The Extra's Rise

Maxwell's golden eyes glinted with desperate calculation as he felt the oppressive weight of Arthur's necropolis pressing down on reality itself. The impossible architecture surrounding them defied every law of magic he understood, but Maxwell von Pontes hadn't reached mid Immortal-rank by accepting defeat easily.

'A Domain,' he realized, his mind racing through tactical options. 'The boy has manifested a Domain despite not reaching Immortal-rank. A Domain born out of a Gift.'

Domains were the ultimate expression of magical mastery, personal realities imposed upon the world through sheer force of will and mana. They were supposed to be the exclusive province of Immortal-rankers, beings who had transcended mortal limitations to touch something approaching divinity.

Yet Arthur Nightingale was able to create a supernatural Domain through the use of a Gift.

Maxwell's hands began moving in the complex patterns required for his own Domain manifestation. If Arthur wanted to play with ultimate techniques, Maxwell would show him what centuries of experience could accomplish. His personal Domain—The Forge of Golden Supremacy—would overlay this necropolis with pure Immortal-rank authority, crushing the upstart's borrowed power through sheer superiority.

But he didn't get the chance.

Reika struck like liquid shadow made manifest, her dark blade carving through the air with lethal precision. Maxwell's enhanced reflexes allowed him to react, golden mana flaring around him as he raised a barrier of pure energy to intercept her attack.

'Not heavy,' Maxwell thought as her sword met his magical defense. The impact carried force, certainly, but nothing approaching what an Immortal-ranker should fear. Her strength was merely that of a mid Ascendant-ranker, perhaps enhanced by whatever supernatural abilities she possessed, but fundamentally limited by mortal constraints.

So then why had she cut through his eight-circle barrier as if it were made of paper?

The question nagged at him, but Maxwell pushed it aside. He had more pressing concerns than understanding the mechanics of her unusual abilities. He needed to establish his Domain before Arthur's necropolis could fully solidify its hold on reality.

Maxwell began weaving the intricate spell patterns required for Domain manifestation, his hands moving with the precision of decades of practice. Golden circles of light began forming in the air around him, each one inscribed with formulae that represented fundamental aspects of reality itself. Power, Authority, Supremacy—the core concepts that defined his personal approach to magic.

Reika pressed her attack, her blade whistling through the air in patterns that seemed to drink light from the very atmosphere. But Maxwell was an Immortal-ranker. Even while casting, his defensive capabilities far exceeded what any Ascendant-ranker could overcome. He deflected her strikes with casual flicks of magical force, maintaining his focus on the growing complexity of his Domain circles.

Just as the final pattern was about to lock into place, something else entered the battle.

It came without warning, without visible manifestation, but with the crushing weight of absolute authority. Maxwell felt it like a physical blow—not to his body, but to his very essence as a magical being. Every circle he had carefully constructed simply... dissolved.

Not dispelled. Not overwhelmed. They simply ceased to exist, as if something of incomprehensible power had decided that Maxwell's magic was not permitted to function.

'What—' Maxwell's thoughts scattered as he felt the full weight of what was happening to him. This wasn't magic. This was something far more fundamental. This was authority—the kind of power that didn't need to overcome his defenses because it operated on a level where his defenses simply didn't matter.

And he knew exactly what it was.

Tiamat.

The Radiant Dragon's presence pressed down on him like the weight of mountains, though she was nowhere to be seen. This was her authority reaching across vast distances, declaring that Maxwell's magic would not function as long as she willed it otherwise. Dragons didn't need to be physically present to exert their influence—not when they reached the level of a Radiant-ranker.

"Impossible," Maxwell gasped, staggering as Reika's next attack carved through his hastily erected barriers like they were made of mist.

But even as he denied it, Maxwell knew the truth. Arthur had somehow secured the backing of one of the most powerful beings in the world. The Radiant Dragon's authority was making it impossible for Maxwell to access his full magical capabilities.

Reika didn't waste the opportunity.

Her blade danced through the air with renewed aggression, each strike carrying the weight of absolute dedication. But more than that, Maxwell began to notice changes in her physical capabilities that defied explanation. The dark ink patterns covering her skin pulsed with increasing intensity, and with each pulse, her speed increased, her strength grew, her reflexes sharpened.

'Her Gift,' Maxwell realized with growing alarm. 'Those markings aren't decorative—they're a supernatural enhancement system.'

