Path of the Extra

Chapter 264: Cheater

”That golden blood and his dumb pride... he really thought Iʼd team up with him, huh?”

Pierre glanced down at the corpse at his feet, then looked at Azriel.

”I should thank you, pretty boy. The Margrave finally let his guard down around me. He was a pain in the ass to kill, honestly. But thanks to that wound you gave him... I managed to finish the job.”

”...Is that so.”

”Mhm. Who wouldʼve thought thereʼd be a pistol capable of piercing even the body of an advanced-ranked human? I did warn him to be careful. He reaped what he sowed, I suppose.”

Pierreʼs lips curled into a sharp grin.

”Well, now itʼs just the two of us. No more distractions, right? Thatʼs why you baited him. Pretended to focus on me while waiting for him to strike so you could end it. Sorry. Looks like I was faster.”

”...”

”Letʼs take it up a notch, shall we?”

Azriel clenched his jaw. His knees bent slightly, body lowering into a stance. Then, without a word, he dismissed both of his soul weapons, leaving Pierre visibly confused.

Red lightning coiled furiously around Azrielʼs form, crackling like a storm trapped in flesh. The bolts flared brighter, hotter—then began to shift. Red turned to white.

The storm changed.

White lightning surged across his body, flashing like divine judgment. Every bolt that struck the muddy earth beneath him froze the ground solid before shattering it into shards of ice that burst like glass.

Pierreʼs one good eye widened as his face hardened.

”Mana Will... dual affinities... and now merging incompatible ones? To deal with the Margrave, I got someone even more troublesome. Are the gods trying to balance the scales against me?”

Azrielʼs eyes narrowed—but he didnʼt answer.

He moved.

The world blurred.

In the blink of an eye, he stood in front of Pierre.

ʼHe can teleport... but that doesnʼt make him faster than me.ʼ

Before Pierre could react, before his mind could even process the movement, Azrielʼs fist slammed into his face. He was launched backward, the ground tearing beneath him in a shockwave of ice and thunder.

Azriel followed.

He surged forward again—faster than thought, faster than sound—and before Pierre could recover, Azriel was above him. Pierre was still falling, slower than a stone in syrup, when the next blow landed.

A punch to the chest.

Another to the stomach.

Another to the jaw.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The ground exploded. A crater formed beneath them, deepening with each strike. The earth quaked. The few standing houses in the area trembled and collapsed, unable to withstand the aftermath of their clash.

Azriel didnʼt stop.

His fists hammered down in a relentless rhythm.

Chest. Face. Gut. Chest. Face. Gut.

ʼAgain!ʼ

By the time either of them realized it, Azriel had driven Pierre deep—dozens of meters into the earth. The crater was filled with shattered ice and fractured stone, white lightning dancing in the air like vengeful spirits.

Azrielʼs fist descended once more, ready to crush Pierreʼs face—

But he vanished.

”...!”

Azrielʼs eyes snapped upward. Pierre floated above the crater, looking down.

Despite the ice.

Despite the merged affinities.

Despite the destruction.

Pierre was completely unharmed. Not a single scratch on his body.

”Youʼre strong! Fast! Smart! Which is why I have no choice... but to kill you before you become more trouble!”

Azrielʼs gaze sharpened.

Then Pierre raised his right palm and pointed it toward him.

Azrielʼs entire body tensed. Something primal twisted inside him. A jolt of pure instinct screamed in his veins.

Get out.

Now.

His mind rang with alarm bells. His skin tingled. His hairs stood on end.

Azriel gritted his teeth.

ʼThis better work.ʼ

He forced every ounce of mana into his legs. His aura pulsed violently as he reinforced it, flooding his limbs with raw power.

Then—

He vanished.

”Huh?”

Pierre blinked.

The crater was empty.

Then—

A white bolt of lightning shot upward, not down. It exploded from the crater like a divine lance ascending toward the heavens, piercing the clouds above and parting the sky.

The ground erupted.

Pierreʼs body was launched backwards, crashing through buildings like paper, flung kilometers away by the force.

”Huh?” he repeated, dazed.

Then he froze.

A breath. Cold and damp.

Behind him.

Something was breathing down his neck.

A whisper followed.

”Tempest Lock.”

”Huh—?”

Before the thought could finish forming, crystalline chains burst out of thin air. Pale-blue. Semi-transparent. Glowing with veins of white lightning.

They wrapped around him in an instant.

”What? Wait—wait! Wait! W-wait!”

His body was slammed into the ground, mud splashing everywhere. Yet still, not a drop clung to him. Still, he was unharmed.

And yet—

He screamed.

”H-How is this fair?! This is not fair! This is unfair! You—youʼre cheating! Yes, cheating! How can you move faster than an advanced-ranked human should?! Youʼre way faster than an advanced! You have Mana Will! You have dual affinities! Your mana regeneration is off the damn charts! You have those weird weapons and armor!”

