The Extra's Rise

I wasn't a fool.

I knew that poking the bear known as Ferraclysm would result in them taking heavy action against me directly. And what better timing to attack than when I was in the Southern continent, away from my guild and powerless?

Ferraclysm did have the right to be arrogant after all. In terms of overall strength, they were stronger than Ouroboros. Their guild had centuries of accumulated power, resources, and expertise. Maxwell von Pontes himself was a mid Immortal-ranker with decades of combat experience, while I was merely a high Ascendant-ranker who had achieved my position through political maneuvering rather than raw strength.

There was no way I should be able to win this battle.

Unfortunately, this battle was never meant to be fair.

From my position on the inn's reinforced terrace, I watched through enhanced surveillance feeds as Ferraclysm's mercenary forces descended on Pyrros like a plague of locusts. Over three thousand combat specialists, ranging from White-rank foot soldiers to several Ascendant-rank commanders. Each one handpicked from Ferraclysm's extensive roster of contracted killers.

Maxwell had deployed overwhelming force, just as I'd predicted he would. The man was nothing if not predictable in his brutality.

'Everything is proceeding as expected,' Luna observed from within my consciousness.

'Better than expected,' I replied silently, my fingers dancing across the holographic interface only I could see. 'Maxwell's emotional state is making him sloppy. He's committed every available asset to this assault.'

Through my surveillance network, I watched the enemy forces spreading throughout the canyon city like oil across water. They moved with professional efficiency, securing landing zones and establishing perimeters with the kind of precision that came from extensive combat experience.

They had no idea they were walking into a carefully prepared killing ground.

I activated my communication array, sending coded signals to assets positioned throughout Pyrros. Assets that had been in place for weeks, waiting for exactly this moment.

"Phase Two is now active," I announced quietly. "All units, execute."

The response was immediate and devastating.

From concealed positions throughout the canyon, Arthur's true forces emerged like shadows given form. These weren't hired mercenaries or temporary allies—they were elite operatives from Ouroboros, Mount Hua, and the Southern continent's own intelligence services. Each one personally selected and positioned by Arthur during the weeks of apparent vacation planning.

Seraphina materialized from what had appeared to be empty air, her ice-blue eyes cold as winter storms as she surveyed the battlefield below. Her silver hair flowed like liquid mercury as she raised her hands, and the very air around her began to crystallize.

"I was beginning to think you'd never call for backup," she said with characteristic understatement, though there was warmth in her voice that spoke of genuine relief at finally being able to act.

"I wanted to see how far Maxwell would commit himself," I replied, watching my surveillance feeds as Ferraclysm forces began encountering unexpected resistance. "The deeper he digs this hole, the harder it becomes for him to climb out."

Reika appeared beside us with the fluid grace of flowing shadow, her violet eyes bright with anticipation and barely contained violence. "Master," she said simply, though the single word carried volumes of devotion and readiness for battle.

"Reika, coordinate with our embedded teams. I want Ferraclysm's command structure disrupted before they realize what's happening." I paused, bringing up additional tactical displays. "Seraphina, the eastern approach needs your particular talents. Those caves would benefit from some... climate control."

Both women nodded and vanished back into the night, moving to execute their assigned roles with the kind of precision that came from absolute trust and extensive preparation.

Meanwhile, I turned my attention to a more delicate task.

My fingers moved across virtual keyboards that existed only in my enhanced perception, diving deep into Ferraclysm's communication networks. Maxwell's emotional state had made him careless—security protocols that should have been ironclad were left with glaring vulnerabilities as he prioritized speed over caution.

Within minutes, I had complete access to the Iron Dominion's systems.

The flagship was a marvel of Ferraclysm engineering, bristling with enough firepower to level a city and protected by defensive systems that had never been breached in decades of service. Unfortunately for Maxwell, all of that technology depended on computer systems that were now under my control.

I began my work with surgical precision, planting logic bombs in critical systems while simultaneously mapping the ship's structural weaknesses. The Iron Dominion was Maxwell's pride and joy, a symbol of Ferraclysm's technological superiority that he'd brought to intimidate me.

It was about to become his greatest humiliation.

"Sir!" came a panicked voice from my surveillance intercept of the flagship's communications. "We're detecting massive system intrusions across all networks. Someone's in our computers!"

