The Extra Can't be A Hero

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky bled into darkness with surprising speed. The echoes of clashing steel and roaring cheers from Amon and Bawi's fierce duel gradually faded, leaving the modest hut perched on the cliff's edge in a hushed stillness.

From its vantage point above the restless sea, the structure seemed to hold its breath beneath the open heavens. A moonless night stretched across the sky, an ink-black canvas glittering with constellations that shimmered like fragments of some forgotten myth. A biting wind drifted in from the ocean, threading through the trees and brushing like cold fingertips against the skin of any who dared to linger outside after midnight.

Inside the hut, tension lingered just beneath the surface. For days now, Amon had been grappling with the daunting task of persuading the legendary Sword Saint to abandon his allegiance to the looming threat of the Demon Cult.

Yue's brilliantly crafted plan had offered hope, and Arya's growing rapport with Bawi—the Sword Saint's fiercely loyal and beloved granddaughter—had opened new avenues of influence.

Yet despite their efforts, the old warrior remained unmoved. His response had been evasive, hidden behind a stoic mask and an endless string of delays.

But everything was about to change tonight.

Amon tread the well-worn path leading to the cliff's edge, each step increasing in weight. The night wind whispered around him, sharp and restless, but he felt none of its chill—at least, not on his skin. The true cold lay in the air between him and the man who stood ahead.

The old warrior stood alone at the precipice, his silhouette carved against the vast, star-swept sky. Time had taken its toll—his posture was a little more hunched, his once-stalwart frame softened by age—but even now, the remnants of the indomitable Sword Saint radiated a quiet grandeur.

His long silver hair swayed gently with the wind, and though his blade remained sheathed, there was no doubt that he was still a force to be reckoned with. Gone was the roguish glint in his eye, the dry wit, the smirk that once danced at the corners of his lips. Tonight, he was still—his gaze cast far out across the ocean, as if watching something only he could see.

Amon stood behind him, silent. The old man's arms were clasped behind his back, his guard completely down. There were countless openings. A flick of the wrist, a single step forward, and Nyx could end it all—strike through the heart and silence the Sword Saint forever.

But Amon didn't move.

Something unshakable rooted him in place. Reverence.

Despite the years, despite the decay, the Sword Saint still stood as a living monument to power, discipline, and a past that refused to be forgotten. And Amon could not bring himself to tarnish that majesty.

"Lord Kassadin."

"You've come," the Sword Saint remarked without turning his body. "I see you have found your answer."

"I did."

"So? What is it you desire? Why do you want to protect humanity?"

Amon hesitated. There were countless answers he could give—each noble in its own way.

He could say he wanted to protect humanity because it was just that he fought to prevent the senseless slaughter the Demon race would bring. That he stood for the future of those he cared about. All of these would sound righteous… even admirable.

But none of them was the truth.

They weren't his desires—they were masks, hollow and convenient.

And deep down, Amon knew: the real answer lay elsewhere, buried beneath the weight of expectations and ideals he never once believed in.

"I don't wish to protect humanity."

"..."

"I wish to live."

"Hoh…"

The Sword Saint sighed, still staring at the stars. The little 'homework' he assigned to Amon was submitted on time, and the answer he came up with was interesting.

"I don't care about humanity—the faceless billions I've never met mean nothing to me. What I want is a world where I no longer have to worry about its end. That's why I'm going to wipe out the Demon race. Not for them—for me."

"How selfish of you."

"Call it what you must," Amon smiled. "I fight for myself… but, doesn't everyone?"

"..."

The Sword Saint broke into a smile before switching topics.

"You fought with Bawi today."

Amon was slightly taken aback by the Sword Saint's choice of topic, but he didn't falter.

"Indeed, she's an amazing talent. She'll catch up to me in no time."

"You flatter her too much," the Sword Saint shook his head. Even though Amon couldn't see his face, he could sense that the old man wasn't wearing a happy expression.

"No matter how hard she tries, there's no way she could measure up to the genius of Solaris."

"... what's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's not speak in riddles," the Sword Saint finally turned around, his body illuminated by the countless stars in the velvet sky. "You've already noticed that she isn't human."

"... she's human enough."

"How kind of you."

Bawi possessed all the traits of a human—she laughed, breathed, dreamed, and longed just like anyone else. Her emotions were vivid, her presence unmistakably alive. But there was one quiet, haunting truth that set her apart: she wasn't born of flesh and bone.

"Bawi was an unintended consequence of my pursuit of transcendence. In my obsession, I poured every insight, every fragment of understanding I had forged through the sword into a shard of immortal stone, a relic said to house a piece of the Goddess's body, in a desperate attempt to uncover a path to eternal life. I failed to grasp immortality myself… but in that failure, something extraordinary was born. A miracle. A miracle called Bawi."

The identity of the immortal stone that turned humans was unveiled so easily, something that Amon hadn't expected. Still, he kept a cool head and asked:

"Is that why you've changed your approach? To join forces with the Demon Cult to gain immortality?"

In [Bright], Amon had always believed the Sword Saint's pursuit of immortality stemmed from a single, noble desire—to cling to life just a little longer for the sake of his granddaughter, his creation. That belief shaped everything. It was why he brought Arya to befriend the young sword maiden, hoping that a bond with Bawi would soften the old warrior's heart, convincing him to entrust her to their care.

But unfortunately, that was far from the truth.

"Amon… If Bawi died tomorrow, I wouldn't care all that much."

"... what?"

