The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 227: THE WEIGHT OF A HERO
Chapter 223: The Weight of a Hero
The Sanctum of the Sword was no longer a room; it was a blender of conflicting energies.
The A-Rank mana battery I had tossed into the containment field hadn’t just disrupted the ritual; it had caused a mana vacuum.
The pure, golden light of the Hero’s Holy Sword was now lashing out in violent, erratic arcs, like a lightning storm trapped in a bottle.
CRACK-ZZZT!
A bolt of holy energy whipped past my ear, singeing the tips of my hair. It struck the wall behind me, vaporizing a section of the ancient stone instantly.
"Don’t move!" the traitor guard screamed, his sword shaking in his hand.
"Hand over the Scabbard, or I’ll cut you down!"
I stood with my back to the shattered window, the gale-force winds of the high altitude whipping my coat around my legs.
In my left hand, I clutched the black dragon-leather Scabbard. In my right, Draken hummed with a low, hungry vibration, eager to bite.
"You’re not in a position to make demands," I shouted over the roar of the wind and the crackling magic.
"Look around you! The Sword is awake, and it’s pissed off!"
The two High Priests, having recovered from the initial blast, stood up. Their hoods had fallen back, revealing bald heads tattooed with shifting, purple abyssal runes.
Their eyes were entirely black—void of whites, void of humanity.
They ignored the chaotic light. Their gaze was fixed solely on the object in my hand.
"The vessel," one of them hissed, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "The boy holds the seal. The Sword cannot leave the tower without it. Kill him."
"With pleasure," the second Priest rasped.
He raised a hand. The shadows in the corners of the room didn’t just deepen; they detached. Four tendrils of solid darkness shot toward me, moving like striking cobras.
[Skill: Shadow Bind]
[Rank: B]
I couldn’t block that with a sword.
Think. Use the environment.
I didn’t dodge away from the priests. I dodged toward the center of the room—toward the chaotic, swirling maelstrom of the Holy Sword.
"Are you insane?!" the guard yelled.
I slid across the polished floor, my boots screeching. The shadow tendrils pursued me, hungry and fast. Just as I reached the edge of the containment circle, I slammed my heel into the ground, halting my momentum.
The Holy Sword, sensing the sudden proximity of dark energy (both from me and the pursuing shadows), reacted instinctively.
FLASH.
A pulse of blinding white light exploded from the blade.
It slammed into the encroaching shadows. Light met Void. The reaction was instantaneous and violent. The shadows screamed—a high-pitched, tea-kettle sound—and evaporated into nothingness.
The shockwave threw me backward, but I had anticipated it. I tucked and rolled, skidding to a halt near the elevator shaft door.
"The Sword rejects darkness!" I yelled, grinning despite the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. "And you three reek of it."
The Priests scowled, stepping back as the Holy Sword began to spin on its vertical axis, agitated by the abyssal mana in the room.
"He is using the artifact as a shield," the first Priest noted coldly. "Clever rat."
"He cannot hide forever," the second replied. "Guard. You are human. The light will not burn you. Retrieve the Scabbard."
The guard swallowed hard. He looked at the spinning, arcing sword, then at the menacing priests behind him. He knew he was disposable.
"I... I’m on it," he stammered.
He charged at me, skirting the edge of the containment circle. He was fast—a solid C-Rank swordsman.
"Give it to me, kid!" he roared, thrusting his blade toward my chest.
I parried with Draken. CLANG.
The impact jarred my arm. His stats were higher than mine. Without the ring’s buff or a surprise attack, a direct clash was a losing game.
He pressed the advantage, raining blows down on me.
"You’re just a student!" he shouted, his face twisted in desperation. "You don’t understand what’s coming! The Master promised me power! Eternal life!"
"He promised you a leash!" I grunted, deflecting a strike that aimed for my neck.
I stepped back, my heel hitting the edge of the shattered window frame. A two-hundred-story drop waited behind me.
The guard grinned. "Nowhere to run."
He wound up for a finishing strike, a heavy overhead slash.
I looked at him. I looked at the Scabbard in my hand. And then I looked at the floating Holy Sword behind him.
An idea formed. A crazy, desperate, game-breaking idea.
