The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 272: THE GATE OPENS
Chapter 267: The Gate Opens
Michael Wilson pointed Draken at the sky. His words, amplified by the collapsing mana field, echoed like a death sentence.
"I’ll write you a tragedy."
Above him, Demon General Lilith’s eyes narrowed. The feedback loop from the inverted portal screamed in her ears, a high-pitched whine that threatened to scramble her thoughts. She looked down at the boy in the glasses—the boy she had dismissed as a pawn.
"You speak of tragedy, little human?" Lilith hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "I was there when the first stars died. I have drunk the tears of nations."
She raised both hands. The black nails on her fingers elongated, turning into jagged obsidian claws.
"If you want to play author..." She smiled, and the sky behind her cracked open. "Then let us turn the page."
She snapped her fingers.
RIIIIIIIP.
The sound was sickening, like wet canvas being torn apart. The feedback loop Michael had created didn’t close the portal; Lilith forced it open, ripping the dimensional fabric with sheer, brute force of will. The purple rift in the center of the arena expanded violently, swallowing the light, the sound, and the hope of everyone watching.
[Demon Realm Gate: Stabilization Complete]
[Invasion Protocol: ACTIVE]
From the abyss, a roar erupted. It wasn’t the mindless screech of gargoyles this time. It was the synchronized, rhythmic stomping of an army.
"March," Lilith commanded.
The first wave poured out. They were Hulks—ten-foot-tall demons with skin like red granite and tusks that curled around their jaws. They carried crude iron clubs and shields made of bone.
Behind them came the Hell-Stalkers, lithe, four-legged beasts with blades for tails and eyes that burned with green fire.
And filling the air above them, blotting out the purple sky, were thousands of gargoyles.
"Kill them all," Lilith whispered. "Leave nothing but ash."
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The VIP Royal Box
The protective wall King Thorgar had summoned was already cracking.
"Hold the line!" Thorgar bellowed, sweat pouring down his face as he channeled mana into Mjolnir. The divine hammer pulsed with angry red veins, fighting against the corruption in the air. "Durak! The evacuation!"
"The tunnels are blocked!" Grandmaster Durak yelled back, smashing a gargoyle that tried to squeeze through a fissure in the wall. His mechanical golden arm whirred furiously. "The Cultists sabotaged the mag-lev rails! We are cut off!"
Queen Helmina Ironbloom stood in the center of the box, a storm of steel petals swirling around her. She was the eye of the hurricane, calm but deadly.
"Freya," Helmina said, her voice steel. "Take your brother. Use the ventilation shaft in the pantry. It leads to the sub-basement."
"I told you, I’m not leaving!" Crown Princess Freya shouted, swinging Frostbreaker. A wave of cold magic froze two Hell-Stalkers that had breached the perimeter. "I am a Stoneforge! We do not run!"
"We do not die foolishly either!" Thorgar roared, turning to look at his daughter. His amber eyes were filled with a desperate, terrifying love. "If the line falls, you are the King! Go!"
Freya froze. The weight of his words hit her harder than any demon could. If the line falls.
Behind them, the human and elven patriarchs were fighting their own battles.
King Elandor of Denmard was a whirlwind of silver steel. He wasn’t using magic; he was using the ancient Sword Arts of the High Elves. Every strike was precise, decapitating demons with surgical grace. But his eyes kept darting to the arena floor, searching for Selena.
"Lirien!" Elandor shouted to his Queen. "Can you sense her?"
Queen Lirien was leaning against the wall, pale and trembling. The curse that had hit her daughter was resonating with her own bloodline. "She... she is fading, Elandor! Her light is a flicker in a hurricane!"
Denish William, usually the picture of arrogant nobility, was cowering behind an overturned table, firing wild shots with his wand. "Where are the Royal Guards?! Why are we fighting like common infantry?!"
"Shut up and shoot, William!" Scark Stromfang barked. The Wolf Lord had fully transformed now, a towering werewolf ripping throats out with his claws. "Or give me your wand so I can shove it down a demon’s throat!"
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The Arena Floor
The chaos was absolute. The audience was a stampede of terrified bodies, crushing each other to get to the sealed exits. The demons were wading into the crowd, swinging their clubs.
"Formation!" Arthur Pendragon’s voice cut through the screams.
The King of Knights stood atop a pile of rubble near the South Gate. He held Excalibur high, the blade acting as a beacon of hope in the darkness.
"Students of the Twelve Academies! To me!"
It wasn’t just Arcadia anymore.
Rion Blazeheart of Solaris Academy, his face bloody, looked up and saw Arthur. He gritted his teeth and ignited his twin swords. "Solaris! On the King!"
Cedric Alborne of the Imperial Institute, usually Arthur’s rival, rallied his spear-wielders. "Imperial! Shield wall! Protect the civilians!"
