The Manaless Extra (A Progression Fantasy Story)

Volume 04, Chapter 130

4 Months Later [2]

It has been four months since the day that changed everything, the night the Eñeforte territory was swallowed by darkness and lightning, only to rise from the ashes with a new heart.

So much has changed in so little time.

The narrow streets and cramped alleys of old Eñeforte are gone. Now, wide roads and new buildings shine. Busy markets fill every corner, and laughter drifts from open windows. More people walk the streets. The whole town feels alive, as if it finally belongs to the future instead of the past.

But the greatest transformation is the new Eñeforte house. The original, with its cozy three bedrooms, is long gone. In its place rises a grander, prouder home, with four bedrooms, tall windows that welcome the morning light, and enough space to fill with all the voices of a family.

In one of these new rooms, Clark stands before a wide mirror. He wears a white dress shirt and a brown vest, matching slacks, and dark brown leather shoes. He eyes himself critically, hands on his hips, as if seeing a stranger in familiar clothes.

"Big brother's style looks something like this," he murmurs, tilting his head from side to side. "What else am I missing?"

He looks around the neat room and notices a dark brown beret and a matching trench coat resting on his desk chair. Suddenly, inspiration sparks in him.

"Ohhh, that's it!"

He puts the beret on at an angle, pulls on the trench coat, and turns in front of the mirror with a smooth motion. Then he gives himself a thumbs-up.

"That looks good."

Before he can enjoy his transformation, someone knocks softly on the door.

"Clark, are you done?" comes André's voice from the hallway.

"Yeah, Dad!" Clark calls back, grinning as he straightens his collar.

Four months ago, saying that word would have felt odd to him. Now, it feels natural. André had adopted him and made it official for everyone to see. Clark Williams was no longer a wandering orphan. He was now Clark Eñeforte, a son and a brother.

The door swings open, and André steps inside, dressed in a sharp black-and-white version of Clark's outfit.

André's gaze softens as he takes in the sight of his son. "Ah, you look good, Clark."

Clark can't help but smile, a little shy but proud. "Thanks, Dad."

"C'mon, let's go. Dominic and Celine are waiting for us."

Clark nods eagerly and falls into step beside his father as they head out.

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Clark and André walk hand in hand through the center of the rebuilt town. The morning sun lights up the streets, and the air smells of fresh bread and coffee. Everywhere they look, Eñeforte is lively and whole again.

André feels proud as he looks at his people. He remembers how the partnerships with the Everhearts, the Lyons, and the Moreau Aether Mining Corporation made all of this possible.

Factory workers in blue coveralls walk down the street, laughing as they head to cafés. Shopkeepers clean outside their stores. Teenagers ride by on new Aether-bikes, calling out friendly greetings.

"Good morning, Mayor Eñeforte!" calls a woman with a bright smile, carrying a sack of flour on her shoulder.

André lifts his hand in a friendly wave. "Good morning!" he replies, drawing more smiles from passersby.

Beside him, Clark hesitates, uncertain, then gives a shy little wave of his own. A trio of children returning from the bakery notice and wave back, giggling. Clark's face lights up with quiet pride.

They keep walking until they leave the busy town behind and reach the countryside. The land here is green and full of life, with endless fields and tall, healthy crops. On their left, a new research building with shiny glass walls stands in the sunlight, beside a huge warehouse much larger than any from the past.

"Woah…" Clark breathes, pointing at the building. "Is that where they make new plants?"

André smiles and pats Clark's head. "Good eye, Clark. That's the Everheart-Agri Research Center. The Magistists there are always working on ways to help our fields grow even better."

Clark grins, turning back to watch the rows of corn and wheat whipping by.

A levitating taxi suddenly slows down beside them. André quickly steps in front of Clark, tense and alert. But when the window rolls down and he sees a familiar, round-cheeked face, he relaxes.

"Ah, Mayor Eñeforte! Good day!" the driver calls with a cheerful salute. "Would you like a free ride? It's on the house."

