The Extra's Transcension-Chapter 55: Compensation (2)
The air inside the observation chamber was thick with tension.
The hum of machinery buzzed in the background, a faint undercurrent beneath the sound of Lyrium’s uneven breathing.
Alicia’s gaze bore into him, sharp yet unreadable, like a blade concealed beneath silk.
"Can you tell me what you just saw there?"
Her voice was steady, measured, but Lyrium could hear it—the expectation, the scrutiny laced beneath her words.
He swallowed.
What had he just seen?
The city ruins stretched endlessly before him.
The sky, an ocean of gray swallowing the last remnants of sunlight.
And amidst the desolation—himself.
No, not just himself.
A version of himself he did not recognize.
Pale.
Hollow. Eyes like dying embers—red irises reversed, with a deep blue pupil staring back at him.
A ghost.
A ruin of what he could become.
A shiver crawled up his spine.
Was that his future?
A nightmare?
Or something else entirely?
Lyrium exhaled, running a hand through his white hair, fingers tightening at his scalp.
"...I don’t know,"
He admitted, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be.
"I saw… something. Someone."
Alicia narrowed her eyes.
"Who?"
He hesitated.
If he said it—if he put it into words—would that make it real?
Would that mean that someday, somehow, he would become that person?
"...Me,"
He muttered.
"I saw myself."
Alicia remained still, but Lyrium caught the way her fingers twitched at her side.
A barely noticeable reaction.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
She already knew.
"Describe it,"
She instructed, her voice betraying nothing.
Lyrium exhaled sharply.
"Older,"
He started, trying to force the image into words.
"White hair, longer than mine. Skin pale, almost sickly. Dark spots under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in years. And his eyes—"
He faltered.
"...They weren’t normal."
Alicia studied him, her expression unreadable.
"How?"
Lyrium clenched his jaw.
"They were reversed."
His voice was firmer this time.
"The iris was red, but the pupil… it was blue."
Silence.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the distant beeping of the monitoring systems.
Then Alicia sighed, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again, something unreadable flickering within them.
"I see."
Lyrium’s brows furrowed.
That was it?
"...You see?"
He echoed, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
"That’s all you’re going to say?"
Alicia met his gaze, unflinching.
"For now, yes."
His fists clenched.
"Then you already know something, don’t you?"
He accused.
"You’re hiding something from me."
Alicia didn’t deny it.
Instead, she simply tilted her head slightly, studying him in a way that made Lyrium feel like she was dissecting him, pulling apart his very existence piece by piece.
"You saw something beyond your current self,"
She finally said.
"Something that should not yet exist, yet does. A reflection of a path you may walk, or a path you were always meant to walk."
Her gaze darkened.
"Tell me, Lyrium—what did you feel when you saw him?"
Lyrium’s breath caught.
What had he felt?
It wasn’t just shock.
It wasn’t just confusion.
It was something deeper.
Something primal.
It was as if, for a fleeting second, he had understood the man in the mirror.
Not as a stranger.
Not as a nightmare.
But as himself.
A cold realization settled in his chest.
"...Familiarity,"
He admitted, voice quieter now.
"Like I wasn’t just looking at him—"
He swallowed.
"—But remembering him."
Alicia’s expression didn’t change.
But there was something in her eyes now. Something knowing.
"That,"
He said,
"is what I feared."
A Reflection of Fate
Lyrium’s breath felt heavier now, as if an invisible weight pressed against his chest.
The cold floor beneath him grounded him, but his mind was anything but stable.
He clenched his fists.
What did Alicia mean?
What exactly had he seen?
"Feared?"
Lyrium repeated, his voice laced with frustration.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Alicia didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she took a step forward, arms crossed as she regarded him with a sharp gaze—one that dissected him, as if searching for something beyond what lay before her.
"You are not the first to witness something like this,"
She finally said.
"And you will not be the last."
Lyrium’s eyes narrowed.
"Explain."
Alicia sighed, running a hand through her dark hair before meeting his gaze once more.
"What you saw was not just a vision, Lyrium. It was not a hallucination nor a simple illusion. It was a fragment of something real—a possibility."
Lyrium felt a chill crawl up his spine.
A possibility.
"You’re saying I—"
He stopped himself, voice tightening.
"That version of me, the one I saw... it exists?"
Alicia was silent for a long moment before she answered.
"Not yet,"
She said.
"But perhaps one day, it will."
