The Manaless Extra (A Progression Fantasy Story)

Volume 03, Chapter 107
Dominic vs Arthur [1]

I sit alone on the bench in the locker room, the air cool and still around me. The stone walls dampen any sound from the outside, creating a pocket of silence that allows me to focus.

My eyes are closed. My body is relaxed. But internally—I am in motion.

Mana courses through me in steady waves, flowing from my feet to my core, then rising through my chest and head like a tide rolling upward.

I have learned to take every spare moment and turn it into training. No second is wasted. No pause comes without purpose.

I open my right hand.

"Dark Orb…" I murmur.

Shadow gathers at my palm, spiraling into form. A dense, churning sphere of black Mana begins to take shape.

It pulses softly—almost like it is breathing.

The orb hovers just above my skin, swirling with threads of shadowy essence. It no longer feels wild—just awake. Controlled. Tamed.

But not fully.

It still fluctuates, a slight tremble in its form, like it wants to slip from my grasp and unravel. I narrow my focus, adjusting the flow, realigning my internal balance.

I feel sweat beads on my temple. I keep going.

The orb stabilizes.

A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.

It is different now.

Compared to yesterday—when my Mana was scattered and my control shaky—this feels like night and day. The progress is real. Measurable. I can feel it in my bones, in the air around me.

I am evolving.

—Ding!

A sharp bell echoes through the chamber.

"All combatants, proceed to the arena."

I exhale slowly and let the orb dissolve back into the air.

The shadows slip through my fingers like smoke.

I stand.

Shoulders square. Back straight. I take a deep breath—and then another.

And yet…

My stomach twists.

I cannot help it.

Despite everything—despite knowing this is not life or death—my nerves buzz.

"…Tch."

I stare at the notification and exhale again, this time more annoyed than anxious.

"Okay, fine. I have more Mana than Arthur. I'll just drown him in it. Overwhelm him. Straightforward enough—"

"…Huh?"

"You've got to be kidding me…" I mutter.

First, I could not even manually add my points to my Mana stat when I first woke up in this world. Second, I cannot even freely allocate all my Stat Points into a single stat if I wanted to—I am forced to spread them out instead. And now this?

"Seriously, System, I swear you're—"

That shuts me up real quick.

I let out a long sigh. This System is like a moody AI with ego issues…

Great. That is one thing off my mind, at least.

I take one last deep breath.

Then I step forward into the hallway, walking toward the light at the end—the arena.

Time to fight.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Arthur stands alone in the locker room.

He reaches down and unlatches the scabbard at his hip, drawing the blade with a slow, precise motion.

The polished sword catches the overhead lights, gleaming coldly as the intricate runes carved along its edge shimmer faintly.

Arthur sets the scabbard gently on the table beside him.

Then, raising the blade with both hands, he takes a deep breath.

"Haa!"

A clean vertical slash.

"Haa!"

A sharp horizontal sweep follows.

The air splits with a soft whistle, then returns to silence.

He stands still, blade outstretched, his breathing steady. In the mirror-polished surface of the steel, he sees his reflection—composed, focused… but beneath the surface, something else stirs.

Uncertainty.

He stares at himself for a long moment.

Then exhales.

"Even though Doms isn't here," he says quietly, "I still want to beat Clark." His voice echoes faintly off the marble walls. "I know he's not Doms. I know that."

He slowly lowers the blade. "But… why do I still feel the need to do this?"

The question hovers in the air like smoke—formless and unanswered.

Stolen story; please report.

Arthur turns away from the mirror and leans both hands on the edge of the table, his head lowered.

He had asked for this duel before he found out Dominic's soul was gone… and someone else—Clark—had taken his place.

And yet, even after learning that…

He still wanted to fight him.

Still wanted to win.

But for what? Pride? Legacy? Something else?

He closes his eyes.

Memories surge back.

Chess matches where Dominic checkmated him in ten moves. Class rankings where Dominic's name was always one line higher. Teachers praising Dominic with smiles just a little warmer. A pat on Dominic's shoulder that Arthur never got.

He had learned to smile through it.

To act like it did not matter.

But it did.

Because no matter how hard Arthur tried, how many hours he pushed himself, how deeply the pressure of his lineage weighed on his back, Dominic always seemed one step ahead.

And now, Clark stands in his place.

A different soul.

But the face… the voice… the body…

All still belong to Dominic.

And that makes everything harder.

Because this duel is not just about Clark.

It is about everything Arthur never got to say to the person who always outshone him.

"I don't even know what I want anymore," Arthur murmurs. "Validation? Closure?"

He looks down at the sword in his hands, and somehow, it feels heavier.

