An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge

The deeper Alex went into the hunting grounds, the more wrong everything felt.

The beasts he encountered weren't normal. Their eyes glowed faint red, veins bulging with dark lines pulsing across their bodies like veins of molten tar. Strange symbols flickered on their hides, glowing faintly with ominous light. Their movements were erratic yet ferocious, as though something primal and corrupted was driving them.

This isn't natural… Alex thought, cutting down another wolf-like beast whose body twisted even in death, muscles spasming long after its head had rolled across the dirt. The blood steaming from its wounds reeked like burning iron.

Wiping his blade clean, Alex pressed forward. That's when he heard it—

Clang. Crash. Screams.

The sound of fighting carried across the trees, rough and violent. Alex's instincts kicked in. He lowered his presence, sliding into the shadows of the thicket, boots silent against the damp earth.

Peering past a cluster of rocks, his eyes narrowed.

A circle of hooded figures surrounded a single person. Blood dripped down the man's arm and his bow lay snapped in half at his side. His long hair and pointed ears were unmistakable.

"Alan," Alex muttered under his breath.

The elf was badly injured, kneeling, clutching his chest, while the hooded figures jeered at him. Their voices dripped with malice, and when they laughed, Alex felt the unnatural weight of demonic mana ripple in the air.

"Who the hell are you people?" Alan spat, defiant even in pain. "You don't seem like you're part of this test!"

The circle erupted into mocking laughter.

"Hah! We are part of this field hunt," one of them sneered, voice muffled under the hood. "But unlike the rest of you brats, we aren't here for beasts. You are the prey."

"Ha ha ha ha!" the rest echoed, the sound sharp and jarring in the night air.

Alan gritted his teeth, clutching his bleeding side. "Do you even know who I am? I'm from the elven royal family. Do you want to spark a war between the Elves and the Human Empire?!"

"Oh?" One of the hooded men tilted his head, amused. "Royalty, you say? That's even better. The more chaos, the better it will be. Imagine the uproar when a royal brat is found butchered during a test!"

"Hah! Yes, let's see what kind of chaos blooms!" another cackled, licking blood from his blade.

Alan's eyes burned with anger. "Bastards—!"

But his knees gave out from blood loss, and the hooded men stepped forward, weapons gleaming with the unholy glow of demonic energy.

Alex didn't wait another second. He stepped out of the shadows, voice sharp as his sword.

"Touch him, and you'll lose your heads."

The hooded figures froze before turning toward him. Alan's eyes widened in shock. "Alex…?"

Ignoring Alan for now, Alex tossed him a small vial from his belt. "Drink it. Heal. I'll hold them off."

Alan caught the potion, hesitating. "You—"

"Shut up and drink!" Alex barked, raising his blade. His aura flared, sharp and suffocating.

The hooded men laughed again. "Oh, look. Another lamb walking into the slaughter."

"Kill him first!" one ordered, lunging with a jagged axe crackling with crimson mana.

Alex sidestepped, blade flashing. Steel split flesh, and the man's arm fell limp to the ground before the scream even came. Blood sprayed hot across the dirt.

Another attacker swung from behind, dagger coated in black venom. Alex ducked low, pivoted, and slammed his elbow into the man's ribs, hearing bones crunch before slashing upward—splitting his jaw open in a burst of gore.

Alan, now gulping down the potion, felt his wounds burn as flesh knitted back together. His vision cleared, though fury still clouded his face.

Meanwhile, Alex was a storm.

He parried a spear thrust, sparks flying, then twisted the weapon free and drove it through the attacker's throat. The man gurgled, choking on blood as Alex kicked him back into another.

But the hooded men were strong. Their demonic mana made them unnaturally durable, their attacks wild and vicious. A hammer-wielding brute swung down with force that shattered the earth. Alex rolled aside, but even the shockwave rattled his bones.

"Che… they hit like beasts," Alex muttered, wiping blood from his cheek.

Alan, now standing again with bow in hand, shouted, "I'm not sitting out!" With a snap, he loosed an arrow infused with mana. It streaked like lightning and pierced through one hooded man's chest, the explosion of energy blasting him apart in a shower of gore.

The hooded figures snarled, demonic mana boiling around them. Their faces twisted unnaturally under their hoods, as if their very flesh was corrupted.

"Two brats won't change the outcome! Rip them apart!"

They swarmed.

Alex met them head-on, blade flashing in brutal arcs. Limbs flew. Blood painted the trees. His movements were sharp, controlled, efficient, but the sheer ferocity of his enemies made it a desperate clash. A dagger grazed his shoulder, searing with corrupt mana, but he shoved through the pain, driving his sword through the man's chest and twisting hard, pulling free in a spray of black blood.

Alan supported from the rear, arrows whistling past Alex's head, each one imbued with piercing mana. One arrow exploded into shrapnel, tearing three enemies apart in a bloody mist.

