Path of the Extra

Chapter 293: Petulant, Wayward Children

A choice had been made.

Mio stepped toward Lykos, whose expression was unreadable, yet those golden eyes betrayed chaotic emotions raging beneath his cold face. She stopped just before him, clutching her trembling hands tightly against her chest, forcing out the words that struggled to leave her lips.

”Lykos, I...”

”Tch.”

Lykos abruptly clicked his tongue, his gaze narrowing sharply over her shoulder.

”Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your filthy presence? Reveal yourself before I draw my sword, worm.”

”Worm?”

Mio spun around sharply, her heart racing at the unfamiliar, resonant voice.

Yet nothing stood there. The doors to the balcony remained open, the silver light of a full moon flooding the room, a gentle breeze brushing past.

Lykos’s expression darkened instantly as he moved protectively in front of Mio, extending one arm to shield her.

”Stay close.”

His tone was deadly serious, and Mio’s breath quickened, her chest tightening in fear.

A soft, amused voice spoke again, now from directly behind her:

”How intriguing.”

”Filth!”

Instantly, Mio found herself wrapped protectively in Lykos’s arms, his sword gleaming coldly between them and the intruder.

A chilling, haughty laugh filled the chamber, causing both Mio and Lykos to turn once more. Now, standing casually against the railing of the balcony with the moonlight outlining his form, stood someone—no, something—utterly inexplicable.

For a moment, a dread beyond comprehension seized Mio’s heart, freezing her blood. An ancient, primal fear surged from within, then faded slowly, yet not completely.

Draped in flowing robes of pure white—so immaculate they seemed to reject both darkness and light—the intruder stood bathed in the silver glow of the moon. His hair cascaded like liquid silver down to his feet, impossibly pristine, moving gently as if it were alive. His skin was unnaturally pale, porcelain-like, glimpsed only briefly beneath the fabric and at his elegant, graceful hands.

But it was his mask that stole Mio’s breath: a mesmerizing, terrifying white wolf mask, smooth as polished bone, gleaming eerily under the moonlight. Deep, endless voids served as eyes, ringed by subtle silver bands flickering like dying starlight. From atop the mask emerged two sleek, twisted antlers, blacker than the abyss.

Mio felt her heartbeat quicken violently, every instinct screaming at her to flee. Her legs trembled. Behind her, she could feel—even through his facade—Lykos trembling slightly too.

The masked figure laughed again softly, voice deep and resonant, laced with contemptuous amusement.

”The strongest creature of this world—a level 6? How deplorable.”

The disgust woven into those words made Mio flinch sharply.

’I...I can’t sense his mana at all.’

Lykos gripped his sword tighter, eyes narrowed in wary calculation.

”Who—or rather, what—are you? An assassin? A spy? I suggest you speak while my patience holds, for it’s notoriously thin.”

A low, scornful laugh rippled from beneath the mask.

”How amusing. Pretending to be a self-proclaimed king and command me—yet beneath that frigid, narcissistic mask lies only a frightened creature, acutely aware of the futility staining every word. Utterly pitiful.”

His gaze shifted subtly, those empty voids piercing through Mio’s very soul.

”Yet, even more tragic is the trembling flower you guard—a frail human who secretly yearns for oblivion. She who knows nothing of herself, or this world, eternally lost in the endless void of her insignificance.”

Mio’s breath caught painfully in her chest, the harsh truth of his words striking deeper than any blade.

’What...what is he...’

Those eyes—they saw everything.

Lykos growled fiercely, forcing a defiant smirk.

”You’ve come courting death, haven’t you? Do you understand the consequence of challenging not only a king, but the Apostle of the Sun itself?”

The masked figure tilted his head slowly, mockingly, and a suffocating silence descended upon the chamber. Mio’s world seemed to freeze entirely.

’Mio.’

”...!”

Her eyes widened. That was Lykos’s voice—inside her head.

’Stay calm. I’m using a skill. Listen carefully—run.’

’W-what...? No...Lykos, what are you saying?’

There was a brief, agonizing pause before his voice echoed again, steady yet tinged with deep anxiety.

’That man—no, that creature—is far stronger than me. The mana in the air willingly flows toward him, as if eager to submit. Mio... I don’t believe he’s human.’

Despair flooded Mio’s heart, choking her.

’A void creature...?’

’Run.’ Lykos’s voice repeated sternly.

’I’ll distract him. Take that chance and run far away, don’t look back.’

’No!’ Mio nearly cried out, fear tearing at her heart.

’I can’t leave you behind. I won’t!’

Couldn’t he see?

Didn’t Lykos realize?

Those haunting eyes behind the wolf mask never once left her. They disregarded Lykos entirely, as if he were a mere shadow.

The silence stretched unbearably until the masked figure spoke again, voice dripping with quiet contempt.

”The Apostle of the Sun? Apostle... how amusing.”

He laughed softly, voice caressing the edges of her sanity. His gaze remained fixed solely upon her.

”The gods you humans worship—your goddess of the Moon, your god of Wisdom, your god of the Sun—they are no gods at all.”

Mio’s eyes widened, the world around her spinning into chaos. The alien dread from before returned, intensified tenfold.

”All you humans have ever done is revere petulant, wayward children—restless interlopers who came to this world in search of amusement. They are not gods, nor shall they ever ascend to such stature. They lack even a name, possessing only a title—granted, perhaps, for a spark of talent measured against the insignificance of their youth. But that is the extent of it. They are neither divine, nor celestial, nor worthy of reverence. They are frail. Ordinary. The sole remarkable act they’ve committed is transgression—they shattered a law they were never meant to approach, let alone defy. They are not even permitted to set foot on this world, and yet...”

His voice deepened, heavy with contempt, and the pressure in the room thickened like a noose around the throat.

”Their sole distinction lies in their defiance—violating a sacred law to descend unbidden upon this world, bestowing hollow blessings upon you pitiful creatures, as though their scraps could ever carry meaning.”

When had Mio stopped breathing?

When had her heart begun beating so violently, so painfully against her ribs?

When had Lykos’s trembling become visible?

She barely registered the final, damning words, whispered like a secret too dreadful to hear:

”All they managed to do was mimic the act of bestowing blessings upon humans... and violate the law... the axiom of descent. Nothing more.”