Reborn as an Extra with the SSS-Divine Debt System and my Past Skills

Mira came running, breath puffing in small clouds, braid whipping behind her. She skidded to a stop in front of Lucius, knees trembling a little from the sprint.

"You… called?"

She asked, voice higher than usual.

Lucius didn't smile. He pointed toward the fields where the stalks writhed and black shapes crawled like a dark tide.

"Look at them."

She followed his gaze. Her face drained. Up close, the insects were worse—thicker bodies than any common beetle, a faint inner glow of mana visible under their carapace.

One lifted its mandibles and clicked them like a tiny blade. Mira took an involuntary step back, shivering.

"We need you to tame them."

Lucius said flatly.

Mira blinked.

"Tame… bugs?"

The word came out like a joke and died halfway through.

"You're joking, right? You want me to—"

"I'm not joking."

He watched her closely, slow and steady.

"If they eat all the harvest, we starve. Smoke and ash will help at the edges, but someone needs to direct them—corrall them—into the kill zones. You can do that."

She stared at him.

"Me? I—"

"You're the only one with the precision for this."

Lucius's voice was calm, almost clinical, but there was nothing clinical in the way the villagers clustered at the field edge, eyes wide with hope.

Mira's mouth opened and closed. Her hands went to her sides, fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve until her knuckles paled.

"I'm—I'm terrified of bugs, Lucius."

She took a breath that trembled.

He didn't look surprised.

"You are?."

She sat down hard on the nearby stump as if the air had been knocked out of her.

Around them, farmers fought for composure; one older woman hugged herself and whispered a prayer. A little boy clutched a scythe his father had left and stared.

Mira swallowed.

"Why me, then? Why not—someone else?"

"Who else has your ability?"

Lucius crouched so he was at her level. The lamplight from the field torches painted his face pale.

"And because you don't flee when fear grips you. You work around it."

Mira's cheeks flushed. The words hit something under her skin—pride, embarrassment, a weird warmth.

"You're saying I'm the only one who can save everyone?"

"You're saying yes or no?"

Lucius asked.

She chewed her lip. For a long breath she simply looked at the crawling black tide and then at Lucius.

"I'm scared."

"That's natural."

Lucius's gaze softened, but there was no softness in the set of his jaw.

Mira's fist clenched.

"That's a lot of pressure."

"It's the only way."

He nudged a small clay vial toward her—simple, nothing showy.

"This has a small concentrate of ash we kept from the burned ticks last season. Mix a pinch into the pits. It will make the smoke heavier. Don't waste it."

She picked up the vial, thumb rubbing the rough glaze as if to ground herself. The novelty of being entrusted like this flickered through her—half terror, half a guilty, bright thrill.

"You'll be close to the crops. Take care of yourself and don't get caught up in the flames.

Lucius continued.

Mira swallowed again, eyes unfocused.

"You want me to… tame them."

She whispered, as if saying it aloud made it heavier.

"Exactly. We'll test it first on a smaller group, near the east ditch. If you feel them slipping from your control, pull back, and we'll adjust. Berry will watch the perimeter. The fairies will drive the swarm into tighter lines with their smoke. All you need to do is reach inside their instincts and bend them."

Lucius said with a steady nod.

Her throat worked as she forced herself to ask.

"How long will this take?"

Even afraid, her mind was already racing—measuring, sorting, imagining how her power might stretch across so many small creatures.

"A few hours to subdue the main swarm. Another day to handle the larvae. The key is to link them into a hive under you. Once they accept you as their center, the rest will follow."

Lucius replied.

She glanced at the fields again, at the farmers' hollow eyes and pale faces. Something sharp and determined flickered across her expression.

"If I fail—"

"You won't. You'll learn quickly. And even if some slip away, you won't panic. You'll regroup. That's why you're the only one who can do this."

Lucius interrupted. His voice softened, but his gaze stayed firm.

"Mira, I'm leaving their survival in your hands."

For a long beat she simply stared at the swarm writhing at the edge of the crops. Then she squared her shoulders.

"Alright. I'll try. But you better be right there."

"I will be."

Lucius said.

She stood straighter, tucking the clay vial into her sash.

The farmers were already moving under Berry's direction, digging shallow trenches, setting torches, and preparing smoke rings. The fairies hovered nearby, waiting for Lucius's signal.

Mira pressed her hands against her chest, drawing a shaky breath, then let it out. Her lips curved into a fragile but stubborn smile.

"Alright, little monsters. Let's see if you'll listen."

She murmured under her breath.

Lucius watched her move toward the east ditch, her shadow stretching long in the torchlight.

He'd carried the weight of armies and strategies before, but now he placed the future of their fields on a girl who feared bugs yet held the rare gift to command them.

The gamble felt right.

"Begin. And don't stop until I say."

He told the others, his voice like steel.

Mira knelt at the edge of the ditch, closing her eyes. The chittering of countless legs scraped against her nerves, but she pushed past the revulsion and reached deeper, searching for the pulse that bound them together.

A whisper—alien, frantic, hungry—brushed against her thoughts. She latched onto it, pressing her will down like a steady hand on a trembling beast.

The swarm bucked, thousands of minds resisting, then quivered under the pressure. Mira's brow dampened with sweat, but she held firm.

Slowly, the nearest cluster stilled, their antennae angling toward her, waiting.

Lucius's voice carried behind her.

"Good. Now hold."