The Extra's Rise

My fall break ended soon after we finished Phase 1 of my Zombie Princess plan.

Which meant it was time to return to Mythos Academy.

Technically, I had been absent for over five weeks, thanks to my inconvenient coma following the second mission. My extended disappearance wasn't exactly subtle, so before classes resumed, I had one more thing to take care of.

A meeting with Headmaster Eva Lopez.

So now, I found myself sitting across from the most powerful woman in Mythos Academy, her violet eyes fixed on me with an expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement. Her office was surprisingly minimalist—a large desk of polished oak, walls lined with books, and a massive window overlooking the Academy grounds. The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the campus.

"Arthur," she said, rubbing her temples with slender fingers, "why does it feel like something insane always happens around you?"

I blinked, feigning innocence. "Excuse me?"

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. The leather creaked softly as she moved. "Look, I'm not blaming you. I'm not evil," she added dryly. "But you have a way of turning what should be straightforward missions into something dangerous."

I kept my face neutral, a carefully cultivated blank mask that revealed nothing of my thoughts.

She didn't buy it. Not for a second. Her eyes narrowed slightly, seeing through the facade with the ease of someone who had been reading people for decades.

"Anyway," she continued, absently adjusting one of the silver bangles on her wrist, "the Empire has decided to reward you for your overachievement. Since you played a major role in taking down the Bishop, they want to give you a Medal for Merit. And because of that, we've give you a perfect score for your second mission. Can't have the world laughing at us now, can we?"

The irony in her voice was unmistakable. Politics and appearances, always taking precedence over reality.

"How generous," I said, though I wasn't exactly complaining. A perfect score was a perfect score, regardless of how it was earned.

"Don't push your luck," she said flatly, her violet eyes hardening for just a moment. "And for the love of all things holy, try not to cause another international incident during the third mission. You are not ready to be fighting the Cults."

The air in the room seemed to tighten as she said the word, as if the very atmosphere recoiled from it.

Cults.

I understood the weight behind it. Everyone did. The five organizations that stood at the pinnacle of humanity's enemies, each one dedicated to a different aspect of the miasma that threatened to consume our world.

"You know the history of the world, right?" she asked, her voice softer but no less firm. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her expression suddenly more serious.

I nodded.

"There were two points in history where humanity had the upper hand," she said, her gaze distant, as if seeing through time itself. "Where we were on the verge of wiping out the miasmic races for good."

Her violet eyes darkened, clouded with the weight of a history that had shaped our entire civilization.

"The first was before the Industrial Revolution, in the late seventeenth century. We were winning. Humanity had surpassed its enemies and was on track to eradicate them completely. And then—"

I didn't need her to finish. This was a story carved into the consciousness of every person who fought against the darkness.

"The Crimson Night happened," I said, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

She nodded grimly, a strand of her silver hair falling across her face. She tucked it back absently, her expression haunted.

The Crimson Night—a single day when, as the sun left each continent, everything changed.

Entire cities were wiped off the map.

Governments fell.

And five new powers emerged from the darkness.

The Rise of the Five Cults.

The Vampire Cult in the Central Continent, now the Red Chalice.

The Demon Cult in the Eastern Continent, now the Order of the Fallen Flame.

The Beast Cult in the Southern Continent now the Abyssal Kin.

The Ogre Cult in the Western Continent, now the Savage Communion.

The Shadow Cult in the Northern Continent, now the Umbravale Covenant.

Eva continued, turning back to face me, "The second time was under Liam Kagu. The Golden Age of Humanity. The world had never been stronger. The Eastern Continent alone was enough to hold off two of the Cults at the same time."

I knew this story well. Everyone did. It was the closest humanity had come to victory in centuries.

Back in the nineteenth century, the Demon Cult had controlled the Eastern Continent, while the Vampire Cult held sway in the Central Continent.

But the Eastern Continent was different.

Stronger.

They didn't just resist the Cults—they crushed them.

The Demon Cult, despite all its power, was on the verge of collapse. In a desperate bid for survival, they begged the Vampire Cult for aid.

