The Manaless Extra (A Progression Fantasy Story)

Volume 03, Chapter 117
Eñeforte Town In Trouble

The golden rays of the late afternoon sun bathe the front of the Lyon chateau in a warm, gentle glow.

Dominic, Clark, Lumi, Arthur, and Uther stand outside, the breeze brushing softly against them.

"Man, those snacks hit the spot," Dominic murmurs, rubbing his stomach with a contented sigh.

Clark immediately mimics him, puffing out his cheeks and giggling. "So full…"

"I'm glad you both enjoyed it," Uther says, arms crossed, his tone lighter than usual. "I wasn't expecting you to eat this much, Dominic. You barely touched your plate the last time you visited."

Dominic scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well… people change, I guess."

Uther gives a small smile, just enough to be noticed—before gazing at Lumi. "Lumi, your visit may have been unannounced, but I hope you found your time here meaningful."

Lumi's usually unreadable expression softens. She looks down and places a hand over her chest, her voice steady. "It was. Seeing how strong both Arthur and Dominic are… it made me realize how much farther I need to go. I want to become stronger too."

Uther regards her quietly for a moment, then gives a rare nod of approval. "That resolve… your father would be proud."

Lumi's gaze drops further. Her fingers curl slightly over her chest.

Arthur and Dominic exchange a glance. They say nothing, but the look is enough; they understand.

"I hope he is…" Lumi whispers, her voice nearly lost to the breeze.

Just then, the low hum of an engine approaches. A sleek white limousine rolls to a smooth stop at the edge of the courtyard.

"It seems it's time for me to leave," Lumi says, her voice returning to its usual calm, composed tone. She turns toward Arthur and Dominic. "I'll see you both at the Verdant Arcanum entrance exam."

She turns to Clark, who is already waving enthusiastically. "Bye-bye, big sis Lumi!"

Lumi's lips curve into the faintest smile. "Goodbye, Clark."

She walks toward the waiting car, her figure poised and graceful. The limo door closes with a soft click, and the vehicle drives away, leaving only a trail of dust in her wake.

The remaining four stand silently for a moment, watching the limo disappear down the path.

Then, the quiet is broken by the approach of a servant carrying a leather briefcase.

"Young master, the outfit you requested has been repaired," the servant says with a bow, presenting the case.

"Thank you," Arthur replies, accepting it. He turns and offers the case to Dominic. "Doms, I had them fix your outfit. Thought you'd want it back in shape."

Dominic smiles as he takes it. "Thanks, Arthur. That means a lot."

Arthur gives a hesitant nod. "But your guns… I'm sorry. Not even Blake could fix them. The Aether circuits were completely fried."

Dominic looks down momentarily, then offers a small, grateful smile. "It's alright. They served their purpose."

Clark looks up at him with wide eyes. "Big brother… are you gonna get new ones?"

Dominic chuckles. "Maybe. We'll see."

The Lyon estate limo rolls quietly onto the driveway, its sleek black frame gleaming beneath the afternoon sun. The soft hum of its engine ceases as it comes to a halt.

From the driver's seat, Max steps out with practiced grace. He adjusts his coat and moves swiftly to open the rear passenger door.

"It seems it's time for us to go home," Dominic says, glancing at the car, then down at Clark, who stands quietly beside him.

"…Yeah," Clark replies softly, his voice tinged with a hint of reluctance.

Arthur steps forward, hands in his pockets. "Thanks for coming, Doms. And you too, Clark."

"Thanks for the food… and the duel," Dominic smirks, bumping Arthur's shoulder lightly.

Arthur chuckles. "Don't expect me to go easy next time."

"I'd be disappointed if you did."

Uther approaches next. "Dominic. Clark," he says with a measured nod, "you're welcome here anytime."

"Thank you, Monsieur Uther," Dominic replies sincerely, bowing his head slightly. "I'll take you up on that."

Uther gives a faint smile, then turns to Clark. "You be a good kid. Don't stress Dominic."

Clark beams. "Okay!"

That earns a chuckle from everyone.

Arthur kneels beside Clark, ruffling his hair. "Make sure to keep eating and growing stronger."

Clark nods enthusiastically. "I will! Then I'll duel you too, just like Big Brother!"

Dominic smiles warmly, placing a hand on Clark's back. "You will. I'll train you myself."

Max opens the door wider, waiting patiently.

Dominic turns back one last time, giving Arthur a grateful look. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"You too," Arthur says. "And… thanks for listening."

Dominic nods.

With that, he gently guides Clark into the car and climbs in after him.

As the door closes with a soft click, Arthur, Uther, and the servants watch the estate car pull away.

As the vehicle disappears down the road, Arthur exhales slowly and murmurs, "See you soon… Doms."

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Clark leans against the window, his small hands pressed to the glass as the afternoon light bathes his face in gold. His wide eyes track the blur of trees and fields rushing past, a faint trail of breath fogging the pane as he whispers sounds of awe at the scenery.

