The Manaless Extra (A Progression Fantasy Story)

Volume 03, Chapter 106
Before The Duel [5]

The white limo stops smoothly at the front steps of the Lyon château.

Butler Max steps out from the driver's seat and circles around to open the passenger door.

I step out first, holding Clark's hand as he follows beside me.

The moment our feet touch the white cobblestone path, we both look up, and my breath hitches.

The château looms ahead like a monument carved from a fantasy tale.

Grand, palatial, and regal. Made of pale beige stone, its sweeping archways are lined with marble columns and climbing ivy. Intricate black iron balconies curve outward from tall windows, and the golden-tipped rooftops shimmer under the sun. The gates behind us stand open, flanked by massive lion statues poised atop obsidian pedestals, watching all who enter with stone-carved pride.

Clark's eyes widen with awe. "Woah…"

He is not the only one stunned.

This place looks like something out of a royal saga. Not just rich—historic, like every brick has generations of power etched into it.

—Clank!

Suddenly, the massive double arch doors of the château swing open, pushed apart by two uniformed servants. The sound echoes through the entrance hall like the announcement of a king.

And stepping through those doors is someone who very much looks the part.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with blonde hair, emerald green eyes, and fair skin strides confidently forward. His presence is commanding—his posture like a statue carved by centuries of nobility.

He wears a long, deep royal blue coat, embroidered with golden patterns of lions, laurel leaves, and Lyon family sigils. A high collar frames his neck, fastened with a jeweled brooch, while golden tassels drape from his shoulders. A thick sash crosses his chest, adding even more weight to his formal bearing. His black trousers are lined with fine gold trim and tucked into polished leather boots with crest-shaped buckles. A heavy midnight blue cape flows behind him, edged in gold and speckled faintly with starry patterns inside.

Even before he speaks, I know.

This is Uther Lyon, Arthur's father.

And… he is nothing like Arthur.

Where Arthur has a bright, approachable charm, Uther exudes silent authority. His face is firm, unreadable. And though I can barely sense it, his Mana is dense, suppressed in the same way André hides his.

"Dominic," he greets, voice deep and composed. "It's good to see you again."

His expression does not shift. Not cold, but unreadable. Intimidating in its stillness.

I bow slightly. "It's nice to meet you as well, Monsieur Uther."

"Monsieur?" he echoes, a faint note of confusion.

I look up. Why does he sound surprised?

But before I can respond, Uther's gaze moves to Clark, who is still staring wide-eyed.

Why does Clark look at him like that—

"You're so handsome!" Clark suddenly blurts out, eyes sparkling.

I nearly collapse from embarrassment.

"Clark!" I turn to him, mortified, gently shaking his shoulders. "You can't just say things like that out loud!"

Clark blinks at me, then at Uther. "Oh… Sorry, Monsieur."

To my surprise, Uther smiles—just barely. "No need to apologize, Clark."

He crouches down to meet Clark at eye level. "I'm Uther Lyon. Nice to meet you, second heir of the Eñeforte territory."

Clark tilts his head. "Second heir?"

Uther thinks Clark is my little brother.

I need to clear that up, without hurting Clark's feelings.

"Ah—Monsieur Uther, Clark isn't… exactly related to me. He's staying with us temporarily… until we can find his parents."

"I see. My apologies for the misunderstanding."

"It's okie!" Clark chirps.

Uther rises to his full height and turns back to me. "Dominic, are you… comfortable wearing that?"

I blink. "This?" I glance down.

My white dress shirt and black vest are… strained. The buttons look like they're holding on for dear life, and a few small tears dot the fabric. The outline of my chest is just slightly visible through a gap.

This is the fanciest outfit I own. I didn't have time to request a new one from Celine, especially since I only just discovered this morning that she could make clothes.

Still, I try to play it cool.

"Don't worry about it, Monsieur Uther. I can move comfortably in it."

He gives a small nod. "If you say so."

