I AM EXTRA IN A SHONEN MANGA

The sea was quiet. Too quiet.

Pearlbay, which had roared with fire and steel that morning, now lay smothered under silence broken only by gull cries and the faint slap of waves against broken docks. The air still smelled of salt and blood, and every corner of the village carried the weight of loss.

At the center of the square, lanterns were lit not for celebration, but for mourning. Families gathered in rows, their faces shadowed by flame. The injured rested against driftwood stretchers, while the dead lay wrapped in salt-soaked cloth, pearls placed over their eyes to guide their spirits back to the sea.

Elder Neria stood at the front, her staff planted firmly into the cracked stone. Her hair swayed with the wind, her face carved with grief yet iron dignity. She raised her voice, hoarse but steady, and the people bowed their heads.

"Children of Pearlbay… today, the tide has claimed many of our own. But their souls do not drift lost. They return to the current, to the embrace of the sea that bore them. Tonight, we light the Pearls of Passage, so their journey may be clear."

Her eyes swept the gathered villagers faces wet with tears, fists clenched in silence. She saw orphans clutching one another, mothers holding bloodied cloth that would never again be warm, men with empty eyes staring at the horizon where Thal'ryx's corpse still floated.

Her hand trembled once, but she did not falter.

"Do not forget this day. Do not forget their sacrifice. The sea remembers. And so will we."

Captain Roan knelt beside the bodies of his fallen guardians. His hands, scarred from decades of war, shook as he placed a pearl into each stiff palm. His voice was low, gruff, but every syllable carried the ache of a commander who had outlived too many soldiers.

"I told you I'd bring you all home…" His jaw clenched. "Forgive me. I lied."

A younger guardian, arm in a sling, tried to bow.

"Captain, it wasn't your fault—"

Roan cut him off with a glare, eyes blazing with grief.

"I swore to protect them. That's all that mattered. And still—" His voice cracked. He turned away, ashamed of letting sorrow show.

Nearby, Lira moved tirelessly among the wounded, weaving the last of her Shinrei into those who still clung to life. Her face was pale, sweat-soaked hair sticking to her cheeks, but she kept whispering, "Just a little more. Hold on. Don't leave yet."

When she finally collapsed, hands still glowing faintly, Rael caught her. His voice was unusually gentle.

"You've done enough. Even gods couldn't save them all."

But Lira shook her head weakly.

"Then I'll try until I can't. They deserve that much."

The fisherfolk grieved loudly, their grief raw as salt. Isha Marrel, the young diver, wept openly as she placed a strand of pearls around her uncle's body. Her sea-green eyes glistened as she whispered,

"You always told me not to dive too deep… now you're the one going where I can't follow."

Children cried, clinging to parents who weren't there anymore.

Toren and Lys sat huddled together, bare feet pressed into the cold stone. Toren bit down on his chipped tooth until blood ran from his lip, but he didn't notice. Lys sobbed quietly into his brother's shoulder.

Kiro stood apart, face pale, fists clenched. His voice was a whisper only he could hear.

"That monster… it's because of that cave….if I'd spoken sooner—"

Kaen noticed. He crouched to eye level with the boy. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a grim sincerity.

"Don't carry that weight, kid. This wasn't your fault."

But Kiro only looked down, unconvinced.

The villagers lit the lanterns each flame held in a pearl-shaped vessel, set gently into the tide. One by one, glowing orbs drifted out to sea, a constellation of the lost floating upon the dark waves.

Elder Moe, wrapped in bandages, leaned heavily on his cane-like tail. His half-fish eyes glistened as he whispered in a rasping voice,

"Brothers… sisters… forgive me. The seal was my duty. And I failed you."

Some villagers looked at him with resentment, others with pity. But Neria touched his shoulder firmly.

"You did not fail, Sir. You lived to warn us. And because of that, we yet live."

Moe swallowed hard, tears spilling into the ridges of his scaled face.

Khael stood apart, the Dragon Knight's weight heavy on his shoulders. The villagers' whispers reached him.

"That man… he fought like a legend."

"Could he be… the same as Lady Yuna?"

"No… impossible… they died out…"

Khael ignored the murmurs. His eyes were locked on the horizon, where the lanterns floated around Thal'ryx's corpse like stars around a fallen god. His thoughts pressed heavy.

(If this is only the beginning… how many more will die before the end?)

Kaen moved up beside him, his usual fire dimmed but not gone. He smirked faintly, though his voice was low.

"We survived today. That's all that matters, right?"

Khael didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the drifting pearls, then on the villagers bowing their heads. Finally, he said,

"No. What matters is making sure we never have another day like this again."

The mourning stretched late into the night, Pearlbay wrapped in the glow of hundreds of drifting pearls. The tide carried the dead away, and with them, the laughter, the stories, the lives that once filled this place.

The survivors whispered promises to the sea, and the students stood among them, feeling for the first time the weight of being not just fighters, but protectors.

The tide had taken much. But it left behind a truth they could no longer run from: this war was only beginning.

As The mourning chants still drifted faintly through Pearlbay, carried by the tide. Smoke curled from driftwood pyres, and the villagers pressed shells and pearls into the hands of the dead as offerings, whispering names into the wind.

Ceyla stood apart from the crowd, watching the blackened horizon where Thal'ryx's last scream had vanished into salt and silence. Her fingers clenched around her spear, though the battle was already over. Something about this quiet unsettled her more than the roar of the monster had.

A shadow shifted at the edge of the shrine path. A voice rasped, brittle like cracked coral slid into her ear.

"You hold yourself like one who doesn't belong here."

Ceyla turned sharply, her guard rising. A thin figure emerged from behind the shrine's lantern. Cloaked in a shawl black as kelp, pale eyes glimmering like drowned pearls, an aura of someone who had seen too much, but carried no reverence for the ceremony.

Ceyla frowned. "I don't know you. Who are you?"

The woman tilted her head, the gesture sharp, almost birdlike. "No one worth remembering. The villagers call me many things—witch, curse-bearer, hermit. My name, though few dare use it, is Veyra."

Ceyla's grip on her weapon tightened. "The hermit… the one they warned us about."

A thin, humorless smile cut across Veyra's lips. "Warned you? Then they remembered me after all. Curious. They speak of my sins but not of their own bargains with darkness."

Ceyla's gaze narrowed. "You're saying Pearlbay's people… conspired?"

Veyra leaned closer, her shawl brushing against the carved pearl totems as though mocking their sanctity. "Do you think monsters like Thal'ryx wake alone? Power has its hands, girl. Greedy hands. And some here would trade anything to see their coffers filled with pearls while the sea drowns the rest."

The words hit like a stone cast into still water, sending ripples through Ceyla's thoughts. Her eyes flicked across the crowd…

Veyra's whisper came again, sharp and deliberate. "Look closely, child of another shore. Not all of your enemies sink with the sea. Some walk among you, smiling, counting, waiting."

Ceyla's heart thudded. She wanted to dismiss the hermit's words as poison. And yet… something in Veyra's pale eyes carried the weight of bitter truth.

To be continue