The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 278: THE SCREAMING STOP
Chapter 273: The Screaming Stop
The rhythmic thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum of the Iron-Horse was a heartbeat I had grown accustomed to over the last twenty hours. It was the sound of safety, of a B-Rank magi-tech engine burning through mana crystals to propel tons of reinforced steel through the desolate Northern Wilderness.
Outside the thick, mana-hardened glass, the world was a blur of gray and white. The snow wasn’t falling; it was being driven horizontally by winds that could strip flesh from bone. We were traveling at nearly two hundred kilometers an hour, cutting through the blizzard like a heated knife through butter.
I sat near the back of the main passenger car, polishing the blade of a nondescript steel sword I’d pulled from my inventory. It wasn’t Excalibur. It wasn’t a named artifact. It was just a sharp piece of metal.
"You’re still maintaining that thing?" Leon asked, sitting across from me. He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes spoke of the stress from the Tournament and the frantic escape that followed. "You have the [Void Vault]. Why not use the high-tier gear?"
"Habit," I lied.
The truth was paranoia.
In The Orginal Novel , the transition between the ’Tournament Arc’ and the ’Elven Kingdom Arc’ was supposed to be a montage. A few lines of text describing a scenic journey, maybe a dialogue scene where the protagonist bonds with the love interest, and then—boom—arrival at the Elven capital.
But we weren’t in the montage. We were in the margins. And the margins of this world were dangerous.
"How are they?" I asked, nodding toward the sealed compartment at the rear of the carriage.
Leon’s expression darkened. "Stable. But the stasis pods are draining power fast. Maria’s curse... the frost is reacting to the ambient temperature outside. And Selena hasn’t moved."
"We’ll get there," I said, though my eyes remained fixed on the blizzard outside. "Two more days to the border."
That was when the heartbeat stopped.
It didn’t sputter. It didn’t wheeze.
It died.
HUMMM—kzzt.
The low-frequency vibration that permeated the floorboards vanished instantly. The hum of the heating repulsors cut out. The lights overhead flickered once, violently, and then plunged us into darkness.
"What the—?" Eric William’s voice rang out from the front of the car. "Who turned off the lights?"
"Quiet," I commanded, my voice cutting through the rising murmur of the twelve students on board.
I didn’t move. I waited.
The train was still moving, carried by massive momentum, gliding silently along the magnetic rails. But without the active propulsion of the engine, the friction of the blizzard was already taking its toll. The smooth glide turned into a heavy, metallic rumble as the physical wheels touched down on the backup tracks.
SCREEEEEEEEECH.
Metal screamed against metal. The deceleration hit us like a physical blow.
"Grab something!" I shouted.
I slammed my sword into its sheath and braced my boots against the seat frame. Leon, reacting with the instincts of a tank, threw his arm out to brace the student next to him.
The Iron-Horse, a beast of steel and magic, was turning into a coffin. The screeching grew louder, a deafening wail that vibrated in our teeth. Sparks flew past the windows, illuminating the swirling snow in brief, terrifying flashes of orange.
We were sliding. Drifting.
For a full minute, the world was nothing but noise and violence. Luggage tumbled from the overhead racks. Glassware shattered in the dining galley.
Then, with a final, groaning lurch that threw everyone forward, the train stopped.
Silence.
Absolute, suffocating silence.
The wind outside howled, but inside, the absence of the engine’s hum felt heavier than gravity.
[System Alert]
[Warning: Ambient Mana Density has dropped to 0.00%.]
[Warning: Connection to the World Spirit severed.]
[Warning: Active Skills have been disabled.]
Blue windows popped up in my vision, glowing softly in the dark carriage. I stared at them, my heart rate slowing down as my brain shifted into analytical mode.
"Mana...?" Leon whispered. He held up his hand, trying to summon a simple ball of light.
Nothing happened. Not a spark.
"My magic!" Lyra shrieked, clutching her staff. "I can’t feel the mana! It’s gone! It’s like—it’s like I’m blind!"
Panic, sharp and immediate, began to spread through the carriage. These were students of Arcadia. The elite. They had lived their entire lives breathing mana, using it to warm their bodies, to strengthen their limbs, to see in the dark. Taking it away was like taking away their oxygen.
I ignored them and opened my status window.
[Name: Michael]
[Rank: ??? (Variable)]
[Strength: A-]
[Agility: A]
[Stamina: A]
[Mana Capacity: (SEALED)]
"Just as I thought," I muttered.
Zone of Silence.
In the original game’s lore, this wasn’t supposed to happen here. But I remembered the developer notes from Patch 4.2. The devs had introduced dynamic weather events to the Northern region to nerf the overwhelming dominance of Mage-class players in the late-game raids. They called it ’The Hush’—a wandering atmospheric phenomenon where mana ceased to exist.
"It’s not a malfunction," I said, standing up. My voice was calm, artificially steady. "It’s the weather."
"Weather?" Eric William stood up, his face pale in the dim light of the emergency chemical glow-sticks that were starting to crackle to life. "Don’t be absurd, you commoner filth. Mana is constant! It doesn’t just—"
"Shut up, Eric," I said. I didn’t shout. I didn’t have to. The sheer coldness of my tone, backed by the lingering aura of someone who had just won the Tournament, made him snap his mouth shut.
I walked to the center of the aisle. "Listen to me. We have entered a Dead Mana Zone. A Zone of Silence."
