The Extra's Rise-Chapter 506: Legacy (3)

"Arthur, it’s alright," Rachel whispered softly, her voice carrying that gentle warmth that had always been uniquely hers. "Let it out."

I held her tightly, my face buried against her chest as the grief I’d been holding back finally broke free. The tears came in waves, each one carrying the weight of loss, of finality, of a future that would never include the man who had shaped me into who I was.

Rachel’s arms encircled me with infinite patience, one hand tracing slow, soothing circles on my back while the other cradled my head. She didn’t try to stop my tears or offer empty platitudes about Magnus being "in a better place." She simply held me, a steady anchor in the storm of my grief.

Seraphina had been called away to handle the diplomatic fallout from the war’s end—representatives from various factions demanding meetings, alliance negotiations, and the endless bureaucracy that followed any major conflict. Part of me was grateful for her absence. As much as I loved her composed strength, right now I needed Rachel’s particular brand of comfort. Where Seraphina was ice and steel, Rachel was warmth and light—the kind of person who could make you believe that everything would eventually be okay, even when the world felt like it was ending.

"He was proud of you," Rachel murmured, her fingers threading gently through my hair. "I could see it in his eyes when he looked at you, even that first time we met. He knew he was leaving his legacy in good hands."

The words broke something loose in my chest, and I cried harder, my tears soaking through the soft fabric of her nightgown. She didn’t complain, didn’t pull away. If anything, she held me closer, as if she could absorb some of my pain through sheer proximity.

Minutes passed—or maybe hours. Time felt meaningless in that space between grief and comfort, between loss and love. Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving me feeling hollow but somehow cleaner, like a wound that had finally been properly drained.

"I’m done," I said quietly, my voice muffled against her chest.

"With crying?" Rachel asked gently. "Because that’s perfectly normal after—"

"With the war," I clarified, lifting my head to meet her eyes. "I’m done fighting."

Rachel’s eyes widened, surprise evident in her expression. Of all the things she might have expected me to say, this clearly wasn’t one of them. "Arthur... what do you mean?"

I pulled back slightly, though I remained in the circle of her arms. "The Vampire Monarch is dead. Magnus made sure of that before..." I swallowed hard. "Before he left us. The war will scale down now—they’re already ending student conscription. The immediate crisis is over, and he was right about something else too—I need to grow. Not through battle, not through conflict, but through understanding."

"But you’re already so strong," Rachel protested. "Your breakthrough to peak Integration, the way you fought Carmilla—"

"Strength isn’t just about rank or combat ability," I interrupted, shaking my head. "Magnus showed me something on that mountain. When he demonstrated his power, I realized how much I still don’t understand. About magic, about the world, about myself."

Rachel studied my face with those perceptive blue eyes of hers, reading the determination beneath the grief. "You’re serious about this."

"Completely." I took her hands in mine, feeling the calluses from her staff work alongside the softness of her healing touch. "Magnus spent his final breath showing me the level I need to reach. Not through rushing into every skirmish with the remaining vampire covens, but through patient cultivation, through learning, through becoming more than just another warrior with a sword."

"What will you do instead?" she asked quietly.

I looked toward the window, where the peaks of Mount Hua stood silhouetted against the morning sky. "Train. Study. Master the techniques he left me. Understand what it truly means to surpass human limitations." I turned back to her. "And maybe... maybe learn to live a life that he would have wanted for me. One with purpose beyond just survival."

Rachel was quiet for a long moment, processing this revelation. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but certain. "Then I’ll stay with you."

"Rachel—"

"No arguments," she said firmly, though her tone remained gentle. "You think I came all this way, risked a diplomatic incident, and helped heal you back from the brink of death just to watch you disappear into hermit training? The Northern Continent can spare one Saintess for a while."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling for the first time since Magnus’s death. "Your family won’t be happy about that."

"My family will understand," she replied with quiet confidence. "And if they don’t, well, they’ll learn to." Her expression grew more serious. "Besides, you’ll need someone to keep you grounded. To make sure you don’t lose yourself in pursuit of transcendence. Masters have a tendency to become... distant."

The implication hung in the air between us. She was right, of course. The path Magnus had shown me was one that could easily lead to isolation, to the kind of detachment that came with ascending beyond mortal concerns. Having Rachel there—with her warmth, her humanity, her ability to make me laugh even in the darkest moments—would be invaluable. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"And Seraphina?" I asked.

Rachel’s expression grew complex. "That’s... complicated. She has responsibilities here, to Mount Hua, to the Eastern Continent. The immediate crisis may be over, but there will still be cleanup operations, political realignments, dealing with the remaining vampire covens." She paused. "But I think she’ll understand your choice. Maybe better than anyone."

I nodded, feeling a weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying begin to lift. The decision felt right in a way that joining battles never had. This was what Magnus had wanted for me—not to be a weapon in someone else’s war, but to become something greater, something worthy of the sacrifice he’d made.

"Thank you," I said, squeezing Rachel’s hands. "For understanding. For staying."

She smiled then, radiant and warm as summer sunlight. "Where else would I be? You’re stuck with me, Arthur. For better or worse."

"Definitely for better," I murmured, pulling her close again.

This time, when I held her, it wasn’t grief that drove me but gratitude. Gratitude for her presence, for her understanding, for the future we might build together away from the remaining chaos. Magnus was gone, but his final gift—the knowledge of what I could become—remained.