Path of the Extra

Chapter 101: We Are All Liars Here [4]

Zoran stared at Azriel, who held his gaze. It felt like an eternity, the silence growing heavier with every second. Azriel could hear his own heartbeat, pounding in his chest, loud enough that he wondered if Zoran could hear it too.

He probably did.

Finally, Zoran let out a tired sigh, turning back toward the massive gate before them.

”You came back from the dead, sabotaged the future we were building, and succeeded. You donʼt even care about being a hero. All you want is to survive, to see the end. Yet, youʼre doing it while going against us—without a plan. Youʼve ensured no one else has one either. I wonder...

how far youʼve read in that book of the future that you have. It must be farther than any of us Heptarchs if you had the nerve to act so boldly.”

Azriel swallowed, his throat painfully dry. He tried to speak, but nothing came. He watched Zoran with an unreadable expression.

”Do you realize how annoying you are?” Zoran continued, his voice low, dangerous.

”Itʼs taking everything in me not to tear you in half, just like I did with Void Commander Dante. Itʼs remarkable, really—how a mere kid managed to outplay us, without even having the strength to back it up. You must think Iʼm a fool if you believe I havenʼt noticed that youʼre hiding even more from me.”

Azrielʼs lips curled into a faint smile.

”As you said... we are all liars here.”

A pause hung in the air before Zoranʼs tone darkened.

”…I think Iʼve heard enough. I donʼt want to know more from someone as vile as you. Goodbye, Prince Azriel. Be proud—youʼve done more damage to us than anyone has in the last decade.”

Zoran stood up, and Azrielʼs blood turned cold. His fists clenched as dread tightened around him.

He didnʼt turn or move—there was no point. Zoran wasnʼt just any saint. He was an Apostle, a Heptarch, powerful enough to make even Grandmasters question themselves.

There was nothing Azriel could do now.

ʼ…I stalled as much as I could, but it wasnʼt enough.ʼ

All that was left was to wait.

Leo stood beside him, his expression unreadable.

”Out of respect for what youʼve done, despite your weakness, Iʼll grant you a painless death, Prince.”

Zoranʼs cold voice pierced Azrielʼs ears, sending a wave of goosebumps across his skin. He gritted his teeth.

And then—

”Whoa! Am I interrupting something intimate here? Should I leave the two of you alone for some... quality time?”

A new voice echoed through the cave, light and mocking.

Zoran froze.

Azriel exhaled, his body nearly collapsing in relief. Sweat covered him, but none of it mattered.

It was over.

Shakily pushing himself off the ground, Azriel stood, along with Zoran, both turning toward the entrance.

Zoran growled, his expression grim.

”Saint Solomon... the clown. The youngest to ever become a saint.”

Solomonʼs red eyes gleamed as his twisted grin widened.

In one hand, he dragged a limp body—armor-clad, white knight-like.

ʼ…The Guardian.ʼ

Solomon was holding its body.

Ignoring Zoran, Solomonʼs gaze shifted to Azriel.

”You took too long, so I figured Iʼd take this little guy for a walk to the twentieth floor. Trust me, no one wants to be there right now. The whole dungeonʼs gone crazy. Perfect for getting stronger, though. Want to join me after we clean up this mess?”

Azriel blinked as Solomon swung the Guardianʼs body like a toy. He couldnʼt help but curse inwardly.

ʼI almost died because he got bored…?ʼ

Frustration simmered beneath his exhaustion.

The plan had been simple—Solomon was supposed to wait, hide after Instructor Bensonʼs defeat.

But, of course, Solomon had gone off-script.

Azriel had never fully trusted him, which is why he had backups in place.

Still... it pissed him off.

Solomonʼs eyes flicked to the shattered bridge, then back to Azrielʼs battered form, noticing his missing hand.

”Well, you handled it on your own. As expected from my future partner! Stealing the mana bomb from the academy vault and planting it here—brilliant move. Allʼs well that ends well, right?”

Sighing, Solomon approached the edge of the broken bridge, his grin widening as he glanced at the Guardian.

”You were a good travel companion. You didnʼt speak, but your eyes said plenty. Sorry I couldnʼt return the favor.”

With that, Solomon tossed the Guardianʼs body into the void below.

”...!”

The ground shook.

Azriel collapsed to one knee, unable to stabilize himself.

A pulse surged through the ruins, blue light flickering from the bridgeʼs runes. Azriel turned just in time to see the massive gate glowing before it began to open slowly.

”Well, thatʼs sorted,” Solomon said, satisfied.

”It should stay open for the next 24 hours, give or take. Man, who wouldʼve thought a hidden boss fight would be here? Epic, right? Too bad the dungeonʼs a mess—Iʼd explore more, but even Iʼm cautious these days.”

With his rambling done, Solomon turned to Zoran, their eyes locking.

”So, youʼre one of the seven Heptarchs. Zoran, was it? Gotta say, I expected you to look scarier. But nope, just another handsome face. Which, letʼs be honest, isnʼt special—all saints are good-looking.”

Solomon grinned, pointing a finger at Zoran.

”So, in other words… youʼre plain.”

Veins bulged in Zoranʼs forehead. He was holding himself back from tearing Solomon apart.

Azriel couldnʼt blame him.

