Extra is the Heir of Life and Death

Xavier woke up groggily, blinking up at the ceiling with the dazed confusion of someone who wasn't entirely sure he was alive yet.

For a long, slow moment, he just lay there, limbs heavy, brain running at the speed of wet cement. Then a familiar internal alarm finally clicked on, bringing with it a creeping sense of caution he'd earned the hard way.

He pushed himself upright, moving with the wary stiffness of a man who had suffered too many surprise detonations at dawn. His eyes narrowed as he scanned his room, taking in every detail with grim, methodical precision.

He checked the floorboards for scorch marks. The desk for missing corners. The ceiling for suspicious cracks. The air for that faint, horrifying pop that usually preceded something catching fire.

He took his time. He always did.

Only when he was absolutely, undeniably certain that nothing had blown up not the curtains, not the bedframe, not his own damn pillow, did he let out a long breath that felt like releasing a trapped universe from his lungs.

"Good. Good… okay. No accidental combustions," he murmured, rubbing sleep from his eyes as though that would keep fate from noticing him.

And the reason for all this paranoid nonsense was right there, burned into his brain by the same mysterious status window every Ascendant received.

Affinity: Explosions, Booms

Not "Impact Magic."

Not "Shockwave Manipulation."

Not something elegant or refined or even remotely dignified.

No.

Booms.

Whatever cosmic entity managed the status system had looked at him, pointed, and said, Yes. This one. This one is for noise and destruction.

Xavier splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom, the shock snapping him awake with a jolt that ran straight down his spine. He stared at himself in the mirror, golden hair a mess, red eyes tired, expression deeply, profoundly done with the universe and sighed.

"Well. At least nothing's smoking today," he muttered.

He got dressed in his typical weekend outfit: gold shirt, gold trousers, golden everything, because subtlety was a concept that simply refused to acknowledge his existence. People said he looked like he rolled out of a treasure chest or a discount sun deity, but Xavier didn't care.

It fit. It was comfortable. And at this point, the outfit was part of his identity.

He grabbed his spatial ring, stretched, and stepped toward the door, mentally preparing himself for a normal weekend no classes, no whispered rumors, just sparring with his friends at the training grounds. A simple, peaceful morning.

His phone buzzed.

Xavier paused, frowned, and pulled it out of his pocket.

It was Lillith.

For a second, he just stared at the name glowing on the screen, dread slowly dripping into his veins like cold water.

Then he softly, gently, let his forehead touch the wall.

"…Right. So the universe decided peace was optional today."

Still, because he valued his life (and feared what would happen if he ignored her), he swiped to answer.

He pressed accept right as he braced himself for whatever chaos Lillith was about to inflict on him.

Her voice blasted through the speaker like an angry goddess descending from the heavens.

"Xavier. Get your ass to the address I just sent you. Five minutes. If you're late—" her tone sharpened into something cold, lethal, and very, very real, "—you already know what's coming."

A violent shiver crawled down his spine. His blood ran cold. His survival instincts grabbed him by the throat and screamed MOVE.

"Yes, yep, on my way... absolutely," Xavier stammered, nodding so hard his neck cracked even though she couldn't see him.

He heard her inhale like she was preparing to continue terrorizing him, so he hung up first before she could add anything that might shorten his lifespan.

He lowered the phone, took a deep breath, and whispered to himself:

"…Why is she like this?"

No answer came, not that he expected mercy from this bitchy universe.

He pushed open his window, leaned out, judged the drop, silently cursed his choices, and then jumped.

His feet hit the ground with a controlled thud, momentum instantly carrying him forward. The world blurred at the edges as he sprinted across the academy grounds, aura flaring just enough to boost his speed. Wind roared in his ears. Trees and buildings streaked past him like smeared color.

He wasn't just fast, he was Ascendant fast. The kind of fast ordinary humans would mistake for a golden comet screaming across the courtyard.

Five minutes.

Five minutes or death.

He arrived at the address in three.

