The Extra Can't be A Hero

"Number 58! Ten minutes and fifteen seconds!"

A cold and robotic voice shouted out a time as a fatigued young girl, who looked no older than ten, emerged from a sealed chamber. Drenched in sweat and blood, the gaunt-looking girl had reached the limit of her pre-pubescent body. Collapsing on the cold, white ground of the facility, the girl passed out before two researchers wearing lab coats.

"Send her to the infirmary. Make sure she recovers within a day."

One of the researchers nonchalantly remarked to the other and quickly lost interest in the weakened child.

"Number 64! You're next!"

The researcher flipped his chart, and his voice bellowed towards the waiting room. A group of children, all under the age of ten, sat quietly as they waited for their turn. All of them were wearing training gear, and despite their age, wore expressions of veterans who had been through war.

Without batting an eye, the young boy who was called walked carefully through the doors of the chamber, his arms shaking slightly as he grabbed firmly on the twin swords in his hands.

"The test will begin in one minute. Try and do better this time, number sixty-four."

"Y-Yes!"

The young boy nervously agreed to the researcher's words as he readied himself for the upcoming test. Once the minute mark was up, the doors on the other side of the chamber flung open, revealing five burly individuals, each equipped with a deadly weapon. Two of them held daggers, one had a spear, and the remaining two held similar swords. They weren't exactly the textbook image of a warrior, but their tremendous build was too great for a child to handle.

On top of their imposing bodies, the men's eyes were red with frenzy, as if they had been enhanced by a potent serum that forced them to be berserk.

No, that was precisely the case for these men.

Without any control over their minds, they charged at the young boy like beasts, completely ignoring that they were ganging up against a child who hadn't even touched his formative years.

But oddly enough, the boy wasn't fazed. Rather than escaping, the child exhaled deeply before charging forward with his blades.

He slid through the legs of one of the men and countered the wild strike with a counter riposte, slicing off the man's heel in an instant. With the other blade, number 64 attempted to pierce through the falling man's neck, only to be met with a firm kick from another opponent.

Rolling on the ground, the boy felt his body tighten up and his muscles tear. Even though he was trained in combat, it was still too much for a ten-year-old to bear the full force of an adult, particularly a frenzied one on drugs.

Blanking out of a moment, the young boy was helpless as a flying knee landed right on his stomach and torpedoed him a few metres away. Once more, he stumbled to his feet, wiping the tears as he saw the five berserk men approaching him with their weapons, thirsting for blood.

With no other solution, the boy was forced to activate his trump card.

Electricity coated his twin blades like a thunder serpent forced to awaken. Feeling his mind clear, the boy stood up straight and swung the swords like a rejuvenated master. Power coursed through his veins, and he pointed the tip of his blade at the injured, coarse-looking man.

Taking a leap of faith, the young boy pierced his sword through the man's stomach, and the electric current stunned the berserk man into a terrifying shriek. Though it didn't kill or incapacitate him immediately. The man fought hard as the boy continued to pulse as much electric current as he could, before the man was finally fried from the inside out.

On the outside, the researchers didn't seem shocked in the slightest by the boy's supernatural gift. Instead, they seemed rather unimpressed.

"Voltage is the same… Is he holding back, or is that the limit of his aether abilities?"

"Psychologically speaking, there's nothing wrong with number 64. I'm inclined to believe that it's his limit."

"What a shame… We injected him with the aether source of a renowned electromancer. Compatibility speaking, it was a complete match. But, it seems that our experiment had failed spectacularly."

"Hah… While he can't fight on the frontlines as a Transcendent, he can still work for the government as a pseudo-transcendent. His electric powers will be useful when it comes to jamming signals and networks."

The test continued, and the young boy named number 64 defeated the remaining four men through sheer force of will. It was a gruelling process, and the boy emerged victorious in the end. But it also came at a tremendous cost. The berserk men landed multiple blows on the boy, severely injuring and crippling the young boy.

A group of medics rushed into the chamber and dragged the boy out on a stretcher.

Bloodied, bruised, and delirious, number 64 could vaguely make out the words spoken by the lead researcher, which further crushed his heart.

"Number 64! Twenty minutes and fifty seconds! He will be withdrawn from the programme."

"..."

Tears welled in the boy's eyes as he finally let go of his last thread of consciousness. What happened to the boy in the future? The researcher hardly cared. Even as the medics rushed him out, the researcher hardly gave a second look.

But as he flipped the page to the next combatant, the man's eyes glistened like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Number 23! You're next!"

