The Extra Can't be A Hero

The wish to live.

It was a right as ancient and sacred as existence itself—a truth that transcended species, status, and strength—the gift of life.

Every living being clung to it with unyielding instinct. Creatures great and small fought tooth and claw for survival, not merely to endure, but to extend their bloodlines, to carve a place for themselves in the great tapestry of time.

But beneath it all, there was something more profound. More primal. A yearning—not just to live, but to taste life. To savour its fleeting sweetness. To bask in its warmth, its chaos, its beauty. And in that, the Sword Saint was no different.

Despite his legendary power, he was still a man—bound by flesh, time, and the inevitable decay that came with age. The end loomed near, a silent predator stalking his every breath, waiting to rip away the nectar of life he had come to cherish. And so, his desperation was understandable.

For what could be more human than the longing to defy death?

'Betraying humanity… ironically, it's the most human thing to do.'

Amon watched the old man in silence, his gaze grim and heavy with unspoken thoughts.

The passage of time had carved its mark deep into the once-mighty Sword Saint. The signs were unmistakable—his movements slower, his posture more stooped, his aura dimmer than the blazing force it once was. The years had caught up with him, eroding the legend he had built with sweat, blood, and brilliance.

Once hailed as a peerless genius, revered in the golden days of his prime, he now stood as a fading echo of his former glory. And Amon knew the bitter truth: no matter how many battles he had won, how many titles he had earned, or how many lives he had changed—none of it would matter once death claimed him.

It was this creeping irrelevance, this slow disintegration of self, that drove him to chase immortality. In that pursuit, the Sword Saint had slowly lost his way, falling into the shadows of obsession, teetering on the edge of madness.

And it was in that vulnerability, in that growing void, that the Demon Cult found its opportunity.

"Even if I were shackled by the Demon King, even if I became a shell of myself, I would remain living in the universe. And as long as I exist, there's always a chance for me to grow stronger… maybe even usurp the Demon King himself."

Lost in his desires, the Sword Saint was tunnel-visioning on all the benefits that the Demon Cult could offer him.

"You're delusional."

"Perhaps, but then again… everyone fights for themselves, am I right?"

The Sword Saint replied, throwing Amon's words back at him. Biting on the bottom of his lip, the young Knight furrowed his brows and replied in a stern protest.

"Even if your choice to defect kills millions? Weren't you once the Lord Protector of the Realm?"

"Didn't you just say it? Why should I care about the faces of billions I'd never met?"

"Tch," Amon clicked his tongue, clearly regretting his own words. Then again, they were his honest feelings, and he couldn't lie to himself just to please the old man.

"But you're not wrong… Some part of me still clings to this world—call it affection, or perhaps a fading sense of duty to the Hyades Republic… to humanity itself. If that weren't true, I wouldn't have hesitated for so long."

That was also true.

The Sword Saint had always had the option to accept the Demon Cult's offer—yet he had delayed, again and again.

At first, Amon had convinced himself it was because of Bawi, the granddaughter he thought the old man cherished above all else. But after that cold, shattering admission—that her life or death meant little to him—Amon was forced to reconsider.

This hesitation wasn't about love. It wasn't about family. It was something more profound, more conflicted.

The Sword Saint was at war with himself.

A battle not of sword and steel, but of belief and identity, torn between the man he once was and the monster he feared becoming.

"Although I've said so much… I'm still afraid of losing my humanity… of becoming a tool for the Demon race. So, Amon… Traveller from another dimension… will you show me a different path?"

The Sword Saint's voice trembled—no longer the commanding tone of a legend, but the frail whisper of a man unravelling.

It wasn't a plea… it was a beg.

A desperate cry for another path, a way out that didn't lead to damnation. He looked to Amon, not as a rival or a threat, but as a final hope.

But even with all his knowledge of what was to come, Amon had no answer. Immortality was still beyond him.

Yet… there was someone close who might hold that answer.

"Let me help you in Amon's stead."

An ethereal voice echoed through the stillness, reaching the ears of the two who believed themselves alone. The very fabric of space trembled, the dimensional veil bending like silk in the wind. From that shimmering rift stepped a vision of impossible beauty—graceful, otherworldly, and radiant.

With footsteps as light as moonlight, she crossed the threshold between realms and came to stand beside Amon, as though the universe itself had reserved that place for her.

No introduction was needed. Her presence spoke louder than any name. She was Amon's destined bride—the woman fated to become the most powerful magician the world would ever know.