The Vampire Cult responded.

They crossed the sea to reinforce their allies.

And then—they got crushed too.

Both Cults were on the brink of destruction.

Until he appeared.

Until the Heavenly Demon rose.

A single being whose power tipped the scales, whose very existence changed the course of the war. The details were classified, known only to those with the highest clearance, but the outcome was not. The Golden Age ended, and the two Cults switched continents, buying enough time to recover.

Eva exhaled, rubbing her forehead with a weariness that seemed to age her before my eyes. "At least one of the Cults was wiped out."

Right.

That's what people still believed.

"But those who remain…" she trailed off, leaving the implications hanging in the air between us.

I understood.

These were not normal people.

They were those who had abandoned their humanity.

They were those who worshiped something worse than devils or demons.

They had given themselves to the miasma, let it corrupt them from within, transform them into something no longer human.

And they sought to do the same to the rest of humanity.

"What did you think when you faced the Bishop, Arthur?" Eva asked suddenly, turning back to me with an intensity that was almost physical.

I blinked, caught off guard by the direct question.

What did I think?

High.

The power level was too high.

Even after Carrie forced him to rush and thus get injured. Even though he hadn't fought me at full power. Even when he was just testing me out of sheer curiosity.

The difference was overwhelming.

A wall of power so vast it made a mockery of everything I had.

Even with Reika's Gift, even with pushing Erebus past its limits, even after unlocking my second Gift—

I had barely survived.

A tired Bishop.

And he had played with me like a cat with a mouse, extending my suffering for his own amusement, testing the limits of my abilities with casual cruelty.

The gap between us was humiliating.

But so what?

I clenched my fist, feeling my nails dig into my palm.

In the end, he was just a Bishop.

There were Cardinals above him.

And above them—the Five Popes.

And above the Popes—the true rulers of the Miasmic Species.

Jack Blazespout.

Caladros von Noctis.

The Demon Lords.

And at the very peak of all evil in this world—

The Demon Overlord. The being whose existence was half-legend, half-nightmare. The ultimate enemy of humanity.

"I will win," I said, my voice low but firm.

"Huh?" Eva looked at me, confusion briefly crossing her features.

I turned my gaze toward her, meeting those violet eyes directly. Something in my expression made her pause, made the confusion fade into watchfulness.

"There will be a next time," I said, my voice steady, each word precise and deliberate. "And the next time I face a Bishop, I will win."

No hesitation.

No doubt.

No uncertainty.

The world had rules. Power structures. Hierarchies that had remained in place for centuries. But rules could be broken. Power structures could be toppled. Hierarchies could be rewritten.

"Next time, I will win—100%. No matter what. Without anybody's help."

I meant every word. This wasn't bravado or false confidence. This was a statement of fact, a declaration of intent that I would make reality through whatever means necessary.

I saw the flicker of something in Eva's eyes. Surprise, certainly. But something else too. Recognition, perhaps. Or understanding.

Then, she smiled.

And for the first time, I saw a glimpse of respect in her expression. Not the cautious acknowledgment she gave to talented students, but true respect—the kind reserved for equals.

"Two types of people can say that when they are this weak," Eva said as she leaned in to flick my forehead, the casual gesture at odds with the seriousness of her tone, "Idiots infected with madness or..."

Her violet eyes sparkled as she smiled wider, the expression transforming her face, making her look younger, almost girlish. "Geniuses who aren't satisfied with what they have. Your answer is beyond acceptable Arthur. After all, you are Rank 1 of Mythos Academy."

"Thank you," I said as I looked at her with surprise, a hand on my forehead where she had flicked me. The gesture was strangely personal, almost familial.

"I want you to grow well," Eva said, her expression sobering slightly as she returned to her desk. "After all, this generation.."

She let our words trail off but I could tell what she was saying.

I could feel her hope.

That finally, this generation will end it.

This generation will end the Cults and the miasmic species.

And well, in the future, we won't have any choice.