Path of the Extra

Bloodied and broken, the Son of Death stood with trembling legs atop a jagged, black boulder. His sword dragged slowly against the cold stone, each subtle scrape echoing his exhaustion and pain.

Beneath him spread a sea of silver flames, vast and unending, illuminating the darkened forest like ghostly candles. Amidst this blazing ocean sat Pollux, the prideful wolf—the Great Divine Star Spirit Emperor. His posture was regal and absolute, head raised proudly, eyes gazing downward with cold disdain.

At Azriel’s right stood the grotesque figure of the Skinwalker, engulfed entirely by the divine flames, its featureless face turned toward Pollux, empty of pain or fear, utterly indifferent to the fire that should have reduced it to ashes. The creature’s mere presence drained life from everything around it; trees and plants withered and crumbled into dust at its feet.

How many loops had Azriel endured already? He had long since lost count.

He could barely comprehend the Skinwalker’s power; it moved faster than thought, striking in ways he couldn’t follow. Pollux, too, was an enigma—sometimes using claws and fangs, sometimes simply conjuring infernos, other times standing motionless as if bored by the futility of it all.

In the beginning, the star-spirit emperor hadn’t taken this battle seriously. But something had changed. After endless cycles of brutal death, Azriel had learned more of the Forest of Eternity.

He had been searching for Lady Mio—and he found something else instead.

Behind Pollux now lay a dark, cavernous mouth, concealed by vibrant green moss and tangled vines. It stood untouched by flames or death, and Pollux guarded its entrance fiercely, allowing neither man nor monster to approach.

Azriel couldn’t recall exactly how many times he’d died trying to reach that cave. The first dozen attempts, he had barely noticed its significance, too consumed by the sheer agony of death after death. But eventually, he realized:

Pollux never allowed harm to approach that cavern. No void worms crawled from its darkness, nor did silver flames dare trespass. Pollux protected it, obsessively.

The eternal loop of death and rebirth had shifted. No longer just a cycle of torment and struggle—it had become a frantic race.

Azriel wasn’t alone. The Skinwalker had also sensed the cave’s significance, becoming more ferocious, more desperate. It too raced toward the cave, fighting Pollux with brutal determination. Yet, the proud wolf stood firm, unyielding, endlessly annihilating them both.

But now—this very moment—as Azriel gathered the tattered remnants of his strength to challenge Pollux once more, something changed.

A sudden wave of mana surged outward, slamming into Azriel with enough force to nearly knock him back to his knees. A thunderous storm erupted above. Lightning tore violently through the dark sky, illuminating the forest in erratic bursts of blue and white, while rain poured relentlessly, soaking Azriel’s bloodied form.

Pollux’s flames hissed violently—but they did not diminish.

The divine wolf raised his gaze slowly, irritation and bitterness flickering within his eyes. His voice echoed furiously into the storm, a cold, penetrating growl that resonated deep in Azriel’s mind:

“After all this time, now your heart wavers? After all the deaths, the countless bodies, the endless suffering—you hesitate on our promise? Even if you intend to break your word, little girl, I never will..!”

At Pollux’s angered voice, the sky itself fractured. A jagged line split across the stormy heavens, as though reality itself had cracked.

Pollux clicked his tongue in disdain, his next words dripping with contemptuous darkness:

“This is why I despise humans—you allow your emotions to cloud what must be done.”

Azriel remained utterly silent, his face unreadable in the driving rain, his single eye fixed upon the wolf.

In that very instant, the Skinwalker lunged toward Pollux, its featureless form a blur of monstrous speed. Yet Pollux simply turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing sharply as he uttered a single, heavy word that froze the rain itself:

“Enough.”

It was a command so powerful that reality obeyed without question. Gravity surged impossibly as mana bowed to the wolf’s will, slamming down mercilessly upon the Skinwalker. The creature crashed violently into the mud with an earth-shattering explosion, sending a shockwave that uprooted nearby trees, hurling them aside as easily as discarded toys.

