Why is Background Character the Strongest Now?-Chapter 38: Chaos

Marcus leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Calm down. He probably just slacked off somewhere. Everyone knows what a lazy professor he is."

Ezra, unusually tense, didn’t respond with his usual smirk. "I don’t think so," he muttered, his voice low. He took a slow breath, trying to steady his nerves. "Either way, we need to move. Something’s not right."

He turned sharply to Daelen. "Call for backup."

Daelen nodded and pulled out his communicator—but just as he tried to connect, the screen blinked once and went dead.

"What the hell?" Daelen frowned. "My network’s gone."

Ezra’s eyes narrowed. "Let me see yours," he said, turning to Dravis.

Dravis took out his phone. A second later, his expression darkened. "No signal either."

Ezra’s jaw tightened. He reached for his own phone—same result. No bars. No connection. Just a dead line where the signal should’ve been.

Then something clicked.

His eyes widened. "RUN!" he shouted.

He spun around and sprinted toward the inn’s outer wall. As he ran, he reached for his ring, willing his sword into existence—but nothing happened. The mana link was gone. Like it had been cut off completely.

The others felt it too.

Each of them tried to summon their weapons. Nothing responded. No mana. No spark. Just emptiness.

Without hesitation, they all charged at the wall. It wasn’t elegant—just brute force. They crashed into it shoulder-first. Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface, then the wall shattered outward with a deafening boom.

They jumped.

From the top floor of the inn, they plummeted through the night air, cloaks snapping around them. The wind howled past their ears—but they landed like seasoned warriors, rolling across the ground and rising in a single, fluid motion.

Outside, the mana was normal.

That’s when it hit them.

Someone had planted a mana jammer inside the room. They’d been trapped. And they hadn’t even realized it.

Before anyone could speak, masked figures dropped from the rooftops and balconies above. Silent. Swift. Awakened operatives—some with drawn blades, others conjuring glowing magic circles mid-air.

It was an ambush.

Ezra didn’t wait. As his feet touched the ground, he pulled his sword from the ring. The steel shimmered as it met the moonlight.

Four Awakeners rushed toward him.

The first lunged. Ezra stepped aside, smooth as wind, and drove his blade through the attacker’s throat. Blood sprayed.

The other three barely had time to react before Ezra pivoted—his sword a silver blur—decapitating them all in one seamless arc.

More enemies closed in, momentarily hesitating at the sight of their fallen comrades.

Ezra didn’t hesitate.

Ezra moved like lightning.

Violet mana erupted around his blade, crackling with raw energy. Every step he took left a shimmer of residual magic in the air. The Awakeners charging him—barely Rank 1 or 2—didn’t stand a chance.

He cut through them like butter.

Steel flashed. Bodies dropped. Blood painted the ground in strokes of crimson. The masked attackers tried to surround him, but none could match his speed. His sword danced—a blur of violet fury.

Across the field, Marcus was on fire—literally.

Twin fireballs hovered in his palms as he hurled them into the crowd. Explosions rocked the street, engulfing several enemies in flame. Despite being a mage, Marcus moved like a seasoned swordsman—dodging blades, closing gaps, and launching point-blank bursts of flame.

One magician managed to bind his arms and legs with ethereal chains. An assassin lunged from the shadows, blade aimed for Marcus’s throat—

But before they could strike— 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Blink.

Marcus vanished in a blue shimmer and reappeared behind the magician. A spear of compressed wind formed mid-air and impaled the caster through the chest. With a snap of his fingers, a razor-sharp wind blade shot toward the assassin, cleaving him in two mid-air.

Daelen held his own in the chaos.

Wielding a greatsword crackling with mana, he charged like a juggernaut. Every swing shattered the ground, sending shockwaves rippling through the stone beneath his feet. Enemies flew backward from the sheer force. He moved with terrifying precision—slashing, dodging, striking—all in one motion.

The three of them were unstoppable.

Until—

A pulse of mana surged from above.

Ezra, in the middle of cleaving down an opponent, froze as he sensed it. He looked up—and his heart skipped a beat.

A man hovered in the air, cloaked in a dark mantle that shimmered like smoke. His presence bent the wind around him. Mana radiated from him in waves, thick and suffocating.

Ezra narrowed his eyes. "What the—?"

Before he could finish the thought, the world twisted.

A massive teleportation sigil activated beneath their feet. In the blink of an eye, Ezra, Marcus, Daelen—and everyone else—vanished from the battlefield.

The hovering man smirked as he watched the chaos below disappear.

"No one stands in our way," he said, voice echoing with power. His grin widened. "Not even them."