Xavier slowed to a stop in front of a building that looked like it couldn't decide whether it belonged in a fantasy epic or a sci-fi film.

Polished white marble climbed toward the sky, the structure sleek and clean and futuristic almost too perfect. But the instant he stepped through the doors, the world shifted.

Inside, it looked like a medieval tavern had been resurrected and given a luxury budget. Wooden beams with ornate carvings, chandeliers with gemstones instead of candles, iron-banded tables, and tapestries lining the walls. It smelled like herbs and polished steel.

But no Lillith.

Xavier scanned the room once, twice, and slower the third time. No purple hair. No dramatic entrance. No angry glare, preparing to flay him alive.

But he did spot someone else.

A woman sat alone at a corner table, posture straight, face blank, eyes cold red like freshly spilled ink. Midnight-black hair draped down her back in perfect, deadly lines.

Page Dea.

The assassin.

Expressionless. Silent. Intimidating enough that even the air seemed to avoid brushing against her. Xavier had never spoken to her, not once, but he knew of her. Everyone did. Sebastian talked to her. Lillith had some… strange bond with her.

Which meant Xavier was in very real danger of being dragged into whatever business the two of them had planned.

Because Page Dea was waiting.

And Lillith was nowhere to be found.

Great. Perfect. Absolutely wonderful.

Heart thumping, Xavier swallowed, adjusted his golden shirt so he at least looked confident, and slowly made his way over to her table.

Then, trying not to show how terrifyingly aware he was of sitting across from a woman who could kill him with a spoon, he slid into the seat in front of her.

Xavier cleared his throat.

It came out weaker than intended, more "dying squirrel" than "confident young man of explosive destiny."

Xavier tried again. A safer, lighter approach this time, small talk. "Sooo… nice weather today, right?" he ventured, voice hopeful in the way a man hopes a dragon isn't actually hungry.

Page didn't react. Not a blink. Not a twitch. She remained exactly as she was: still, quiet, focused on whatever vague, ominous thing she was doing on her phone. It was like talking to a statue that might kill you.

Didn't blink.

Didn't breathe, or maybe she did, and he just couldn't hear it.

Her expression remained perfectly, terrifyingly blank.

Xavier tried again, tapping his fingers on the table like he totally wasn't panicking. "Do you, uh… come here often?"

Nothing.

Silence thick enough to choke on.

He fumbled. "So! I, uh… heard the steak here is good."

Page did not acknowledge the existence of steak. Or him. Or the physical realm.

Xavier felt sweat forming at the back of his neck. He needed to try something else, something normal. Something sane.

"So… what are you doing here?"

This time, he did get a reaction.

It was tiny. Minuscule. Barely there.

But Page's head turned, ever so slightly, until her red eyes locked directly onto his own.

Predatory.

Sharp.

Like her gaze alone could carve him open and inspect his soul for impurities.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked.

Her voice was soft. Calm. Empty.

And somehow that made it ten times more terrifying.

Xavier's life flashed before his eyes.

Every explosion.

Every boom.

Every time he accidentally set his own bed on fire because his Affinity decided to activate in his sleep. Every bad decision, every questionable snack he'd eaten at 2 a.m., every moment that had led him to this table with this girl staring into his soul like she was checking its expiration date.

He swallowed loudly, which only made the moment worse, and blurted out:

"N-Nothing! Nope! I don't want to know anything! Forget I asked!"

Page stared at him for exactly three more seconds, completely expressionless.Then she turned her head away, returning to statue mode.

Xavier slowly exhaled, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.

And then salvation.

The restaurant doors opened, and a familiar face echoed through the hall, dragging all eyes toward the entrance.

Lillith strode in like she owned the entire establishment, purple hair shimmering, hips swaying with dangerous confidence, eyes already half-lidded in irritation.

Xavier had never, never, been so relieved to see her devilish face.

He almost stood up and hugged her.

Almost, but restrained himself.

Because he still wanted to live.