Path of the Extra

“Lyk…os?”

Mio’s voice broke, trembling with desperation as she stared at his unmoving figure. Slowly, almost deliberately, the one called Lykos—the man the masked figure had cruelly named a Skinwalker—rose to his feet. With eerie calmness, he turned to face her, a vacant smile blooming softly across his lips.

“Yes, my lady?”

Why did his voice make more blood trickle from her ears?

Why did that gentle smile feel so horrifyingly wrong? Hollow, empty—like a fragile porcelain mask concealing a deep, endless void. And those eyes… they were still as beautiful as ever, mesmerizing in their golden warmth, yet something beneath them felt cloudy and cold, something profoundly unnatural.

Mio choked on the words she tried to say. They caught painfully in her throat.

‘It’s a lie…’

It had to be.

‘Everything from the debutante ceremony until now—I was with Lykos! Not… not with a Skinwalker!’

Her tear-streaked face twisted with anguish and fury, Mio spun to glare accusingly at the masked wolf. Although she couldn’t see beneath that cold mask, she was certain—absolutely certain—that he was smiling, mocking her, savoring every second of her torment as if all of this were merely an amusing play.

Disgust churned violently in her stomach at the mere sight of Lykos now. Her body instinctively recoiled, nausea flooding every nerve. It screamed at her, begged her to get away, to never look at him again.

‘No…!’

Before Mio could gather the courage to speak, that grotesque voice crawled again from Lykos’s lips.

“Starblood.”

The masked wolf’s attention finally shifted to him, tilting his head slightly in amused curiosity.

“Oh? You recognize me?”

“Yes.”

“You must be an old one, then. Yet only level six? How pathetically weak.”

Lykos lifted a single finger, pointing mockingly at the masked figure. His smile sharpened, distorting grotesquely until it was impossibly wide—twisted beyond any human expression.

“The Starborn fools.”

Suddenly, Lykos began to laugh.

A grotesque, maddening sound—a wheezing, gurgling laughter that filled Mio’s ears with unbearable agony. Her head felt as if it were splitting open; she collapsed, clutching her skull, screaming in pain. Waves of revulsion washed over her like icy water. Every nerve stood on edge, every muscle quivered as cold sweat drenched her trembling form.

At that moment, heavy footsteps thundered outside the door.

“I heard noises here! Quickly!”

The doors burst open violently, and knights clad in shining golden armor poured inside the chamber, their swords drawn, their eyes wide with shock.

“Lady Mio!”

One knight recognized her instantly, causing others to focus their attention upon her frail, trembling figure.

“Damn it! That monster—did it hold her captive all this time?”

“Don’t tell me it… did something to her?”

“Stand aside!”

A deep, authoritative voice rang out. The knights swiftly parted, making way for another figure to stride forward confidently.

Long brown hair tied neatly into a ponytail, piercing blue eyes, tall and composed—Prince Casper Aureliath entered the chamber. His elegant white military uniform was stained crimson, blood trickling steadily from a deep gash on his forehead, smearing down his stern, noble face.

He looked so much like Lykos—painfully like him.

Yet his expression was bitterly cold as he fixed his gaze upon the grotesquely smiling figure that wore his brother’s face. Then, turning gently toward Mio, he bit his lip, hesitating briefly, before extending a hand towards her.

Mio’s eyes darted anxiously between Casper’s outstretched hand and the twisted smile on Lykos’s face. She frantically glanced around the room—and realized suddenly, with creeping dread, that the masked wolf had vanished as silently as he’d appeared.

“My lady,” Casper urged softly yet firmly, pulling her attention back.

“Take my hand. Quickly.”

After a brief, fearful hesitation, Mio reached out and grasped Casper’s hand tightly. He gently pulled her up, swiftly drawing her protectively into his embrace as the knights formed a shield around them.

“P-Prince Casper…” Mio stammered weakly, shuddering.

“What… what’s happening? I don’t—I don’t understand any of this.”

Casper stared darkly at the monstrous being still smiling mockingly before them.

“My brother is dead,” he said.