Beside him, Dominic reclines slightly into the smooth leather seat, arms stretching above his head with a soft groan. The tension in his shoulders eases as he sinks, a small smile curling at the edges of his lips as he glances at Clark.

"You're taking in the view, huh?" he murmurs, more to himself than to the boy.

Clark does not respond, too busy marveling at the world outside.

A faint red shimmer lights up before Dominic's eyes. The transparent holographic screen hovers in front of him, waiting.

'Sure.'

Dominic leans in slightly, scanning the menu as his eyes narrow in thought.

'So, the Shop's divided into different categories… Skills first, please.'

The interface shimmers and shifts into a new tab.

Dominic's brows arch. 'Damn. These aren't cheap throwaway skills. Every single one of these could shift a battle.'

His gaze lingers on each option, weighing their benefits.

'Dominating Presence… sounds like a universal version of Mana Pressure. Unlike standard suppression that only works on weaker Magicians or Manaficials, this one could affect anyone with Mana or not. A game-changer against Manaless threats.'

He scrolls again.

'Hawk's Eye would be perfect… if I still had my guns. But with Galahad's Judgment fried beyond repair, I'd just be sitting on a dormant advantage.'

His finger hovers over the third entry.

'Imperial Calculation… huh.' His eyes narrow. 'Suppressing emotion. A tactical mode. I overthink a lot, this would help me stay grounded in chaos. Might keep me from spiraling when things go sideways.'

Then his breath hitches slightly as he reaches the final option.

'Shadow Clone… That's just broken. Mirrors of myself that scale with my growth? That's not just an illusion; that's multiplication of force. Especially if I can control them tactically.'

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as the weight of reality sets in.

'Fifty Stat Points. That's it. I can only afford one.'

His eyes narrow again at the top bar.

'Still have the Manual Arts, Weapon, and Artifact Sections to check…'

He sits up straighter and closes the skill list.

'System,' he thinks with practiced calm, 'Show me the Manual Arts section next.'

The screen shimmers again.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Dominic leans back as the list unfolds before him.

"These are solid styles…" he muses, eyes flicking from one to the next. "Shinkansatsu-ryū and Viper's Crescent… sleek, lethal, my style."

He pauses.

"But they're only useful if I've got the right weapons. Titan Edge and Aegis Fang are great too, but I'm not planning to swing a hammer around any time soon."

His gaze lingers on Aegis Fang.

'This one is the most compatible with my current situation. I've got no weapon on hand, and this style makes my body the weapon. Defense, offense, and movement covered. I could buy it now, but…'

He clenches his jaw slightly and waves the screen aside.

'Let's check the Weapon Section before I commit.'

Dominic's eyes glimmer as he reads. 'These aren't just weapons, they're signatures.'

His grin twitches upward. 'If I paired Raigetsu-no-Kiba with Shinkansatsu-ryū… I'd be like some demon-slaying coward with speed and lightning at my back.'

The image makes him chuckle to himself. 'Cowardly Demon Slayer? Eh. Could be worse.'

His gaze dances between options. 'The Fangs of Silence would go perfectly with Viper's Crescent stealth and precision. Pyra and Glacis would make Aegis Fang brutally effective in close quarters…'

He exhales through his nose. 'Still… I haven't seen the Artifact Section yet. Better not blow my points before checking that out.'

He straightens in his seat. 'System, show me the Artifact Section.'

Dominic's eyes scan the details. 'Damn… These artifacts are no joke.'

The Shadowveil Fedora makes his breath hitch.

'Complete stealth… total aura concealment… It's practically ghost mode. But 300 points? No way I'm affording that now. That's for another day…'

His attention shifts to the Earring of Reflex Time.

'This one's clever. Passive, automatic, and synergizes perfectly with the Chrono Pendant. Would've saved me multiple times already.'

"Interesting…" Dominic mutters without realizing it.

Clark perks up from the window seat beside him. "What's interesting, big brother?"

Dominic blinks, startled. He smiles awkwardly. "Oh, uh… the scenery outside. Just didn't expect it to be this nice."

"Ohhh!" Clark chirps and turns back to the window, nose nearly pressed against the glass.

Dominic exhales in relief. "Nice save," he whispers to himself.

He turns his attention back to the Shop screen.

Dominic thinks, 'So… weapons, Manual Arts, artifacts… they're great, but each one feels like half a decision without the other.'

His gaze flicks back to the Weapon Section in his memory.

'No point buying a fighting style if I don't have the corresponding weapon. And if I grab a weapon now, I'd be stuck with no fighting style or vice versa. That limits me.'

He opens his palm and stares down at it.

'Artifacts are helpful… but situational. Especially the Earring. If I don't get into a life-or-death scenario, it's just sitting there eating stat points.'

His gaze returns to the Skill Section.

Then he smirks.

'But Shadow Clone… that's different.'

His eyes lock on the glowing option as if it is calling to him.

'It's not just a skill. It's multiplicity. It's training, recon, and combat all at once. Any skill I learn, the clones learn. Any stat I gain, they gain. And if they fight? I gain from that too. It's a walking power multiplier.'