In the lore, the Holy Sword Excalibur wasn’t just a weapon; it was a semi-sentient construct. It yearned for its sheath. The Scabbard was the only thing that could dampen its overwhelming power, allowing it to rest. It was a magnet.
I didn’t block the guard’s strike.
I raised the Scabbard.
"Hey!" I shouted at the floating sword. "Catch!"
I didn’t throw the Scabbard at the guard. I threw it past him.
I hurled the black leather sheath high into the air, over the containment circle, toward the open sky beyond the shattered windows.
The guard froze, his eyes following the arc of the artifact. "No!"
But the reaction from the center of the room was far more dramatic.
The Holy Sword stopped spinning. For a microsecond, the room went silent.
Then, with a sound like a thunderclap breaking the sound barrier, the Sword of Light moved.
It didn’t fall. It launched itself.
Driven by an ancient, magical magnetism, the Divine Weapon rocketed across the room, chasing its other half.
It flew straight toward the window.
Straight through the space where the guard was standing.
"Wha—"
ZHHH-VROOOM!
The guard didn’t even have time to scream. The aura of the passing sword—a concentrated beam of S-Rank Holy energy—hit him like a freight train.
His armor disintegrated. His flesh burned away in a flash of gold. He didn’t die; he was erased.
The Sword tore through the air, shattering the remaining glass of the window frame, and shot out into the sky, chasing the falling Scabbard.
I didn’t hesitate.
"Going down!" I yelled at the stunned Priests.
I turned and jumped out the window.
Into the open air of Sky Island, two hundred stories up.
[Sky Island – The Ruins of the Grand Hotel]
The world was burning.
Leon Lionheart coughed, waving away the smoke that choked the air. The once-pristine luxury district was a warzone. The Grand Hotel was a pile of rubble.
Above them, the sky bled crimson from the barrier. High in the air, Sword Saint Alastor was a blur of silver light, clashing titanically with the Abyssal Juggernaut. Each collision sent shockwaves rattling the teeth of everyone on the ground.
But the students didn’t have the luxury of watching the sky.
"Incoming!" Chris Blackthorn roared, slamming his tower shield into the ground.
BOOM!
A massive, black wolf—a [Void Stalker]—crashed into the shield, its jaws snapping inches from Chris’s face.
These weren’t the dungeon monsters they were used to. These were summons from the Cult, corrupted beasts infused with void mana. They didn’t feel pain. They didn’t tire.
"Die!" Aiden screamed, leaping onto the wolf’s back, driving his dual swords into its neck. Lightning crackled, frying the beast’s brain.
It dissolved into black sludge.
"There’s too many of them!" Lyra shouted, firing a stream of fireballs into a pack of void-goblins swarming down the street. "My mana is at thirty percent! Where are the reinforcements?"
"We are the reinforcements!" Leon yelled, severing the head of a stalker with a wide swing of his golden blade.
He was exhausted. His lungs burned. His golden armor, usually so brilliant, was dull and covered in soot.
He looked around at his classmates. They were terrified.
Aurelia Miller was backed into a corner, using ice walls to hold off three stalkers.
Eric William was fighting near the fountain, his light magic fierce but frantic.
They were losing. The despair was palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on their souls, amplified by the demonic aura leaking from the sky.
’I’m not strong enough,’ Leon thought, his grip on his sword faltering. ’I couldn’t stop the Juggernaut. I can’t stop these. I’m not a hero. I’m just... a student.’
He looked at the flaming wreckage of the hotel. He remembered Michael’s face in the tournament. The calm. The efficiency.
"A hero doesn’t have to burn himself to light the way," Michael had said in the desert.
But what if there is no other way? Leon thought bitterly. What if burning is all I have?
A scream pierced the air.
"Aiden!"
Leon spun around.
A new rift had opened near the rubble. From it stepped a creature unlike the others. It was humanoid, clad in jagged black armor, wielding a spear made of bone.
[Target: Void Knight (Elite)]
[Rank: D+]
The Knight moved with blurring speed. It swatted Aiden aside like a fly, sending the lightning user crashing through a wall. Then, it turned its eyeless helm toward Lyra.
It raised the bone spear.
Lyra froze, her mana empty, her eyes wide with death.
"NO!"
(To be continued)