Azriel, too, was caught in that overwhelming pressure, his face smashed brutally into the boulder beneath him. The stone shattered into shards as Azriel fell, crashing helplessly into the waiting flames and mud.

Panic and horror flared across his bloodied face. He knew what awaited him—being burned alive by the divine flames, devoured from within by the hungry Void Worms eager to seize this moment of vulnerability. Azriel braced himself, despair clawing at his heart.

Yet, to his astonishment—the flames did not consume him. They enveloped his body gently, cool and harmless. The Void Worms never appeared; they remained absent, as if suddenly cautious or afraid.

Azriel seized the chance instantly. Freed from the crushing weight of Pollux’s mana, he rolled swiftly onto his feet, freezing the rain-soaked ground around him to ward off any worms still lurking beneath. Panting heavily, breath visible as mist in the chilled air, he stared forward, confused and wary.

The Skinwalker had risen as well, standing unnaturally still as rain cascaded over its black, twisted form. It stared silently at Pollux—calculating, observing, perhaps deciding the best method to end the wolf’s immortal life.

Pollux, however, paid no heed to the Skinwalker. His attention was focused solely upon Azriel, eyes narrowed dangerously, the wolf’s gaze filled with bitter hatred and wrath.

For the first time, Azriel felt the true, terrifying weight of Pollux’s fury directed entirely upon him.

Azriel shuddered uncontrollably, muscles trembling beneath the weight of that cold stare, rain sliding down his battered armor and skin.

Azriel suddenly smiled through broken teeth, his eyes glinting coldly beneath lashes drenched with blood. He felt an uncontrollable, savage satisfaction at seeing Pollux, the proud emperor, frustrated. Angry. Annoyed.

He couldn’t let this rare opportunity slip away.

Azriel chuckled hoarsely, ignoring the taste of iron pooling in his mouth.

“You’re really nothing special after all, are you, Pollux? How embarrassing it must be for a self-proclaimed god… spending all this time trying and failing to break one measly Skinwalker. Now you’re stuck here with me, and even your precious forest seems disappointed in you.”

Pollux narrowed his dark, beautiful eyes.

“If this pathetic world could bear my true form, Son of Death, you’d have been spared this endless torment—spared the illusion that your meaningless struggles have any worth.”

Azriel’s smile faded slightly.

Pollux continued, his voice dripping with contempt,

“I truly wonder how any version of you managed to grasp Astrium. After witnessing your current state, my respect for that alternate self has increased tremendously. Perhaps you should pause, look inward, and question your pitiful existence.”

Azriel’s lip curled into a sneer.

“Why does everyone insist on dissecting me like some complicated riddle? Who asked you to play therapist, Pollux? Between the two of us, who’s really searching desperately for meaning?”

Meanwhile, the Skinwalker simply stared. Azriel couldn’t understand it. Void creatures were supposed to attack indiscriminately, to hunger mindlessly—but this one simply waited, watched, silently evaluating. It had worn Azriel’s face only a handful of times, yet it never acted like azriel would expect.

It was… unsettling.

Pollux’s expression hardened into cold resolve, his silver fur rippling with power.

“Say what you will, human. We both know the truth behind your brave façade.”

Suddenly, razor-thin crescent blades appeared around Pollux, white and lethal, humming softly with echoes of dying stars. Each blade orbited him slowly, deliberately, emanating a faint silver glow tinged with violet shadows, making their movements impossible to track clearly.

Every hair on Azriel’s battered body stood rigidly in alarm.

This attack—he hadn’t seen it before. Perhaps he had gone a little too far…

Without warning, the blades surged toward him in a blur of deadly speed.

’Too fast!’ Azriel’s mind screamed.

He couldn’t dodge, couldn’t move. He braced himself instinctively, waiting for the inevitable agony, the sensation of his body being cleaved apart.

But nothing came.

Slowly, Azriel opened his single eye, realizing he had stopped breathing. The crescent blades hovered inches before his face, trembling softly, before dissolving into motes of pale starlight, drifting upward and vanishing into nothingness.

