An Unordinary Extra

"Hello~," a mellifluous voice laced with playful mischief reverberated through the grand hall. Its source descended gracefully, each step commanding attention as her flowing pink hair caught the light, shimmering like spun silk.

Her eyes, twin orbs of dark jade, glimmered with an unsettling charm. Clad in a resplendent crimson gown that seemed to ripple like liquid fire, Alyssara Velcroix exuded an aura of untouchable elegance. The title 'Crimson Dancer' had never felt so apt.

The room froze in collective shock. Alyssara's visage had become infamous worldwide, her duel with Selene Kagu immortalized in stories and whispers. And yet, here she was—uninvited, unapologetic, and utterly unbothered.

Instinct took over. The assembled warriors and mages immediately armed themselves, mana surging like a tide through the room as they prepared to fight.

Jeong Moyong acted first.

His sword radiated the sharp clarity of wind and the relentless flow of water, both infused with his astral energy. The weapon pulsed with the power of his Sword Heart, and with a single motion, he lunged at Alyssara.

She grinned, a picture of unruffled amusement, before vanishing in a blur. Jeong's strike carved through empty air.

Alyssara reappeared, her heel pressing lightly against his head as if mocking his effort. "Tsk, tsk. So feisty," she chided, her voice honeyed with condescension. "I'm not here to fight, darling."

Jeong growled, his grip on his sword tightening. His mana surged as he invoked the Moyong Family's Second Petal, Skyward Lotus: Blossom in Storm.

Crimson threads shimmered into existence around Alyssara, moving like living tendrils. They intercepted Jeong's attack effortlessly, slicing through his wind and water energies as if they were paper. Before he could react, the threads wrapped around him, binding him tightly.

With a flick of her fingers, Alyssara hurled Jeong across the hall like a discarded toy. He skidded to a stop, glaring at her as he struggled against the threads holding him in place.

Kathyln's wind magic crackled to life, and Tian Gu stepped forward, his fiery mana coalescing into a blazing sphere. But before either could unleash their power, a voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Halt!"

Leopold Astoria's voice boomed, amplified by his potent mana. It commanded authority, rooting everyone in place. His sword, though still sheathed, seemed to carve through the very air, its intent severing the threads holding Jeong captive.

"Why are you here?" Leopold's tone was measured, but his violet eyes betrayed the calculating mind behind them as they bore into Alyssara.

The truth weighed heavy on him. He knew the precariousness of the situation. A battle here would be catastrophic, reducing Hwaeryun to rubble and claiming every life in the room save perhaps his own. Even then, his survival was far from assured.

Leopold was no fool. As one of the weaker Radiant-rankers, he understood his limits. If Alyssara had bested Selene Kagu, someone his superior, then any notion of victory was a dangerous delusion.

And the fact that she had entered the hall without so much as disturbing the air spoke volumes.

Alyssara's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, Archduke," she cooed, her voice a mockery of civility. "I simply couldn't resist dropping in. After all, such an illustrious gathering deserves my presence, don't you think?"

"Don't lie to me, you disgusting wretch," Leopold's voice was sharp and unyielding, like tempered steel. At his side, his sword shimmered into existence, its violet blade catching the light and casting eerie reflections across the room.

This was Eternael, the Legendary-grade heirloom of the Astoria archdukedom. The sword's violet hue mirrored the distinctive eyes of the Astoria family, a symbol of their lineage and power.

Alyssara's lips curved into a teasing smile, utterly unfazed by the hostility radiating from the Archduke. "Oh, Archduke, don't be so dramatic. You wouldn't dare fight me here, would you?" Her voice was lilting, playful, dripping with mockery—and absolute confidence.

She wasn't wrong. Leopold's grip on Eternael tightened, but doubt seeped into his heart like poison.

She was terrifying.

His finely honed Radiant-rank senses screamed at him, warning of danger with a clarity he had only felt a handful of times in his life. Worse still, the sheer weight of her presence felt more oppressive than when he had crossed blades with Magnus Draykar.

'Stronger than him?' The thought curdled in his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

Eternael pulsed faintly in his grasp, amplifying his awareness. The blade's legendary enchantments gave him insights beyond his rank, allowing him to sense the levels of power in others. But with Alyssara, it was like staring into a mirror of lies. He could perceive the surface she wanted him to see—a façade, meticulously crafted—but the true depths of her power lay hidden, veiled by something even his artifact couldn't pierce.