Dominic taps his finger against his chin thoughtfully.

'A weapon becomes useless when broken. A style gets outdated. But a Shadow Clone? That evolves with me.' He nods to himself. 'I'll take the long-term investment over short-term gain.'

With a final breath, he makes his decision. 'System, purchase Shadow Clone.'

"Yes."

The screen glows briefly.

'Now we're getting somewhere.' Dominic exhales, eyes half-lidded. 'Now tell me the full details about the skill.'

Dominic narrows his eyes. 'Sixty percent damage output… That's the tradeoff. But that's still double or triple my pressure on the field.'

He tilts his head.

'Even better if they take hits for me. They double as bodyguards. If they split off? Surveillance units. If they're killed? Smoke cover. That's versatility you can't buy with weapons.'

He leans back into the seat, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Dominic's gaze sweeps across the screen, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest. He feels the loss, his physical stats have each dropped by fifty points as a consequence of his defeat against Arthur.

Yet, there is a glimmer of progress. His Mana Control has edged higher, breaking past the two-hundred mark and reaching [D] Rank.

'I'm glad my Mana Control's improving, but… this window is so cluttered,' Dominic muses, frowning. 'System, can we make this interface less of a mess? If I say "stats," just show me my core status. "Skills" should list only skills, and "spells" only my spell list. Keep it neat.'

Within moments, the screen shifts, information sliding away and reforming into a cleaner, more compact display.

A small smile tugs at Dominic's lips. 'Much better,' he thinks.

All of a sudden, the limousine lurches to a halt.

Dominic blinks. 'What the…? The road was smooth seconds ago. Why the sudden stop?'

"Big brother, look!" Clark's voice rings out, filled with alarm. "There's a huge purple smoke!"

Dominic's eyes narrow. He leans forward and turns to the window.

And what he sees freezes the breath in his lungs.

Eñeforte Town, where families once strolled, markets bustled, and laughter echoed, is now smothered in a thick, unnatural purple fog, blanketing everything in sight like a poisonous veil.

Dominic's pupils constrict. "What the hell is that…"

Just beyond the edge of the mist, several bodies lie scattered across the ground, twisted, motionless, collapsed mid-run or mid-scream. Some still clutch bags. Others have arms outstretched toward the town, as if they were trying to crawl away before…

Dominic's heart drops. "Those bodies… they must have died from that smoke…" he murmurs, his voice low with dread.

And then—

"Celine."

Her name tears from his throat like a curse.

His jaw clenches, his fist tightening until his knuckles pale. A sick, helpless pit forms in his stomach. He does not know for sure if she is inside, but his gut, the deepest part of him, fears the worst.

He is not Dominic Eñeforte. But ever since he transmigrated into this world, Celine has treated him like her own. Her warmth, her calm, her unwavering kindness reminded him of a mother he once lost in another life.

And now… she might be dying. Or worse, already gone.

He grits his teeth. No… no, not like this.

Then—

Out of the mist, a lone figure emerges.

Tall. Robed in purple. A plague mask covering his face.

Dominic's blood runs cold. His instincts scream.

His eyes flare crimson. It's him.

The figure's mere presence is enough to make the air feel heavier. Thicker. More hostile.

Dominic's entire body tenses as something deep and primal surges through him—an instinct not born from reason, but from fury.

"Kill him," he growls.

—FWOOSH!

Mana explodes out of him in an uncontrolled burst, a torrent of dark pressure warping the air. The limo rattles beneath him. Outside, the masked figure visibly staggers, just for a moment, before regaining composure.

Dominic's mana has reached him.

"Dominic," Max's voice comes from the front, tense but composed. The driver's window slides down a crack. "The entire town is covered in that purple smoke. We should retreat and get help."

"No." Dominic's answer comes sharp, unflinching.

Max blinks. "What?"

"I said no." He turns toward the front. "Max, get Clark out of here. Take the car. Head back to Lyon Château. Inform Arthur and Monsieur Uther immediately."

"But—"

"Go!" Dominic barks.

Clark flinches. "B-Big brother… is everything okay?"

Dominic turns to him, forcing a thin smile onto his lips. "Everything's fine, Clark. Just... stay with Max."

"But you're still injured…" Clark whispers. "You can't fight like this…"

Dominic reaches over and gently ruffles Clark's hair.

"I'll be okay," he says. Then, quieter, "Be a good boy, alright?"

Clark's throat bobs. "…Okay."

Dominic steps out of the limo, the door closing behind him with a final, quiet click.

The black vehicle rolls away, Max already accelerating toward safety, toward help. Clark watches Dominic from the back window, his small hand pressed to the glass as the distance grows.

Dominic does not look back.

His eyes are locked ahead, on the smoke, on the figure, on the terror that threatens to steal everything from him.

His body aches. His mana still has not fully recovered from the duel. But none of it matters.

Every part of him wants to kill the man ahead.

And as his Mana stirs once more, like a beast clawing against its cage, Dominic mutters coldly under his breath, "You're not walking away this time."