The Extra Who Shouldn’t Exist

Azrael opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the dim, foggy light that filtered into the dark space around him.

'Where the hell… am I?'

His head throbbed. The air was thick and damp. Cracked stone walls surrounded him on all sides, coated with moss and old runes barely visible through the grime.

A single torch flickered on the far wall, casting a haunting glow across the rusted metal bars that sealed the only exit. Chains clinked in the distance, and the faint scent of dried blood and old metal filled the room.

Azrael clutched his forehead as he staggered to his feet.

'These damned humans... They dare imprison me?! I'll kill them all!'

He raised his hand to gather his demonic energy—only to feel nothing.

'...What?'

Again, he tried. Again, nothing.

'What the hell is going on?!'

Just then, a familiar voice echoed through the cell.

"So you're awake, you corpse-like bastard."

Azrael's ears perked up as he turned toward the voice. His eyes widened slightly.

On the floor near the opposite corner of the cell, a young man sat casually—silver hair like moonlight, glowing with a soft sheen in the torchlight.

His blue eyes sparkled like twin stars in a night sky, calm yet razor-sharp. Even while sitting, the aura around him radiated quiet confidence.

Alex stood up slowly, brushing dust from his clothes and staring directly at Azrael.

'Damn… I have to admit—this human is unfairly good-looking.'

Azrael clicked his tongue.

'If those bastard dukes hadn't tortured me—scarring my body and my soul—I bet I would've been more handsome than him.'

He looked again at Alex's flawless face, remembering the glimpse of his own future self.

'...Probably.'

Alex stepped forward, folding his arms.

"So you survived, huh? Bad luck for me, I guess."

Azrael's brow twitched.

"What the hell do you mean by that?! What happened? Where are we? And why are we here, contractor?"

A vein popped on Alex's forehead.

"Why do you think? I tried to summon a spirit strong as an angel, and instead I got a demon."

He looked around and gave a sarcastic smile.

"And now the king and his people are throwing a grand celebration for my accomplishments. So… what do you think of the venue I booked for your welcoming party?"

Azrael glanced around the decrepit cell, dryly muttering,

"Well, I have to say… you're broke as hell if you booked this dump for a party."

Alex paused.

'Did… he just call me poor?'

Before he could explode, Azrael smirked.

"Relax, I'm just kidding."

Then, his face turned serious.

"So… what's going to happen to us?"

Alex sighed.

"Well, they're waiting for the current Saintess and the Pope to arrive. You'll get blown to bits, and I'll receive a wonderfully dramatic punishment for summoning a demon."

Azrael's eyes widened, heart skipping a beat.

'Shit. I'm weak right now. I won't survive an attack from a divine magic. But… why am I so weak? Where's my powers?'

Alex saw the confusion and smirked.

"Let me guess—you're wondering why you're so weak, huh?"

Azrael nodded reluctantly.

Alex walked a bit closer, his expression thoughtful.

"In every world, there's a natural balance. When someone from a mid or higher plane enters a lower one, the universe places restrictions on them—to keep their strength from surpassing that of the strongest native beings."

Azrael listened carefully.

"In this world," Alex continued, "the highest natural limit is the Monarch rank. But you… when you appeared, your strength surpassed that. So the world placed a limiter on you."

Azrael was stunned.

'No one ever told me that… I never even noticed. I spent most of my life in the demon realm, too consumed by revenge to care about rules like these.'

He looked at Alex with a serious expression.

"How did you know all this?"

Alex shrugged.

"That's not important. What I'm curious about is… even with the restrictions, your strength should've dropped only to the Transcendent level. But you? You're barely Grandmaster (Low)."

Alex tilted his head mockingly.

"I have to say… I'm extremely disappointed."

He muttered under his breath.

"And here I thought I'd have a Monarch-rank pet."

Azrael's eye twitched.

"Did you just say something rude?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

Alex looked him up and down.

"Seriously though—how are you this useless and weak?"

A vein throbbed on Azrael's forehead.

"Careful, contractor. You're just a human. Don't push me too far."

Azrael snorted.

"Oh yeah? And your aura… what rank is that again? Weaker than a grandma's?"

Before he could finish—

A heavy kick crashed into Azraels head, sending him flying into the stone wall with a loud thud.

Alex stood there, dusting his foot off.

"You talk too much."

Azrael groaned, shaking his head.

'Damn… that one actually hurt.'

Alex looked at him coldly as he said.

"I don't like taking orders from anyone. If someone here gets to give commands—it's me."

Azrael cracked his neck.

"Then let's settle it. Right here. Right now."

"No mana. No demonic energy. Just fists."

Azrael entered a stance.

'This guy's strong… but I've survived hell itself.'

He smirked.

"I don't like your face. I'm going to rearrange it."

Alex laughed.

"Many have tried. But not all of them were as ugly as you, you scar-faced bastard."

Azrael's face flushed with anger.

"You're dead!"

He launched forward, his movement a blur, aiming a vicious punch toward Alex's face.

[ 30 minutes later. ]

Azrael woke up inside the prison cell once again.

