inside the well pulsed.

And something rose.

A creature—no, a construct of shadow and bone. Vaguely humanoid, but eyeless, with fingers like spider legs and a stitched mouth that hissed open and shut like broken bellows.

[HERALD OF THE HOLLOW]Level: UnknownStatus: Constructed, Bound

It moved faster than its size should allow.

One of Arthur's knights screamed as a clawed limb punctured his chest, lifting him off the ground before flinging him like a ragdoll.

Serene rushed forward, shield up. "Form up!"

Arthur hesitated—then backed away.

"Get back!" he barked. "Let them handle it!"

Serene stared at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding?"

But Luka was already moving. He blinked past the creature's sweeping strike and drove a blade into its back. It screamed—not in pain, but in static, as if its body couldn't hold sound properly.

Snow blasted it with flame, but it barely flinched.

Serene tackled it, slamming her shield into its face—but the blow just phased through part of its form, as if it only partially existed.

"Half-anchored!" Luka shouted. "We need to bind it!"

Arthur finally drew his sword, but stayed at a distance—pacing in a circle, yelling at his surviving knight instead of joining the fight.

Luka growled under his breath and reached into his pouch—pulling out a binding tag. He slapped it onto the well's rune.

The seal shimmered—and snapped the creature in place.

Now fully anchored.

Serene slammed her shield into its core, and Luka drove his daggers through its chest, twisting with a sharp flash of light.

The creature fractured, and a wail of void-echoes tore through the square.

Then it collapsed into dust.

Silence.

Arthur sheathed his blade like he'd done something. "You're lucky I was here."

"You didn't lift a finger," Serene said sharply. "One of your men's dead. You didn't even try."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not risking my life over some no-name hamlet."

"You're a coward."

Arthur stepped up to her, smiling coldly. "I'm a survivor."

He turned and left without another word.

Luka knelt beside the dust that used to be the Herald. Embedded in the remains was a rune—a small obsidian coin etched with the symbol of a withered tree.

Not druidic.

Not elven.

But marked.

"Now we know," Luka whispered. "Someone's building these things."

Serene looked toward the west.

And the mountains beyond.

"They're testing something. A ritual. A weapon."

Luka nodded. "Then we need to find it first."

The rain picked up.

Wind rushed through the hollowed village square, scattering ash from the broken Herald construct. It swirled like charred snow until only the coin remained. Luka turned it over in his hand again, brushing the edges with his thumb.

"A ritual token," he murmured. "But the design doesn't match anything in the Guild's archives."

Serene crouched beside him. "Could be off-continent. Or something ancient. Older than the Guild's been around."

"Which means this wasn't just a random experiment." Luka's voice was quiet. "This was planned."

He stood and pocketed the coin.

Behind them, Arthur barked orders to the two surviving knights—pointless, haughty directives that didn't acknowledge the man they'd just lost. His blade was clean. His armor still gleamed. But he hadn't made a single meaningful move during the fight.

Serene didn't even look at him.

"We heading back to report?" she asked Luka instead.

"Soon. But there's something else here."

He turned to the well again.

The portal seal had collapsed, but the residual mana lingered—twisting in the air like smoke that refused to disperse.

Luka reached into his pouch and withdrew a runestone etched with tracing glyphs. He set it at the well's edge, whispering a command.

It flared to life.

Images formed in the air above it—ghostly echoes of the past few days.

Villagers scrambling from their homes in the middle of the night. A figure in black robes, faceless, standing atop the well. A chant. Symbols drawn in blood. The villagers collapsing—still alive, but dreamless.

Then the flash of the portal opening.

And all of them being pulled through.

Serene's fists clenched. "They were taken while conscious."

Luka's eyes hardened. "It's a harvest."

Arthur glanced over with a sneer. "Are we done gawking at lightshows? Because I'd love to stop babysitting you two and get back to real work."

Serene turned toward him sharply. "One of your men is dead. Show some damn respect."

Arthur waved a dismissive hand. "He knew the risks. He was a bronze-tier at best. Not everyone's cut out for this job."

"Neither are you," Luka muttered.

Arthur turned. "What was that?"

But Luka didn't answer.

He walked past him, calm and cold.

"We'll file the report," he said, "but we're not waiting around. Whoever took those people is still preparing something—and they're using the western leyline network to move quickly."

"Do I look like I care?" Arthur scoffed. "You Rangers are all the same. Paranoid. Always acting like you're the only ones who know anything."

"You're not wrong," Luka said, pausing at the edge of the village. "I am paranoid. Because that paranoia's saved more lives than your polished sword ever has."

Arthur flushed. His mouth opened—

But Luka was already gone, walking down the muddy road with Serene at his side, Snow curled against his neck.

Rain pelted harder now, turning the world to gray and shadow.

.

.

.

Back at the Adventurer's Guild – Two Days Later

The Guildhall was quiet when they returned.

A few adventurers milled about the front board, but the usual noise was absent.

The receptionist from before—Juna—gave Luka a startled look as he walked in, soaked, exhausted, and splattered with fading traces of Herald ash.

"You're back." She hurried over. "We heard rumors about Hollow Vale going dark. Some said the whole village was gone."

"It is," Luka replied. "Taken through a portal. Someone used the local well as a conduit for mass teleportation."

Juna's eyes widened. "That's—That's Tier Four spellwork. Who the hell could cast something like that and leave no trace?"

"We don't know. But we found this."

He set the withered tree coin on the desk.

Juna recoiled slightly. The mana pulsing from it was faint but wrong. It vibrated in the air like a dissonant note in a quiet room.

"I'll take this to the Guildmaster," she said quietly. "Immediately."

Luka nodded. "Also…"

He turned slightly and held up a sealed envelope.

"Arthur refused to engage. One knight died. He jeopardized the mission and left the cleanup to Serene and me."

Juna stared at the envelope—then took it with trembling fingers. "That's serious. If it checks out, he'll be reprimanded."

Luka didn't smile.

He didn't need to.

.

.

.

That Night

Serene leaned on the railing of the inn balcony, her armor off and her sleeves rolled back. Her hair, normally tidy, was wild from the rain.

"Arthur's going to retaliate," she said.

Luka stood beside her, drinking hot tea from a cracked cup. "Let him."

"You're not worried?"

He shrugged. "If he wants to waste time playing politics while villages disappear—he's welcome to be left behind."

Snow made a sleepy noise and curled tighter on Luka's shoulder.

The city below twinkled with torchlight.

Somewhere, someone played a lute softly. The world looked almost peaceful.

But Luka knew better.

The portal had been too clean. The Herald too well-crafted. The corruption too deliberate.

They weren't fighting monsters anymore.

They were fighting something intelligent.