The Extra's Rise-Chapter 101: Skull I

The hallway stretched endlessly in my mind, a kaleidoscope of pale beige walls and whispers that pierced deeper than any blade ever could. I could hear the voices circling me again, like vultures waiting to pick apart the remains of something already broken.

"Monster."

"That's the boy who killed his parents."

"He doesn't cry. Not once. Freak."

"He probably thinks he's better than us with those perfect test scores. What a joke."

I kept my eyes down, my fingers gripping the frayed straps of my backpack so tightly that I could feel the rough fabric biting into my skin. It wasn't worth looking up. Looking up meant meeting their eyes, and meeting their eyes meant giving them permission to press harder.

"Hey, monster!" The voice rang out like a whip, loud and sharp enough to freeze my feet in place. My heart sank, but I didn't turn around. There was no point. I already knew what was coming.

Darren. Of course, it had to be Darren. He always made it his mission to remind me of how little I mattered.

The shove came next, harder than usual. I stumbled, my back slamming against the cold metal lockers with a dull clang. My breath caught for a moment as I tried to keep my face blank. Showing pain was the same as showing weakness, and weakness was blood in the water.

"What, too smart to say hello?" Darren sneered, his hand pressing down on my shoulder. His face was too close, his breath sour. "You think you're better than us, huh?"

I didn't answer. I stared at the floor, my mind already running through escape routes. None of them seemed good. Darren's gang of two goons were flanking him, effectively blocking off my exits. Even if I did run, they'd catch me. They always did."You know what monsters like him do, right?" one of them—Tyler, I think—laughed. "First his parents, next it'll be us."

"Yeah," Darren said, shoving me again for emphasis. "You gonna murder us next, freak?"

My lips stayed sealed. Words wouldn't help me here. Words would just fan the flames, make them burn hotter. The trick was to wait it out, to weather the storm.

"Leave him alone."

It wasn't loud, but it sliced through the noise like a scalpel. The air around us seemed to still. I blinked and turned my head, startled by the sound of a voice I didn't recognize standing up for me.

And there she was.

She wasn't big, and she wasn't tall. Just an ordinary girl in a school uniform that somehow didn't look quite as rumpled as the ones around her. Her auburn hair was tied into a braid that looked like it had been done in a hurry, but her amber eyes... those weren't in any rush. They burned, steady and sharp, locking onto Darren with an intensity that made me forget to breathe.

Darren laughed nervously, straightening up like he was trying to reassert his dominance. "Stay out of this, Emma. This has nothing to do with you."

"Oh, it does," she said smoothly, crossing her arms as she stepped forward. "It has to do with everyone, really. You see, Darren, there's this tiny little problem with what you're doing. It's pathetic."

The word hung in the air like a blade over his head. Darren's smirk faltered.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice louder but noticeably less confident.

Emma tilted her head, a mock-curious expression flickering across her face. "Do you want me to spell it out for you? Or is spelling too advanced for you?"

I almost laughed. Almost. But the tension in the air kept me frozen.

New novel chapt𝒆rs are published on ƒгeewebnovёl.com.

Darren's fists clenched at his sides. "Shut up."

"No, no, don't shut up," Emma countered, stepping even closer. "Explain to me, Darren, how bullying someone half your size is supposed to make you look tough. Because from where I'm standing, it just makes you look like a particularly ugly coward."

One of the goons—Tyler, probably—tried to chime in, but Emma spun toward him like a whip. "Oh, and you. Are you just here for moral support, or do you genuinely think 'parroting Darren's idiocy' is a skill that'll get you anywhere in life?"

Tyler backed down immediately, muttering something unintelligible. Darren, however, wasn't quite as quick to fold. He stepped forward again, looming over her."You think you're better than me?" he growled.

Emma didn't flinch. "Well, I'm not the one getting sweaty over trying to intimidate a guy who's literally doing nothing but existing. So yes, actually. I do."

For a second, I thought Darren might hit her. But then he cursed under his breath, shot me a venomous glare, and stalked off, his goons scrambling after him.And just like that, it was over.Emma turned to me then, her amber eyes softening just enough to make me feel... I don't know.

Safe, maybe."You okay?" she asked.

That was the day I met Emma.

I woke up with a jolt, my breathing uneven as the remnants of the dream clung to me like spider silk. My head throbbed, each pulse stirring memories I had no desire to revisit.