His entire body screamed in agony—every bone felt shattered, and even breathing burned like fire.

He groaned as he forced himself up, his legs trembling violently.

When his blurred vision cleared, his eyes widened.

There he was.

The silver-haired man lay casually on the cold floor, one arm behind his head, eyes closed as if he were taking a peaceful nap instead of being inside a hellish prison.

Dread crawled up Azrael's spine.

'This guy… he's not human.'

'He copied every single technique I used—and countered them after seeing them once. Once!'

'No, that's impossible… He's not just strong; his strength surpasses even a Grandmaster's. I fought him three times, and every time, I lost.'

'He kept hitting me until I admitted defeat. Damn bastard… what kind of monster is he?'

As Azrael seethed internally, Alex's voice echoed lazily.

"So you woke up again, huh?"

Azrael gritted his teeth and gave a stiff nod.

"Good," Alex said with a half-smile. "So now, do you know who's in charge here? Or do you wanna try again?"

Azrael clicked his tongue in irritation.

"No, I understand," he muttered coldly.

Inside, though, hatred simmered.

'Just let me recover my past strength… then I'll show you who's in charge, you bastard.'

Alex tilted his head. "Did you just think of something rude again?"

Azrael froze, then immediately shook his head sideways.

"Good," Alex said with a faint grin. "So, where were we? Ah, right—you. Why are you so uselessly weak?"

Azrael's jaw tightened. After a long pause, he finally replied, "I don't know everything… but it could be because of my soul."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "Your soul? Why? What happened to it?"

Azrael looked away. "I won't tell you. Even if you beat me, I won't."

Suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed inside Alex's mind.

[ Host, half of his soul has been destroyed or sacrificed. He's not fully alive either—he turned himself into an undead necromancer who can command the dead. Something catastrophic must've happened to make him take such a step... or he's simply a lunatic obsessed with power. ]

Alex exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on Azrael. The man avoided his gaze.

"Alright," Alex said finally. "If you don't want to tell me, that's your choice. I won't push you further."

Azrael blinked, slightly surprised.

'He's… not forcing me?'

For a few moments, silence filled the prison cell. Then Azrael finally asked, "So… what's the plan?"

Alex stretched slightly before replying, "Azrael—that's your name, right?"

Azrael nodded.

"Come here," Alex said.

Azrael hesitated but obeyed.

"Do you want to live?"

At that, Azrael's dead, crimson eyes regained a faint light.

"Of course I want to live," he said with a grim voice. "I won't die until I pay back all those bastards."

Alex smirked. "Good. Then do everything I say, and you'll get your chance. But you'll have to prove yourself useful first."

Azrael nodded, his pride bleeding, but right now, survival came first.

Alex crossed his arms. "So tell me—how does this contract between us work?"

Azrael took a deep breath. "It's complicated, but I'll explain. Normally, a human from a lower-class world can't summon a high-ranking demon. Their life force and power are too weak. Even summoning a low-class demon requires multiple human sacrifices."

'So that's why demon summoning is forbidden,' Alex thought.

Azrael continued. "There are two methods to form a contract.

Method one—Sacrifice.

The more souls or lives you offer, the stronger the demon you can summon.

Method two—Blood Ritual.

You sacrifice your own life force. The greater your life force and purity of soul, the higher the rank of demon you can call."

He glanced at Alex. "After that, the contract's balance depends on how many more souls or energy sources the contractor can offer the demon. Or how pure their life essence is."

Alex raised a brow. "So, the contract we formed belongs to the second category, huh?"

"Correct," Azrael said. "Though I'm still baffled how you managed to summon a demon like me with just your life force and blood. You may not know it, but my name is feared across the entire Demon Realm."

Alex stared blankly. "Yeah, yeah. I also saw a chicken flying yesterday—can you believe that?"

A vein popped on Azrael's forehead. "You—!"

But before he could finish, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Alex! You're okay, right?"

Both turned toward the source. A black-haired woman stood at the entrance of the realm, her expression filled with worry.

Alyssa Vega.

Alex looked at her flatly. "What do you think? It's been twenty-four hours since I got stuck here. And if it weren't for your plan, I wouldn't have let myself get captured like this."

Alyssa smiled slightly. "Don't worry. I'd never let anything happen to you."

"Yeah, yeah," Alex muttered. "So, why are you here?"

"Rude brat," she muttered, then sighed. "The Pope from the Holy Empire is here. The order is to take you to him—and decide what to do with that demon. After that, your punishment will be decided."

Azrael's expression darkened instantly, but Alex only chuckled—a low, devilish sound that made even Azrael flinch.

"Hah. Then what are we waiting for? Let's go greet him."

Their eyes met—Alex's filled with mischief, Azrael's with confusion.

Then Alex winked.

Azrael's tension eased slightly. 'My future self told me to trust him… Fine. I'll see where this goes.'

Moments later, the prison barrier dissolved.

Both Alex and Azrael were released, stepping out into the world once more—one smirking, the other silently watching, both uncertain of what awaited them next.