I Reincarnated as an Extra in a Reverse Harem World
Chapter 91: No Room for Secrets [2]

Chapter 91: No Room for Secrets [2]

They had been running from rooftop to rooftop.

From ledge to ledge.

From shadows to air.

One cloaked in divine energy.

The other cloaked in something far more ancient.

Theron had poured everything into that sprint. His [Rank 5] frame—a vessel honed by battle, honed by prayer, honed by sacrifice—moved through the capital like a streak of light. His breath was steady. His steps perfect. His will sharpened to a singular point.

From roof tiles cracked by moonlight, to market walls stained by age, he flew, descending only when the towering gates of the Church appeared.

He had raced through stone, smoke, and sacred territory, not once losing focus.

But it hadn’t mattered.

Because when he landed—he was already too late.

Cedric stood waiting.

Not breathless. Not even mildly inconvenienced.

Just waiting.

A quiet presence before the gate, framed by two motionless guards who—despite standing right next to him—hadn’t registered his existence.

And now, Cedric turned to him slightly, voice unreadably calm.

"Paladin Theron,"

He said,

"You’re quite slow... for someone so proud of his speed."

Theron gritted his jaw, stepping forward, his boots silent against the marble path.

Cedric chuckled lightly.

"You were trying to prove something, weren’t you?"

His tone wasn’t mocking. It was knowing.

"It’s admirable. I understand the impulse. But you should know... I don’t move through this city. I am simply... present where I’m needed."

He gestured subtly at the dazed guards beside him.

"Don’t worry about them. I merely... trimmed their awareness. For secrecy."

Theron’s hands clenched.

The chase had been real.

The rooftops, the alleys, the wind splitting against his armor—he’d given it everything. And yet, somehow, Cedric had moved faster than movement itself.

As if the very world bent to his will.

Theron was no fool. He had faced monsters. Touched divinity in fragments.

But this?

This wasn’t speed.

This was presence made manifest.

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

Theron opened the gate.

The grand doors of the Great Church of Caerywn parted with a low groan, thick marble scraping across sacred stone. Inside, the scent of incense clung to the air—sweet, heavy, ceremonial.

Cedric stepped in first.

Not rushed. Not hesitant.

He walked as if this place had always belonged to him.

Theron followed.

And that’s when he noticed it.

Every acolyte they passed—every nun, every cleric, every paladin, even a high-ranking Bishop in ornate blue robes—they all stood motionless.

Not unconscious.

But still.

Frozen mid-movement. Eyes unfocused. Mouths half-open as if mid-prayer or conversation. Like time had faltered only for them.

Just like the guards.

Theron’s heart beat faster.

He turned to one of the paladins standing near the atrium altar—a man he had trained with in the past. The paladin was locked in place, eyes wide and still, hand mid-cross over his chest.

The same silence. The same stillness.

No one responded. No one reacted.

As if the moment Cedric entered, the Church forgot how to breathe.

Cedric, of course, walked forward without pause.

"No resistance,"

He mused lightly, as though observing a painted tapestry.

"Fascinating. This place once teemed with divine resonance. And now..."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t have to.

The implication hung heavy in the scented air.

They ascended the central aisle, passing the golden pews, chandeliers flickering overhead.

No footsteps echoed.

No prayers whispered.

Only that same unnatural quiet—a reverence that hadn’t been invited, but enforced.

Theron swallowed.

He had walked these halls since his youth.

He had fought demons in this church’s name.

But now...

Now it felt like he was walking beside the final verdict of it all.

They reached the inner sanctum, the doors of the High Priest’s private hall looming before them.

Theron hesitated. He glanced at Cedric.

Cedric said nothing. Just waited.

Theron slowly opened the doors.

Inside, the High Priest knelt before the great statue of the Goddess Elyssera. Head bowed. Robes trailing like rivers behind him. Candles flickered around the altar.

But even he—

Even he—

Was unmoving.

His lips were parted in silent prayer.

His fingers suspended in the act of tracing a divine rune into the air.

Theron stepped forward cautiously.

"High Priest...?"

No response.

Not even a flinch.

Cedric’s voice came behind him, low and amused.

"You see it now."

Theron turned.

"No one here has sinned enough to die today."

Cedric continued calmly,

"So I simply... removed their awareness for a while. It’s easier to have a private conversation that way."

He stepped forward into the room, now face-to-face with the frozen High Priest.

The soft flicker of candlelight danced along Cedric’s tattered robes.

"Now then, Theron..."

His voice carried no threat. No malice.

Only inevitability.

"Shall we begin?"

Then, it happened.

A single snap.

Soft.

Unhurried.

Cedric’s gloved fingers came together with a quiet click that echoed far louder than it should have—like a thread snapping in the soul.

And in that moment, the High Priest stirred.

The gentle movements resumed—fingers completing the divine sigil in the air, lips finishing the halted prayer as if nothing had happened. The flickering candles around the altar swayed once, then settled into a rhythmic glow.

The High Priest breathed in deeply.

Raised his head.

And stood.

He turned toward them with a warm, reverent smile—genuine and unmarred.

"Good job, Paladin Theron,"

He said kindly, as though the morning were young and untouched,

"Bringing Lord Cedric here."

Theoderyn froze.

The words struck harder than any sword.

The High Priest stepped forward, hands together in greeting, voice serene.

"Welcome to the Church of the Goddess, Lord Cedric."

A soft bow.

"You, who are favored by Elyssera herself—it is an honor to meet you."

Cedric smiled faintly.

Inclined his hooded head.

"And I greet you in her name, High Priest."

But beside him, Theron was trembling.

His body stood firm.

But his soul... was spiraling.

The High Priest didn’t know.

He hadn’t felt the moment the world stilled.

Hadn’t sensed the frozen acolytes, the silenced guards, the delay in his own breath.

He was speaking as if—as if he had invited Cedric here himself.

As if Theron had reported the mission.

As if this meeting had been preordained by mutual agreement.

Not a trace of suspicion.

Not a wrinkle in his mind.

Theoderyn’s heart thundered.

His throat tightened.

He had trained his whole life for the unknown. For devils, for heresy, for monsters of blood and bone.

But this...

This was something else.

This was a man—hooded, veiled in shadow—who could alter memory like it was parchment.

And do it gently.

Not with pain. Not with flame.

Just... kind erasure.

Even now, the High Priest was smiling.

And that smile—so kind, so wrong—made Theoderyn’s knees almost give out.

His faith didn’t falter.

But his understanding of what stood beside him crumbled.

And in its place... rose a deeper fear.

Not the fear of death.

But the fear of standing before something you cannot define.

-To Be Continued