Path of the Extra

Azriel stared at her in silent shock for several seconds before his expression hardened. A mask of cold detachment quickly covered his features, his gaze growing frigid as he addressed the being wearing his sister’s face.

“…You must be the guardian of this forest.”

The guardian wearing Jasmine’s visage glanced at him briefly, then shifted its gaze away with a detached, almost bored expression. Slowly—each step deliberate and unhurried—it entered the cabin, then spoke arrogantly, its prideful voice so at odds with Jasmine’s familiar features that Azriel’s lip twitched in disgust. Yet, strangely, that arrogant tone reminded him of the Ice Princess.

“It seems your one remaining eye hasn’t rendered you entirely blind, at least. Though, frankly, even a toddler could’ve figured that out.”

The guardian’s eyes regarded him with thinly veiled disdain as it passed him, taking a seat calmly at the table. Azriel cautiously narrowed his single eye, watching the being with wary distrust.

“So, this is your next move? Wearing my sister’s face to break me, now that having Void Worms eat me alive or letting a Skinwalker tear me apart wasn’t enough?”

His voice was low, sharp, and venomous, but the guardian only smiled in amused silence, casually resting its chin in its palm as it crossed its legs.

“On the contrary, human. I’ve seen your memories. You’ve already proven that merely dying twice in gruesome agony won’t break you completely.”

Azriel’s lips curled into a defiant smirk.

“Annoying, isn’t it? I’m not exactly making it easy for you to turn me into another mindless battery.”

“You have done wonderfully indeed.”

“Huh?”

Despite its cold eyes, arrogant tone, and condescending gaze…

“I expected nothing less from you, Son of Death.”

…it was genuinely praising him.

Azriel fell silent, watching the guardian for a few tense seconds. Finally, he stepped slowly toward the table, pulling out the chair opposite the guardian and seating himself, his expression unreadable.

“So, what’s next? I’ve already played this game before. Void creatures wearing the faces of people I care about, trying to rip out my heart—it won’t work. You’re wasting your time. You’d have better luck throwing me back to those worms or bringing that Skinwalker again.”

The guardian shook its head slightly.

“I’m not here to play games with you any longer, human. I simply wish to have a conversation with the Son of Death.”

“…And I’m supposed to believe that after you killed me twice?”

“It’s the truth. If you were pathetic enough to break after only dying twice, I wouldn’t have bothered revealing myself at all.”

“…Is that so.”

Azriel watched it carefully, drumming his fingers quietly against the table.

‘I can’t even use mana. How absurd… There should still be time left. Whatever this being is, it truly controls everything here.’

He sighed softly.

“I wouldn’t want to waste your precious time. But, I suppose, we have an eternity in this forest.”

The guardian chuckled quietly to itself, shaking its head slightly.

“I never imagined she, of all beings, would desire an heir. Then again, no one ever truly understood what she thought or desired. Honestly… it’s somewhat disappointing that you have no idea who I am, human.”

“What?”

Azriel’s confusion returned, his heart suddenly hammering painfully in his chest, his throat growing unbearably dry. The guardian simply watched him, its arrogant smile never wavering.

‘Do I… already know it?’

“You already possess the knowledge, human. I’ve left you a clue. Perhaps this hint will guide you—I am neither human nor Void creature.”

“…!”

Azriel’s eye widened sharply as his mind raced.

‘Not a Void creature…? Then… what the hell is it? Why would it assume I know its identity? A clue? What clue—’

His head snapped toward the drawers, and he murmured shakily:

“‘Born from the blood of the first dying star…’”

Azriel’s gaze darted back to the guardian, whose expression remained unchanged. Memories and fragments of knowledge from the book: Path of Heroes suddenly stirred within him, the puzzle pieces sliding into place, instinctively clicking together in his mind.

‘Born from the blood of the first dying star… neither human nor a void creature… and it spoke of the Goddess of Death herself…’

The realization struck him like a thunderclap.

The being seated in front of Azriel was no god, no human, no Void creature.

‘It can’t be..!’

“….”

“‘When the first star died, its blood rained across the void, birthing a race of beings who bore its memory. They were celestial, wise, and doomed… the extinct divine spirits known as Starbloods.’”

Azriel murmured quietly, almost uncertainly—as if he doubted the words leaving his own lips.

Yet, the guardian’s widening smile quickly provided him with the absurd confirmation.

“Correct.”

Azriel clenched his jaw, feeling his heart hammer violently against his ribs, drowning out all rational thought. His chest grew unbearably heavy, even as his body remained frozen with unnatural cold and his mana core continued to burn painfully.

Those eyes… they bore down on him mercilessly, impossibly heavy.

“How…? Your entire race was supposed to be extinct.”

It laughed softly, deeply amused.

“Says the anomaly himself! You of all beings should know best—lies surround us on all sides.”

The divine spirit races—spirits, once said to be direct servants of the gods. There had originally been six of them, according to the book Path of Heroes: the Starbloods, the Myrrhveils, the Mournvires, the Infernaris, the Aravelins, and the Astraphanes. In two years from the present moment, Lumine, Jasmine, Celestina, and Yelena would meet a divine spirit for the first time.

But it would not be a Starblood.

Because the Starbloods were gone—obliterated entirely from existence, exterminated by the gods themselves.

No one ever knew why. Neither Lumine, nor Yelena, nor even the divine spirit—a Myrrhveil—they would eventually meet could understand why the gods had chosen to annihilate the Starbloods.

The gods refused to speak of them, erasing the Starbloods completely from history itself.

Yet, somehow, the Myrrhveil had known.

“Good. Your mind is finally catching up,” the being interrupted Azriel’s chaotic thoughts.

Azriel snapped his head back, meeting its gaze.

“Then you should feel grateful,” it continued arrogantly, “for I have not yet commanded you to kneel, O Son of Death.”

Azriel’s expression twisted into a scowl, anger flaring at being spoken down to in such a condescending tone.

“What did you just say?”

The guardian’s mocking smile remained unchanged, though its eyes, wearing Jasmine’s face, now became colder, filled with bitter arrogance and disdain.

“Hmph, despite possessing all that knowledge from your curious little book, they dared erase even my name from existence? How utterly laughable! Rejoice, human!”

Its lips curled cruelly, revealing teeth in a malicious grin as it glared down at Azriel with unveiled contempt and seething hatred.

“Rejoice, for you now stand in the presence of I—Pollux, Great Divine Star-Spirit Emperor, Last Crown of the Starbloods!”