Lyrium exhaled sharply, stepping back.
"That’s bullshit."
He didn’t believe in fate.
He didn’t believe in prophecies or destiny written in stone.
And yet, the image of that man still burned in his mind.
Older.
Pale.
Hollow.
His eyes a reflection of something unnatural.
"...And if I refuse?"
Lyrium asked, his voice quieter now.
"If I reject that path?"
Alicia’s gaze didn’t waver.
"Then make sure you are strong enough to do so."
Lyrium gritted his teeth.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Alicia turned away, walking toward the observation console.
"It means,"
She said,
"that sometimes, no matter how much we reject something—"
She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes unreadable.
"—It comes for us all the same."
Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.
Lyrium forced himself to breathe.
His mind was a storm of thoughts, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t leave it like this.
His eyes darkened with resolve.
He would find out the truth.
No matter what it took.
*****
Ren moved through the dense forest, his footsteps barely making a sound against the damp earth.
The towering trees cast long shadows, stretching endlessly into the artificial sky above.
His senses were sharp, his mind focused on the task at hand—tracking down Lyrium.
"Where the hell are you, mate…?"
Ren muttered under his breath, frustration creeping into his voice.
He leaped onto a thick branch, scanning the horizon.
The simulated world of the VR system was eerily realistic, with the scent of pine and distant chirping of unseen birds adding to the immersion.
But something felt off.
A sharp ping suddenly echoed in his mind.
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[System Alert: Player ’Lyrium Blackwood’ has disconnected from the Full-Dive Session.]
Ren’s body froze mid-step.
His heart skipped a beat.
What?
His grip on the branch tightened as he quickly accessed the system interface, his golden eyes scanning the notification again.
[Player Status: Disconnected.]
That’s impossible.
Ren immediately opened the party window, his fingers moving swiftly through the translucent screen in front of him.
But no matter how many times he refreshed it, the result was the same.
Lyrium was gone.
Completely removed from the Full-Dive.
"What the—"
Ren exhaled sharply, his mind racing.
There were only a handful of reasons someone could be forcibly ejected from the system.
1. Emergency Manual Override.
2. A catastrophic failure in neural synchronization.
3. System error or external interference.
But the system was flawless.
It had undergone countless safety protocols.
If Lyrium had been pulled out forcefully—then something had gone very, very wrong.
"Shit."
Ren’s body tensed as he immediately turned on his communicator, sending a direct message.
[Ren: Lyrium’s out. Status unknown. Find out what the hell happened—NOW.]
His instincts screamed that something wasn’t right.
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And if his instincts were correct… then Lyrium Blackwood hadn’t simply left the VR.
He had been taken from it.
And that meant trouble.
*****
The meeting had stretched long into the night, but there was no rest for those who lurked in the shadows.
The scent of wax and parchment filled the chamber, the soft flicker of candlelight casting elongated shadows against the cold stone walls.
Azrael stood before a massive map pinned to the far wall, his crimson gaze trailing over the golden mark that indicated Deviants Academy.
His subordinates watched in silence, waiting for their leader’s final decision.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"Lyrium Blackwood is not our concern."
The words carried weight, cutting through the tension in the room like a blade.
Some of his subordinates exchanged glances, but none dared to question him outright.
One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his cheek, spoke carefully.
"So… we let him be?"
Azrael turned, his smirk laced with something unreadable.
"For now."
The violet-eyed woman from before frowned.
"That’s a dangerous gamble. Every day, he grows stronger."
Azrael chuckled.
"Exactly. Let him grow. Let him reach the heights of power he never imagined possible. And when he finally stands tall, when he finally believes himself to be untouchable…"
He stepped closer, his voice lowering to something almost poetic—a whisper of fate already decided.
"…we will be the storm that brings him crashing back to the ground."
A silence followed.
It was not one of uncertainty but of understanding.
Lyrium Blackwood was not a loose end to be hastily dealt with—he was a masterpiece in the making, only to be shattered when the time was right.
But the academy…
Azrael’s gaze returned to the map, his fingers ghosting over the golden marker of Deviants Academy.
That place was different.
That place would fall—soon.
He gestured toward his tactician.
"Proceed with the plan. The academy must collapse from within."
The tactician nodded.
"The infiltrators are already in place. Corruption spreads faster than any sword strike."
Azrael’s smirk widened.
"Good. Then let the countdown begin."
