Path of the Extra

Chapter 282: Astrium

”I see,” Pollux murmured quietly.

Then, his expression shifted.

Witnessing that sudden change, Azrielʼs eye widened in disbelief. His face twisted, blood boiling in outrage.

How dare he?

How dare Pollux look at him with such an expression—one of pity!?

Strangely, however, Pollux turned away, stepping toward one of the few books still intact—a thick tome bound in faded crimson, its blank cover coated with dust. Gently picking it up, he traced the dust thoughtfully with his fingers, wearing an expression filled with quiet melancholy.

”You were researching runes, werenʼt you?”

”You should already know the answer,” Azriel spat hoarsely.

”We never truly named them anything,” Pollux continued softly, unbothered by Azrielʼs hostility.

”But perhaps ʼVoid Runesʼ and ʼGod Runesʼ truly are fitting names—names you yourself bestowed upon them, Son of Death.”

Pollux turned back to Azriel with the same wistful, distant expression.

”Iʼve told you before: the Starbloods were the greatest among the divine spirit races. Even the gods feared our potential—because we alone commanded what they could never fully grasp.”

”…”

”The soul.”

”…!”

”Astrium.”

Pollux smiled faintly.

”Human, you desire to wield Astrium, donʼt you?”

Azrielʼs mouth fell open slightly as he stared in stunned silence, utterly shocked by Polluxʼs words.

”That is why you studied Void Runes and God Runes. You sought something beyond—your true wish was to create Soul Runes.”

Speechless, Azriel didnʼt know how to respond.

ʼAstrium…? Soul Runes?ʼ

”Your kind was surprisingly close to the truth,” Pollux mused, smiling even more profoundly at Azrielʼs bewildered expression.

”Mana is everywhere. It is ambient and ever-present—the lifeblood of magic and the foundation upon which all known spellcasting rests. Every human from your world is born with a network of mana veins, and at their center resides a mana core, an organ that serves as a gate. When you absorb mana, that mana travels through these veins, entering the core. For most beings, this is the limit—the mana core refines raw mana into usable magical energy, fueling spells, skills, and combat arts. This is all your world knows and teaches. All conventional magic depends upon this simple system.”

Polluxʼs smile widened knowingly.

”But the truth runs far deeper.”

”…”

”As Iʼve said, the mana core is a gate. And beyond that gate lies your Soul Realm—a hidden, internal dimension unique to each individual. It is the silent manifestation of oneʼs being: thoughts, memories, desires, regrets—the soul itself. Within this Soul Realm, another form of energy exists, undiscovered and unmastered by most.”

”…Astrium,” Azriel muttered, finishing Polluxʼs sentence.

”Correct.”

”T-then… Astrium isnʼt like mana?”

”Incorrect.”

Azriel frowned in confusion.

Pollux chuckled softly.

”It is mana—and yet it is not. Unfortunately, your mind canʼt yet fully comprehend the distinction. Astrium cannot simply be drawn from the outside world or sensed by ordinary means. It is born only when mana fully passes through the gate of your mana core into your Soul Realm. There, itʼs refined—not into ordinary magic, but something infinitely more profound. It becomes energy forged directly from your soulʼs essence. It is the energy required for true higher-order magic.”

”Higher-order magic…” Azriel whispered, entranced.

”Astrium isnʼt limitless,” Pollux continued softly, his voice growing heavier with caution.

”Itʼs drawn directly from the soul. Overuse can strain your Soul Realm, causing fractures within the self.”

”....”

”Trust me... when that happens, something far worse is born. Iʼm sure with your knowledge, you should know that.”

Azriel swallowed unconsciously, his throat parched dry as his heart hammered violently within his chest. His anger, his hatred, even his defiance faded completely, replaced by raw fascination.

Polluxʼs eyes darkened slightly, lost in memories as he spoke.

”The gods could use Astrium as well, but their ability was pitiful compared to ours. To the Starbloods, their grasp was laughable. We continued to learn, to grow—and their prideful envy festered. Eventually, their arrogance drove them mad, destroying everything in a jealous rage. Thus, the true knowledge of Astrium was buried alongside my people. That was one of the two reasons why my race went extinct.”

”What was the second?”

Pollux merely smiled and did not answer.

Then his eyes narrowed sharply, his tone suddenly grave and weighty.

”Only those who awaken Astrium can truly reshape the laws of existence.”

How… how could something like this even make sense?

Azriel gazed silently at Pollux. He wasnʼt sure how long theyʼd stood like this, or if time even existed within this endless, twisted dream. Finally, hesitantly, he asked:

”...So, can you use Astrium?”

Pollux smiled confidently.

”That much should be obvious.”

Azriel pressed his lips together, hesitating again before softly questioning,

”...Why tell me all of this?”

Polluxʼs expression shifted into wistfulness again—a melancholy that felt foreign on the proud face heʼd worn until now. The arrogance and haughty pride were still there, ever-present in his movements and voice, yet now softened by a hint of profound sadness.

”Truthfully, even Iʼm not certain,” he murmured.

”Perhaps because itʼs been so long since Iʼve spoken freely to another being. Or maybe because you, at least, are different. An anomaly, like me, who has lost everything—though in truth, youʼre even more of an anomaly than myself. Or perhaps I simply wished to pass on the knowledge of my people, the knowledge the gods themselves desperately tried to bury.”

He sighed deeply, shaking his head with a faint smile.

