The Extra's Rise-Chapter 511: Hwaeryun Banquet (4)

I glanced over at Arthur, who looked about as pleased as someone realizing their quiet evening had just been derailed. The sight of him unsettled, eyes flickering between us like he was calculating variables in an equation that suddenly had too many unknowns, sent an unexpected ache through my chest. I’d done this to him—burst into his carefully managed world and scattered his composure.

"Fine," he sighed at last, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the weariness of someone carrying invisible weights. "Let’s discuss this properly, since you came running in here."

He turned courteously to Princess Rachel and Princess Seraphina, who both responded with the practiced grace of nobility interrupted mid-conversation. Their gazes settled on me—measured, expectant, carrying an awareness that made my skin prickle with discomfort.

The five of us moved to a quieter corner of the hall, where shadows fell more kindly and the furniture spoke of serious conversations held in hushed tones.

"Why like this?" Arthur asked, his voice steady but edged with fatigue. "Why now?"

"Because timing matters," Elias said, his usual lightness tempered by urgency. "We’re talking about investing in the Eastern continent while the opportunity exists."

Arthur absorbed this with the careful neutrality of someone who’d learned to see traps before stepping into them. He gave a measured nod. "We have the resources."

"Barely," Kali interjected dryly, her arms crossed as she fixed Arthur with a pointed stare. "Thanks to someone’s tendency to throw money at every sob story that crosses his desk."

Arthur’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Strategic investments."

"Right. Like that ’strategic investment’ in the orphanage reconstruction project that somehow ballooned to three times the original budget?" Kali’s tone could have cut glass. "Or the ’essential’ funding for that struggling merchant family that turned out to be—"

"They needed help," Arthur said, his voice carrying a warning edge.

"They needed financial advisors, not a bailout from our guild funds." Kali leaned forward, her dark eyes glittering with challenge. "But sure, let’s add another continent to your charity list. What could go wrong?"

"This is different," Arthur replied, his composure intact but rigid. "This is business."

Kali snorted. "Everything’s business with you until it involves someone with sad eyes and a tragic backstory."

"Exactly." Elias leaned forward, diplomatically steering the conversation before it could escalate further. "We need to move while we can still shape the outcome."

"Loans, not aid," Arthur said, his eyes still locked with Kali’s in silent battle. "They won’t accept charity. Not after everything they’ve endured."

"Finally, something sensible," Kali muttered, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. "And in return, we secure dungeon rights. We integrate their recovery into our economic framework. Eastern resources, technology, cultural goods—we establish the foundation now, we control the market later."

Arthur’s expression sharpened. "We’re not operating under Ouroboros."

"Obviously not," Kali said with exaggerated patience. "Even you’re not naive enough to put us under their thumb. Though given your track record with ’partnerships’..."

"Kali," Arthur’s voice carried a note of genuine warning now.

"What? I’m just saying, your definition of ’mutually beneficial’ tends to lean heavily toward beneficial for everyone except us." She shrugged, unrepentant. "Someone has to keep track of these things since you’re apparently allergic to profit margins."

"We planned for that," Jin interjected smoothly, producing his phone before the tension could thicken further. "I registered an independent company in the East last month. Clean documentation, legitimate structure. We just need your authorization to proceed."

Arthur studied the screen Jin showed him, his face revealing nothing as he processed the figures. Kali peered over his shoulder, her expression skeptical.

"These numbers assume everything goes perfectly," she observed. "What’s our contingency if the political situation destabilizes? If the dungeon yields are lower than projected? If—"

"If you’re quite finished cataloging every possible disaster," Arthur said coolly, "the projections include reasonable buffer zones for variables."

"Reasonable according to who? Your optimism isn’t a valid risk assessment tool, Arthur."

"Neither is your pessimism, Kali."

They stared at each other for a moment, the air crackling with the kind of tension that came from years of similar disagreements. I found myself holding my breath, watching Arthur’s jaw work as he maintained his composure against Kali’s relentless pragmatism.

"...Understood," Arthur said finally, his voice controlled. "Though a message would have been sufficient for this."

Something twisted in my stomach at his words—a strange disappointment I couldn’t name.

Elias glanced my way with knowing eyes. "She needed to see you herself. When she heard you were actually going to the front lines, she was ready to march East with just her sword."

Heat flooded my face, fierce and sudden. I stared at the floor, willing the burning in my cheeks to subside.