André hesitates, racking his memory for the driver's name. He has ridden with this man a dozen times but never quite caught it. He glances at Clark, who nods eagerly.

"Thank you," André says, ushering Clark into the back seat.

"Where to, Mayor?" the driver asks as they settle in.

"We're headed to the Eñeforte cemetery," André replies softly.

"Understood. Buckle up, gentlemen!"

The taxi slides smoothly onto the country lane, leaving the town behind. Green and gold fields rush past the windows. Clark sits quietly, amazed by the passing scenery.

The driver glances at them in the rearview mirror. "You know, Mayor, the citizens are grateful for your leadership," he says.

André blinks, caught off guard. "Why do you say that?"

He sounds truly confused. For many nights, he could not sleep, thinking about his failures, the destroyed bridges, unfinished roads, and closed schools. There was always some disaster or problem. He blamed himself and believed that his people either hated him or felt sorry for him.

But the driver shakes his head. "Because you never gave up on us. You always tried to fix things, no matter how bad it got. You made us feel like this place could be home, even when it hurt."

André feels something in his chest tighten and then, gently, begin to ease. Maybe, for the first time, he allows himself to believe he has done some good.

"Thank you, Monsieur Jacob," André manages, voice thick with feeling.

The driver chuckles. "It's John, Mayor. John Baptiste. But Jacob is close enough."

André laughs, scratching the back of his head. "My apologies, John. Thank you."

John grins, his eyes twinkling in the mirror. "Anytime."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The taxi glides to a halt at the edge of the cemetery, its engine purring softly before settling into silence.

John tips his cap. "Here we are, Mayor."

André gives a nod of gratitude. "Thank you, Monsieur John. For everything."

"You're always welcome, Mayor Eñeforte," John replies with a warm, understanding smile.

Father and son get out of the car as the iron gates of the cemetery quietly open. They walk together along the gravel path, passing by rows of headstones and marble angels, until they reach a simple, well-kept grave.

Celine's name is carved on the granite, sunlight shining on the letters. André stops for a moment with his eyes closed. Then, with a quick gesture and a bit of magic, a bouquet of deep red roses, Celine's favorite, appears in his hands.

He kneels, laying the flowers gently on the grave. "Hey, Celine," he says softly, voice rough but steady. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Clark lingers at André's side, hands nervously clasped in front of him. For a moment, he hesitates, feeling the odd weight of what he is about to say. Four months have not been long enough to make the word feel natural on his tongue. Still, he wants to try. He wants, in his way, to belong.

"Hi…mum," Clark says, voice quiet but clear. "It's… been a while."

André smiles at Clark. Turning to the grave, he speaks gently. "Celine, you wouldn't believe how much has changed. The town is thriving, and our partnerships with the Everhearts, Lyons, and Moreaus have helped rebuild everything. Life has returned here." He gives a soft laugh. "If you were here, I know you'd have so many ideas for the new gardens."

A peaceful silence settles over the cemetery. Sunlight shines through the cypress trees, making patterns on the ground and the headstones. Wildflowers grow between the graves, and birds sing softly in the distance. A light breeze rustles the leaves, adding to the calm feeling.

André places his hand on Celine's grave. He misses her deeply, but being here reminds him to be grateful for the time they shared. Though they lost much, they also found new hope and family.

Clark stands a little straighter. He looks at the grave, the flowers, and then at André, seeing how his father feels. After a moment, Clark speaks quietly, "We're okay, Mum. Dad's looking after me, after big brother in the hospital, and the whole town. You don't have to worry about us."

André blinks, the pride shining bright in his eyes. He reaches for Clark's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "She would be so proud of you, Clark. I'm proud of you, too."

He rises, brushing dust from his knees, and turns to Clark. "I know this is a short reunion, but we should go visit Dominic at the hospital." He smiles, gentle and encouraging. "Go ahead, Clark. Say goodbye."

Clark nods. He takes a small step closer, voice trembling just a little. "Bye, mum. We'll come again soon."

