The Extra Can't be A Hero

Agva ran a hand over the top of his head, a rare gesture of unease that betrayed his inner turmoil. Ever since the intruders breached his lair, a deep sense of unease had settled over him, refusing to lift. His once-porcelain face, perpetually blank and impassive, was now twisted in anguish as he gnawed nervously at his fingernails.

He had believed, perhaps naively, that the defences he'd spent decades fortifying would be more than enough to repel any threat. Still, as a precaution, he had dispatched his most formidable servant, Malvour the Fire Flesh Golem, to intercept the invaders.

Yet now, mere moments after issuing the command, Agva could feel the weight of an even graver disaster: his vast undead army had been decimated. All that remained of his painstakingly assembled forces were Malvour and the Slaughter Dolls, his crowning creations forged at a significant cost in time and resources.

Losing Malvour was acceptable, somewhat expected against the surprise invaders. However, those Slaughter Dolls resulted from decades, nay, centuries of research. Even before Agva threw away his humanity to become a Lich, he had been working on perfecting the ultimate weapon.

In many ways, it was his magnum opus.

But in the end, Agva had to accept those losses. At the very least, it would protect the valuable research he owed to the Demon Cult, his ultimate backer and those who could cut the chord to his funding and transient life at any moment.

Furthermore… he didn't wish to deploy the two menaces within the final chamber.

"Get me another!"

The sound of glass shattering echoed within the resonant cave, shaking all the young women in the room. They wore faces of pure terror, many rooted to the ground, not daring to breathe. It took the oldest and bravest of them all to serve the rowdy man… or if you could call him that.

Perched casually at the ornate tea table where Agva typically enjoyed his quiet moments, a blue-skinned tribal barbarian sat with one leg crossed over the other. His heel idly twisted against what, at first glance, appeared to be a football. But as the maid approached to serve another glass of wine, her steps faltered, and a chill ran down her spine. The "football" was no ordinary object—it was the severed head of her friend, a fellow maid who had made the fatal mistake of crossing the barbarian only moments earlier.

It had become unrecognisable after the constant spinning and twirling, showing the man's blatant disregard for human life. Even after killing the woman, he didn't show any dignity to her corpse and instead decided to use it as a toy.

That inhumane nature was even more evident as the man kicked the head far away while taking a sip of the wine. Only after drinking it halfway did he finally stop to spit:

"Disgusting. Did you give me an expired bottle?"

"N-No, I wouldn't dare!"

"Expired or not, this one is disgusting. You have some nerve giving me tainted wine!"

"N-No, I didn't do…"

"Save it!"

The man rose from the chair, his towering figure unfolding with an unsettling grace. Standing over three meters tall, he resembled a giant more than any ordinary human. His blue, scaly skin was etched with runic tattoos that pulsed with a sinister, reddish glow. Every inch of his muscular frame radiated raw power, and his presence was nothing short of a waking nightmare. Two curved horns jutted from his forehead, completing his fearsome visage.

With a predatory grin that revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth, he exhaled an arid, suffocating breath that washed over the young girl, leaving her paralysed in terror. Then, without hesitation, he struck. His arm blurred as it moved, piercing through her abdomen with a punch so swift it seemed almost supernatural.

The woman had no chance of evasion. She coughed out several mouthfuls of blood as her flesh was pounded out of her body. Ruthlessly, the man ripped his arm out, and his jagged scales carried several pounds of minced flesh. Disgusted, he spat and kicked the woman's corpse away and looked at the other maids, who were terrified of his display of strength.

Agva watched this entire scene unfold and didn't do anything. He didn't feel anger that the man killed his maid, nor did he feel sadness for the woman who had just perished. All he felt was pity… pity that he lost a good woman to warm his bed.

'I might lose all of the girls today… How regretful.'

"Why? Afraid? Do I look ugly to you?"

The man roared with wrath. Shaking like Autumn leaves, they all shook their heads profusely, which only drew more ire from the man.

"It's always the girls. They are the ones who think that we're disgusting! Fuck, just looking at your faces make me angry! I should just kill you all and be done with!"

Believing their lives were about to come to a grim end, the girls dropped to their knees, pleading desperately for mercy. They were all too familiar with the man's merciless nature and his utter contempt for them. Their beauty, which might have spared them from others, held no sway over him. Even the slightest annoyance could seal their fate at his hands.

Fortunately, their lives were spared for now.

"Damien, stop."

A gravelly voice cut through the blue-skinned barbarian's fury, bringing his wrath to an abrupt halt. On the opposite side of the table, a purple-skinned man, nearly identical in appearance to the barbarian, rose to his feet and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Dante, you're interfering with my 'vengeance'?"

"No, you're not enacting 'vengeance,' but channelling wrath. Don't sully the name of our 'vengeance' with your cheap anger episode."

"..."

Dante's resonant voice brought some clarity to his twin brother's mind. As much as he was seething with rage within, the Demonic Human knew that his brother was right. Besides…

"If you kill them all, who is going to bring us our food? It will become troublesome if we run out of servants."

