Path of the Extra

Slowly, Azriel raised both hands in surrender, speaking hurriedly yet trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

“Don’t be rash, Instructor Ranni—it’s me, Azriel, your most beloved and strongest cadet! I admit, perhaps I’ve skipped your classes one too many times, but surely that’s not reason enough to pierce my head! The academy has barely begun—at least give me a chance to redeem myself!”

The six swords of water hovered menacingly around her, terrifyingly sharp—nearly as terrifying as the icy expression Instructor Ranni wore.

“I apologize, but I’m finding it quite challenging to maintain my composure upon seeing my most beloved and strongest cadet drunk.”

“…Hah? Drunk? Who said I’m drunk?!”

“Your ears and cheeks are red.”

“They’re not!”

“They are.”

Ranni took another step forward, and suddenly the six water swords began spinning at alarming speeds. Her expression remained dangerously calm.

“I despise alcohol. But what I despise even more is seeing one of my students intoxicated.”

Azriel’s eyes widened in panic.

“Wait, wait! I can explain—just relax!”

Instantly, a silver flask appeared in his right hand.

“See this? This has been my only source of nourishment for the past week! The currency in this world is different from ours, and this flask contains unlimited alcohol and replenishes my mana completely every twenty-four hours! Surely you can’t blame me for choosing kindness and generosity over robbing these poor commoners!”

True, he had promised himself he’d stop drinking—but Azriel found it nearly impossible to resist this time.

However, Ranni appeared unmoved by his excuses. Without hesitation, one of the spinning water swords flew toward him at terrifying speed. Azriel’s heart skipped a beat, and instinctively he whistled softly.

A silver-white streak flashed through the hole created by Ranni’s earlier spear, and before the water sword reached Azriel, it exploded into droplets, drenching the entire room—and both their clothes.

Ranni’s eyes widened slightly, watching the single drenched feather now floating gracefully in circles between them.

“Alright, alright—I get it! You hate alcohol! But isn’t trying to kill me a bit extreme?!”

’What on earth is wrong with her? In the book, she was portrayed as an exceptionally kind instructor who deeply cared for her students, even though she was always sleep-deprived. So why is she behaving this way? Who in their right mind tells their student to die!?’

From what Azriel had experienced, the book’s portrayal of her had seemed accurate—so what changed? Surely she wouldn’t smite him out of existence merely for drinking; he wasn’t even that drunk!

She stopped watching the feather—which now floated peacefully—and fixed her cold gaze back on Azriel.

“Apologies,” she finally spoke.

“After spending the past three months keeping my other cadets alive, desperately searching for a cure for one who’s fallen into a coma, watching others slowly descend into madness or run away, dealing with participants who seem determined to murder them, constantly facing threats in this hostile world, and having just returned from fighting dozens of void creatures—and then finally seeing my most strongest and capable cadet return… drunk, of all things—I suppose I snapped.”

Azriel’s lips twitched.

“Well, if you’d allowed me to explain before nearly turning my head into an exploded watermelon, it might’ve eased your burdens.”

“Explain? I suppose we haven’t had a proper conversation in quite some time, have we, Cadet Azriel?”

“…”

“In fact, the last time we spoke seriously was when you and Saint Solomon informed us of a mission you’d both planned… a mission that ultimately led to the deaths of over three hundred innocent lives.”

The room suddenly felt as though it had been plunged into icy darkness. Silence lingered heavily between them, and the smile disappeared entirely from Azriel’s face. The feather continued to drift unbothered, weaving lazy patterns through the tense air.

“Ah…” Azriel exhaled softly.

“So that’s the reason.”

Ranni remained silent. Azriel rubbed the back of his neck, his expression turning sour.

“And?”

“And?” Ranni’s voice lowered dangerously, causing the room to feel even colder.

“Yeah, and?” Azriel repeated firmly.

“I understand you’re angry with me for using you. The plan we initially presented was false; our true objective was always taking down a Heptarch. As I already told Freya afterward, I don’t regret it. By sacrificing three hundred innocent lives, I prevented the deaths of millions. I stopped a greater tragedy by causing a lesser one.”

Ranni narrowed her eyes.

“See, that’s where you’re mistaken, Cadet Azriel. You act as though you’re wise and all-knowing. Perhaps that’s why you and Saint Solomon understand each other so well. But in reality, both of you simply choose the path of least resistance, one where you can thrive in chaos. There was never a need for tragedy. Someone like you, who had eyes on Neo Genesis for so long, surely knew about some of their bases—certainly one where a Heptarch resided?”

Azriel didn’t answer, but his silence was confirmation enough. Ranni stepped forward.