"Or maybe I just want to prove to myself… that I'm no longer standing in someone else's shadow."

The locker room falls silent again.

Arthur swings the sword one last time and sighs.

Whatever happens out there, he will give it everything.

Not for the applause.

Not for victory alone.

But for something deeper.

Even if he still does not fully understand what that is.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

I step out of the hallway and am immediately met by the blinding light of the sun and the vastness of the arena.

A wide, circular battleground of sand stretches before me. The air is dry and warm.

Across the arena, I see Arthur emerge from his hallway.

He already has his sword. The silver blade shimmers faintly, runes glowing along the edge. The scabbard is gone, left behind.

Arthur reaches his side of the battlefield.

"Go, big brother!!"

Clark's voice rings out from the stands. I turn and spot him waving enthusiastically, standing at the front of the viewing area.

I smile and wave back. I'm glad he's cheering me on.

I also notice Lumi standing beside Clark. And, as expected, her expression is unreadable.

Typical Lumi. I have no idea what she's thinking.

"The rules of the duel are simple!" Uther's voice echoes through the arena.

I look in his direction and see him standing above the arena in the royal viewing stand, framed by a massive golden chair behind him—decorated with a lion insignia that marks the prestige of House Lyon.

"All forms of combat are permitted. Victory is determined when one combatant is rendered unconscious."

I nod and turn to face Arthur.

He is focused. Stoic. His gaze does not waver from mine.

I move my hands toward my pockets, where both of Galahad's Judgements lie waiting.

"Let the duel… begin!" Uther shouts.

I quickly draw both guns and pour Mana into them. The barrels pulse with energy.

"Avalon Blast!" Arthur suddenly shouts.

Three radiant beams of light surge toward me before I can even fire.

"Activate!" I yell.

—Tick-tock.

Time slows to a crawl.

Everything—sound, wind, even the fall of dust—slows around me.

Except—the beams keep moving normally.

What?!

I dart to the side, heart pounding, narrowly avoiding the impact. I keep running, skimming along the edge of the arena while gathering Mana in both hands. I raise my guns and fire.

—Bang! Bang! Bang!

Glowing purple bullets tear through the slowed air toward Arthur. When I infuse Mana into my guns, which are already embedded with Aether, the bullets become even more devastating. A hit would—

Arthur turns. Slowly. His eyes lock on mine.

Wait—how can he move?!

"Fl…ash… of… Mer…lin!"

Arthur's entire body bursts with golden light.

And in the blink of an eye, he vanishes.

He is right in front of me.

What the hell?!

I roll to the side, and in mid-roll, I see his sword slash exactly where I had just been.

I land in a crouch and raise my guns again.

—Fwoosh!

He is already there, right in front of me again. His sword is raised overhead, ready to strike.

I panic—gather Mana into my legs—and launch myself backward.

—Boom!

His blade strikes the ground where I had been. A violent shockwave erupts, shrouding the area in smoke.

I land, gather Mana, and fire again.

—Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Four bullets cut through the haze.

—Clank! Clank! Clank!

The smoke clears. Arthur has deflected every shot.

His body is still glowing.

He is better in close quarters and somehow… he has countered my Chrono Pendant.

Why? How?

Arthur looks at me with a calm smile. "I know what you're wondering… How can I move even while your artifact is activated?"

I do not answer.

My fingers tighten on my guns. Is this a trick? A distraction?

But my curiosity wins out.

"…How?"

"Flash of Merlin makes me move at light speed," he explains. "Your pendant slows time around you, but not for me, because I'm not just reacting quickly. I'm moving faster than your slowed perception can account for."

That…

That makes sense.

The Chrono Pendant manipulates temporal flow, but not relativistic speed. If Arthur is traveling close to or at the speed of light, my slowed world would not affect him the same way.

That spell does not just boost his speed—it makes him untouchable.

"I thought Flash of Merlin could only be cast once," I say.

"It can. But I'm not recasting it. I'm channeling it. So long as I keep feeding it Mana… it stays active. That applies to all of my spells. Beams, lights, constructs—I can continuously sustain them with raw input."

So that's the kind of Magician he is. A flexible caster. A relentless one.

"Great…" I mutter.

"Avalon Blast!"

Three new orbs of light appear beside him, transforming into blazing beams headed my way.

I charge Mana into my legs and sprint sideways—

—Boom!

The explosion knocks me off my feet.

I am flung into the air, the wind screaming past me. Everything spins.

And then—a streak of light surges up toward me.

Arthur.

I aim both guns downward.

[Gravity's Gambit]

—Bang! Bang!