Despite how formal he looks, he does not push the issue. But standing this close to him… I understand why Arthur always feels like he has something to prove.

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"Doms! Clark!"

I turn toward the sound of Arthur's voice and see both him and Lumi approaching from the right.

They look… striking.

Arthur's outfit mirrors his father's: formal, elegant, and carrying the full weight of nobility. The deep blue tailcoat with gold embroidery gives him a regal air far beyond his usual relaxed charm. He looks like the heir to a powerful guild.

Beside him, Lumi looks as if she just stepped out of the upper districts of Aurelior—elegant in her floral red dress and ivory blazer, effortlessly dignified yet breezy in that uniquely Lumi way. It suits her. Refined but never gaudy.

"Lumi. Arthur," I greet with a nod.

"Hi, Arthur and—" Clark suddenly stops.

I glance down at him and notice that he is looking at Lumi. His mouth is slightly open. Eyes wide again.

"…Beautiful," he whispers.

At least he does not shout it this time.

But I cannot help but agree with him.

Arthur steps forward and stops in front of me. His eyes glance down, brows furrowing slightly.

"Cl—Doms," he corrects mid-sentence, "your…"

"My outfit?" I ask, raising a brow.

"Yeah. It looks… tight."

I give a casual shrug and wave it off. "Don't worry about it. I can move just fine."

Arthur looks unconvinced but lets it go. "Well… suit yourself."

As we stand together, I take a moment to analyze their Mana.

Arthur is not radiating much, which means one thing: concealment. He is definitely suppressing his full output, just like Uther. That makes sense. Arthur is formally trained. His real strength will not show until the duel begins.

I am doing the same.

Lumi, though?

I can feel all of it. Her Mana output is stable, refined, and flowing freely. I estimate she is around [C-] Rank. Not bad, but Arthur still has the edge.

Then my eyes drift to Arthur's hip.

The sword.

The one he retrieved from the Temple du Sceptre Lié. It is sheathed now in a new scabbard—a striking one, glowing faintly with Mana. The design… it harmonizes with the sword. Like they were made for each other.

The Mana from the scabbard is subtle, but it shares the same light signature as the blade.

Interesting…

"Ahem."

Uther's low, commanding cough catches everyone's attention.

All heads turn toward him.

"Now that everyone has arrived," Uther says, his voice steady and composed, "let us proceed to the arena. It is time for the duel to begin."

"Yes, Father," Arthur replies with a formal nod.

"Yes, Monsieur Uther," I echo, squaring my shoulders.

And just like that, the air shifts.

We have laughed. We have talked.

But now…

The duel is about to begin.

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We walk along the winding cobblestone path.

Uther leads the way with calm, purposeful strides, his long cape brushing over the stones like a royal banner. Just behind him are Arthur and Lumi, speaking quietly, while Clark and I trail behind, the furthest in the group.

"Woah, big brother, look!" Clark whispers excitedly, tugging at my sleeve.

I follow his gaze.

To our right, nestled within a ring of trimmed hedges, stands a massive marble fountain. Water cascades in soft arcs across multi-tiered basins, its base surrounded by blooming white roses and glowing Aether lamps that shimmer faintly in the daylight.

"Yeah… that is a nice fountain," I murmur.

I look forward.

Arthur has turned, walking backward now as he looks straight at me.

"Let's talk. Alone," he says, his tone calm but serious.

I raise a brow, intrigued. I have a feeling I know what Arthur is going to ask.

I glance down at Clark. "Hey, Clark, how about you go talk to Lumi for a bit?"

"You mean the pretty lady?"

"Yes," I say with a small smile. "Now go on."

"Okie!" Clark chirps and skips ahead to walk beside Lumi. She looks slightly surprised, but her expression remains composed.

It is strange how bold Clark can be sometimes. When I was his age, I barely spoke to anyone, let alone someone that pretty.

Arthur slows his pace until he is walking beside me, leaving Lumi and Clark just ahead.