He let out a low chuckle that turned into laughter—cold, confident, and full of malice.

_____________________

Meanwhile, inside Elia’s dorm room, the world outside might as well have ceased to exist. The chaos, the danger—it all felt far away.

Here, there was only soft candlelight flickering across old books and half-drawn curtains... and the quiet rhythm of two hearts beating a little too close.

Elia stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself, her hair falling like silk across her back. "Should I help them?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eitan sat on the edge of her bed, watching her with those deep, ancient eyes that never seemed to lose their glow. He tilted his head slightly. "That’s your choice, Elia," he said gently. "Whatever you choose, I’ll be with you. Always."

She turned to face him, lips trembling, her gaze searching his face for some answer he couldn’t give. "But... what if they find you?"

Eitan stood and crossed the space between them in two quiet steps. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering against her cheek.

His voice was steady, yet so full of warmth it made her knees weaken. "Let them. Let the whole world know. I’d walk through fire for you, Elia."

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed, or desperate. It was slow—tender. Like he was memorizing her lips, promising her everything with nothing but that single touch.

When they pulled apart, Elia’s voice came out in a trembling breath. "Even so... I can’t—I can’t lose you. If they find out... if they know who you are... you’re... you’re..."

She stuttered, her voice cracking, heart in her throat.

"A vampire?" Eitan said, smiling softly. "Yes. And still, I would choose you. Again and again. Even if the sky itself fell. Even if it meant standing alone."

He leaned his forehead against hers, both of them frozen in that fragile moment between longing and fear.

"I don’t care what they call me. Monster, curse, shadow—I don’t care. Nothing, nothing, will ever keep me from you."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, not of sadness, but of love—raw and uncontainable. "Eitan..."

But then— shatter.

A violent whistle split the silence. A massive ice spear hurled through the window, glowing with deadly magic.

Eitan’s eyes flashed. In the same breath, his arm wrapped around Elia and a shield of golden mana bloomed around them—arching like wings.

The spear shattered harmlessly. An illusion—but a warning.

Before either of them could move, the door creaked open.

A man cloaked in violet stood in the doorway, his face hidden beneath a polished obsidian mask. "Miss Elia," he said smoothly. "You’ll need to come with us."

Eitan moved in front of her again, this time like a lion shielding his mate, eyes glowing with threat.

But it was already too late.

A teleportation circle carved in jagged sigils ignited beneath them, pulsing with dark magic.

"Eitan—!" Elia cried, clutching his arm.

"I’m here," he whispered, voice calm, even as the light rose around them.

The man turned, closing the door behind him like it was nothing more than an ordinary night.

"We will achieve our goal," he murmured. "No matter who stands in our way."

And just like that—they were gone.

But even as the magic swallowed them whole, Elia never let go.

And Eitan never looked away.

___________________-

Somewhere far away...

The world had been torn open.

Mountains once proud now lay shattered, their peaks broken like glass beneath the weight of unimaginable power. Smoke curled into the sky, mixing with drifting ash and the stench of burnt stone.

In the heart of this ruined wasteland, a single body lay in a crater — motionless, surrounded by debris.

Hovering above the pit, suspended in the air as if defying gravity and fate itself, stood Kael Arkzen — the so-called lazy professor of Blackridge Academy.

But there was nothing lazy about him now.

His body was bruised, bleeding from dozens of wounds. His coat had been ripped to shreds, hanging from his frame like torn banners of war. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth — the price of drawing on a sea of mana most mages could barely comprehend.

And yet... his eyes were calm.

Icy.

Cold as death.

Cold as judgment.

Because it wasn’t over. Not yet.

A low groan echoed through the smoke. The body in the crater stirred.

Varien Throne — Kael’s former disciple, now twisted by darkness — rose from the rubble, laughing. The sound was cracked, manic, echoing across the broken landscape.

"Hahahahahaha... HAAHAHAHA!" Varien floated up from the pit, blood caked to his face, eyes gleaming with madness. "You really are something else... Just as I expected from the Hero of Aetherholt."

Kael’s eyes narrowed, his voice a blade of winter.

"Die."

One word. Spoken coldly. No emotion. No hesitation.

Just a death sentence.

But Varien only smiled wider. "Master... I think you’ve underestimated me."

As he spoke, a ripple of mana tore through the air beside him—and then she appeared.

A woman clad in dark, rune-etched armor, her eyes glowing red beneath a silver helm. She carried a long saber forged from enchanted steel, black flames licking across its edge.

She knelt in mid-air beside Varien and said with unwavering devotion, "Your orders, Master?"

Varien didn’t even glance at her. "Kill that man."

The woman moved.