Despite his chaotic nature, Solomon was dangerous.

Perhaps more dangerous than any other saint. And if Zoran had read his part of the book telling him about the future, he would know not to underestimate Solomon.

”…Has the clown become a circus pet?” Zoran asked, voice dripping with contempt.

”I never thought you, of all people, would work for the Crimson Clan.”

Azriel remained silent as Solomon blinked, tilting his head in confusion.

”Me? Work for the Crimson Clan? No, no, no, thatʼs impossible. Iʼd rather eat pickles.”

Solomon waved his hand dismissively.

”I donʼt work for anyone. I cut a deal with that annoyingly handsome prince, and we work together. Partners. No allegiances to clans or any of that nonsense.”

Before Zoran could respond, his gaze flickered upward, his brows furrowing.

Azrielʼs heart raced, feeling as if a blade were pressed against his chest. Solomon, too, looked puzzled by Zoranʼs reaction.

”…Four apostles on the same floor. Itʼs unnatural. I should finish this before something troublesome arises.”

Solomon gave Zoran a look of disbelief.

”Iʼve heard youʼre some weird fanatic who gave up his humanity for power, but you really are insane, arenʼt you? Do all Heptarchs follow the mad writings in that book of yours?”

Zoranʼs expression was unreadable as he remained silent. Solomon sighed.

”Well, no matter. Iʼve learned what I needed. Not that I care, but…”

Grinning wildly, Solomonʼs voice dripped with mockery.

”How does it feel to get outplayed by a sixteen-year-old? Azriel ruined your precious plans, led you into a trap, and now, youʼre stuck in a cave with me. No escape. Donʼt you feel like absolute trash?”

Zoranʼs eyes turned bloodshot, glaring at Solomon with murderous intent.

Azriel clenched his jaw.

ʼI need to get out of here.ʼ

Just one wrong move from these two, and heʼd be dust.

He limped toward the entrance, his footsteps echoing in the now-silent cave.

Passing Zoran, Azriel didnʼt glance his way, and neither did Zoran toward him. As Azriel neared Solomon, the saint flashed him a grin.

”You did well. Go get some rest.”

”…Yeah, I will.”

Azriel forced a strained smile as he passed Solomon, but before he reached the dark passage, Zoranʼs cold voice echoed behind him.

”Youʼre the Apostle of Death. The Son of Death. The God of Death was never supposed to choose a side, yet he did. He broke the rules. Remember this, Prince Azriel Crimson—no one will ever look upon the Son of Death kindly. You will deceive yourself, seeking a place where you think you belong, but the truth is, you never will.

You seek the end, but you will never reach it.”

Azriel stopped, listening to Zoranʼs words but not turning around.

Eventually, he sighed.

”…How would you know? I destroyed the future. Nothing is written anymore.”

”....”

Azriel didnʼt wait for a response, nor did he get one.

The only sound that followed him was Solomonʼs mad laughter, echoing through the cave.

He seemed energized, almost drunk on adrenaline, eager for the chaos to begin.

Without looking back, Azriel stepped into the darkness.

His body ached, each limp forward feeling heavier than the last. But he pushed on.

As he hobbled further away from the cave, Leoʼs voice cut through the silence, sulking.

”We shouldʼve stayed, at least for the start! I mean, come on, whoʼd want to miss a fight between the legendary Son of Ruin and the Clown? Seriously, have you lost it?”

”Shut up.”

Azriel snapped, his voice harsh.

”I wouldʼve had to use [Redo] just for watching them fight. Neither of us couldʼve kept up anyway.”

Leoʼs complaints werenʼt baseless. Both Zoran and Solomon were legends, even among saints. And thatʼs precisely why it was too dangerous to stay.

Two crazed lunatics, both hell-bent on killing each other.

Why would he risk his life watching a battle he couldnʼt even comprehend?

But there was one thing he was certain of: right now, he was safe.

The sounds of the cave had long faded behind him, not even a sign of tremors.

Nothing disturbed the eerie silence. It felt like this dark passage was a separate world entirely, disconnected from the abandoned tunnel on the other side and the cave.

It was confusing.

Yet, somehow, this tunnel wouldnʼt be destroyed.

It simply couldnʼt.

Because there was nothing here to destroy.

How could one destroy nothing?

Leoʼs voice broke through his thoughts again, though now it carried a quieter, almost mocking tone.

”So, you want to see the end, huh? Makes sense. You never got to finish reading, and youʼre an idiot who loves discovering the unknown… heh. Still, to think each Heptarch has a book with a piece of the future written in it. That idiot thought he knew everything, but honestly, he was following blindly. No clue what he was really doing.”

Azrielʼs lips twitched into a faint smile at Leoʼs words.

”Itʼs called pure devotion. The book he has shows only fragments of the future, as you said. But he doesnʼt know the whole story—just whatʼs told to him, and what the other Heptarchs have shared. In the end, only the Supreme Archon knew the final outcome before I came. And yet, these people donʼt question him. They trust him completely, follow him without hesitation.

If he says black is white, then to them, black will be white for the rest of their lives.”

The Crying Fog let out a deranged laugh.

”Truly mad, unlike us. Weʼre the only sane ones here.”

Azrielʼs smile widened as he limped further into the darkness.

”Indeed, we are.”