"A Dead Mana Zone?" Aiden asked, his voice trembling. "I read about those in history books. They’re supposed to be myths from the Age of Calamity."
"They’re real," I said. "And we are sitting in the middle of one."
I looked around the carriage. Twelve students. The best of the best. And right now, they looked like frightened children.
"Check your status windows," I ordered. "Your Active Skills are grayed out. You can’t cast spells. You can’t reinforce your bodies with aura. You can’t open your spatial inventories unless they are physical artifacts."
Leon checked, his eyes widening. "He’s right. I can’t access the [Paladin’s Oath]. I... I’m just a guy in heavy armor."
"Exactly," I said. "You’re just a guy. And right now, that’s what we need."
I walked over to the window. The glass was already frosting over on the inside.
"Internal temperature?" I asked the air, hoping the conductor was alive.
The intercom crackled. It was a battery-operated backup, fuzzy and distorted. "Captain... readings are... zero heat generation. The repulsors are dead. The thermal crystals have gone inert."
"How fast is it dropping?"
"Ten degrees in the last... three minutes. Sir, it’s forty below zero outside."
A collective gasp went through the carriage.
"Forty below?" Kaelen squeaked, pulling his thin Academy coat tighter. "We’ll freeze to death in an hour!"
"Not if you listen to me," I said, turning back to face them.
I tapped the side of my head. Synapsis Control was an active skill, so I couldn’t use it to accelerate my thoughts. I had to rely on my raw intelligence stat and my memory.
Patch 4.2. Zone of Silence. Duration: 12 to 48 hours. Environmental Hazards: Hypothermia, hallucinations, and...
My blood ran cold.
Beasts.
The patch didn’t just remove mana. It introduced a specific ecosystem of predators that evolved to hunt in the silence. Creatures that didn’t need magic to kill.
"Leon," I barked. "Get to the rear compartment. Check the girls. The stasis pods run on mana batteries, but they have emergency chemical backups. Make sure they engaged."
"On it," Leon said, rushing past me.
"Aiden, Chris," I pointed to the ceiling vents. "Those are magi-tech ventilation shafts. Without the mana-seals, they are just open holes. Stuff them with whatever you can find. Blankets, spare coats, seat cushions. Now."
"But—"
"Do it!" I roared.
They jumped and scrambled to comply.
"Eric, Lyra," I turned to the mages. They looked the most pathetic, shivering as the withdrawal symptoms of mana starvation hit them. "Stop trying to channel. You’re burning your own life force. If you try to cast a fireball now, you’ll just give yourself a heart attack. Sit down, huddle together, and conserve body heat."
"You can’t order me—" Eric started, his teeth chattering.
"I can," I said, stepping into his personal space. I grabbed the lapels of his expensive coat. Without mana reinforcement, he was light. Weak. My Strength stat, even without buffs, was naturally high from hellish physical training. I lifted him slightly off the ground.
"Look at your breath, Eric," I whispered.
He looked down. White mist was billowing from his mouth.
"The heating failed five minutes ago," I said. "In twenty minutes, this carriage will be a refrigerator. In an hour, it will be a tomb. You want to play noble? Fine. Die with your dignity. But don’t drag the rest of us down."
I dropped him. He stumbled back, falling into his seat, eyes wide with shock and fear.
I turned away from him and walked to the front of the carriage, peering out into the swirling white abyss.
My breath misted on the glass. The cold was already seeping through the soles of my boots. It was an insidious, biting chill that ignored the quality of fabric.
Zone of Silence.
I clenched my fists. This wasn’t just bad luck. This was a narrative curveball. The difficulty spike.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a physical object I had kept there. A mechanical pocket watch.
The second hand ticked away.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Conductor," I said into the intercom. "Lock the external doors. Manual override."
"I... I can’t, sir. The hydraulic seals are frozen."
I cursed under my breath.
"Michael?" Maria’s voice came from behind me. She was standing in the aisle, wrapped in a blanket. She looked pale, but her eyes—ice blue and sharp—were clear. She was an Ice Mage; the cold bothered her less, but the lack of mana was clearly hurting her.
"You should be resting," I said.
"I heard the crash," she said. "Are we...?"
"Stranded," I finished. "For now."
"The girls?"
"Leon is checking."
She looked at the frost creeping across the windows. "This isn’t natural snow, is it?"
"No," I admitted. "It’s a dead zone."
She shivered, not from cold, but from realization. "The stories say that nothing lives in the dead zones."
I looked at her, my expression grim. I remembered the wiki entry for the Snow Stalkers. Level 45. Blind. Hearing-based. Pack hunters.
"The stories are wrong," I said softly, reaching down to unclasp the safety strap on my sword hilt. "Something lives here."
THUMP.
A heavy, dull sound echoed from above.
Everyone froze.
It came from the roof of the train.
THUMP. SCRATCH.
The sound of metal groaning under weight.
"What was that?" Kaelen whispered, terror pitching his voice high.
I looked up at the ceiling, tracing the sound as it moved—slowly, deliberately—towards the center of the car.
"Something found us," I whispered.
I drew the steel sword. The rasp of the blade sliding out of the sheath sounded like a gunshot in the silence.
"Nobody move," I hissed. "Nobody make a sound."
The scratching stopped directly above Eric’s head. The metal roof buckled slightly inward.
We were twelve students, stripped of our powers, trapped in a tin can, buried in a blizzard.
And dinner had just arrived.
(To be Continued)
