I'm an Extra, so What?

Luka sat on the edge of the bed, sharpening one of his daggers. The rhythmic scrape of whetstone against steel was the only sound in the dim room, save for the occasional crackle from the hearth.

Snow dozed nearby in a curled ball of white fluff, chest rising and falling slowly, tiny puffs of smoke leaking from his nostrils.

Serene was seated by the window, polishing her cracked shield with slow, deliberate motions. Her brow was furrowed.

"That coin…" she said finally, voice low. "It was old. Too old. You saw the markings, didn't you?"

Luka nodded. "Rootscript. Same as the druidic relics from the Gravedark Reaches. But twisted. Warped."

He set the blade aside and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Whoever's behind this isn't just using forgotten magic. They're remaking it. Rewriting it."

Serene looked up. "To what end?"

Luka didn't answer immediately.

Then: "Control. Subjugation. Take everything that protected these lands and pervert it into something that obeys."

A pause. Then Serene asked, "…Do you think it's a cult?"

Luka stood and walked to his pack. He rummaged through a side pocket and pulled out a folded parchment. When he laid it on the desk, Serene crossed the room to join him.

It was a map—old, hand-drawn. But recent notes had been added in ink: leyline paths, known corruption sites, and four marked circles.

One was Hollow Vale.

"Three more incidents in the last month," Luka said. "All dismissed as monster infestations. But I've cross-checked the pulse signatures at each site."

He pointed to the center of the map.

"They're converging."

Serene's eyes widened slightly. "That's near the Dreadtree."

Luka nodded. "And if this pattern holds, the final ritual—whatever they're building toward—it'll happen there."

Before Serene could speak again, there was a sudden knock at the door.

Firm. Measured. Three raps.

Luka moved silently toward it, his hand drifting to the dagger on his belt. He opened it an inch.

A familiar, irritated face glared back.

"Arthur," Luka said dryly.

Barging in like he owned the place. "You sniveling rat. You reported me to the Guildmaster?"

Serene didn't move—but her hand had already dropped to her mace.

Luka remained calm. "I told the truth. If that's a problem for you, maybe you should've acted differently."

Arthur's nostrils flared. "I was preserving our strength. That construct would've torn us apart."

"No," Luka said. "It would've torn you apart. You don't know how to fight without an audience."

Arthur stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "You think you're better than me? Because you have a pet dragon and some half-rate Ranger tricks?"

Snow stirred, growling softly.

Serene stepped in. "Arthur. Get out."

"You don't give orders—"

"I'm not asking."

There was steel in her voice. The kind Arthur knew better than to test.

He scoffed and turned on his heel. "This isn't over, Ranger."

As he stormed out, Luka closed the door and locked it.

"I hope he trips into a mimic," Serene muttered.

Luka returned to the table. "We need to move before the Guild bogs this down with paperwork. If they won't sanction an investigation, we go off the record."

Serene sat back down. "Where to?"

He tapped a new mark on the map. "This village—Virestead. Old druid settlement. It was abandoned years ago, but I've heard rumors the altar stones are still intact."

Serene raised a brow. "You think they're using it?"

"I think it's a staging ground. We move before they can."

Snow gave a drowsy chirp and flopped onto Luka's lap as if to signal agreement.

Luka absently scratched behind his ear. "At dawn, then."

Serene stretched. "I'll pack light. We'll probably be running."

Luka's gaze lingered on the map.

"Let them come," he murmured. "We'll be ready this time."

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The Next Morning – Outskirts of Virestead

The forest around Virestead didn't feel dead.

It felt watchful.

The wind barely stirred, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Fog curled low over the moss-choked trail, clinging to Luka's boots as he moved, every step deliberate and quiet. Snow nestled around his shoulders like a living scarf, eyes half-lidded but alert.

Serene walked behind him, shield strapped to her back, mace at the ready. Her expression was tight—focused.

Ahead, the village loomed.

What remained of it.

Stone huts collapsed in on themselves, roofs eaten away by time and creeping ivy. The once-grand druid circle had been overrun with dark vines that pulsed faintly with magic, as though feeding off the land's memories.

At the center of the circle, the altar still stood—partially shattered, but intact enough to bear marks. Not from weather. From tools.

"They've been here," Serene said grimly.

Luka knelt, brushing a layer of ash off the runes. Fresh. Less than a day old. "And left in a hurry. They scrubbed the leyline imprint, but traces remain."

A soft chime rang in his mind—a Ranger sense, tuned from years of tracking mana rather than footprints. He looked northeast.

"There's a trail."

Serene followed his gaze. "You thinking ambush?"

Luka stood. "I'm thinking someone's buying time."

They moved.

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Meanwhile – A Clearing Not Far From Virestead

Arthur sat atop a boulder, arms crossed, armor polished to a gleam, despite the wilderness.

Three adventurers stood before him: a mage, a rogue, and a heavily armored brute with a warhammer. Hired help.

"You saw them leave," Arthur snapped. "You know where they're going. You just have to slow them down."

The rogue scratched his neck. "And why are you not going with us again?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Because if I get involved, it becomes official Guild business. I know Luka. He'll try to play the hero. Let him."

The mage frowned. "We were hired to delay, not kill. That still the deal?"

Arthur gave a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Do what you want. Just make sure they don't make it to whatever they're looking for."

He turned his back before they could ask more questions.

He didn't care if they got hurt.

Especially Luka.

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Back on the Trail

Luka felt the first magical tripwire a moment before Snow growled.

He stopped short and raised a hand. "Trap."

Serene held her ground. "Magic?"

"Rushed. Sloppy. Probably the same ones scrubbing the altar."