"Oh, how touching," Kali said, though her tone had lost some of its earlier bite. "Nothing says ’strategic planning’ like charging into a war zone because someone’s worried about their—"

"Kali," Arthur cut her off, his voice gentler but firm.

I forced myself to look up, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I just... I need to fight for you."

The silence that followed stretched like a held breath. Something in that quiet space felt fragile, important in ways I couldn’t articulate. My chest felt tight, full of emotions I had no names for—only the certainty that Arthur mattered more than anything else in my world, that his safety was worth any risk, any sacrifice.

"Well," Kali said after a moment, her voice softer than I’d heard it all evening, "at least someone around here has their priorities straight."

"Thank you, Reika," Arthur said, his voice carrying genuine warmth now.

I lifted my eyes to meet his. His smile was warm, genuine—the kind that made something deep in my chest flutter and ache simultaneously. It was the smile I’d been chasing without realizing it, the one that made every sleepless night of training, every moment of doubt, every fear worth bearing. I found myself smiling back helplessly, like a flower turning toward sunlight.

"Your timing is actually perfect," he continued. "We need to begin preparations for next year regardless."

"Assuming we survive Kali’s risk assessments," he added with the ghost of a smirk.

"Assuming you don’t bankrupt us with your compassion first," she shot back, but there was no real heat in it now.

His fingers moved to the silver ring on his hand—a spatial storage device I’d seen him use countless times. Light shimmered briefly as he withdrew a thin card of dark gold bordered in obsidian.

An eight-star adventurer license.

The others went very still. Even Kali’s perpetual skepticism gave way to surprised respect. The weight of what he held seemed to change the air itself. But I felt no surprise, only a warm sense of rightness. Of course Arthur had achieved this. He always found ways to reach places others couldn’t even imagine.

"With this," he said, regarding the license thoughtfully, "we can register as a Gold-grade guild."

"Finally," Kali breathed, and for once her voice held unguarded admiration. "Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment? The bureaucratic advantages alone..."

Arthur actually smiled at her enthusiasm. "But not immediately. First, we’ll consolidate our position in the East. Build our strength. Then we advance."

"Smart," Kali nodded approvingly. "Though I’m shocked you’re actually thinking strategically instead of just diving in headfirst."

His expression grew more serious. "I’ll need to negotiate with the Emperor as well. The restrictions on Slatemark-registered guilds operating beyond the Empire’s borders... there has to be a way around them."

"Good luck with that," Kali said dryly. "Imperial bureaucracy makes dungeon politics look straightforward."

I nodded without hesitation, my faith in Arthur absolute. If anyone could bend imperial law through sheer force of will and careful negotiation, it was him. He’d carried heavier burdens before.

He turned to me again, his hand moving to the spatial ring once more. Another shimmer of light, and he held a leather-bound book—worn but well-cared-for, heavy with significance.

"I have something for you."

He extended it toward me. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached out to accept it.

"You’re using a Grade 5 sword art from the Academy, correct?" he asked.

I nodded. The top students in each year received suitable techniques of that grade.

Arthur’s voice dropped, taking on a weight that made my breath catch. "This is Grade 6. More than that—it belonged to my master. The Martial King’s sword art."

The world seemed to stop. Everyone knew that name now. The man who had slain the Vampire Monarch. The second human in history to reach high Radiant-rank, a living symbol of humanity’s refusal to surrender to extinction. The legend who had shaped Arthur into who he was today.

And he was gone now. But his legacy lived on. It was here, in my hands.

Even Kali had gone silent, her usual commentary absent in the face of such a profound gift.

"Thank you," I whispered, clutching the book against my chest. The leather was warm, as if it still held traces of the great man who had once wielded these techniques. "For trusting me with this."

I looked directly into Arthur’s eyes, letting him see the depth of my conviction. "I swear I’ll master every technique, honor every lesson. I’ll carry this responsibility with everything I am. I will never disappoint you."

The words came from somewhere deeper than conscious thought, carrying with them emotions I couldn’t fully understand—a devotion that felt like gravity, pulling every part of me toward him. There was something profound stirring in my chest, something that made his approval feel like sunlight and his trust like the most precious gift in the world.

I would prove that Arthur’s belief in me was never misplaced. Whatever this feeling was that made my heart race when he smiled, that made his safety more important than my own life—I would let it guide me to become worthy of the gift he’d given me.