They walk away together, André's arm around Clark's shoulders. Under the gentle morning sun, they leave the cemetery behind, carrying not sadness, but a promise to remember Celine and keep building the life she would have wanted for them.

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In the gently lit hospital room, Dominic lies still on the clean white sheets. The soft hum of Aether-powered machines fills the air, their lights blinking quietly. Even after four months, black streaks still mark his skin, showing the lingering effects of Guzman's spell. Though his breathing is rough, he keeps fighting to stay alive.

Arthur sits vigil at Dominic's bedside. He watches every rise and fall of his friend's chest, searching for some sign—any sign—that this will be the day Dominic wakes up.

"Clark, it's been four months…" Arthur murmurs, his voice just above a whisper. "When are you going to wake up?" His fingers curl into the edge of the blanket. "The best healers in Sylvestria tried everything, but you're still just… here. It's a miracle you're even alive."

Arthur lets his head rest on the bed beside Dominic's hand, the silence stretching between them. "You've missed so much…"

After a while, he rises and brushes Dominic's hair away from his forehead. "The Verdant Arcanum entrance exam is only a week away. I've been training nonstop. Finally reached [B-] Rank." He chuckles, shaking his head. "It's slow, I know, but… I'm getting there. I wish you could see it. I wish you could spar with me, just once more."

Arthur's gaze wanders to the window, sunlight painting soft gold across the tiled floor. "You know… even after what happened, blowing up the town, all that destruction, your territory's doing better than ever. You'd love it. Even if you're not the 'Doms' I used to know…"

He waits for a reply, half-hoping for a miracle. None comes. Arthur gives a quiet, self-mocking laugh. "Yeah… what did I expect?"

He turns away, his eyes falling to the nearby table. There, his sword from Temple du Sceptre Lié rests inside the scabbard. One he had fought for, bargained for, and had fixed by Blake. Arthur runs a thumb over the hilt, then draws the blade, admiring the glint.

"If you wake up…" Arthur says softly, "let's spar again. Imagine that, first thing you see after four months in a coma is me, grinning like an idiot, challenging you to a duel."

A sudden knock startles him.

Arthur swiftly sheathes the sword, places it back on the table, and calls out, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Célestin," comes the answer through the door.

Arthur opens the door and sees Célestin holding a bouquet of fresh roses. Célestin looks very tired, with dark circles under his eyes and slumped shoulders. Arthur does not mention it.

"Célestin… it's been a while," Arthur greets.

"Yeah," Célestin manages, forcing a tired smile. "It has."

Célestin enters, setting the roses into a vase beside Dominic's bed. He stares down at Dominic for a long moment, his face shadowed by weariness and worry.

"He's still not awake, huh?" Célestin whispers, barely audible.

Célestin is much more tired than he looks. Ever since the disaster, he has been working nonstop, chasing after Umbrascourge's minor members and questioning them for clues about the Generals, and searching for two "specific" ancient artifacts that could heal any curse. He has also trained hard for the Verdant Arcanum entrance exam, taken care of protecting Jun's family, and helped Jun learn magic whenever he had free time.

The silence in the room is heavy, but no one minds it. Each boy stands quietly, listening to the steady beeps and gentle hum of the magical machines. All their attention is on the friend lying motionless in the bed. Each of them silently wishes for him to wake up.

Another gentle knock echoes through the room.

Arthur straightens and calls out, "Who is it?"

"It's me," Lumi replies calmly from the other side.

Arthur walks to the door and opens it. Lumi is waiting in the hallway, calm as always. The morning light shines on her white hair as she looks at him with her usual calm expression.

"Lumi…" Célestin greets quietly.

"Good morning," Arthur echoes, offering her a faint, tired smile.

"Good morning," Lumi nods back, her red eyes glancing at the three before she quietly walks to the other side of Dominic's bed.

For a moment, the room is silent except for the soft hum of the Aether machines and the faint sound of birds outside the window.

"So… have you guys been training for the entrance exams at Verdant Arcanum?" Arthur breaks the silence.