Reika's Gift appeared to be some form of progressive enhancement tied to the ink patterns on her skin. Each marking that darkened brought her closer to Maxwell's level of capability, closing the vast gulf that should have existed between an Ascendant-ranker and an Immortal-ranker.

Combined with Tiamat's authority crushing his magical abilities, Maxwell found himself facing an opponent who could actually threaten him.

Reika's blade found its mark, carving a shallow cut across Maxwell's cheek. Golden blood welled from the wound—proof that his supposedly impenetrable defenses were failing under the combined pressure of draconic authority and supernatural enhancement.

"Impossible," Maxwell snarled, touching the wound with disbelief. "I am Immortal-rank! You cannot—"

"I can, and I will," Reika interrupted, her violet eyes burning with fanatic devotion. "For my Master, I will surpass any limitation."

The ink patterns on her skin flared brighter, and Maxwell felt her next attack coming with the force of a natural disaster. He barely managed to deflect the blow, his crude energy manipulation techniques straining under the pressure of her enhanced abilities.

Meanwhile, throughout the necropolis, Arthur was demonstrating exactly why Domains were considered the ultimate expression of magical mastery.

His Wings of Eclipse spread wider, each dark feather seeming to exist in multiple places simultaneously. As the feathers drifted through the impossible architecture of his necropolis, they carried with them extensions of Arthur's consciousness—thousands of points of awareness that allowed him to perceive every corner of his Domain with perfect clarity.

The surviving Ascendant-rank fighters from Ferraclysm found themselves trapped in a maze where their opponent knew their every move before they made it. Arthur appeared behind one fighter, materializing from the shadow of a falling feather with his technique called Featherstep, his sword glowing with astral energy as he struck the man from behind, collapsing him in one strike.

Another attacker tried to flank Arthur from above, leaping between the twisted spires of the necropolis with enhanced agility. But Arthur was already gone, stepping through shadow to emerge from a different feather's darkness. His counterattack sent the would-be assassin crashing through an ancient mausoleum wall, the impact strong enough to crack stone that had endured for millennia.

A group of three fighters tried to coordinate their assault, combining their abilities in a technique that should have overwhelmed any single opponent. Fire, lightning, and ice converged on Arthur's position with devastating precision.

They struck empty air.

Arthur emerged from their own shadows, his dark wings folding around him like a cloak of living darkness. "You're fighting the Domain itself," he explained with academic precision as his hand touched each attacker in turn. "Every shadow, every whisper of wind, every grain of dust—they're all extensions of my will here."

The three fighters collapsed in sequence, their consciousness torn from their bodies and absorbed into the necropolis itself. They weren't dead—Arthur had no need for such crude solutions—but they would remain trapped in his Domain until he chose to release them.

One by one, the elite forces that Maxwell had deployed with such confidence fell to Arthur's overwhelming tactical superiority. In his own Domain, enhanced by the Wings of Eclipse and the Featherstep technique, Arthur was effectively omnipresent and omniscient. No strategy could succeed against an opponent who could be everywhere at once and see every possible angle of attack.

Within minutes, only Maxwell remained conscious among Ferraclysm's forces.

And Maxwell was discovering that fighting without his full magical abilities was a far more challenging proposition than he had anticipated.

Reika's blade carved another line across his armor, the dark steel somehow finding gaps in defenses that should have been absolute. The ink patterns on her skin now covered nearly her entire visible form, pulsing with a rhythm that matched her heartbeat and seemed to draw power from the necropolis itself.

"You cannot win," she said with quiet certainty, her enhanced speed allowing her to press attacks that Maxwell could barely counter. "My Master has prepared for every possibility. Your defeat was inevitable from the moment you chose to attack."

Maxwell roared in frustration, pouring more energy into his crude defensive techniques. Without access to his sophisticated magical abilities, he was reduced to the kind of raw power applications that he hadn't used since his early days as an Integration-ranker. It was like trying to perform surgery with a sledgehammer—possible in theory, but inefficient beyond measure.

"I am Maxwell von Pontes!" he declared, golden energy flaring around him like a miniature sun. "Guild Master of Ferraclysm! I will not be defeated by some upstart's servant!"

But even as he spoke the words, Maxwell could feel his situation deteriorating. Tiamat's authority continued to suppress his magical sophistication, while Reika's Gift-enhanced abilities grew stronger with each passing moment. The combination was slowly but inevitably overwhelming his defenses.