The Extra Who Shouldn’t Exist

The capital of Avaloria—Imperius City—once a beacon of brilliance, was now a canvas of carnage. Streets that had always thrummed with life, bathed in the neon glow of Avaloria's cutting-edge technology, were now drenched in smoke, fire, and the metallic tang of blood.

Towering holographic billboards flickered violently, their smiling adverts twisted into chaotic static as sirens wailed across the skyline.

Above the city, the sky had been ripped apart.

A rift—colossal, jagged, and pulsing with malignant energy—hung like the gaping maw of the devil itself. It was unlike anything seen in living memory, black and violet energy spilling out like liquid night, distorting the very air around it.

From its depths, Abyssals poured in endless numbers—ranging from low to high-rank horrors—snarling Abyss Goblins with rotting skin and elongated claws dripping acidic ichor; Flesh Wolves, eyeless and covered in quivering muscle strands, their maws splitting too far to be natural; Bone Orcs, their skeletal armor fused with flesh, wielding jagged cleavers forged from their victims' bones.

Then came the more fearsome—Corruption Liches, floating down with skeletal jaws clicking, eyes burning with green abyss-fire, chanting necrotic incantations that made the air writhe.

Chitin Serpents—hundreds of meters long—slithered down like living fortresses, their exoskeletons glistening with poisonous slime.

And then came the titanic nightmares.

Creatures the size of skyscrapers, their bodies writhing with parasitic tendrils, multiple maws opening and closing across their torsos. One, an Abyss Behemoth, had four arms ending in spinning, saw-like bone structures, each swipe carving through entire buildings.

Another, the Void Hydra, had three serpent heads vomiting torrents of black fire, its scales absorbing spells like water.

Some radiated such overwhelming malice that even Grandmaster-ranked warriors felt their knees tremble—Abyssals on the Grandmaster level, their very presence suffocating the battlefield.

The city was a nightmare given form.

Everywhere, soldiers, adventurers, hunters, and civilians clashed with chaos. The evacuation sirens blared, airships carried away the lucky few, while below… death reigned.

Amid the slaughter, the top 10 guilds of the Human Empire had rallied, along with countless mid-tier and minor guilds. Their banners whipped in the ash-choked wind, forming scattered lines of resistance across the ruined avenues.

At the forefront, the Sword Emperor, Guild Master of the No. 1 Guild – Radiant Blades, stood like a god of war. A Low-Rank Transcendent, his white hair flowed like silver fire as his sword sang through the air. Each swing unleashed arcs of golden energy, cleaving Abyssals by the dozens.

'These pests multiply faster than I can kill them,' he thought coldly, pivoting on his heel.

He unleashed a devastating technique—"Crescent Slash"—a strike that split the ground in a crescent wave of pure sword qi, bisecting a charging Titan in a single stroke.

Beside him, the Guild Master of the No. 3 Guild – Crimson Guard, a broad-shouldered Grandmaster-ranked man, roared as his war hammer slammed down, unleashing a shockwave that pulverized hundreds of goblins and Abyssal creatures. His armor was dented and bloodied, but his spirit blazed like steel.

From the No. 5 Guild – Crystal Moon, an elderly woman in flowing sapphire robes levitated above the carnage, chanting as dozens of crystalline lances rained from the sky, piercing Abyssals with deadly precision.

Younger leaders fought with equal ferocity.

The Guild Master of the No. 2 Guild – Black Phoenix Legion, a red-eyed man, wielded twin sabers that ignited in black flames, each slash setting entire swathes of enemies ablaze.

The No. 4 Guild – Thunder Breakers' spear master zipped through the battlefield like lightning incarnate, piercing Titan eyes and vanishing before they could react.

Even mid-tier and minor guilds fought with unmatched grit—forming shields to protect fleeing civilians, casting large-area healing magic, and holding choke points with desperate courage.

Above the chaos, the desperate group of guild masters shouted over the battlefield's roar.

"If we don't seal that rift, we'll all be buried here!" bellowed the Sword Emperor, blood dripping from his sword.

"The only way is to go inside and clear it!" cried another, dodging a hydra's acid spit.

The Sword Emperor's golden eyes narrowed. "An SS-Rank Rift… one not seen in centuries. Endless spawn waves. If we don't send someone now—" His blade parried a Titan claw. "—this city or the country might be erased."