He thrashed against the chains.

”You—you—youʼre a cheater! A CHEATER!”

Azriel turned his body, his gaze falling on Pierre with disdain.

”Cheater?”

Without hesitation, Azriel summoned Atroposʼ Elegy and aimed the Desert Eagle squarely between Pierreʼs eyes. His finger pulled the trigger.

The white bullet slammed into Pierreʼs skull, throwing his head back as it crashed against the muddy ground—yet again, no damage.

”If Iʼm a cheater…”

BAM—!

”…Then—”

BAM—!

”What—”

BAM—!

”Are—”

BAM—!

”You?”

BAM—!

BAM—! BAM—! BAM—! BAM—! BAM—! BAM—!

Azriel kept pulling the trigger, his mana draining with each shot. But he didnʼt care. Not even a little.

Each time Pierreʼs expression twisted in frustration, something inside Azriel stirred—cold satisfaction blooming with every impact.

Then, amid the sound of bullets, Pierre shouted at him:

”Stop!”

BAM—!

”S-Stop! Damn you, STOP!”

BAM—!

”STOP!”

BAM—!

”You bast—!”

BAM—!

”GOLD BLO—”

BAM—!

”YO—”

BAM—!

BAM—!

”I SAID STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!”

The gun finally stopped. Azriel stared down, cold eyes void of pity.

”Whatʼs wrong?” he asked.

”Didnʼt you say you wanted to take it up a notch? If youʼre so bothered, you can always teleport again.”

Pierre glared back, contorting his face in a mask of hatred and contempt.

”Why canʼt you get it?! I AM SUPERIOR TO YOU GOLD BLOODS! I AM NOT KILLABLE! I AM UNKILLABLE! NO ONE CAN DEFEAT M—”

BAM—!

Azriel fired again, slamming Pierreʼs head back into the mud.

”Liar.”

BAM—!

”You really are a hypocrite.”

BAM—!

”If you were truly immortal… then you wouldnʼt have such a scar.”

BAM—!

”Ah.”

BAM—!

”S-Stop—!”

BAM—!

”Plea—!”

BAM—!

”STO—!”

BAM—!

”I SAID STOP!!”

ʼ…!!ʼ

Without warning, the chains shattered. A burst of force threw Azriel backward, hurling him into a half-crumbled house that instantly collapsed under the impact.

Buried under the rubble, white lightning crackled around him. It burst outward in a blinding pulse, vaporizing the debris into shards of ice.

Azriel stood, brushing the dust from his armor.

Above, Pierre hovered in the air—floating, sneering, looking down with an eye that glowed with raw hatred.

Azriel laughed, hollow and bitter.

ʼIʼve really done it now…ʼ

Again, Pierre raised his right hand and aimed it at him. Azrielʼs body seized up in response. Every instinct screamed.

Dodge!

Mana surged inside him. Azriel gritted his teeth, channeled it to his legs, and vanished in a burst of light, a jagged trail of white electricity scorched into the earth behind him.

Then he felt it—a massive ripple of mana sweeping across his skin like a tidal wave.

ʼShit!ʼ

In a flash, he reappeared atop another house. A white bolt of lightning marked the path behind him.

And then… he saw it.

Where he had just stood—a long, clean gash now split the earth. It ran so deep that not even his eyes could see the bottom.

ʼWhen did he…?ʼ

His thoughts were interrupted as Pierre raised his hand again, aiming with eerie calm.

Azriel clicked his tongue and leapt to another rooftop.

A breath later, the house heʼd just abandoned—

Split in half.

No warning. No flash. No energy build-up.

Just a clean, vertical cut.

ʼ…What the hell is that?ʼ

Azriel pursed his lips.

With a flick of his wrist, Void Eater materialized in his right hand. Holding both weapons low and ready, he watched Pierre cautiously.

ʼWhat did he just do...? Heʼs still an Advanced, that hasnʼt changed. But it feels like heʼs leveled up. I donʼt know how to explain it, but... heʼs different now. More dangerous.ʼ

ʼNone of it matters unless I figure out a way to bypass that damn invincibility. Is it part of his Space affinity? It doesnʼt feel like a skill heʼs activating... itʼs like itʼs just on—no matter how many times I shoot, no matter the timing... it never deactivates.ʼ

In the end, Azriel had only one choice.

He had to wait. Wait for an opportunity.

Raising Atroposʼ Elegy, he steadied his breathing, about to pull the trigger—

But before he could, Pierre spoke. His voice colder than Azriel had ever heard it.

”You seem to be under a certain... misunderstanding, Gold Blood.”

”…Huh?”

Azrielʼs gaze sharpened. Pierreʼs expression had turned hollow, emotionless—his face now a porcelain mask staring down at Azriel as though he were an insect smeared across glass.

