The Extra Can't be A Hero

Leon sat slouched in a high-backed chair in the opulent conference room of the hotel where Eldorin stayed. The faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall was the only sound that broke the heavy silence.

Fatigue weighed down his limbs like iron shackles, but not merely physical exhaustion gripped him— the haunting replay of last night's battle refused to leave his thoughts.

They had moved under the cover of darkness, striking swiftly at the two branches of the Demon Cult they had uncovered after weeks of surveillance. It was supposed to be a coordinated purge—clean, calculated, final.

But fate had other plans.

Midway through the assault on the second compound, a presence descended upon them like a shadow blotting out the stars.

Samael, the Apostle of Chaos, had emerged without warning. His appearance shattered their plans and their morale in an instant.

Samael did not fight like a man—he annihilated like a god.

Spells that would have levelled buildings were swatted away with idle gestures. Their finest couldn't even land a blow. It wasn't a battle—it was a massacre narrowly averted. They survived only because of a sudden, inexplicable twist. The Eternal Storm that had veiled the western dunes for aeons abruptly dissipated during the battle, revealing something ancient beneath the sand: an inverted pyramid, black as night, half-buried in the desert like a forgotten relic of a darker age.

A barrier, shimmering with violet runes, pulsed around the monolithic structure, clearly warding against intrusion. Even Samael paused at its emergence, his gaze fixed on it with unsettling reverence. The cultists retreated soon after, and though both branches had been destroyed, the so-called victory rang hollow.

Now, sitting in the aftermath, Leon knew the worst was yet to come.

"L-Leon, I hesitate to report this but…"

"What now?"

"Eris's skeletal warrior fell apart. And Adelia isn't responding to my messages… Something bad may have happened to them…"

"Urgh…"

Leon pressed his fingers to his temples, trying vainly to ease the pounding ache radiating through his skull. The headache had become a constant companion since the mission began, and now it throbbed in time with his rising frustration.

He had reluctantly allowed Eris to proceed with her investigation into the ruins of the ancient empire because her unique gift, the ability to commune with lingering souls, offered their best hope of uncovering the truth buried beneath the sands.

Still, there had been one condition: they must maintain a constant line of communication.

A simple tether, a lifeline. If that connection failed—even for a moment—it could only mean disaster. And now, the silence on the other end was deafening. Leon exhaled through gritted teeth, muttering under his breath.

"Of course. One crisis after another…" His voice was low, weary, but laced with the grim irony of someone who had long stopped expecting anything to go smoothly.

Command had fallen to him after Amon's departure—a weighty responsibility, especially during a volatile mission. The burden of leading Eldorin's forces through such uncharted peril was heavy, but not unwelcome.

Despite the exhaustion in his body and the worry gnawing at the edge of his thoughts, Leon didn't falter. Amon trusted and entrusted him with leadership when the stakes were at their highest. And that trust burned like a steady flame within him, pushing back against the darkness encroaching from all sides.

"Bane, can you find them?"

The wiry, sharp-eyed man tensed as his name echoed through the chamber, his frown deepening with barely concealed displeasure. A veteran in the shadows, the Spymaster had long served under Amon and Yue, operating in the margins where loyalty was measured in secrets, not sentiment.

Yet now, he answered Leon, a younger, less seasoned commander thrust into authority by circumstance. It still grated on him. That unspoken resentment had been part of his absence during the previous night's raid.

Rather than follow Leon's orders, he had chosen to pursue a separate lead—one he was convinced held greater strategic value than storming cultist hideouts. But the lead had turned out to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors, a dead end hidden behind false trails and whispers.

Now, standing before the others, he had no choice but to bite back his pride and accept the bitter truth..

"Consider it done."

There was no need for a long-winded reprimand, and Leon saw little value in chastising the Spymaster further. The man already knew he'd overstepped—and more importantly, his contingent was no ordinary unit.

They were specialists, unpredictable and fiercely independent, yet undeniably effective. Trying to command them was like taming a storm—possible in theory, but disastrous in practice.

Leon's gaze shifted briefly to the figures standing behind the Spymaster. The twin girls, their expressions cold and unblinking, stared at him with a quiet hostility that sent a chill down his spine. Their presence alone made it clear—they answered to no one but their own.

Beside them stood a black-haired youth, seemingly lost in thought, his eyes glazed as if wandering a world no one else could see. Yet Leon knew better than to underestimate him. That absentmindedness was a mask, and underneath it was something dangerous.

Leon exhaled quietly, grateful that managing them wasn't part of his burden.

"Now that we've got that out of the way… What are your thoughts on the dispersion of the Eternal Storm, the mission at hand, and more importantly… the Apostle we'd just faced?"

"..."

Leon's questions rippled through the group like a sudden gust of wind—unexpected, but not unwelcome. For some, a commander seeking input might have signaled uncertainty or weakness. But with Leon, it was different.

His calm, composed demeanour and steady presence left little room for doubt. He wasn't second-guessing himself—he was deliberately inviting perspective, drawing on the strengths of those around him to shape the path forward.

It was a leadership style rooted in trust, not control. His intentions were clear: to hear their voices before forging ahead, not out of indecision but because he valued their insight. This subtle but powerful trait distinguished him from Amon.

Where Amon had led like an omniscient force, issuing orders as if he knew every outcome, Leon's approach was grounded, transparent, and collaborative.

Both styles had their place. Amon's command inspired awe, often bordering on fear. Leon, on the other hand, brought clarity and calm to the storm. His presence was a breath of fresh air—something the warriors of Eldorin hadn't known they needed until now.

