I'm an Extra, so What?

"You're sure?"

Snow stepped forward. His glow intensified.

"I remember now. All of it."

"I was never meant to survive."

"I was meant to return."

The girl took his hand.

Their bodies pulsed.

The Heart of the Flame opened—welcoming its lost children.

Luka raised his blades and stood between them.

"Then let's burn him out of the sky."

.

.

.

Valaeryn – Moments After the Fusion

The Sanctum Heart exploded with light.

Snow and the Second Flame, hand in hand, stepped into it—and vanished.

No scream. No sound. Just radiant, endless fire.

Then—

Silence.

Luka stood still, his hands clenched, staring into the light that now consumed the chamber. It wasn't flame. Not anymore. It was something beyond: a soul of flame, forged from memory, love, and loss.

Gregor's voice crackled over the crystal:

"Luka! Something just landed north of the city. We're talking mountain-sized. We need you—now."

Luka turned away from the core and ran.

Northern Ridge – Skies Over Valaeryn

The city's edge crumbled beneath the pressure of the creature's descent.

It didn't fly—it descended. A being of size and power so vast it dwarfed the entire capital.

The Eater.

Not a dragon.

Not a god.

A void.

Its wings were black storms. Its eyes, hollow wells of unmaking. It didn't burn with corruption like the Harbinger. It didn't shriek or roar. It simply erased.

Mountains vanished beneath its shadow.

Wards shattered as it passed.

And it headed straight for the Heart.

Serene raised her shield beside Gregor on the front line, both of them panting, bloodied, but unbroken.

Arthur stood behind, fletching mana arrows with shaking hands. "This is suicide."

Gregor spat. "We knew that an hour ago."

Luka landed at the edge, skidding to a stop beside them.

"You brought him?" Serene asked.

Luka's expression was unreadable. "He's not Snow anymore."

Then the sky split.

From the Sanctum's spire, something erupted like a comet.

A dragon—but not quite.

A creature of flame and crystal, its body longer than a warship, its wings woven with stars, eyes glowing white with memory.

The Flame Reborn.

And when it opened its mouth—it did not roar.

It sang.

A final song.

The same one Luka had followed through the forest, through the ruins, through death itself.

And now it filled the world.

The Eater turned—its face unreadable, its body slithering through the air like a wound in space.

The two titans collided.

The shockwave alone knocked Luka and the others off their feet.

Across the city, spires exploded.

The ground shook.

Stone turned to ash in midair.

And in the center of it all—the two forces, Fire and Void, memory and hunger, clashed in silence.

It wasn't a battle of strength.

It was a battle of meaning.

The Flame fought with every moment remembered.

The Eater fought with every moment devoured.

The Team's Last Push

Below, Serene gritted her teeth and drove her shield into the ground. "We're not just watching!"

Luka nodded, eyes burning. "Then we aim for its heart."

Arthur smirked faintly, drawing a glowing arrow. "I've been saving this."

They raced toward the tower, dodging falling debris and waves of null-magic that erased ley lines on contact.

Up above, the Flame was beginning to crack—its body wasn't made to hold this much power. It needed help.

From those who remembered what it meant to fight.

To hope.

To choose.

Gregor launched himself onto the Eater's tendrils with a war cry, cleaving through bone-shadowed limbs with his axe.

Serene covered Luka, her shield barely holding against the null waves.

Luka reached the highest parapet.

Snow's eyes met his one last time—just for a second.

"I'm glad… I met you."

And Luka leapt.

Right into the heart of the Eater.

Blades first.

He struck the hollow chest where the Harbinger's corrupted shard once burned.

And then—he let go.

Of pain.

Of fear.

Of everything except that one glowing thread of memory between him and the dragon he raised.

The Flame surged.

Light poured out in all directions.

And the Eater—

Vanished.

No explosion.

No scream.

Just absence.

Gone.

After

Silence returned.

The city of Valaeryn drifted, whole.

The Sanctum's light faded, replaced by a gentle glow from above.

Luka lay still, breathing hard.

Snow—no, whatever Snow had become—lay beside him, no longer vast, no longer shining.

Just… curled up.

Asleep.

A baby dragon once more.

Serene sat beside Luka. "Is it over?"

He didn't answer for a moment.

Then he smiled.

"Yeah. I think… I think we won."

Ash floated down like snow.

The battle was over.

Or at least, that battle.

But Luka's legs still trembled as he stood on the broken edge of the tower.

Wind tugged at his cloak. Below him, the city groaned softly, its runes still realigning.

The massive spire that held the Sanctum Heart had cracked from the pressure of channeling so much power—splitting the Eater's essence apart and scattering it to the leylines.

Snow—small again—curled at his feet.

Breathing, quiet, warm.

Alive.

Gregor climbed the rubble behind him, bloodied but upright, dragging what looked like half a harpy carcass. "You know… I thought we were goners."

"You nearly were," Serene muttered, limping behind him. Her armor was cracked in three places. Her shield was gone entirely. But her eyes were sharp and focused as ever.

Arthur didn't climb up with them.

He stood at the far edge of the skybridge, silent, staring at where the Eater had fallen. His bow was gone. His expression unreadable.

No one disturbed him.

Not yet.

.

.

.

A quiet pulse echoed through the air.

Runes flickered beneath their feet.

Then, the Archivist appeared again—his crystal-form damaged, one arm missing, but still radiant with calm energy.

"You did what even we could not."

Luka turned. "We?"

"The dragons." He inclined his head to Snow. "He was never meant to fight alone. But because of you, he didn't."

Gregor gave a short snort. "He burned the sky. I think he managed."

Serene stepped closer to Luka, lowering her voice. "So… what now? The Harbinger's dead. The Eater's dead. The obelisks are clean."