“That… creature is not my brother. It’s a Skinwalker. And…”

Casper faltered, the words visibly difficult for him to force out. Despite his stern expression, deep anguish flickered briefly in his blue eyes. After a moment, he finally spoke again, his voice soft, hollow:

“The king, the queen, everyone who remained in the royal palace since that thing returned… They’re all dead. Apart from us… there’s no one left.”

At this point, Mio’s eyes were wide and trembling, yet words refused to come from her lips.

‘Everyone is…dead?’

“Your Highness, you’re the last remaining member of royal blood. Please take the lady and escape immediately. I will handle the Skinwalker myself.”

A knight stepped forward, speaking with urgent respect. Casper shook his head gently, resolutely.

“I’m afraid I cannot, Captain Morik. Though my deepest wish has always been to surpass my brother and claim the throne, I never imagined nor desired it like this. At the very least, to honor my family’s memory, I must slay that devil myself.” Casper glanced aside, a solemn gentleness briefly flickering in his blue eyes. “Besides, your son—Oscar, wasn’t it? He’s already in his second year at the knight academy. How could I bear the guilt if he discovered I allowed his father, the Hero of Ismyr, to die?”

Before Morik could protest, Casper turned to another knight nearby.

“Take Lady Mio somewhere safe.”

The knight nodded, firmly and quickly grasping Mio’s arm with gentle urgency. Mio hesitated, looking back at Lykos one final, anguished time before turning her face away, allowing herself to be led from the chamber.

Morik removed his helmet with a weary sigh, revealing his handsome face framed by orange hair and sharp, amber eyes.

“Now you choose to act noble and courageous? Your brother may have had a serpent’s tongue, but he backed it up with strength, cunning, and countless victories against Nymira. And you—you think you can slay the creature that killed him, when your brother himself fell in his prime?”

Casper merely smiled bitterly, turning toward the monster wearing his brother’s face.

“Well…I’ve always hated my brother. Perhaps killing something that bears his likeness will finally bring me a measure of satisfaction.”

*****

“Please hurry, my lady. The palace—no, the entire capital—is in danger.”

Mio stumbled forward, eyes distant and unfocused as the knight led her quickly through empty corridors and deserted halls. Eventually, she whispered a question, afraid of the answer but unable to bear not knowing.

“Sir, one of your fellow knights… named Iskiel… is he—?”

The knight stopped abruptly and turned to face her with quiet, sorrowful eyes.

“Your childhood friend and knight… he’s dead as well.”

“Huh…?”

Confusion flooded her mind. Was it the strange, pitying way he spoke? The overwhelming dread in his gaze? Or was it the sudden, brutal revelation that another precious person had been taken from her?

But none of that mattered now, because the knight released his hold on her arm and slowly removed his helmet, causing her reality to fracture.

“…!”

Mio staggered backward, face drained of color as she sank helplessly to her knees.

“Y-you…!”

Standing there, clad in golden armor yet wearing the same haunting wolf mask, were those familiar eyes—dark voids encircled by delicate silver rings, gazing down at her with unsettling amusement.

“How…!?” Mio forced out, her voice barely more than a desperate whisper.

He laughed softly, as though her terror were delightfully entertaining. Calmly, the masked figure stepped forward, crouching gracefully before her trembling form. Mio blinked—and suddenly the golden armor had vanished, replaced by flowing robes of immaculate white.

He extended his hand gently toward her.

“If you wish it, little flower, I can save everyone still alive in this capital—including those desperately fighting the Skinwalker right now. Your prayers to your so-called gods will not save them. Only I can.”

At that very moment, an enormous explosion shattered the silence. The palace shook violently, chunks of marble raining from above, crashing violently into the ground. Mio flinched, her heart lurching painfully in her chest.

“If…if you truly have such power, then why? Why does my [Unique Skill] matter so much!? Are you nothing more than another monster!? Another Skinwalker!? Please…I don’t understand anything anymore!”

He sighed deeply, his voice resonating softly behind the white mask.

“Because your [Unique Skill] is exactly what I need to recover.”

“…Recover?” Mio echoed faintly.