But for every one they cut down, more pressed in, their laughter manic, their strength unnatural.

"Damn it!" Alex growled, parrying a blow that nearly shattered his sword. He countered by headbutting the attacker, skull cracking, then split him open with a downward slash so hard it cleaved him in two.

Beside him, Alan loosed another arrow, his bowstring thrumming with raw energy. The glowing shaft pierced through the chest of a hooded figure, leaving a smoking hole. The corpse convulsed before collapsing with a sickening thud, black smoke leaking out of its wounds.

"These guys…" Alan panted, sweat and blood mixing on his face. His hands trembled as he drew another arrow. "They're not normal! Their mana—It's demonic!"

Alex slashed down another assailant, his blade ringing as it cleaved through a warped arm covered in black veins. The attacker screamed before Alex drove his knee into the man's jaw and ripped the blade free in a spray of gore. He stood, chest heaving, glaring at the hooded survivors.

"I know," Alex muttered, his voice low and grim. "Which means we can't let even one leave alive. If they spread word, more of this filth will come."

Alan's eyes widened, realization flashing across his battered face. "Wait… these patterns, their movements… their mana feels the same as—" He swallowed. "They're the same bastards who attacked the royal museum!"

At that, Alex's grip tightened on his sword hilt. His jaw clenched. "The Black Hand…"

One of the masked men, laughing hoarsely, tilted his head. "Oh? You brats recognized us already? Hah! Sharp little geniuses, aren't you?" His tone dripped with mockery.

Another cackled, his voice unhinged. "That makes it even better. If you know who we are, then there's no way we're letting you live. Either you die here, or you run and let us finish our plans."

Alan spat blood on the ground, snarling. "Like hell I'd run."

"Good," Alex growled, raising his sword, blood dripping from its edge. "Because I was going to cut you down anyway."

The hooded figures moved in unison, weapons coated in black-red mana that reeked of corruption. They surged forward like predators closing in for the kill.

The clash was brutal. Alex met the first with a horizontal slash, sparks flying as steel met corrupted steel. He twisted, elbowing the man in the throat before stabbing upward through his chin—blood and brain matter sprayed as the body crumpled.

Another swung a jagged axe down at him. Alex rolled aside, the blow cracking the earth, before slamming his boot into the attacker's knee. The sickening crack of bone was followed by Alan's arrow piercing the man's throat, pinning him to the dirt like a grotesque scarecrow.

But the enemies kept coming, snarling like beasts. Their attacks were feral, wild, fueled by the demonic mana pulsing through their veins. One slashed at Alan's bow, forcing him to roll back, his ribs scraping against broken stone. Another figure tried to grab his face, black claws dripping with corrosive mana, but Alex barreled in, ramming his sword clean through the attacker's spine.

Alan finally got back up, his breathing ragged, blood streaming from a cut across his brow. "I can still fight!" he shouted, firing a barrage of mana arrows. Each arrow screamed through the air, impaling enemies one after another.

Together, the two fought back-to-back. Alex's sword was a blur of crimson arcs, cleaving limbs, gutting torsos, and splattering blood across the grass. Alan's arrows whistled, bursting heads and nailing enemies mid-lunge. But for every enemy they cut down, two more pressed forward, their numbers relentless.

Alan gritted his teeth, the glow of his arrows flickering. "Damn it—these bastards don't feel pain!"

"Then we just have to make sure they don't get back up!" Alex roared, splitting one from collarbone to hip in a single savage strike. His blade, now slick with gore, gleamed dully under the warped light of the demonic aura surrounding them.

The ground was painted red. Severed limbs twitched on the dirt, blood pooled around shattered stones, and the stink of iron and rot filled the air.

Finally, only three remained. Their movements slowed, their laughter faltering as they realized the two bloodied students were still standing. Alan, panting heavily, aimed an arrow glowing with concentrated mana. Alex raised his sword, blood dripping from his chin and arms.

"You monsters," Alex spat, his eyes burning. "The Black Hand dies here."

With a unified cry, they charged. Alan's arrow punched through the skull of one. Alex's blade severed another's arm before plunging deep into his chest, splitting him open like a slaughtered animal. The last tried to flee, but Alan's arrow pinned his leg down. Alex dragged him by the hood and rammed his sword through his heart, twisting until the man's laughter died into gurgles.

Silence fell.

The battlefield was a grotesque canvas of death. Alex staggered, blood soaking his uniform, his breathing ragged. His arms trembled, but his grip on his sword never loosened.

Alan collapsed to his knees, coughing blood, his bow clattering beside him. "Damn it… we barely made it."

Alex stumbled over, pulling him upright and forcing a healing potion into his hands. He, too, downed one, grimacing as the burning liquid sealed some wounds but left his body aching.

They were alive—but only just.

Alan's voice was hoarse. "If the Black Hand is here… it means this field test is compromised. Something much bigger is moving behind the scenes."