"Why did I remember that?" I muttered to myself, rubbing my temples. My face scrunched in irritation. Memories of the past were nothing to dwell on. Nostalgia was a drug for people who'd given up on their future, a crutch for the aimless. I wasn't desperate. I wasn't aimless. I reminded myself of that fact, clinging to it like a mantra.

The past was a void, and staring into it was a waste of time. I needed to focus on the present—the future. That's where strength lay.

I dressed and left my room, walking through the vast, eerily quiet hallways of the Creighton estate. The grandeur of it all, while still impressive, no longer had the power to awe me. Not after spending a few days here. The sprawling halls and tasteful decor were more of a maze than a home, but it was Rachel's home, so I supposed it was fitting.

Eventually, I found my way to the dining room, where breakfast was already being served. The table was laden with a ridiculous spread—fluffy pancakes stacked high, golden waffles dripping with syrup, perfectly cooked eggs, fresh fruit that looked too perfect to be real, and more. It was as if a culinary dream had been summoned into existence.

At the head of the table sat Alastor Creighton, his presence commanding even as he calmly read the morning newspaper. He glanced up as I entered, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine.

"Good morning," he greeted, his tone warm yet measured.

"Good morning," I replied, taking a seat. My eyes scanned the table, but neither Rachel nor Aria was present. I took a deep breath and decided to cut straight to the point. "I've thought about your offer. I accept. What help will I be getting?"

Alastor set the paper down, a faint smile curling his lips. "A good decision," he said, standing up. "Since Rachel and Aria are not yet awake, let's get started."

Without another word, he motioned for me to follow him. I stood, my curiosity sharpening as he led me away from the dining room and into a part of the estate I hadn't seen before.

The hallways grew narrower, darker. Soon, we were passing through a heavily secured section guarded by three spellcasters, their mana pressure suffocatingly heavy. These weren't ordinary mages—they radiated an aura of power that exceeded even the professors at Mythos Academy. Each of them bowed deeply as Alastor approached, their deference bordering on reverence.

The door they guarded was unlike any I'd seen before. Runes glowed faintly across its surface, their intricate designs thrumming with restrained energy.

"What's in there?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

"You'll see," Alastor replied. His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, a gravity that made my chest tighten.

The spellcasters stepped aside, and Alastor touched the door, sending a wave of mana coursing through the runes. The air crackled as the seal unlocked, the runes fading one by one. Even Luna stirred in my mind, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.

'Incredible,' she murmured. 'That seal... it's not something just anyone could create.'

Even Luna was impressed. That alone was enough to make my pulse quicken.

We stepped inside, the heavy door closing behind us with a low thud. The room beyond was vast, its walls lined with intricate carvings and faintly glowing crystals. It felt ancient, a place untouched by time.

"You received an Ancient-grade sword from Eva Lopez, didn't you?" Alastor asked, breaking the silence.

I nodded.

"That's a fine artifact," he continued, his voice thoughtful. "But what I want to give you is something even greater. Not an artifact. Something alive."

My brow furrowed as I tried to piece together his meaning. "What do you mean?"

Alastor stopped in front of another door, smaller but no less imposing. The mana radiating from it was intense, almost suffocating. He placed his hand on it, and I felt the energy shift, responding to his command.

"I've heard you have a talent for dark summoning," he said, glancing at me. "Or necromancy, to be precise. Since you're not a pure necromancer, you won't have the time or resources to create an army. But that doesn't matter. Instead, you should focus on one or two summons—summons that can change the tide of battle."

His hand pressed against the door, and I felt a pulse of mana that made my knees weak. The seal began to dissolve, the runes unraveling like threads in a tapestry.

"I want to give you your first summon," Alastor said, his voice calm but heavy with significance.

The room beyond the door was dark, but I could feel the presence inside. It was ancient, malevolent, and overwhelmingly powerful.

"In the North, there was a disaster," Alastor began, his tone shifting. "An Arch Lich."

My breath hitched. An Arch Lich. The words alone were enough to send a chill down my spine.

"I remember reading about that," I said slowly. "The Arch Lich wiped out an entire city in 2035. A million people... gone."

Alastor nodded, his expression grim. "If I hadn't intervened, it could have grown into a Lich King. The North would have been in ruins."

His hand hovered over the final seal. "The Arch Lich was defeated, but its essence wasn't destroyed. I sealed it here, to ensure it couldn't rise again. And now, I'm offering it to you."

"You're giving me an Arch Lich?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.