"Yes," Lumi replies, her voice calm as a winter lake. "I'm now at [C+] Rank."

Célestin gives a weary nod. "I've reached [B] Rank. And you, Arthur?"

"[B-] Rank," Arthur admits, almost sheepish. "I was [C+] four months ago, but… things got in the way, I guess."

Célestin's sharp gaze lingers on him, concerned. 'He used to be the fastest to advance… what slowed him down?'

Sensing the attention, Arthur presses, "Célestin, is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Célestin replies, shaking his head, though his gaze has already shifted, landing on the sword and scabbard on the table. His eyes widen in recognition. He was not expecting Arthur to also get Excalibur at the same time.

"Where did you get those?" Célestin asks.

Arthur blinks. "The sword's from Temple du Sceptre Lié, the scabbard from Galerie des Trésors. Why?"

Célestin's heart thuds. 'No wonder I never found them. Arthur got there first.'

He looks at Arthur, his voice suddenly intense. "Arthur, that scabbard, you don't know it, but it has powerful healing properties. It's what I've been searching for. It can heal Cla—Dominic."

Arthur stares at him, stunned. "W-what?"

Even Lumi, usually so composed, draws in a sharp breath. "How can you be sure, Célestin?"

"I've researched it for… months," Célestin says, his voice gentle but certain. "It's the artifact I've been searching for ever since Clark fell into this coma. If you lay the scabbard on his chest, his body and soul will absorb its magic, and it will heal him."

Of course, Célestin cannot reveal everything he knows. He cannot tell them that his certainty comes from countless previous timelines, from memories of choices and consequences he alone remembers. So, he simply meets their eyes and lets his quiet conviction speak for itself.

Arthur is almost afraid to hope. "That simple?"

Célestin nods. "That simple."

A wave of regret crashes over Arthur. His hands tremble as he looks down, haunted by the lost time. "You're telling me… I could have done this months ago?"

Célestin's face softens with sympathy, but he speaks honestly. "Yeah… but you didn't know, Arthur. None of us did."

Arthur wants to blame someone, himself, maybe even Célestin, but then Lumi's cool hand lands gently on his shoulder.

"Don't dwell on it," she says, her tone softer than usual. "What matters is we can help him now."

Arthur swallows his guilt, takes a steadying breath, and nods. He sets the sword aside, then lifts the ornate scabbard and lays it gently across Dominic's chest.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Lumi, always precise, presses, "What now, Célestin?"

"Pour your mana into it, Arthur."

Arthur nods and concentrates. Mana flows from his hands, making the scabbard glow with a soft, ghostly light. The light pulses, filling the air with a feeling of old, mysterious power.

Arthur and Lumi exchange wide-eyed glances. Even Célestin feels the hairs on his arms rise at the sheer intensity of the magic.

"Now," Célestin says softly, "one last thing. Arthur, I need you to say it, mean it. Declare that you will become his sword, and he will be your scabbard. The bond matters as much as the artifact."

Lumi's usually icy composure falters just a little, the words feel intimate, even sacred.

Arthur looks down at Dominic. "Cla—Doms… I promise you, I'll be your sword, the one who stands between you and the world. I want you to be my scabbard, the one who protects my hope and gives me a reason to fight. I won't let you fall. Not again. So please… come back." His voice trembles as he closes his eyes and speaks from the heart.

The scabbard flares with light, so bright it is almost blinding. It melts into Dominic's chest, the artifact merging with his soul. At once, the dark stains on Dominic's skin fade, color and warmth returning to his face. His breath deepens, grows steady.

The three of them watch in silent awe. Even Lumi blushes, her cheeks turning pink as relief mixes with an emotion she cannot name.

Dominic's eyelids flutter. Slowly, he opens his eyes, blinking against the morning sun. He sees Arthur's hopeful face, Célestin's tired smile, and Lumi's eyes.

Arthur's lips split into a broad, unrestrained grin. "Welcome back," he whispers, his voice thick with joy and relief.