ʼHis personality…ʼ

Pierre let out a soft scoff, lips curling.

”The only reason I told those knights I might fall was to bait you. I needed you to come in close. If that other Gold Blood hadnʼt shown up, I couldʼve played with you a little longer. What a pity.”

Azriel felt something cold ghost across the back of his neck.

A breath.

ʼWhat...?ʼ

He spun, slashing Void Eater in a wide arc, eyes flaring open—Pierre was standing right behind him, hands calmly folded behind his back.

Then, almost lazily, Pierre lifted a single hand…

And gripped Void Eater by the blade.

ʼ…What?ʼ

Pierre smiled, a maddening calm in his eyes.

”Oh—and that scar? The missing eye?” He tapped the ruined side of his face with a finger.

”That was when I was still a Dormant. Back then, I didnʼt have enough mana to activate my [Unique Skill]. But now… I do.”

He leaned in again, his breath brushing against Azrielʼs cheek like frostbite.

”My immortality is no trick or illusion. Itʼs my [Unique Skill]. My perfection. I cannot be killed. I cannot be harmed. I cannot be sullied. And the best part?”

His smile widened, splitting his face unnaturally.

”I only had to activate it once. No mana cost anymore. No maintenance. No side effects. Nothing.”

ʼBullshit. Thatʼs not even broken—thatʼs... impossible!ʼ

Azriel tried to pull his sword free, but Pierreʼs grip was immovable—like he was holding onto reality itself.

Clicking his tongue, Azriel desummoned Void Eater in an instant and raised Atroposʼ Elegy, aiming the muzzle directly at Pierreʼs chest—

A searing pain exploded in his left hand.

He looked down.

His thumb was gone.

It lay on the ground, twitching in a small pool of blood.

”…Ah.”

A crimson jet sprayed from the stump. Before he could react, Pierreʼs right hand clamped down over his mouth, silencing him, yanking his face closer.

And that grin returned.

The grin of a man who found poetry in cruelty.

”What was it you said again?”

Pierre tilted his head.

”Ah, right… ʼYou think a mere Awakened-ranked sword can harm me?ʼ”

He chuckled.

”Well then… how about this?”

From thin air, a small pocket knife appeared in Pierreʼs other hand. Just a crude thing. A flick of steel. But Azrielʼs eyes went wide.

He tried to move—

—but his body was locked in place.

ʼNo. No no no—dammit!ʼ

ʼWhy canʼt I move!?ʼ

”It cost quite a lot to have even this little toy made,” Pierre muttered.

”Especially in times like these… But an Advanced-ranked weapon, even something this small… should do the trick, right?”

The cold steel touched the skin just above Azrielʼs right eye.

And something inside him—his body, his soul, his instincts—began screaming.

ʼMove. Move. Move. MOVE!ʼ

Pierre frowned, tapping the tip of the knife against Azrielʼs skin. Each time it touched, a ripple of unease crawled beneath his flesh.

”Your skinʼs quite durable… huh.”

And it was.

[Eidolon Flesh] made his body far tougher than normal. Not only was his skin more resilient, but wounds and scars would fade faster than usual. Given enough time, Azrielʼs body could heal from almost anything.

No matter the injury.

No matter the damage.

And yet, in this moment, all he felt was cold, paralyzing dread.

”Oh well.”

Without warning, the knife sank deeper—just above his right eye.

Pierreʼs hand released his mouth, and Azrielʼs scream tore from his throat like a broken chain snapping loose. He clenched his eyes shut, but the pain didnʼt lessen.

And even then, he wasnʼt allowed the mercy of thrashing.

[Soulʼs Crucible] tried to numb the agony—yet all it managed to do was keep Azriel painfully, miserably conscious.

Because Pierre… never stopped.

The knife dragged downward.

Slow. Unrelenting.

Carving through his eyelid. Slicing through flesh.

Azriel screamed, his voice cracking.

He felt everything.

The skin resisted. It stretched.

And then it tore.

Warm, wet blood burst forth, coating the blade, flooding his eye.

He blinked instinctively—and crimson painted his vision. It stung like acid. It tasted of iron and bile

and burning shame.

Pierre said nothing.

He just watched.

Watched like he was curious.

Curious how long Azriel would last.

Then something snapped.

A nerve.

Fire erupted across his face.

The line where the knife had passed throbbed violently, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Pierreʼs voice came then.

”And now… for the final touch.”

”W-wai—A—”

Pop.

A wet, nauseating sound. Then—

Fire.

As though his entire nervous system had been set alight.

It spread through his skull like wildfire, an inferno with no air left to breathe.

And then—

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

”A—!”

Azriel let out a broken, animalistic cry.

Louder than before.

Because a knife—

Was lodged in his right eye.