Maxwell's response was a roar of pure fury that could be heard even through the electronic filter. "Find them! Cut all external connections! Isolate the core systems!"

Too late, Maxwell. Far too late.

With a thought, I triggered the cascade failure I'd been preparing. The Iron Dominion's mighty engines suddenly reversed thrust while its maneuvering systems executed a series of impossible commands. Warning alarms screamed across the flagship as its own navigation computers began steering it toward an uncontrolled descent.

But I wasn't finished.

Through the ship's own surveillance cameras, I watched Maxwell frantically trying to regain control of his vessel. The man's golden eyes were wide with disbelief as century-old Ferraclysm technology betrayed him at the most critical moment.

I opened a communication channel, broadcasting my voice directly through the flagship's internal speakers.

"Hello again, Maxwell," I said pleasantly. "I hope you're enjoying the flight. I took the liberty of updating your navigation software. Consider it a gift."

On the screen, I watched Maxwell's face contort with rage as he realized the source of his technological betrayal. "NIGHTINGALE!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the Iron Dominion's corridors. "I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF!"

"You're welcome to try," I replied, watching with satisfaction as his flagship continued its inexorable descent toward the canyon floor. "Though I should mention that you'll want to handle the landing first. Your ship seems to be experiencing some... technical difficulties."

I cut the connection and turned my attention back to the ground battle, where my allies were systematically dismantling Ferraclysm's assault force.

Seraphina had transformed the eastern cave system into a frozen hellscape. Her movements were poetry in motion as she danced between enemy attacks.

Reika flowed through the shadows like liquid death, appearing behind enemy commanders just long enough to eliminate them before vanishing again.

And throughout it all, Prince Ian's voice could be heard coordinating the evacuation of civilians while his family's elite guards secured Stella and the other non-combatants.

"Stella's secure in the mountain bunkers," Ian's voice came through my communication array. "Royal Guard escorts have her surrounded by enough protective magic to stop an army. She's probably safer there than anywhere else on the continent."

Good. With Stella protected, I could focus entirely on the task at hand.

I vaulted from the terrace, my body enhanced not by magical artifacts but by the natural strength that had allowed me to reach high Ascendant-rank despite my youth. The gap between my power and Maxwell's mid Immortal-rank was substantial, but raw mana levels had never been the only measure of combat effectiveness.

I landed in the midst of a group of Integration-rank mercenaries who had been advancing on the inn. Their weapons turned toward me with professional efficiency, but they moved like they were underwater compared to my enhanced reflexes.

My first opponent swung a mana-enhanced blade that could have carved through steel. I sidestepped the attack and drove my palm into his solar plexus, sending him flying backward into his companions with enough force to crater the canyon wall behind them.

The remaining mercenaries attacked as a coordinated unit, their varied magical abilities creating a storm of elemental destruction that should have overwhelmed any single opponent. Unfortunately for them, I'd spent years training against multiple opponents under conditions far more challenging than this.

I moved through their attacks like a dancer performing a lethal ballet, each movement precisely calculated to avoid damage while positioning me for devastating counterstrikes. Within seconds, the entire squad was down, their unconscious forms scattered across the canyon floor.

More enemies approached from multiple directions, but I was no longer alone.

Seraphina appeared at my left side, ice crystals swirling around her like a crown of winter. Her arrival was accompanied by a wave of freezing air that turned the moisture in the canyon into deadly projectiles.

Reika materialized at my right, shadows coiling around her form like living armor. Her violet eyes gleamed with predatory satisfaction as she surveyed the approaching enemies.

"Ready?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Always," Seraphina replied, her voice carrying the absolute certainty of winter itself.

"For you, Master," Reika added, her tone carrying the devotion of someone who would follow me into hell itself.

Together, we advanced into the ranks of Ferraclysm's forces like an avalanche of destruction. My enhanced strength allowed me to match opponents who technically outranked me, while Seraphina's ice swordsmanship and Reika's shadow swordsmanship provided perfect tactical support.

We carved through their lines with systematic efficiency, each enemy falling before our coordinated assault. These weren't random acts of violence—this was surgical dismantling of Ferraclysm's combat capability.