The recoil pushes me upward mid-air, just as a blade cuts through the space I had been a second ago.

Arthur's swing slices the air itself.

I cannot keep dodging forever. It is time to fight back.

I charge Mana into both guns. Not just a shot—a beam.

"Dark Beam!"

—Bling!

Twin dark beams erupt from my guns, blasting toward the ground and launching me even higher.

Arthur glances up.

With a flash of light, he dashes backward.

—Boom!

My beams hit the ground and explode in a wave of shadow and debris.

I begin to fall fast.

Below, Arthur aims his sword at me. Three orbs of light float at his side.

I need a plan.

I cannot land. I cannot dodge forever.

Fly…

Dodge…

Wings…

That's it!

I focus Mana on my back. In my mind, I imagine them—wings of shadow, vast and swift, born of Umbran magic.

Three light beams shoot toward me.

I twist midair, my body narrowly weaving between them.

"Umbran Wings!" I shout.

—Fwoosh!

My descent stops.

Wind kicks up around me.

I hover in the sky, floating… flying.

I look down.

Arthur stares up at me, eyes widening slightly.

I'm flying.

I'm really flying.

I stare at the System window and smile.

I can fly now.

That alone should have felt like a triumph—but how the hell do I control flight?

"Avalon Blast!" Arthur's voice rings out from below.

Light beams!

I instinctively swerve to the side.

—Fwoosh!

Then again, in the opposite direction.

—Fwoosh!

And again. I zigzag through the air, darting wildly.

—Fwoosh!

My vision tilts. My stomach churns.

Oh no. I am going to hurl midair.

Flying is nothing like running. It is not like falling either. It feels more like swimming while gravity repeatedly punches you in the gut.

Focus.

I force myself to stabilize. I visualize flapping. I picture balance. Gradually, my flight steadies.

The dizziness fades.

"Avalon Blast!"

Another barrage. I feel the swell of light-based Mana surging toward me.

I flap my wings again—this time with intent—and dart backward, narrowly avoiding the strike…

…but now I'm halfway across the arena.

"Hey! Stop flying and face me on the ground! Fight fair!" Arthur shouts from below.

I blink. That sounds... unlike him.

"Nah!" I call back with a grin. "I like the view up here!"

Arthur scowls. "So be it."

He raises his hand, and his entire body begins to glow—brighter, fiercer—his Mana pulsing like a miniature sun.

Then, one by one, orbs of light appear around the arena. High in the air. Near the walls. Even below me. Fifteen in total.

Each one... it's charged.

Their Mana signatures are intense—probably around [C-] Rank each.

I clench my fists.

I am not ready to dodge fifteen projectiles while still learning how to fly.

I have no choice.

I need to tank it.

I need a shield. No—a dome. A barrier of darkness.

I gather Mana—not in my hands, but around my entire body. I focus with everything I have.

A spell that shields me from all directions. A full barrier. Dark, dense, and unyielding.

"Avalon Blast!"

The orbs fire.

"Umbra Dome!"

A sphere of swirling blackness wraps around me like a cocoon—just in time.

—BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The blasts slam into the dome, bright light crashing against solid darkness. The impact shakes through me, but the shield holds.

I grin through gritted teeth. Another one.

Creating a spell is not about chanting some fancy phrase.

It is intention + control + output. Think of the purpose. Shape the effect. Feed it Mana. Without Mana Control? You might blow your own hands off.

I have been training for this.

"It's time to fire back."

I disperse the dome and aim both guns downward at Arthur.

"Dark Beam!"

Twin beams of swirling shadow erupt from the barrels.

"Avalon Blast!" he calls in response.

Three of his light beams surge upward to meet mine.

—BLING!

The beams collide midair in a cascade of light and darkness. The sky itself seems to shudder. Magic crackles between us, suspended in violent conflict.

"Ngh…!"

I can feel it—my beams are holding, but just barely.

I had been conserving my Mana so far because of the quest, but now, it is time to let some of it loose.

"Haaah!"

I funnel more Mana into the guns.

—BLING!

The dark beams grow thicker, sharper, more refined. I can feel my spell starting to push his back.

The pressure shifts.

I'm winning this clash.

I keep feeding it—bit by bit. More pressure. More focus.

—BLING!

His beams begin to retreat under mine.

I see it on his face—Arthur's eyes narrow, his jaw clenches. He did not expect this.

Then suddenly—

I feel it.

A surge.

A massive one.

Arthur's sword begins to glow brighter than ever before.

Golden light pours out of it like liquid fire, and the Mana radiating from it...

It is overwhelming.

Not [C]. Not [B].

This... might be [A].