He bent and pulled a pebble from the dirt. With a flick, he tossed it into the shimmering air just ahead.

The spell detonated with a sharp crack, sending a burst of frost that would've flash-frozen anyone caught in the radius.

Luka straightened. "They're not hiding their desperation."

Serene's gaze darkened. "They're scared."

He nodded. "Which means we're close."

Just as they reached the clearing, a voice rang out.

"Well well, if it isn't the freak and his maid."

Three mercenaries stepped into view, blocking the path forward. Behind them, mana-pulse charges hummed near trees—detonation spells laced with crowd control magic.

Luka gave them a glance and then stared beyond them at the ridge. "You're in the way."

The brute grinned. "That's the idea."

The rogue twirled two knives. "Don't worry. We're not here to kill you."

"Just rough you up a bit," the mage added, casting a barrier behind them to ensure no one escaped easily.

Luka sighed. "Arthur."

Serene's grip tightened. "I'm going to put him through a wall one of these days."

The mercenaries charged.

Luka didn't flinch.

He met the rogue's blade with a sidestep and a twist, locking one arm and spinning the man face-first into the ground.

Snow rocketed upward, unleashing a burst of flame that forced the mage to cancel his incantation in panic.

Serene slammed her shield into the brute's chest. The clang echoed across the trees—and was followed by a sickening crack as her mace came down hard on his gauntlet, bending metal like tin.

The fight lasted less than a minute.

When it ended, the mercenaries lay groaning in the dirt, weapons scattered. Luka stepped over the rogue and knelt beside him.

"Who hired you?"

The man grimaced. "Didn't give his name. Said he was a Guild golden boy."

Luka stood. "Of course."

Serene didn't look surprised. "Should we report it?"

Luka shook his head. "Let's handle the source first. Then Arthur."

They passed through the now-empty clearing, mana tripwires fried or disarmed. The leyline tug grew stronger with each step.

Whatever they were about to find…

It was no longer just about rot or monsters.

The path thinned into brambles and crooked roots, the trees now twisted into unnatural arches that loomed over like sentries.

Red moss clung to their bark like open wounds, and the mana hum in the air had shifted—more chaotic, volatile, almost whispering.

"Careful," Luka said, crouching to examine a faint symbol etched into a half-buried stone. "These aren't druid runes. They're warlock sigils."

Serene raised a brow. "Warlocks haven't operated in these woods in decades. The Guild purged them."

"Apparently not well enough."

The rune pulsed once—then dimmed, inert. Snow chittered nervously.

Up ahead, the forest opened into a hollow.

And there, built from jagged bone and root, was a shrine.

Not like the obelisk from before—this one was older, dormant but layered with fresh blood offerings. Hanging from the branches above were small dolls made from bark, teeth, and hair.

Effigies.

A warning.

And a welcome.

At the center of the shrine knelt a figure—cloaked, unmoving, muttering something in a harsh tongue that twisted the air.

Serene readied her shield. "Cultist."

"No," Luka said. "Summoner. Look at the leyline convergence."

The ground beneath the shrine rippled with corrupted energy. Cracks spread from it like veins, each one seeping faint red light.

Then the chanting stopped.

The figure rose—and removed their hood.

She was young.

Maybe seventeen, with tangled hair, fever-bright eyes, and veins glowing faint crimson beneath pale skin. Her expression was both ecstatic and hollow.

"You're too late," she said. "He's waking."

"Who?" Luka asked calmly, even as he inched a dagger loose.

"The Hollow Father. The world-binder. The eater of sky."

Serene muttered, "Lovely."

The summoner raised both arms—and the ground split open.

A limb clawed its way through. Not a monster limb—something else. Bone and shadow. Dozens of insect-like digits. And a howl, distant but massive, tore through the leyline.

Luka acted instantly.

He hurled a vial—not an explosive, but a suppression capsule taken from his ranger toolkit. It shattered on the summoner's chest, releasing a web of silver energy that locked her mid-spell. She shrieked, thrashing.

Serene surged forward, shield-first, and slammed into her—pinning her against the shrine. Her bindings held.

But the rift didn't close.

The limb was still rising.

"We can't seal it from here," Luka said. "We need the original keystone."

Serene cursed under her breath. "Then where—"

"I know where."

They both turned.

Standing at the tree line, hands in his pockets, looking unimpressed—

Was Arthur.

He stepped forward, slow-clapping.

"Not bad. Took you long enough."

Luka's eyes narrowed. "You."

Arthur smiled. "Relax. I'm not here to fight. In fact, I came to warn you."

"Oh, now you're helpful?"

Arthur ignored him. "I overheard that cultist girl talking to someone. The keystone they used to anchor this summoning? It's still in the city. Hidden under the old well behind the Guild hall. They smuggled it in months ago. Clever, really."

Serene looked between them. "Why didn't you tell the Guild?"

Arthur shrugged. "Because no one but me would've believed it. And I didn't want Luka getting credit."

Luka blinked. "So you sabotaged us, slowed us down… just to come in later and look smarter?"

Arthur smiled wider. "Exactly."

Snow growled, low and dangerous.

Serene's eyes practically glowed with restrained fury. "I will punch you."

Arthur sighed. "Look. I gave you the lead. You want to save the city? You're going to have to run. Now."

Luka clenched his fists. He wanted to hit him.

But—

He was right.

"We'll settle this later," Luka said.

He turned to Serene. "We head back. Fast. The keystone's the only way to shut this for good."

As they moved, the summoner behind them let out one last shriek, blood boiling from her eyes.

The limb now clawed halfway into the world, bones like obsidian, a mouth full of teeth where there shouldn't be teeth.

Time was short.