It chilled him.

'If this is true,' Leopold thought grimly, 'then our only hope lies with the next generation.' His resolve hardened. Even if he fell here, the future had to remain unscathed. The prodigies of this era—Arthur, Sun, Lucifer—they were humanity's best chance. He would ensure they survived.

Alyssara cocked her head, her playful demeanor undisturbed. "I'm not here to hurt anyone," she said with a casual shrug. "Unless, of course, someone decides to hurt me first." She paused, her jade-green eyes glinting mischievously before she continued, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "I swear it on my mana."

The room fell silent. Even the distant hum of mana in the atmosphere seemed to pause, stunned by her declaration.

Leopold's eyes narrowed as his mana surged, scanning her essence. The words weren't hollow. A mana oath, the most binding of promises, tethered her words to the very core of her being. If she broke it, the result would be catastrophic—her mana would rebel, tearing her apart from within, no matter how powerful she was.

It was no bluff.

Leopold's grip on Eternael relaxed slightly, though his wariness remained. "You've made your promise," he said, his voice cold but measured. "Let's hope you keep it."

Alyssara's grin widened, her confidence unshaken. "Oh, Archduke," she said, her tone dripping with mock innocence, "when have I ever been dishonest?"

Leopold didn't reply, his violet eyes watching her with the same sharpness as his blade.

"Now, now," Alyssara said, her voice as light as a breeze and just as unsettling. "How about we all enjoy this banquet together? I must say, congratulations are in order for reclaiming Hwaeryun. Truly an impressive victory—though, let's be honest, it was only possible because of how thoroughly you outnumbered us."

Her jade-green eyes glided over the crowd like a predator scanning for weakness. The tension in the air thickened as she lingered on each wary face, savoring their unease. Then her gaze landed on Arthur.

Their eyes locked.

His piercing blue eyes met hers without flinching, their depth radiating equal parts defiance and hatred. Her smile widened, and a faint blush dusted her cheeks.

'How utterly perfect,' she thought, her heart thrumming with a strange delight. 'Oh, how I adore those eyes, brimming with loathing.'

The urge to act surged within her, a tantalizing, almost overwhelming desire to wrap her crimson threads around him, to claim him, cage him, keep him close forever. Not as a prisoner, of course. No, it would be a sanctuary, a place where he would want for nothing under her care.

It wasn't cruelty—it was devotion.

But she couldn't. Not yet.

Arthur didn't remember. He didn't understand.

He wasn't ready.

Taking him now, when his potential had yet to be fully realized, would be like plucking a fruit before it ripened. It would taste bitter, incomplete. No, she would wait. She would nurture her obsession until it bore the sweetest fruit.

He had to reach his zenith first, to become everything he was destined to be. And then, in his moment of greatest triumph, she would break him, defeat him, and finally make him hers.

Her crimson lips curled further as the thought danced in her mind. She wasn't here to fight. She wasn't here to claim him—not yet.

This was merely a glimpse, a fleeting indulgence to satiate her longing.

Because it would be a long time before she saw him again.

"It's good to see that humanity has some future," Alyssara said, her voice lilting with feigned benevolence, though her piercing jade eyes never strayed from Arthur.

She noted the way Rachel and Seraphina instinctively tightened their grips on his arms, a protective gesture that made her heart flare with something sharp and primal. For a fleeting moment, crimson threads began to shimmer faintly around her fingertips, an impulse to sever those bonds and remove the obstacles between her and him.

But she quelled the urge, a thin smile masking the storm within. Breaking her oath now would not only mean her death but a premature end to her carefully laid plans. Patience, she reminded herself, though the word felt like a chain around her own desires.

"And especially Arthur Nightingale," she continued, her voice carrying a playful edge, "such an exceptional genius." She began to clap slowly, the sound echoing in the tense silence. "To the future Paragon of humanity, everyone!"

The room remained still, the only sound her solitary applause. Awkward glances darted among the attendees, no one daring to follow her lead.

Arthur's gaze hardened as he finally spoke, his voice steady but cold. "I will kill you, Alyssara."