"Yue, you were listening?"

"Of course!"

Though Amon was mildly surprised by her sudden appearance, he wasn't truly shocked.

After all, Yue was a master of space and time magic—if she chose to conceal herself, not even the most attuned magicians on the continent could detect her presence.

The Sword Saint was no exception. He hadn't sensed a thing. Not a ripple. Not a breath. It wasn't until Yue revealed herself that the old warrior realised he had been watched—and the revelation shook him far more than he cared to admit.

'Yue Elune… I'd thought she was just another talented mage, but…'

The danger sirens began blaring in the Sword Saint's mind as he instantly raised his evaluation of Yue. And her following words would prove him to be right.

"Lord Kassadin, if you want to obtain immortality, I have the solution for you."

"Really? And how can I trust you?"

"You should, after all… I have turned back time once."

"..."

The Sword Saint's brow twitched, and the cracks began to show in his once stoic expression. He had always known Amon was different—an anomaly blessed, or perhaps cursed, with a soul from another dimension.

But he hadn't expected her to carry a secret of equal, if not greater, weight.

To reverse time… a regressor.

It was a feat unheard of in the annals of history—a miracle beyond even the boldest dreams of magic. Kassadin struggled to believe it. It defied logic, defied law, defied everything. And yet, the more he thought about it… the more the pieces began to fall into place. It did make sense.

"No wonder… You were far too powerful for a magician in your twenties. And you moved as if you knew the future. So you've turned back time."

"Precisely. Although I hope you will keep this secret to yourself. So far, no one other than Amon knows about this."

"I'm not someone with a loose tongue," the Sword Saint shook his head. "So? How do you intend to make me immortal? Reverse my time?"

"No, time-reversal is dangerous magic, and I was only able to regress due to luck."

Yue shook her head and replied with increasing confidence.

"But there is a way for you to become immortal. Not by time-reversal or reincarnation. You will be able to retain all of your powers and gain more… and you won't have to sell your soul to the Demon Cult."

"Hoh? Such a good deal?"

"Yes, and to prove that I'm not lying…"

Yue's ruby eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow, casting a soft, radiant light that pulsed with hidden power. A slender beam of energy flowed from her mind to the Sword Saint's, bridging thought and spirit in a seamless thread of magic.

At first, the old warrior flinched, wary of the unknown. But when he felt no pain, no threat, only clarity, he allowed the light to enter him. It seeped into his being like a whisper, gentle yet profound.

Then, in an instant, his eyes snapped wide open, brimming with newfound vitality. Colour rushed back into his weary face, chasing away years of weariness in a single breath. What Yue had shown him wasn't just knowledge—it was a possibility. A path forward. A flicker of hope.

For the first time in a long while, he saw a future—one where he didn't have to forsake his humanity to escape death.

"I-Is that true?"

"I wouldn't lie to you."

"T-Then it's true… There is a way for me to gain immortality!"

"Naturally," Yue replied with confidence. "So… will you sever your ties with the Demon Cult now?"

Had there ever been a path to immortality that didn't demand the sacrifice of humanity, the Sword Saint would never have sought alliance with the Demon Cult. His pact with darkness had been born not of malice, but of desperation.

But now—now that a new possibility had been revealed, one free of bloodshed and betrayal, there was no longer any reason to cling to that unholy bond.

The Demon Cult had lost its hold on him.

"I will, but… my mind isn't in the right state to fight off the Prophet's temptations."

Years of despair had thinned the Sword Saint's mental defences. That was the reason why the Sword Saint isolated himself from the world, to prevent further corruption in a place where the Prophet couldn't get to him easily. So, if the Sword Saint moved away from this mirror dimension, it was only a matter of time before the Prophet sank his nefarious claws into his psyche once more.

"What will you do?"

"Bolster my mental state… for that, I need time."

"Don't worry," Amon interjected from the side. "We'll buy you the time you need. Do what you must."

The Sword Saint nodded and headed back to his hut with newly found vigour. However, before he disappeared, he turned back and glanced at the perfectly aligned couple.

"... thank you, truly."

"Heh, you're welcome."

Yue returned his smile and offered a gentle wave of farewell. As Amon watched the Sword Saint disappear into the distance, a heavy weight settled in his chest—a silent, creeping dread. With the old warrior retreating into the shadows, the burden of confronting the Demon Cult would now fall squarely on their shoulders. They were on their own. But then…

'It's worth the challenge.'