Far above, on the roof of a half-crumbled skyscraper, a black-haired, bearded man stood, power radiating from his frame like a storm waiting to break. His dark coat billowed in the heated wind.

Suddenly, masked soldiers clad in black materialized around him, their uniforms stitched with faint runes. One by one, they knelt.

"My lord," one said, voice muffled behind the mask. "Our plan was a success. The royal palace has been infiltrated. The objective is complete."

The bearded man—Albert—smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the gaping Abyssal rift. "Beautiful… our leader truly is the one who will grant us salvation. Look at this masterpiece he's created. I almost wish I had the power to create rifts and abyssal gates myself."

He exhaled slowly. "Sadly… I am not the Chosen of the Abyss."

A Grandmaster among them spoke with conviction. "Do not worry, my lord. The day is near when we will stand against the gods themselves… and reclaim our fate."

Albert's smile widened. "I hope you're right." His eyes darkened. "I just hope Aaron completes his task… we've already paid in manpower and lives, losing a lot of them."

Another masked man chuckled. "Aaron's impulsive, yes, but he's not a fool. He knows the price of failure."

Albert's gaze sharpened. "And Reynard? He's the only one left who could foil this. A monster among monsters… closest to Edward in reaching Monarch rank."

Without warning, two figures materialized beside him.

A woman with blond hair—Navia—smirked. "Albert, even you fear him? That's why the master sent the three of us Transcendents to deal with him."

A lean man—Gero—grinned. "Navia's right. He can't take on the three of us."

Albert's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Fools… never underestimate your opponent." He tore open his shirt, revealing a deep scar across his chest. "See this? Not decoration. He gave me this… long ago."

Both stared in disbelief. "Impossible," Navia breathed. "After surpassing Grandmaster rank, even a destroyed body can be rebuilt."

Albert's smile was grim. "That's the thing. No matter how many times I destroyed and rebuilt my body… the scar remained."

For the first time in their lives, both Navia and Gero looked genuinely scared.

---

Meanwhile…

Before the rift, a ripple of energy shimmered—then a figure materialized.

A man with short brown hair, piercing brown eyes, and a jawline sharp enough to cut steel. His long coat snapped in the wind, his presence calm yet suffocating.

Reynard had arrived.

Albert smirked. "Speak of the devil."

Reynard stepped forward, floating in the sky, raising his sword. His voice was like steel wrapped in velvet.

"Sovereign Blade—Ninth Form."

"Starfall Annihilation."

The air exploded. An arc of pure annihilation swept across the rift's mouth, cleaving every titanic Abyssal emerging from it. The flow stopped—only for a few precious seconds.

Then, without moving, Reynard's aura detonated outward—an invisible tidal wave that erased every Abyssal in the city, leaving silence in its wake.

Albert glanced at Reynard, who was still far away in the sky, his full attention locked on the Abyssal gate as more creatures began pouring out.

Albert chuckled darkly. "Did you see that? Time to work… and try not to die."

His gaze shifted—to a white-haired woman carving through the Abyssal horde like a goddess of war. Serena von Crestvale.

Albert's grin turned savage. "I'll give him a scar he'll never forget. Kill her. I want her head."

"As you wish," the Grandmasters roared in unison, bowing before vanishing instantly.

Albert, Navia, and Gero disappeared as well, racing straight toward Reynard.

---

The rift churned like a wound in reality, its edges bleeding abyssal darkness, each pulse vomiting out more monstrosities.

Reynard von Crestvale stood unmoving before it, his grip tightening on his sword, a thin line forming between his brows.

One of his strongest strikes had not even made the rift falter.

The constant stream of horrors gnawed at his patience until frustration began to settle in.

Then, the atmosphere shifted—an almost imperceptible change in the weight of the air, like the world itself holding its breath. Without turning, Reynard's voice rolled out, low and sharp.

"Well, well… I had a hunch you were involved in this, Albert. Seems I was right."

From the side, stepping into view, the black-haired, bearded man emerged from the drifting ash, his boots crunching over shattered stone.

A smile played on his lips as he nodded toward the gaping rift.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Rey? Our leader created it himself. A masterpiece that even a monster like you can't close from the outside." His smirk deepened. "Though… it would be a different story if you stepped inside."

Reynard's eyes hardened into blades. "Don't call me Rey. You lost that right long ago."

