The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 244: THE SHADOW IN THE SMOG
Chapter 239: The Shadow in the Smog
The Ironhold didn’t have a night cycle; it just had "Smog Shift." The massive furnaces in the lower districts vented their exhaust at 0200 hours, blanketing the city in a cocktail of sulfur and mana residue that was thick enough to chew.
Perfect weather for a background character.
I slipped out of the Arcadia guest quarters through the ventilation shaft in the laundry room. The front door was guarded by Knight-level sentries, and Arthur was likely meditating in the common room, waiting to catch anyone breaking curfew.
I dropped into an alleyway in District 9, pulling my hood up. I wasn’t wearing my academy uniform. I was dressed in a ragged mechanic’s jumpsuit I’d bought off a drunk dwarf three hours ago.
[Passive Skill Active: Bland Presence]
[Effect: Your existence is easily overlooked. People’s eyes tend to slide off you.]
I needed materials. The gravity training had made it clear: my tendons were going to snap before the tournament ended if I didn’t reinforce my gear. I needed Grav-Dust and Nether-thread. Both were illegal to sell to outsiders.
I navigated the labyrinth of pipes and steam vents. The neon runic signs of the black market flickered through the haze—pinks and acidic greens advertising "Discount Potions" and "Second-hand Golems."
I turned a corner, my boots splashing in a puddle of iridescent oil.
Ting.
My danger sense flared. It wasn’t the sharp stab of immediate death, but the cold, crawling sensation of being watched.
I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I just kept walking, matching my pace to the rhythmic pounding of a nearby steam piston.
One follower. No, two. Roof and ground level.
I checked my mini-map in the peripheral vision of my interface.
[Hostile Entities Detected: 3]
[Average Rank: C-]
Rank C. In the human kingdoms, a Rank C adventurer was a veteran. Here in the Ironhold, they were likely cartel enforcers or lower-tier assassins.
I took a left, heading away from the market and toward the abandoned smelting zones. If they wanted to play, I’d give them a playground.
The noise of the city faded, replaced by the hiss of leaking pipes. I stopped in a dead-end alley blocked by a rusted blast door.
"You can come out," I said, my voice distorted by the simple voice-changing rune sewn into my collar. "The smog is bad for your lungs."
A figure dropped from the pipe above, landing silently. Two more emerged from the steam behind me. They wore dark leather armor reinforced with iron plates and masks that looked like stylized gas masks.
"Lost, little student?" the leader rasped. He was holding a jagged serrated dagger.
[Target: Ironblood Enforcer]
[Rank: C]
[Affiliation: Anti-Royalist Faction]
"I’m just a tourist looking for souvenirs," I said, raising my hands slowly.
"We know who you are," the leader said, stepping closer. "You’re with the Pendragon boy. The baggage carrier."
"See? I’m a nobody," I shrugged. "You really want to kill the guy who carries the snacks? There’s no glory in that."
"No glory," the assassin agreed, his blade glowing with a dull red mana. "But we were paid to cripple the Arcadia team before the opening ceremony. The Prince is too guarded. The loudmouth noble is too public. But you? You vanish, and it rattles them."
"I see." I sighed. "Psychological warfare. Effective."
"Die."
The leader lunged. He was fast—Rank C speed was superhuman. He closed the ten-meter gap in a heartbeat, aiming for my gut.
I didn’t move my feet.
I twitched my finger.
ZING.
A microscopic line of mono-filament wire, which I had strung across the alley entrance ten seconds ago while walking, snapped taut.
The leader didn’t see it in the smog. He ran right into it.
The wire caught him across the chest plate. The enchantment on the wire—[Armor Piercing: Rank B]—bit through the iron like it was butter.
He gasped, stopping abruptly as blood bloomed across his chest. He collapsed, not dead, but definitely out of the fight.
The other two froze.
"What..." one stammered.
"Ambush 101," I said, dropping the ’scared student’ act. My voice went flat. "Check your environment."
I stepped forward. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖
The remaining two roared and charged together. One swung a warhammer, the other cast a quick Stone Bolt spell.
I activated [Skill: Flash Step].
I didn’t teleport; I just moved faster than their eyes could track in the dim light. I sidestepped the stone bolt, letting it shatter against the blast door behind me. As the hammer user brought his weapon down, I stepped inside his guard.
My palm struck his solar plexus.
[Technique: Internal Rupture]
Mana flooded into his diaphragm, paralyzing his lungs. He dropped the hammer, clutching his chest, silently suffocating.
The mage panicked. He started to chant a high-tier explosion spell.
"Too slow," I whispered, appearing behind him.
I chopped the back of his neck with a mana-reinforced hand. He folded like a lawn chair.
Total elapsed time: 12 seconds.
I stood over the groaning leader. I crouched down, careful not to get blood on my borrowed jumpsuit.
"Who hired you?" I asked.
"Go... to... hell..." he wheezed.
"I’m already there, buddy. This is the Ironhold." I tapped his mask. "Was it Solaris? Or was it the separatists?"
He didn’t answer. He just glared.
I sighed and stood up. I didn’t have the stomach for torture, and I didn’t need to. I saw the tattoo on his wrist when his sleeve pulled back. A cog with a broken tooth.
The Broken Gear. The symbol of the radical faction trying to overthrow the Dwarf King.
"Sleep," I said, kicking him in the temple. He went limp.
I quickly looted them.
[Item Acquired: 340 Gold Coins]
[Item Acquired: Poisoned Dagger (Rank D)]
[Item Acquired: Encrypted Missive]
I pocketed the missive. This was getting messy. The coup wasn’t just background lore anymore; they were actively targeting the foreign students to cause an international incident. If a human student died in the Dwarf Capital, the Human Empire would sanction the Dwarves, weakening the King’s position.
"I hate politics," I muttered.
I left the unconscious assassins tied up with their own belts and hung from a steam pipe for the city guards to find.
Ten minutes later, I found the black market vendor I was looking for. A goblin with one eye and a nervous twitch.
"Grav-Dust?" the goblin squeaked.
"A kilo," I said, tossing a bag of gold on the counter. "And don’t ask where I got the coin."
I made it back to the dorms just as the smog vents closed. I climbed through the vent, stripped off the jumpsuit, and hid the materials under the loose floorboard beneath my bed.
I lay down, staring at the stone ceiling.
My rank was supposed to be F or E. Officially. But tonight, I’d effortlessly dispatched three C-Ranks.
I need to be careful, I thought, closing my eyes. If I stand out too much, the ’World’ will try to correct the plot. And usually, that means killing the anomaly.
Tomorrow, the tournament officially began. And I had a feeling the "Broken Gear" wasn’t done with us yet.
(To be Continued)
