The Extra's Rise

What does it mean to love someone? I never knew before him. Growing up in the Mount Hua sect, I only felt safe with a handful of Masters—kind people with weathered faces and quiet voices, who'd sit with my mother under the cherry blossoms when she was still alive. Their eyes crinkled when they smiled at me, a small girl trailing after her mother's shadow. They were the only ones I didn't push away.

My father? He was a ghost in his own life. After Mom died, he locked himself in his training chambers, obsessed with surpassing the Martial King. The Sect Leader's duties piled up like dust on the shelves, ignored. He didn't see me—didn't care to.

My adopted brother was worse. His glares cut deeper than any blade, his jealousy a living thing that coiled around us. He hated the blood in my veins, the legacy I carried without asking for it. He wanted to be me, to take my place. I was alone in that cold, sprawling sect, surrounded by stone walls and silence.

So I stopped caring. I had to. I built a shell around myself, hard and icy, like the frost that clung to Mount Hua's peaks in winter. I walked through the halls with my chin high, my voice sharp, my eyes distant. They called me the Ice Princess of the Eastern continent, and I let them. It was easier that way—pretending the world didn't matter, that I didn't need anyone.

Then I came to Mythos Academy at fifteen.

At first, he was just a curiosity. I'd watch him from across the training grounds, his dark hair catching the light as he moved—fluid, effortless. Cecilia and Rachel buzzed around him like moths to a flame, their laughter sharp and desperate. They'd bicker over him, tugging at his sleeves, their voices rising as they competed for a single glance from his steady blue eyes. It was amusing, almost ridiculous, how they unraveled for him. I'd lean against a pillar, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at my lips. Just a game to pass the time.

But then it shifted. I don't know when. Maybe it was the day he caught me staring and smiled—not a flashy grin, but something small, real, like he saw past the ice I'd wrapped myself in. My chest tightened, a flutter I couldn't ignore. It grew every time he spoke to me, every time he asked how I was, his voice low and calm. He didn't demand anything, didn't push. He just… cared.

Arthur pulled me out of the dark. The memories of Mount Hua—the cold silences, the weight of my father's neglect, the sting of my brother's hate—started to fade when I was with him. He made me feel alive, like I wasn't just a title or a shadow of someone else's legacy. My heart beat faster around him, loud and messy and real.

Right now, his fingers brush my cheek, and I melt into him. I'd do anything for him. If he asked me to leave Mount Hua behind, to walk away from the sect's ancient halls and glowing artifacts, I'd do it in a heartbeat. If he needed money, I'd empty every vault. If he wanted my life, I'd hand it over without a second thought. Even if he turned on me, plunged a dagger into my chest, I'd still look up at him and smile as the world blurred away, content to die in his arms.

But Arthur doesn't ask. He never has. He doesn't care about the sect's treasures or the power I could give him. He just holds me closer, his breath warm against my skin, like I'm enough. Like my heart—scratched and scarred as it is—means more to him than any blade or jewel.

Arthur hesitated, his breath warm against my skin, yet he stopped short of crossing that final line with me. My body ached with a fire I couldn't ignore, a longing that pulsed through every inch of me, but he held himself back with a restraint that left me questioning. Did he even want me? I searched his face for answers, doubting myself despite the way his eyes lingered on me, dark and heavy with something unspoken. The evidence was there—his quickened pulse, the flush creeping up his neck—but still, I wondered.

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured, his voice a soft rasp in my ear. His cheeks glowed a deep crimson, as if he'd caught himself staring too long, too openly. He shifted slightly, his frame hovering over mine, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him.

"It's okay," I replied, my voice light despite the way I writhed beneath him. A small, teasing smile tugged at my lips as I brushed my fingers along his arm—strong and steady—resting over my stomach, where my muscles tensed under his touch. "Tell me something," I said, tracing the lines of his bicep. "You like a fit body more than… well, something bigger, don't you?"

"Sera," he breathed, my name sounding like a quiet plea on his lips. His eyes flickered, caught between amusement and something deeper.

"Say it," I pressed, my voice soft but insistent. I leaned closer, my heart pounding as I held his gaze. "Tell me you find me attractive. Show me. I need you to show me."

Arthur's expression softened, his hazel eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "You're breathtaking, Seraphina," he said, his voice low and deliberate, each word sinking into me. "The first time I saw you—really saw you—I couldn't believe someone could be so beautiful. Your hair catching the light, your smile… it stopped me cold."

Heat flooded my face, a rush of warmth that spread from my cheeks to my chest. Before I could respond, his lips found mine again, urgent and sure. His body pressed closer, firm against me, and I squirmed under the weight of him, the solid feel of his chest against mine sending sparks through my veins. The kiss deepened, his hands sliding along my sides, and for a moment, the world was just us—tangled, breathless, and alive.

Our kisses deepened, a tangle of lips and breath as the world around us blurred. Arthur's hands roamed my back, firm yet gentle, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My fingers threaded through his hair, soft and slightly damp with sweat, tugging lightly as I pressed myself against him. His chest rose and fell quickly, matching the rhythm of my own racing heart. The heat between us built, electric and alive, his lips trailing from my mouth to the sensitive skin along my jaw, sending shivers down my spine.

But then he paused, his forehead resting against mine, his breath uneven. "Sera," he murmured, voice rough with reluctance, "I… I have to stop."

I pulled back slightly, blinking up at him, my lips still tingling from his touch. "What's wrong?" I asked, searching his face.

He exhaled, a small, apologetic smile tugging at his mouth. "The festival tomorrow. I've got that event—early. I need to be sharp for it."

Understanding settled over me, though the heat in my body protested. I nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Okay," I said softly, my voice steady despite the lingering ache. "I get it. Good luck, Arthur. You're going to do great."

He smiled, gratitude flickering in his eyes. "Thanks, Sera."

I slid out from beneath him, standing and smoothing my clothes with a playful glint in my eye. "I'll stop—for now," I said, my hand drifting to my stomach, fingers brushing the toned skin there suggestively. "But just so you know, out of the four girls, I'll be the first to steal you back."

His laugh was low, a little flustered, as he rubbed the back of his neck. I turned, slipping out of the room with a sway in my step, leaving the promise hanging in the air.