"The Eternal Storm… I think the Goddess might dispelled it."

"Why do you say so?"

The first to answer was Ellahan, the human closest to the Goddess. While she wasn't present when Leon faced the Apostle, she did have superior senses when it came to the divine.

"I felt it… A huge wave of holy power. Leon, you must have summoned the core power of Ascalon to fight the Apostle, right?"

"That's right."

"When that happened, I felt the Goddess's power distinctly. And the Eternal Storm was dispelled immediately afterwards."

"Come to think of it… That's the only variable that changed." Johann nodded his head, clearly convinced by Ellahan's theory. "All these years, the Eternal Storm had never been conquered. No matter how much mana was thrown at it. Why is that? Perhaps it was waiting for the presence of the divine."

Leon was the Hero—the wielder of Ascalon and the man who could manifest the Goddess herself. It made sense that he could lift the seal of the Eternal Storm, giving them a chance to glimpse into the ancient dynasty.

"If that's the case… isn't our mission concluded?"

Venya was the one who raised her hand this time, drawing attention from everyone.

"We were ordered to come here by that bas-... I mean, Sir Amon, because we wished to find clues about El Dorado and the Clay Emperor, right? If that's the case, mission complete! We can report to Amon, and let him handle this as always."

As expected of a former mercenary, Venya believed that once she finished her objective, the job was done, and they could all go home. Alas, in Eldorin, in the Order that Amon had created, it wasn't that simple.

"We can't do that. If we leave Olavaguel, the Demon Cult will uncover the mysteries of the Clay Emperor first, and worst case scenario… they'll make them into their ally. Once that's done, they would have an entire ancient empire at their disposal."

"..."

No one could argue with Leon's reasoning. Dealing with a threat like the Demon Cult was no different than confronting a cancer—it was always better to act early. Waiting would only give it time to fester, to evolve into something far more dangerous. If they were to have any hope of stopping the cult from growing into an unstoppable force, they had to intervene now—decisively and without hesitation—before it was too late.

"Then, what do you plan to do? We are no match for the Apostle, as you've seen."

Samael's overwhelming display of power remained seared into their minds—a haunting memory none could shake. A being of such sheer destructive force shouldn't exist, and it was painfully clear that only someone on Amon's level—or perhaps even beyond—could hope to stand against him.

"That is an issue…"

Leon turned his attention to Horus and Flydian, the two advisors of the strike force. They were also, on paper, the most powerful individuals present.

"Sir Flydian… If you were able to join forces with Sir Horus… What are the chances of defeating the Apostle?"

"I believe we wouldn't stand a chance."

Flydian stated the truth humbly without hesitation.

"Against that monster, someone like Lord Carmen or another Commander-level Knight would be required."

"What about Amon?"

"Lord Amon, he…" Flydian paused and hesitated. "I believe that if Lord Amon chooses to go all-out, he'll easily defeat the Apostle."

"!!!"

Flydian's words caused quite a stir amongst Eldorin. The old Knight practically said that Amon surpassed all other Commanders in strength and was now second only to Alrock. Of course, no one could know the truth unless they pitted them all together, but that suggestion was enough for others to be restless.

"Then, he's not unbeatable." Leon nodded his head as he came to terms with the situation. "Then Sir Horus… May you do the honours?"

"The honours for what, Leon?"

"Don't play dumb," a wry smile cracked when Leon heard Horus's words. "From the start, you asked a Commander-level Knight to shadow us, didn't you? And not just any other Commander."

"... I'm impressed. How did you know?"

"..."

Leon smiled and didn't say a word. As the one who wielded Ascalon and the person who trained in the Eighty-One Suns Heart Mantra, it was impossible for him not to notice the massive presence hiding himself within Olavaguel. No, not just the one…

"Honourable Knights of the Golden Dragon Order… How long are you going to keep up the charade?"

"My, my…"

Space twisted with a low hum, warping reality before tearing open like a wound in the air. In an instant, three figures stepped through the rift, emerging from nothingness as if reality had simply bent to their will.

Their sudden arrival sent a jolt through the members of Eldorin—muscles tensed, hands hovered near weapons—but no one struck.

All eyes were fixed on the trio as they fully materialised, each radiating power that seemed to distort the atmosphere around them.

The first to command attention was a towering man who looked to be in his fifties. Nearly three meters tall and built like a living fortress, he stood with the unshakable presence of a mountain come to life.

Beside him stood a woman in her late forties, her frame lean yet powerful, wrapped in the aura of a born warrior. She looked like something from myth—a Valkyrie forged for the battlefield, every movement calculated and precise.

But it was the man in the centre who drew the sharpest focus.

He appeared to be in his eighties, yet he had no frailty—no stoop, no hesitation. Tall and broad-shouldered, his physique defied his apparent age, and his mere posture spoke of centuries of mastery. A neatly trimmed white beard framed a face both regal and amused. With a glint in his eye, he ran a hand down his beard and asked:

"How did you know?"

"It was by luck, my Lord… I could hardly breathe when I first realised your presence around us."

"Such senses… You remind me of your father. No, perhaps you have surpassed him with your unique cultivation technique."

Leon smiled, not offering any further explanation. Then, he bent his waist and begged him sincerely:

"Lord Gallahad. Please aid us in our fight against the Demon Cult."

"HA! HA!"

Gallahad Solaris, the commander of the Golden Dragon Order, bellowed in laughter, a spark ignited within his soul as he said:

"It would be my pleasure!"