"Well, I would grieve her death, and if someone killed her, I would seek revenge. However, ultimately, her death wouldn't affect my ambition in the slightest. After all…"

The Sword Saint smiled. This time, a hint of madness was blatantly transparent in his eyes.

"I'm quite selfish too."

"..."

For a fleeting moment, time itself seemed to freeze. Only the thunder of waves below and the mournful howl of the wind filled the silence between the two formidable figures. The tension hung thick in the air—taut, electric, and fragile enough to snap with a whisper. A single bead of sweat slid down Amon's temple as his fingers twitched near the hilt of his blade, the thought of drawing it all too real.

But before the moment could break, the Sword Saint spoke again, shifting the conversation, deliberately or mercifully, and pulling them both back from the edge.

"Do you know why they call me the fool who abandoned his sword?"

"... you're no fool, Lord Kassadin."

"Heh, thanks. But, I'm not fishing for compliments."

The Sword Saint turned his back towards Amon once more and gazed into the distance. Fragments of the past came flying into his mind, and the old man spoke fondly.

"All my life, I had been chasing perfection. Not to be arrogant, but I was considered a genius who only appears once every thousand years. I could have chosen anything and excelled at it. Magic, academics, arcane mysteries, but one thing fascinated me more than any other… the sword."

The old warrior's arms trembled as he relived the past.

"I was good at the sword… so damn good. I reached the pinnacle of what a Knight could accomplish and even surpassed Alrock, the current Solaris Lord. But I soon realised… all humans had a limit."

The Sword Saint spoke faster, with more intensity and a hint of anger.

"The Solaris House, blessed with the bloodlines of Dragons, could push that limit far beyond anything I could. The Nine Suns Heart Mantra was the foundation that all Knights aimed to emulate, but failed to do so because we didn't possess the Solaris bloodline."

The world was unfair.

No matter how fiercely ordinary humans trained, they could never truly match the legacy carried by the Solaris bloodline. While Solaris Knights naturally grew stronger through the divine Nine Suns Heart Mantra, others across the world were forced to engineer their variations just to keep pace.

The Sword Saint was no exception. His cultivation technique was a unique creation—a personal variant of the original mantra. Instead of forging a singular blazing Sun within, he crafted multiple mana cores that shimmered within him like stars scattered across a night sky. Individually, each star was dimmer, weaker than one sun.

But in theory, if enough stars were born and aligned… their combined brilliance could surpass even the light of a single Sun.

"I created 1,087 stars, but even then… I failed to reach immortality."

"!!!"

The Sword Saint's words struck Amon harder than any blade, leaving him momentarily speechless. 1,087 stars. That meant the old warrior had forged over a thousand mana cores within his aging, battle-worn body.

The sheer volume of mana contained within him was beyond comprehension—an ocean of power where others had only puddles. It was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn't torn himself apart. With that much mana surging through his veins, it defied every known limit of the human form, especially since he didn't have a Solaris body.

And yet, the Sword Saint stood there—serene, composed—as if he bore nothing more than a light breeze.

"It became apparent that forming even more stars was pointless. I would just be beating a dead horse, and my dream of becoming immortal through the sword would just be that… a dream."

There was a hint of bitterness in the Sword Saint's voice as he raised his right arm.

"Therefore… I threw it all away. I abandoned the sword in pursuit of eternal life."

His arm was raised higher and higher as the age in his voice grew more distinct.

"Then, I experimented. I learnt magic, hoping to prolong my life. I created Bawi accidentally when abandoning my sword. I tried reading history to find clues on how the Goddess came to be. But in the end, I was met with the bitter truth… humans will always have a ceiling. And it's a ceiling that I can never breach."

"So… to become immortal… You will throw away your humanity?"

"How astute of you."

The Sword Saint dropped his arm and turned back to Amon, this time with a bitter smile.

"With the Solaris bloodline, at least you have a path to immortality."

"What are you talking about?"

Amon was genuinely confused. There was no indication in history that the Solaris House had produced immortals. Even the two greatest Solaris legends, the Solaris Founder and the Solaris Saint, all died as humans.

"You could become a Dragon. Ascend and sit on the right hand of the Goddess as the Solaris Saint did. Or… you could form the enigmatic tenth Sun. At least… There is a path."

Filled with helplessness, the Sword Saint muttered weakly.

"For us regular humans… the only path to immortality is to sell our souls to the devil."

"Lord Kassadin, I don't know what promises the Demon Cult whispered into your ear—but whatever they offered, it's not the immortality you seek. Yes, they may grant you eternal life, but it comes at a terrible price. You'll lose your mind, your will… everything that makes you human. Is that truly what you desire? An eternity as a hollow shell, a slave and plaything to the Demon King?"

That was how the Sword Saint became the first Calamity.

By surrendering his soul to the Demon King, he gained eternity—not as a man, but as a vessel for a monstrous, immortal entity known only as the Abomination.

In exchange for power, he became its shell—twisted, bound, and no longer his own. It took the combined might of Leon, wielding the sacred blade Ascalon, and the combined forces of the Solaris House and the Holy Church to drive the Abomination from the lands of Hyades.

Victory came at a steep, bloody price.

But for the Sword Saint, there was no salvation. His fate was sealed—an immortal cursed to carry the Demon within him, his will shackled forever to the whims of the Demon King.

"Is that so? Even so, I would have eternal life."

"Why? Why is immortality so important to you?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

The Sword Saint smiled as madness and desire overwhelmed his soul.

"I wish to live."