"Hah, you make a good point."

Ultimately, the Apostle wasn't sparing the maids due to some grace in his heart, but rather the inconvenience that would come if they were all killed. Agva watched the exchange and heaved a massive sigh of relief. At least one of the twins wasn't completely insane.

"Lord Dante, Lord Damien."

"Oh, Agva. You're here."

Dante's demonic red eyes shifted toward the entrance, where he greeted the Lich with a cold, menacing welcome. The maids, frozen in place, fought the instinct to flee, their hearts yearning for an escape that wasn't there. Agva, their master, was not here to rescue them but to ensure they remained. He counted on their presence to placate and distract the twin Apostles, buying precious time to keep them from uncovering the invaders lurking within the lair.

"How are you enjoying your stay?"

"Your accommodations are decent, but… you lack entertainment."

The blue-skinned Damien yawned, clearly bored with their set-up. The Prophet sent them to monitor and defend the Foolish Lich's research with the Magatama, a task they weren't suited for. The Twin Brutes were used to destroy entire settlements, terrorising populations and defeating powerful opponents. Missions that require defending weren't precisely their cup of tea.

Unfortunately, the other Apostles had their hands tied to other pressing matters. And they were shorthanded due to the reduction in the Demon Cult's forces by a mysterious foe.

While they understood the importance of the Magatama and why completing it would be so pivotal for the Demon Cult, they were still discontent with their mission, which was why Damien threw a tantrum.

"I apologise. I wasn't expecting your visit so I didn't have time to prepare… If you'd like, I could bring some books and…"

"Do we look like men who read?"

Damien scoffed, his crimson eyes deepening with annoyance.

Agva shivered at the sight and quickly reverted to his humble pose.

"I apologise! Let me gather some of Alverton's best jesters and performers so that…"

"Forget it, we're not interested."

Damien waved a dismissive hand, brushing aside all of Agva's suggestions without a second thought. To him, nothing the Lich offered could provide the entertainment he craved. His only true satisfaction came from annihilating enemies in the name of the Demon Cult, each victory drawing him closer to fulfilling his thirst for vengeance.

Just staying in this lair was enough of a prison.

"I shall sleep until we're needed."

"T-That! Of course! I will provide the best pillows and mattresses for you."

"Hmmm." Find more to read at My Virtual Library Empire

Agva's behaviour resembled a eunuch desperately catering to an emperor's whims. In reality, the Lich was a valuable asset to the Demon Cult and had no obligation to serve an Apostle in such a subservient manner. His relationship with Ravenna was a reflection of this fact. Ravenna outranked the twins in the Cult, but Agva treated her as an equal or coworker.

Yet, fear drove him. The Twin Brutes were volatile, and the thought of them unleashing their wrath without warning compelled Agva to go to great lengths to satisfy their demands and keep their aggression at bay.

Hence, when he heard Damien would hibernate, he secretly celebrated with a fist bump behind his back. Then, there was only one other headache to deal with.

"Lord Dante, should I get you a mattress too?"

"... Agva, answer me this. I sensed some vibrations earlier on. Did something happen in the cave?"

Alas, the purple-skinned Dante wasn't so easy to appease. Perhaps sensing the explosion from the upper floors, the Apostle narrowed his eyes and glanced at the ceiling. Even though Agva's inner sanctum was completely sealed off from the outside world, the keen senses of the Apostles could tell that something was amiss.

And that fact secretly caused Agva to fall into panic.

"Lord Dante, your senses sure are sharp! But there's nothing wrong. Just a minor explosion happened when I was mixing some chemicals. I came here worried that the noise would have disturbed your rest."

"Ah, if that's the case..."

It was typical for a Lich's lair to be noisy, particularly Agva's one. He was dealing with incredibly volatile substances, and his Slaughter Dolls would often make noises as they roamed the cave. When the Twin Brutes first arrived, they experienced a laboratory explosion first-hand, so Dante wasn't surprised.

"Okay, then, what about the progress with the Magatamas? I hope you'll be able to meet our timeline."

"Not to worry! I believe that I should be able to deliver the product to you by the end of the month!"

"Oh? Really?"

Agva beamed. In truth, he had completed his research on the Magatama and how to mass produce it by now. As most researchers do, he was just buying time to milk as much money as he could from the Demon Cult. However, he did need to add the finishing touches to it.

"I hope you aren't lying. Cause, like my brother… I'm quick to anger when lied to."

"H-Haha, of course! I wouldn't dare."

The Lich brushed off Dante's threat with a hollow laugh, fully aware that neither of the twins was in a rational state of mind. Agva knew all too well that if he dared to push the deadline any further, the twins would likely reduce his entire lair to rubble and crush his ancient bones without hesitation. Worse still, if they discovered the intruders lurking within the lair, their destructive fury would be unstoppable, obliterating everything in their path—including the precious Magatamas that Agva had painstakingly cultivated.

'Looks like… I will have to eliminate the intruders myself.'