“We could have followed even the false plan and prevented so many needless deaths. We could have attacked one of their bases afterward, once their existence was public and undeniable. Instructor Benson and Instructor Kevin didn’t need to die. We could have prevented Instructor Alicia from becoming a widow, prevented the death of Cadet Kanae. I know it was you who killed Instructor Benson, Instructor Kevin, and Cadet Kanae. I understand now why Saint Solomon was so insistent on letting you handle matters inside the Void Dungeon. But it was a mistake to trust that clown—or you. Both of you are incapable of empathy; all you ever do is exploit lives for your own ambitions.”

Azriel stared at her, lips pressed tightly together.

“…I didn’t kill Cadet Kanae.”

“…Then who did?”

“It was Instructor Benson,” Azriel said quietly. “I wasn’t even there when it happened. Nor did I poison her or anything else.”

“The autopsy confirmed there was no poison involved. It concluded that someone used a [Skill] or a [Unique Skill] on her. Instructor Benson had no such [Skill] or [Unique Skill].”

“How do you know?” Azriel challenged sharply.

“You didn’t even know he was part of Neo Genesis. Who knows what abilities he hid? Maybe it was even one of the other members of Neo Genesis who were hiding on the second floor.”

“Because he was my friend!” Ranni suddenly shouted, anger twisting her features.

“Despite everything, I know that at the very least, he would not stoop so low as to kill a child in such a horrible and gruesome way!”

Azriel was momentarily stunned, his eyes wide as the swords of water spun dangerously faster around her. Carefully, he raised his hands, speaking cautiously.

“Instructor…you’re letting your emotions overwhelm you. I understand you’re upset because I killed someone important to you, but please calm down and look at the bigger picture. For the sake of the future, for all your students—emotions like anger, sadness, and grief… sometimes, there is no choice but to bury them.”

Azriel truly understood Ranni’s anger. She felt betrayed, used. He knew his actions would be both praised and condemned. She wasn’t like Freya, who could immediately grasp the greater benefit behind Azriel’s harsh decisions. No, Instructor Ranni was too pure, too genuine for that.

He understood why she was furious. Furious that a trusted colleague, her friend, had secretly been part of a terrorist organization and had died without explanation. Furious that one of her own students had been killed. He knew how much pain she felt.

That purity was exactly why Azriel wanted Freya to mentor Lumine instead. In the book, Ranni had become Lumine’s master at one point in time, but both of them were too kind. Azriel needed someone who understood the darker facets of reality to prepare Lumine properly—someone more like Freya—before it was too late.

Azriel also knew the immense stress Instructor Ranni had endured since entering this scenario. She was alone, carrying the burden of protecting all the weaker participants in this brutal environment.

But…

his words weren’t reaching her.

“Is that how you’ve survived all this time?” Ranni finally asked bitterly, voice trembling with controlled anger.

“By burying everything you feel? I’m sorry, but that’s something I cannot and will not do.”

Looking at her face, Azriel sighed quietly, slowly lowering himself onto the drenched ground. His gaze drifted to the flask in his hand; he had already used the full twenty-four-hour mana replenishment, yet he still considered taking another sip. But when he caught sight of her cold eyes, he hesitated, deciding otherwise.

’I guess I have no other choice…’

Who would have thought stress could make her this…

Angry.

But there truly was no other way.

He desperately wished there had been another.

Why…

Why did he always have to lie?

Azriel’s face darkened as he glanced downward, his expression tightening as he raised his gaze slightly.

“It was precisely because I couldn’t bury my emotions… that all those innocent lives were lost.”

Ranni stared at him, confusion clouding her eyes, but before she could voice a question, Azriel met her gaze with intense sincerity and elaborated.

“I assume you, like everyone else, know I spent two years in the Void Realm.”

Her cold façade fractured slightly.

“During my remaining time there, surviving became increasingly impossible. Eventually, injured, broken, exhausted from countless battles with void creatures, I collapsed. Someone found me and brought me to a certain facility… a facility within the Void Realm, where… they experimented on humans.”

“…!”

Her eyes widened in shock.

“I was one of their subjects… in a facility run by Neo Genesis.”

Ranni faltered, and the swords of water surrounding her dissolved instantly.

’I am sorry…’

“I thought I could let the past go, but I was wrong. It haunted me day and night. I had to do something. Sabotaging their debut in Asia wasn’t enough—I… I had to hurt them more.”

Azriel closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.

“All I could think of was revenge… Killing a Heptarch was the closest thing I could do to make them feel even a fraction of the pain they’d inflicted on me.”

’I am sorry I had to use your kindness.’

Her eyes trembled, her face pale and filled with disbelief.

“What… what are you saying?”

“I’m telling you the consequences of not burying my emotions—the truth about why more than three hundred innocent people died. It was because I… hate Neo Genesis.”