The rivalries of the tournament evaporated instantly. There were no points anymore. There was only survival.
A defensive perimeter formed around the South Gate. Shields locked together. Mages stood in the second row, charging spells.
Eric William found himself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jax, the commoner heavy warrior from Arcadia.
"Watch your left, noble!" Jax grunted, smashing a demon with his mace.
"I see it, peasant!" Eric yelled back, blasting a beam of light through a Hulk’s eye. He was shaking, terrified, but he didn’t run. He remembered Michael’s voice in his head. Duck. Step. Thrust.
"I am a William!" Eric screamed, casting a barrier over a group of fleeing children. "I hold the line!"
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The Center
While the students formed a shield, Michael Wilson walked into the sword.
He moved toward the Gate, against the tide of monsters.
"Nox," Michael said calmly, slicing a Hell-Stalker in half without breaking stride. "Where is Leon?"
The Wyrmling, currently riding on Michael’s shoulder and spitting shadow-fire, pointed a claw toward the center of the pit.
Leon Lionheart was there.
He was surrounded. A mountain of corpses lay at his feet, burning with white fire. But he was slowing down. His golden armor was rent and torn. Blood coated his face.
He was swinging wildly, screaming Selena’s name.
"Idiot," Michael muttered.
A Hulk raised its massive iron club behind Leon. Leon didn’t see it. He was too focused on the demons in front.
"Leon! Behind you!" Arthur shouted from the perimeter, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the horde.
The club came down.
SHING.
A black line appeared on the club. Then on the Hulk’s arm. Then on its neck.
The demon fell apart in neat slices.
Michael stepped over the pieces, standing back-to-back with Leon.
"You’re loud," Michael said.
Leon spun around, his eyes wild, glowing with uncontrolled mana. "Michael! Selena... she’s..."
"She’s with Varkas," Michael lied smoothly. "Safe. On the train."
Leon blinked, the white fire in his eyes dimming slightly. "Safe? Really?"
"Would I lie to you?" Michael asked, parrying a spear thrust from a demon. "Now, we need to leave. The King is about to drop the hammer."
"The King?"
The Sky
High above, King Thorgar Stoneforge III had had enough.
He saw the students fighting. He saw his city burning. He saw the demon bitch laughing.
"DURAK!" Thorgar roared. "TAKE THE HAMMER!"
He ripped the heavy runic crown from his head and threw it to the Grandmaster.
"Thorgar! No!" Queen Helmina screamed, reaching for him.
"I am the Anvil!" Thorgar bellowed, his voice shaking the very heavens. He leaped from the VIP box.
He didn’t fall. He descended like a meteor.
[Divine Weapon Activated: Mjölnir - God of Thunder]
Red lightning exploded from the hammer in his hand. It wasn’t the thin bolts of a mage. It was a thick, jagged tear in the fabric of reality.
"LILITH!"
Thorgar slammed into the arena floor.
KRAKOOOOM.
The shockwave was apocalyptic. A ring of red lightning expanded outward, vaporizing the first wave of demons instantly. The ground rippled like water.
Thorgar stood in the center of the crater, his beard crackling with electricity, his eyes burning like twin suns.
"Get off my land," the Dwarf King growled.
Lilith stopped laughing. She looked down at the old dwarf, and for the first time, she looked annoyed.
"An S-Rank," she sneered. "Finally. A dance partner."
She dove.
The clash between the Demon General and the Dwarf King was a blur of motion too fast for the students to follow. Shockwaves shattered the remaining stadium seats.
"Go!" Michael shouted, grabbing Leon’s collar. "The stadium is collapsing! We have to move!"
"But the King!" Leon argued.
"He’s buying us time!" Michael shoved him toward the tunnel. "Don’t waste it!"
As they ran, Michael looked back one last time.
He saw Thorgar trading blows with Lilith, a titan of iron against a monster of shadow.
And he saw something else.
In the VIP box, Queen Helmina was fighting a losing battle. The wall was breached. Princess Freya was swinging her mace desperately, but they were overwhelmed.
"Freya..." Leon gasped, seeing the same thing.
He made to turn back.
"No," Michael said, his voice cold.
He grabbed Leon’s arm.
"If we go back, we all die. The train is the only way out."
"But—"
"The King made a choice, Leon," Michael said, dragging the hero into the darkness of the tunnel. "Now you have to make yours. Save the past? Or save the future?"
Leon looked at the burning box, at Freya fighting for her life, and tears streamed down his face. He let out a strangled sob and turned, running toward the train.
Michael followed, his face impassive.
But inside, his mind was racing.
The timeline is shattered, Michael thought. In the book, the King repels them easily. Freya never fights. The Cult is stronger than I predicted.
He gripped Draken tight.
Fine. If the story wants a war, I’ll give it a war.
(End of Chapter 267)