Albert tilted his head, feigning hurt. "That's your attitude toward your big brother? Now you break my heart."

"You're not my brother. Blood ties or not, you're not a Crestvale. Not even a fraction of one."

"I never wanted to be," Albert replied with a shrug. His tone shifted, becoming colder. "And before you get the wrong idea, I didn't come here today to kill you, little brother.

That pleasure will come another day. I'm just here until our package arrives. Then I'll leave. So be a good boy… and stay out of my way."

He uttered a single word that seemed to ripple through the fabric of space itself. "Manifest."

Light flared violently, swallowing Albert's body as it reshaped into a glowing white silhouette—an astral form, the mark of a Transcendent.

His presence sharpened, reality bending faintly around him.

Beside him, Navia and Gero echoed the same word, their bodies dissolving into the same radiant, ethereal brilliance.

Reynard's lips twitched into a dangerous smirk. "Brought friends this time, Albert? Good for you. At least you won't die alone today." His gaze darkened. "I just hope you don't run with your tail between your legs again—abandoning your comrades like last time."

Albert's jaw clenched audibly. "Is this funny to you?" His voice dripped with venom. "Wait until I hand you your wife's head."

Reynard's tone remained calm, but the air around him grew heavy. "What do you mean?"

Albert laughed, the sound sharp and ugly. "Oh, nothing much. Just that I've sent at least a dozen Grandmasters to kill her."

"You shouldn't take her lightly," Reynard said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "She's a menace… and a beautiful one at that." His eyes gleamed. "Besides… who told you she's alone?"

A deafening boom split the distance. Both men turned.

Hovering high above the battlefield were two women—one crowned in flowing white hair, the other with raven-black tresses swirling in the wind—radiating an aura that dwarfed most on the field.

Between them strode Elric, Serena's butler, his name whispered with dread across the world. His hands moved with surgical lethality, dismantling the Grandmasters Albert had sent, their bodies crumpling into lifeless heaps.

"I'm quite protective of her, you know," Reynard said softly, genuine pride in his voice.

Albert's teeth ground together. "How did I forget that old man…"

The rift behind them roared again, disgorging stronger creatures—behemoths with obsidian armor and eyes like molten pits.

Albert's smirk returned, sharper now. "So… what will you do? The only way to close that rift is from the inside. And you know as well as I do… getting back out is nearly impossible, even for you.

But you have no choice, do you? Keep ignoring it, and no matter how skilled Serena is, she'll eventually tire. And then she'll die."

Rage carved itself across Reynard's features. He spoke one word.

"Manifest."

His form exploded into a mesmerizing white brilliance, his aura cascading over the entire city like a tidal wave. Buildings trembled, weaker monsters instantly crumbling to dust under the sheer weight of his presence.

Albert's eyes widened. 'Even though we share the same blood… what a monster. He's grown stronger since last time.' Jealousy twisted like a blade in his chest.

This was no ordinary opponent—this was another Transcendent. In the manifestation state, only soul attacks could harm a Transcendent as they had already surpassed mortal limits.

Reynard's gaze slid toward the rift. He knew entering it meant leaving these three free to wreak havoc on the city. He'd have to deal with them first.

The tension peaked. Navia, Gero, and Albert prepared to strike—until a voice cut into Albert's mind.

"Albert. Retreat. Now."

Albert stiffened. 'Boss? What's wrong?'

"You won't win against him. He'll kill all of you within a few minutes—you know that."

Albert's teeth ground. 'I know that… but we're just stalling until Aaron comes out with Ethan, the Hero of Light. Then we can—'

"Do as I say. The mission has failed. Aaron couldn't capture the Heir of Light. Ethan escaped."

Albert's eyes went wide. "What?!"

Before the word could leave his mouth fully, the sky itself cracked open above the capital with a thunderous boom.

As Albert's attention snapped upward toward the splitting sky, another sound cut through the battlefield—a scream.

Realization dawned like ice in his veins. He spun around just in time to see Reynard's blade slice through Gero—not just his body, but his very astral form.

It came apart like paper under a burning brand, his torso separating cleanly from his lower half. The glow of his astral form shattered into fading motes, blood spraying into the air before his lifeless remains crashed to the ground.

The earth drank deeply, and silence fell for the briefest, most suffocating moment.

And then, as the sky roared above, all eyes were drawn to a sight they would never forget for as long as they will live.

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A/N:

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