”Though, truth be told, if I were to explain everything I know about Astrium, it would take eons before you comprehended even half of it.”

Azrielʼs expression darkened. He exhaled softly, a breath of weary resignation, before tightening his grip around both weapons, raising his head with renewed determination.

Pollux raised an eyebrow, mildly amused.

”Are you truly that desperate to leave?”

”I am.”

”Even though youʼre so terribly exhausted?”

”Even though Iʼm so terribly exhausted.”

Pollux regarded him quietly for a long moment, then shook his head, sighing again.

”I genuinely do like you, Son of Death. But it seems weʼre destined to remain trapped in this endless loop. Our conversation has been delightful, truly, but youʼve left me with no choice—I must break you.”

Before Pollux could say anything more, Azriel interjected suddenly, his voice urgent yet calm.

”May I ask you one last question?”

Pollux frowned slightly but remained silent, waiting.

”You said earlier that Icarus was similar to both of us,” Azriel began cautiously.

”But if thatʼs true, then why are you still here? Do you no longer have ambitions to grow stronger? Donʼt you desire revenge against the gods? Donʼt you wish to soar again—to touch the sun?”

”I do.”

Azriel stared, confused. Then why was Pollux here? Why was he contradicting himself?

”But I wonʼt break my promise,” Pollux said quietly, sensing Azrielʼs confusion.

”Ah…” Azriel murmured softly.

Right, his promise—to Lady Mio.

ʼ…Where is she, anyway?ʼ

ʼHow exactly does this dream, this spell, truly function?ʼ

”Even though you risk losing your immortality one day? Even though you might fall along with this world, never again given a chance to reach toward the sun?”

Polluxʼs eyes turned dangerously cold, colder than Azriel had ever seen them. But rather than reply, the air itself began to tremble violently, mana fluctuating wildly as the very fabric of reality shattered like glass shards, leaving only the dark abyss. Then reality rebuilt itself, seamlessly, returning Azriel once more to the familiar confines of the cabin.

”How tedious…” Pollux murmured bitterly.

”With you added to those two calamities, I now have three threats to handle. Perhaps Iʼve truly lost my mind, doing the gods, your world, this one, and even fate itself a favor by trapping us all here.”

His expression darkened further with every passing moment. Azrielʼs heart started pounding inexplicably louder as an unknown dread gripped him. Polluxʼs voice twisted, growing distorted, echoing strangely as he continued:

”But what she is doing... itʼs all meaningless. I am immortal, the strongest of all; the skinwalker is the most dreadful; the void worms, countless. Yet you... Youʼre no Void creature, no god, not even a wild beast. You are merely human. Among us all, you can—and you will—break first.”

Azriel clenched his teeth fiercely.

”Weʼll see about that.”

Polluxʼs crimson gaze grew even colder, radiating unbearable arrogance, looking down on Azriel as if he were insignificant. His distorted voice resonated, echoing and rebounding off invisible walls:

”You misunderstand something vital, human. While I can influence this spell, I never claimed ownership of it.”

”What?”

”Time is twisted in this forest. Within this very dream—a dream we all share. You, me, the skinwalker, and the Void Worms—all of us. The only ones who have yet to break.”

Suddenly, an unspeakably malevolent presence flooded the cabin. It was approaching rapidly, relentlessly, an aura so horrifying Azrielʼs body shuddered uncontrollably.

”She has marked you, Son of Death,” Pollux warned darkly.

”Now, whenever you, I, or that skinwalker dies… time itself will fracture and reset. She intends to break us all. And when she does, she will burn the entire forest along with those Void Worms, destroying every calamity of this world once and for all—and then finally herself.”

Azrielʼs heart was thundering now, pounding so violently he feared it might burst at any moment.

ʼDammit…!ʼ

”Do not try to comprehend. You think I am the god of this forest? Youʼre mistaken—it was the little girl all along!”

Polluxʼs distorted laugh momentarily distracted Azriel from the horrifying presence rapidly closing in. He felt as if an icy hand gripped his frantically beating heart.

”But no one can break me. Nor will I ever break my promise,” Pollux proclaimed then softly, voice full of dreadful certainty. His twisted laughter echoed once more coldly through the cabin, piercing Azrielʼs very soul.

”This forest will remain here… for all eternity.”

At that exact moment, the cabin door exploded inward, splintering violently as a ferocious wind howled through the room. Azriel instinctively raised an arm to shield his eye from the flying debris, his shoulder-length hair whipping chaotically in the storm of dust and destruction.

Amidst the chaos, Pollux swung Sealbreaker in a calm, effortless motion.

There was no visible effect—no light, no sound—nothing to indicate anything had happened.

Yet in the very next instant, as Azriel attempted to lower his arm, he found he couldnʼt move it at all.

Because it was already lowered for him.

”A…g…?” A choked, unintelligible sound escaped Azrielʼs lips.

The sickening stench of dust mixed with something far worse. Warm blood flooded the cabinʼs ruined floor. Azrielʼs viscera spilled grotesquely outward, followed by shattered fragments of bone, drenched in crimson.

Only then did Azriel realize he had been cleanly split in half. Both halves of his body collapsed onto the ground, sinking into the expanding pool of his own blood and entrails.

Azriel died.

Yet within that infinite darkness, as death swallowed him, he heard Polluxʼs voice—soft, distant, incomprehensible, yet unmistakably clear:

”Thus, once more, he reached toward the sun and burned... forever.”