Hearing his name called, yet another young boy emerged from the group of children. Compared to the others, his face was completely blank, as if God himself had ripped his emotions clean. His eyes were muddied and grey, and his face showed no signs of indignance, indulgence, or any form of emotion, for that matter. It felt like the boy was a living, breathing machine.

"Usually, I would ask you to try your best, but… don't overdo it this time. In your case, we're only doing this for protocol's sake, so we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself accidentally."

"..."

Number 23 glanced at the man in the lab coat with a blank expression. No one was able to read the mysterious boy's thoughts and probably… no one cared.

Number 23 was their perfect creation—their Frankenstein's monster.

As long as he functioned as intended, a weapon that would dominate in the Great Transcendent War, the researchers didn't care how creepy the boy was.

The same procedures were followed. Number 23 entered the chamber and allowed the doors to seal behind him. From the other side of the chamber, five freshly drugged combatants emerged with their weapons of choice, groaning like mindless zombies.

However, the moment they saw Number 23 in front of them, they charged forward like zombies hungry for flesh.

A repeat of the previous scene was sure to unfold. Five burly dudes, enhanced by a potent serum, was sure to overwhelm a child barely ten years of age.

Alas, the opposite occurred.

Number 23 pivoted sharply, his youthful arm snapping into a precise karate chop stance as he launched himself at the nearest berserker. With a single, fluid motion, his arm sliced through the man's torso like a blade through silk. Blood and viscera sprayed out in a torrent, gushing like a ruptured pipe.

Without missing a beat, Number 23 surged forward. His legs, a blur of supernatural speed, hurled him toward the next opponent. In a blink, his arm pierced straight through the berserker's chest, stopping the man's heart before he could even scream.

The final three attacked in unison—wild, desperate, and hopelessly outmatched.

Number 23 spun his body in a tight spiral; his fingers, rigid and sharpened by precision, sliced clean through one man's neck. The severed head rolled away before the corpse hit the ground. In the same breath, his leg whipped out, colliding with another attacker's ribs and folding the man into a grotesque heap.

Only one remained—trembling, eyes wide with primal terror. Though drugged into madness, something deep inside recognised what stood before him: a predator in human skin. He turned to flee, but it was far too late.

In a blur of motion, Number 23's arm lashed forward and took off the man's head in a single, clean stroke. The test was over—completed in record time, with not a single wasted movement.

"N-Number 23… S-Seventeen seconds…"

The adjutant researcher fumbled out the time, as he could hardly believe his eyes either. It wasn't a test, but a public execution. One that was executed with so much ease that even the seasoned researchers hadn't seen a better time.

"Splendid! And without a scratch to boot! Hahaha! No doubt, we're going to produce the greatest Transcedent the world has ever seen!"

Drunk on his achievement, the lead researcher broke into wild laughter. The young boy before him was going to be his greatest prize, his ascension into fame and power. But contrary to his excitement, Number 23 was numb and expressionless.

With dead eyes, he left the chambers unbothered by the blood on his body or his record-breaking time. Instead, he glanced at the remaining children who were all waiting for their turn.

A plethora of emotions was shot his way: awe, fear, and even a tinge of envy.

They were all experiments, rounded up for the sake of developing the world's most elite Transcendent force. Some came here voluntarily, others were forced into it, and an unfortunate few… were born into it.

The laboratory was their childhood home, and the researchers, their parents. It was everything that they knew, and they yearned for the lead researcher's affection.

And for number 23 to hog it all… they were naturally discontented.

But number 23 hardly cared… his emotions had long been suppressed, not that he had much to begin with. He returned to the group and found his isolated corner to rest. Like the lead researcher said, this was just a formality test for him, and he didn't need to do anything fancy. All he had to do was show up, complete the test, and they would return him to his room.

It was a routine that number 23 was familiar with, and he was content to follow.

But there was one irregularity.

"Damn, you've broken the record again!"

A boisterous voice broke number 23 from his daze and forced the young boy to pivot his neck. A bubbly boy who was about the same age and height as himself grinned from ear to ear as he tapped on number 23's shoulder, ignoring the jealous gazes.

"Number 99… Leave me alone… You're noisy…"

"Aww, don't be like that! It's going to be my turn soon! Give me some tips."

"Go for the neck… It's faster that way…"

"T-That's… practical."

Number 99 scratched his cheek, unsure what to make of the oddly good advice. Sure enough, number 99's turn came soon after, and he left number 23 alone, after giving him a full minute of chaos.

"Wish me luck!"

"..."

Number 23 ignored the boy's cheer and returned to his meditative state, secretly praying never to see number 99 again. Little did he know that this one interaction would change the entire trajectory of his life.