"Clark," Arthur says suddenly, "how much Mana do you have?"

Straight to the point, huh?

I knew this was coming. Next would probably be questions on how many spells I have learned, how well I can control my Mana… all the things a rival would want to know before a fight.

Should I tell him?

He did tell me his rank before.

...

No. We are about to duel. I will keep it vague. Sorry, Arthur.

"I have [C-] Rank Mana."

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly. "Strange… I can feel more than that. Somewhere around [B] Rank, maybe."

[B]? I thought I was suppressing it better than that.

I focus, pulling my Mana deeper inward.

The flow settles further. That should do it.

Now I need a plausible explanation. Fortunately, the theory is well-known among sorcerers.

"Probably just a misread," I say with a shrug. "Sensing Mana isn't exact, you know? You're basing it on perception, and if someone's output feels heavier than yours, your brain fills in the gap. It's not like there's a meter hovering over my head."

Arthur nods slowly. "Makes sense." He pauses, then asks, "How many spells did you learn?"

"Just one. A dark beam."

"That's it?" he blinks. "What else can it do? Any secondary effects?"

"Nope. Just a straight-up laser of dark energy."

Arthur raises a brow. "Huh. I thought Uncle André would've taught you more."

"Oh, no. He didn't teach me. It was Célestin."

"Really?" Arthur looks genuinely surprised. "What about Uncle André? He's usually the one training people."

"He was tired after Stargate Raiding," I explain. "I didn't want to exhaust him. Célestin stepped in instead."

"I see…" Arthur glances ahead momentarily, then asks, "So… did they find out how you became a Manaficial? You know, about the artifacts?"

I nod. "Yeah. We had a long family talk afterward. Celine and André were both pretty worried when they heard about it."

Arthur's voice softens. "Did you tell them you got stabbed during the expedition?"

I shake my head. "No. I left that part out."

Arthur frowns. "Why?"

I give him a sideways glance. "Because I didn't want them to worry even more. They already had enough to process."

Arthur is silent for a moment, then says quietly, "Yeah… I get it. I'm glad you talked with them, though."

We walk the rest of the way in silence, our footsteps light against the path, the sounds of the estate's fountain fading behind us.

As we continue, I catch Clark glancing repeatedly at Lumi, his eyes filled with quiet awe.

Lumi, ever poised, turns toward him. Her expression remains unreadable, but her gaze settles on him with mild curiosity.

What are you thinking, Clark?

Then he asks, without hesitation, "Uhm… are you a princess?"

I blink, surprised. Bold.

Clark, the younger version of me from my past life, is far more confident than I ever was at that age. Maybe staying here in Sylvestria has brought something out in him—something I never allowed myself to express when I was his age.

Lumi raises a brow. "No, I'm not. Why do you ask?"

Clark grins. "Because you're pretty!"

For a split second, Lumi's icy composure cracks. She gives him a small smile—barely there, but real.

"Thank you," she says. "What's your name?"

"I'm Clark Williams! Nice to meet you!"

"I'm Lumi Everheart. Nice to meet you, too, Clark."

I chuckle softly under my breath, amused.

That is when I feel Arthur nudge my shoulder lightly. "I didn't know your past self was that confident."

I laugh. "Trust me, I wasn't. Not even close. But maybe… being in Sylvestria changed something in him. Gave him room to grow."

Arthur nods thoughtfully. "Could be. He has been living with Uncle André and Auntie Celine. That's bound to have an effect."

"Yeah…" I say quietly, watching Clark smile up at Lumi like he belongs here.

And maybe he does.

We keep walking, the soft crunch of boots over cobblestone giving way to the open air ahead.

After a few minutes, we reach the massive arena gates, an imposing structure of carved white stone and reinforced gold. Tall archways loom before us, with statues of armored Magicians standing watch on either side, weapons drawn and eyes forward.

Uther comes to a halt and turns to face us. "We have arrived," he announces, his voice calm but firm.

This is it.

The duel is about to begin.