He gazed upward, toward the pale, distant moon, his voice heavy with distant sorrow.

“As I said… those false gods erased my people, but they failed to erase me. I wounded them deeply, yet they wounded me in return. To fulfill a certain purpose, I must recover my lost strength.”

Mio’s clouded eyes sharpened slightly.

“…If I give you my [Unique Skill], then what? You’ll recover and eventually leave?”

The wolf-masked figure stared at her quietly. Another tremor shook the ground, accompanied by the thundering of boots and clanging armor. Knights rushed past them, utterly blind to the two standing figures, as though Mio and the masked man were nothing but ghosts.

He spoke again, his voice soft but clear.

“[The Forest of Eternity]. With a Void artifact, I can ensure all future Void Rifts appear there, rather than elsewhere. Those creatures—and any human who dares enter—will eventually become one with your forest. A portion of their mana will be given by you to me, allowing me to recover. I will break their spirits for you, little flower. While you sleep in peaceful slumber, I shall guard your forest until the end comes for this world.”

She stared, visibly confused, lost, uncertain.

“I…I don’t understand…”

Suddenly, the masked man’s tone deepened, becoming gravely serious, utterly compelling.

“I promise you this, little flower. Someday, you may grow weary and seek to end this eternal dream. When that day comes, I swear—I will remain by your side until you choose to wither peacefully away.”

Why were tears streaming down her face?

Why was he offering this?

For what purpose?

“I will protect you from humanity’s cruelty.”

Stop…

“I will protect you from demons and darkness alike.”

Don’t…

“I will guard you from the false promises of gods and men.”

Please…

“I will shield you, little flower, until you fade quietly into oblivion, free from anyone’s expectations.”

“Ah…”

“Take my hand, and finally… be free.”

Without realizing it, her trembling fingers had already grasped his cold hand. Her vision blurred once more, reality shifting, and suddenly she was kneeling on cold, dusty ground beneath an endless, barren sky.

Mio stared up, dazed and lost.

“How…?”

Was he truly… a god?

“My lady?”

“…!”

Her heart froze at that voice. Turning sharply, she paled in absolute terror.

“L-Lykos…!”

Standing before her was the same uninjured Lykos—or rather, the creature wearing his face. The Skinwalker smiled emptily, his vacant gaze fixed lovingly upon her as he moved to embrace her.

“Die,” the masked wolf commanded coldly.

Instantly, silver flames erupted around Lykos, devouring his body entirely. Mio watched numbly as the figure that once resembled her dearest friend burned away into nothingness, leaving no trace behind—as though he’d never existed at all.

Empty, hollow, Mio whispered weakly:

“How…will you rid the world of corruption?”

“I possess another Void artifact.”

Was this truly the solution to all problems?

“The solution to corruption is simple,” he continued calmly.

“Eliminate humanity’s ability to wield mana.”

“…What?”

In his hand appeared a strange circular device, intricate wheels turning silently within its depths.

“With this grade-three Void artifact, I will extract the mana from the air of this world while safely corroding humanity’s mana cores. In two or three generations, the ability to wield mana will be nearly extinguished.”

Mio laughed softly, bitterly, without humor.

None of this made sense.

Nor did she care anymore.

She activated [The Forest of Eternity] without hesitation.

As she sank into eternal slumber, branches and trees unfurled around the wasteland and her still form—a cradle of sacrifice, where countless lives would be taken to save countless more. And before silence claimed her, she whispered one final question, her breath barely a breeze:

“What… is your name?”

The masked wolf paused. Then, with a voice steeped in pride, amusement, and an odd, aching warmth, he answered:

“Pollux. To you, little flower… simply Pollux.”

*****

Pollux watched her quietly as the branches curled around her, slow and gentle, forming a tree where nothing had ever grown. Its leaves were thin as breath, nearly invisible, trembling in the stillness. It held her as if it had been waiting. And as her eyes fluttered—once, then never again—he didn’t look at her. He looked past her. Past the tree. Past the light. And with a voice almost too soft to hear, he said:

“If she told me the truth… then you’re watching now, aren’t you—her only, and most beloved progeny.”