I'm an Extra, so What?

A rustle of wind stirred the blighted leaves as they stepped into the next clearing.

Here, the air was thicker—cloying, as if it clung to the back of their throats. The grass was gone, replaced with cracked earth and black veins of rot that pulsed dimly beneath the surface.

At the center stood the remnants of the obelisk they had destroyed, now partially reassembled.

Shards of bone and obsidian hovered in place, bound by faint red light, forming the skeletal beginnings of a new structure.

"Someone's been here recently," Luka muttered, crouching to study the tracks. Footprints—humanoid, light, deliberate.

A ritualist, maybe. Or worse.

Serene stood at his side, scanning the surroundings with sharp eyes. "We're not alone."

"I can see that," Arthur said flatly, standing in the middle of the clearing with no cover whatsoever.

He raised his sword like he was in the middle of a coliseum and called out, "Whoever's out there, come face me already! No point hiding, cowards!"

Luka froze. "Arthur, you idiot—"

Too late.

The shadows around the clearing rippled—then burst.

From the forest edge emerged masked figures cloaked in black and crimson.

At least five. Maybe more. Runes shimmered on their hoods, and the air behind them wavered with corrupted energy.

Cultists.

One of them raised a hand, and the floating obelisk fragments pulsed red in response.

A low chant began, barely audible at first, but growing.

"Oh, great," Serene muttered, shield raised.

Arthur stepped forward, grinning like this was exactly what he wanted. "Finally. Some real enemies."

Luka reached for his throwing knives, eyes scanning the formation. "They're protecting the ritual. If that obelisk reforms, this forest is done for."

Serene nodded. "We need to break the casting. Fast."

"Leave it to me," Arthur said with exaggerated bravado—and then, instead of flanking or waiting for an opening, he charged straight down the center.

"Of course he did," Luka muttered, darting left as Serene went right.

Arthur bellowed a war cry and swung his blade at the closest cultist, who dodged with eerie ease and struck back with a blast of raw, chaotic magic that sent Arthur sprawling backward.

"Ugh—cheating magic freaks!" he coughed, scrambling up with none of the grace he usually bragged about.

Meanwhile, Luka slipped between shadows, striking pressure points with precision. One cultist fell silently, their spell disrupted mid-chant.

Snow strafed overhead, sending small jets of flame to scatter their formation. Serene barreled into a caster with her shield, breaking the rune circle beneath his feet.

Three cultists turned toward her, retaliating with jagged bolts of corrupted mana. She blocked two—barely—but the third caught her side.

She stumbled, breath hitching. "I'm fine. Keep moving!"

Arthur, now furious and bleeding from a shoulder gash, swung wildly again, missing as another cultist slid behind him and kicked him in the back.

He faceplanted into the dirt with a grunt. "I'm fine! That was a feint!"

Luka didn't even respond. He was already in motion, weaving through spells and fire, closing in on the central caster still channeling power into the rising obelisk.

The air warped around the shard-filled spire. It was almost complete.

"Cover me!" Luka called.

"I got you!" Serene shouted back, drawing attention with a ground-pounding strike that sent up a wave of debris.

Arthur staggered to his feet, growling, "Don't give orders like you're in charge."

But neither Luka nor Serene was listening anymore.

Luka burst through the last line of defense and hurled two mana-charged daggers directly into the core of the forming obelisk.

Time slowed.

The impact rang like a bell made of bone. Then—

Boom.

The explosion was smaller than the previous one, but just as violent. The spire cracked and fell inward, its corrupted energy dispersing into the air like black smoke.

The cultists screamed in dismay. Some fled. Others collapsed, their link to the structure severed.

Luka dropped to a knee, panting. His vision swam.

Snow landed beside him with a concerned chirp.

Serene limped into the clearing, shielding her eyes against the light. "Is it… done?"

"For now," Luka said, standing slowly.

Arthur stomped up, grime-covered, ego bruised. "If you hadn't interfered, I would've had them."

Serene raised an eyebrow. "You were face-down in the dirt."

Arthur looked away, muttering, "It was part of my strategy."

Luka didn't bother replying. He turned back toward the ruins of the obelisk.

The pulse beneath the earth had quieted—but not gone.

"Whatever's behind this… it's not finished."

He glanced up at the first rays of morning sun breaking through the dark canopy.

"This was just the start."

.

.

.

Back at the Adventurer's Guild, the mood was tense.

Not the usual hustle of questing chatter, clinking mugs, or the rowdy laughter of rookies boasting about slimes.

No. Now, there was a low buzz in the air.

Quiet conversations, hushed whispers—an undercurrent of dread that hadn't been there before.

The report Luka submitted was short, direct, and detailed. It now sat in the Guildmaster's hand, and even he looked… rattled.

"Corruption seed," the Guildmaster repeated, his voice gravelly. "In the eastern forest. Supported by cultists. And you're certain it wasn't natural?"

"No sign of random mana decay," Luka said. He stood with his arms folded, Serene beside him. Her side was bandaged but healing. "Something—or someone—is intentionally infecting the leyline."

"And the monsters?"

"Mutated. Violently. Controlled in some cases," Serene answered. "They weren't wandering. They were called."

The Guildmaster sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And where's the third member of your party?"

A door slammed open on cue.

Arthur strode in with the sort of swagger reserved for drunks and delusional war heroes.

His armor was dented, his hair perfectly ruffled like he'd styled it for a painting, and he wore an infuriating grin.

"Well," he announced, "you'll be glad to know the situation is handled."

Luka blinked slowly. "You were unconscious for a solid two minutes."

"I was letting them think they had the upper hand," Arthur snapped back. "Classic rope-a-dope."

The Guildmaster gave him a long, unimpressed stare. "Your contribution is noted, Arthur."

Arthur beamed. "As it should be."

Luka turned back to the Guildmaster. "The real issue is this: the obelisk started rebuilding itself. Someone was maintaining the ritual remotely, or at least passively empowering it. We broke it again, but…"

"But it'll return," Serene finished. "And next time, it'll be deeper. Stronger."

The Guildmaster stood, eyes dark. "I'll dispatch a formal field unit to confirm the site and quarantine the zone. Until then, I want the three of you to stay alert. If whoever's doing this is testing the forest… cities are next."

Arthur scoffed. "Let them come. I'll gut whatever demon lord they send."

"They won't send a demon lord," Luka muttered, already walking away. "They'll send more seeds. Quietly. While you pose for portraits."

Arthur's smirk faltered.

Serene followed Luka without a word, and Snow chirped a soft puff of frost in Arthur's direction before slipping under Luka's cloak again.

Outside, the sky was clearer than it had been in days. The corruption had receded—for now—but the city's skyline carried new tension.

More patrols. Fewer children playing. Even the usual bard outside the guild had gone quiet.

"Think it'll spread?" Serene asked quietly as they walked toward their lodging.

Luka didn't answer right away. He glanced toward the eastern horizon. The trees looked calm—but he knew better.

"It already has," he said finally.

Behind them, back in the guild, Arthur loudly demanded that someone buy him a drink for "saving the forest."

No one did.