Luka looked at Snow, who opened one eye and blinked up at him.

"…No," Luka said.

"We're not done."

Elsewhere – At the Edge of the World

Far beyond the reach of Valaeryn, in a canyon swallowed by darkness, a tower of black stone pulsed faintly.

Inside it, a dozen figures stirred.

Some wore armor older than kingdoms.

Some wore cloaks woven from void.

One wore the sigil of the First Flame—crossed out with blood.

A voice whispered from the shadows:

"The Eater failed."

"The Hatchling survived."

"The Last Flame has chosen."

A woman stepped forward—her eyes blank, her skin carved with runes.

She was once human. No longer.

"Then it's time," she said."To awaken the ones the dragons left behind.""And reclaim what they stole."

The ground cracked beneath her.

Chains rose from the stone.

And from deep below, something stirred…

Not flame. Not void.

Stone.

Back in Valaeryn – The Decision

The team stood together in the inner court of the Sanctum, surrounded by glowing crystals and humming ley currents.

Above them, stars blazed in strange constellations, pulled into alignment by the magic that still lingered.

Arthur finally joined them.

He looked tired. Not physically—but existentially.

Like someone who'd spent too long trying to be the main character of a story that had outgrown him.

"What's next?" he asked Luka quietly.

Luka didn't answer right away.

He looked at Snow—who stared toward the stars, then slowly turned his head north.

"…There's more," Snow said aloud, for all of them to hear. His voice was childlike—but beneath it pulsed ages.

"Something old is waking. Older than flame."

Gregor clenched his axe. "Wonderful. Can't we catch our breath?"

"Not yet," Luka murmured. He turned to the group.

"We're not just hunters or fighters anymore."

"We're the ones the world remembers now."

He pointed toward the stars.

"We go north."

.

.

.

The golden light above Valaeryn had dimmed to a faint aura. Reconstruction teams—mages, stonebinders, rune-carvers—walked through the floating city, trying to understand what had just occurred. The world knew the Eater had been destroyed. News was spreading faster than magic could carry it.

Luka stood with Serene, Gregor, and Snow on the edge of the Sanctum's inner courtyard. Around them, commanders from the human kingdoms and elven high tribunals had gathered.

Not as a celebration.

But as a hearing.

Arthur stood at the center of a circle of runed stone.

He wore no chains.

But that was only because he hadn't tried to run.

Yet.

The Charges

A human official stepped forward—General Carth, First Sword of the Western Realm. His armor bore the royal crest, but his face was far more weathered than any courtier.

He unrolled a scroll.

"Arthur... you stand accused of the following:

Disobeying high command during the First Obelisk Breach.

Unlawful use of destructive magic near a leyline conduit.

Dereliction of duty during the Taming Trial.

Abandoning post during the Valaeryn ascent.

And finally, obstruction of a Class-S mana convergence event—which directly led to civilian casualties in two outer camps."

Murmurs filled the court.

Arthur didn't flinch.

He just smirked.

"I stopped the Eater from destroying everything," he said, with deliberate arrogance. "I did more than any of you ever could."

"You fired a mana arrow into a leyline reactor," Serene cut in coldly. "You nearly collapsed the temple's inner spine. We barely stabilized it after you passed out."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"It worked, didn't it?"

Luka Steps In

"No," Luka said softly. "We survived despite you. Not because of you."

Arthur turned, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, here we go—Luka the favorite. Luka the hero. Luka and his little dragon, the chosen one. You think I didn't see how this turned? This was supposed to be my story. I was the Champion."

Snow blinked from Luka's shoulder.

Then said, quietly:

"You were never chosen. You were just loud."

That stung.

Arthur's face twisted, but the circle of authority around him didn't flinch.

General Carth stepped forward again. "This is no longer a question of ego. It's a matter of control. The Eater may be gone, but chaos still lingers. We can't afford rogue heroes."

He looked to Luka.

"You're the one who saved the Flame. If you speak against him, the Council will act."

Luka didn't hesitate.

"I saw Arthur abandon his team multiple times, endanger lives, and escalate conflict when diplomacy was possible. He disobeyed direct orders and acted without regard for anyone but himself."

He looked straight into Arthur's eyes.

"And worst of all—you didn't care who got hurt, as long as you got to feel important."

Silence.

Then General Carth nodded.

Judgment

The stone circle beneath Arthur lit up. Mana shackles flickered into being, binding his hands and ankles in light.

A tribunal mage stepped forward and placed a branding seal over Arthur's chest—non-burning, but glowing.

"You are hereby stripped of rank, title, and command. You will be remanded to the Vault of Quiet Flame, until further review by both realms."

Arthur didn't fight.

Didn't scream.

Didn't even speak.

Just stared at Luka as the guards stepped forward.

One step… two steps…

Then—he laughed.

Low and bitter.

"You think this changes anything? You think it ends here?" he hissed. "You don't know the Flame. You don't know what it took from me."

Luka didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The tribunal guards took Arthur away.

He vanished into the eastern tower, his footsteps swallowed by the city.

After the Trial

The team gathered again in the Sanctum garden.

Snow rested on Luka's shoulder, quietly watching the stars.

Serene exhaled. "He deserved worse."

Gregor crossed his arms. "He'll get it. The Vault doesn't go easy on mana-traitors."

Luka nodded. He didn't feel satisfied.

Just… resolved.

The sky pulsed faintly above them, runes shimmering across the stars.

Snow opened his eyes.

"There's movement in the north. Not corruption. Not fire."

"Something else. Something… buried."

Serene tensed. "More enemies?"

Snow looked solemn.

"More questions."

Luka stood.

"Then we head north."