The Extra's Rise-Chapter 100: New Year’s Party VIII

I stood there, staring at the empty hallway where Alastor Creighton had just walked away, leaving behind a silence that weighed heavier than any words he'd spoken. My thoughts churned, a roiling sea of uncertainty and disbelief.

Of course, I knew what he was talking about. The novel had covered it all in painstaking detail. Yet this—this—was a massive deviation. A crack in the story's foundation, one I wasn't sure I could mend or navigate.

Lucifer Windward. The name alone carried enough weight to crush mountains. He was hope personified. The beacon of humanity's future. The Second Hero.

The First Hero, Liam Kagu, was the legend who had saved the world from the Calamity—the Heavenly Demon—in 1888. He'd done the impossible, containing the Heavenly Demon's rampage within the Eastern continent and striking him down. But even in his final moments, with his body failing and three days of life left, Liam Kagu hadn't basked in his victory. Instead, he'd delivered a prophecy.

An even greater danger loomed in the future, he'd said. A calamity that would dwarf even the Heavenly Demon. But it wouldn't arise in just any generation. It would be marked by the birth of an individual with Liam's exact talents. Someone who wouldn't become the Hero, because someone even greater would be needed.

Not just high Radiant-rank like Liam Kagu had been. No, humanity needed someone who could go beyond, someone who could climb the impossible peak of Radiant-rank and reach its very summit—a peak Radiant-rank existence. And that someone was Lucifer Windward.

But here lay the thorny problem, the gnawing anxiety that made Alastor Creighton—a man of immense power and experience—question the world's chosen savior.

Lucifer lacked... everything. At least, everything beyond raw strength. No humility. No kindness. No compassion. He was a cold, unyielding force of nature, shaped entirely by the prophecy that had warped his life since the moment he could understand words. His family had raised him not as a person, but as a tool. A weapon. The Hero-to-be.

Sure, in the novel, Lucifer eventually grew into his role. Through trials and tribulations, he shed the arrogance and rigidity that came from being treated like a living prophecy and not a human being. He became a true Hero—not just in power, but in spirit. And that transformation happened because the world forced it upon him. Mythos Academy was just the starting line; the real challenges began when Lucifer left its sheltered walls. Out there, in the cruel and indifferent world, he was no longer peerless. He faced enemies stronger and older than him, ones who forced him to evolve, to dig deeper than his strength and find the qualities that made a Hero more than just their might.

But here, in this moment? I understood why Alastor doubted. He didn't want Rachel tethered to someone who was all power and no heart. And somehow, somehow, he thought I could be an alternative.

Me. Arthur Nightingale. The transmigrated extra who wasn't even supposed to matter.

Could I be the Second Hero? Could I take on the weight of humanity's future and rise to the occasion, surpassing not only Lucifer but the expectations of an entire world?

No chance.

I wasn't being humble. I was being honest.

Arthur Nightingale was very talented, yes. Hardworking, yes. And clever—undeniably clever. But surpassing Lucifer Windward? That was like asking a candle to outshine the sun.

There was a fundamental, unbridgeable gap between us. A chasm carved not just by power, but by destiny itself. Lucifer's soul was different. It was unique in a way mine could never be. He could hold two Gifts. Two. One was already unparalleled, and his second... it hadn't even awakened yet. When it did, his strength would transcend anything I could hope to match.

Meanwhile, I had one Gift. Just one. Lucent Harmony. It was powerful, sure. Enough to make me a threat. Enough to make me stand out. But against the combined might of Lucifer's two Gifts? It might as well have been a drop of water in an ocean.

For now, I could surpass him. His potential was bottlenecked because he had rushed to White-rank too quickly, leaving gaps in his foundation that I could exploit. But when his second Gift awakened? When his full potential unlocked? The hierarchy would restore itself. The sun would rise again, and I would be back in the shadow where I belonged.

Even now, the thought of defeating him felt absurd. But Alastor believed in me. He thought I could surpass the invincible Lucifer Windward. And that belief—it weighed on me. It felt like being handed a sword too heavy to lift, much less swing.

This world after all, was a novel. A script where the characters played their parts, and Lucifer Windward was the main character. The protagonist. The one destined to win, because that's how stories worked. The Hero was supposed to rise, and the others were supposed to fall in line.

The thought lingered, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I stared at the empty hallway. Alastor's challenge wasn't just about strength. It was about belief. Belief in myself, belief in this world.

And right now, I wasn't sure I had it.

I headed toward Rachel's room, where she'd taken Aria to get settled. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear faint murmurs of conversation and laughter from within. My sister's voice was lively, bright as ever—probably regaling Rachel with some story that only Aria could make sound so overly dramatic and completely mundane at the same time.

I knocked softly before pushing the door open. "Mind if I join?"

Both heads turned toward me. Aria's face lit up immediately. "Arthur! Come on in! Rachel and I were just talking about how you're probably going to get lost without us around next semester."

Rachel chuckled, though her gaze lingered on me longer than usual. There was something in her eyes—soft but searching. She seemed to sense the heaviness I carried, even though I'd tried to keep my face neutral.

I stepped inside and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I don't get lost. I strategically explore."

"Uh-huh," Aria smirked. "Sure. That's what we're calling it now."

Rachel stood up then, brushing nonexistent dust off her dress before walking over to me. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. It caught me off guard. Rachel wasn't the type to do something so forward—not with me, not in this way.

I froze for a moment before awkwardly patting her back. "What's this for?"

She pulled back slightly, her golden hair brushing my face, and looked up at me with that serene yet determined expression she always seemed to wear. "Don't give up, Arthur."

The simplicity of her words struck me. They weren't accompanied by any grand explanation or reassurance, but the conviction in her voice was unshakable. It was as though she'd looked straight through me, past every doubt and every wall I'd built, and found the part of me that was faltering.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. What could I even say? That I didn't plan to give up? That I wasn't sure if I even could?

She smiled then, as if understanding my silence. "You don't have to say anything. Just... promise me you'll keep going."

"I..." I hesitated before nodding. "I'll try."

"That's all I need to hear," she said, stepping back and folding her hands neatly in front of her. The warmth of her hug lingered, though, like a faint glow.

Aria, meanwhile, watched the whole scene with a raised eyebrow and a sly grin. "So, are you guys done with the emotional drama, or should I give you two some privacy?"

"Aria," I said flatly, "you've been spending way too much time around Cecilia."

She laughed, clearly pleased with her jab, and then yawned exaggeratedly. "Well, I'm beat. You two better not keep me up with your weird, mysterious conversations."

Rachel giggled softly and turned toward her own bed. "Don't worry, Aria. I'm heading to sleep too. It's been a long day."

I nodded, watching as the two of them settled in. The room fell into a calm silence, and I felt some of the tension in my chest ease. As I made my way back to my own guest room, I couldn't help but replay Rachel's words in my mind. Don't give up.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

It was strange. They were simple words, but coming from Rachel, they carried weight. A weight that somehow made the impossible seem... a little less so.

And for the first time in a while, as I lay in the unfamiliar but lavish comfort of the Creighton estate, I didn't feel entirely alone.