Pollux’s voice, low and frustrated, echoed inside Azriel’s mind.

“You care this deeply for a mere human…?”

The only answer he received was the sky fracturing further, cracks spreading through reality itself, accompanied by an inhuman wail resonating through the forest. The entire Forest of Eternity trembled violently; mana thrashed wildly around them, spiraling into chaos.

Pollux’s expression darkened into absolute coldness.

“Very well. If this is your choice, then I’ll destroy everything.”

All at once, the trees tore from the earth, rising into the storm-laden sky. Every tree within the Forest of Eternity hovered high above, suspended by Pollux’s command, before igniting simultaneously into pillars of silver flame.

Azriel couldn’t comprehend what happened next. One moment, he blinked—the next, the sky itself became an ocean of colossal silver spears, burning fiercely, all aimed directly at him and the Skinwalker.

His heart faltered, seized by primal terror.

He felt like a mortal facing divine judgment—judgment from a being who might truly surpass the gods. If Pollux was capable of this in a weakened state, what unimaginable horrors awaited were he allowed full strength?

Azriel’s throat ran dry. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of divine weapons hovered menacingly above him. Despair clawed at his heart, yet he released a quiet sigh.

What else was there to do? He would fight, die, rise again—until he reached that mysterious cave, the heart of this endless nightmare. The place where Lady Mio awaited him, the core of this impossible spell.

Pollux suddenly spoke, shattering Azriel’s fragile resolve further.

“It’s futile. I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re right—the little girl is the core. But destroying her mana core alone won’t end her [unique skill]. Only by killing her completely, using Sealbreaker, will the spell vanish. In a twisted sense, she too is immortal.”

Azriel bit down, teeth grinding harshly.

’So this entire forest is her [unique skill]…?’

The sheer absurdity overwhelmed him. But something else troubled Azriel deeply.

Sealbreaker. Why hadn’t Pollux used the artifact yet? Where was it now?

Too many things didn’t add up.

Before he could dwell further, the silver spears hurtled downwards, reality trembling violently beneath their divine force. Azriel’s heart raced, thunderously loud in his ears.

There was nowhere to run. This attack would obliterate the entire forest—Azriel, the Skinwalker, every Void Worm. Only Pollux and the cave would survive.

Once more, Azriel braced himself for inevitable annihilation. Once more, the Skinwalker stared with chilling indifference.

Yet once again—something utterly unexpected occurred.

A black-and-white panel appeared before Azriel’s vision, Pollux’s eyes, and even before the featureless gaze of the Skinwalker, freezing reality itself.

Everything stopped instantly.

[’World’s Providence’ has failed to hide your presence any longer.]

A suffocating dread filled Azriel. Pollux’s eyes widened slightly.

’…Oh no!’

[’The Mourning Moon’ disapproves of your cruelty.]

[’Monarch of the Burning Sun’ narrows its eyes in suspicion and confusion.]

[’Monarch of the Burning Sun’ widens its eyes in horror and realization.]

Alien, incomprehensibly powerful gazes pierced Azriel and Pollux from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously.

[’The Mourning Moon’s’ face contorts in terror upon seeing the Son of Death.]

[’World’s Providence’ flees in fear.]

[’Monarch of the Burning Sun’ gazes upon you in shock and awe.]

[’The Saint Without a Face’ stares in disbelief, witnessing the ’Great Divine Star Spirit Emperor’ battle the ’Son of Death’.]

[’The Mourning Moon’ cannot comprehend the ’Great Divine Star Spirit Emperor’s’ survival.]

[’The Saint Without a Face’ cannot comprehend the existence of the ’Son of Death’.]

[’Monarch of the Burning Sun’ urgently wishes to send forth its avatar.]

[’The Mourning Moon’ urgently wishes to send forth its avatar.]

[’The Saint Without a Face’ urgently wishes to send forth its avatar.]