SSS Ranked Summoning: I'm An Extra With The Strongest Harem System
Chapter 60: Hurdles(1)[Bonus]

Chapter 60: Hurdles(1)[Bonus]

The dim glow of the cell’s single flickering light cast long shadows on the cracked concrete walls.

Mikey stood a few steps away from the rusted bars, his breath steady, eyes fixed on his future self. The older version of him was sitting upright on the bottom bunk, legs dangling over the edge but unmoving, as though his body were anchored by the weight of the moment.

The silence lingered, thick and unmoving.

Then—

Ahem.

A slow, rasping throat-clear, like sandpaper dragged gently across stone, rolled through the air and settled in the room’s stillness.

Mikey’s future self didn’t stir, didn’t even look his way. Instead, his right hand lifted, fingers brushing the side of his head with a lazy, absentminded tap, as though chasing a thought that refused to land.

"Okay..." the older Mikey finally muttered, his voice low, almost hesitant, like the slow turning of a page not meant to be read aloud.

"Ehm... I guess the least I can do is help you out with your confusion..."

He paused, as if testing the weight of his words before speaking again. When he did, his voice deepened slightly, gathering strength and certainty, like a stream finding its course.

"It’s not exactly like... well, Time is. According to my research—during my earlier attempts—time isn’t just a straight line, not really. It only looks that way if you’re standing far enough back. But get close enough, and you’ll see... it’s more like—" he hesitated, searching for the right metaphor,

"—like a ball of yarn."

Mikey blinked, brows furrowed. "A ball of yarn?"

A small, almost wistful smile curved across his future self’s face, the kind that suggested old memories and quiet regrets.

"Yeah. One single thread, pulled long and endless. But twist it, coil it, and sometimes, that thread starts to tangle. Loops cross. Lines touch that weren’t meant to. And when that happens..."

He trailed off, voice soft as he stood up, the slow scrape of his movement echoing lightly through the narrow cell. He began to pace, each step deliberate, as if walking through memories only he could see.

"That single timeline—your original path—it keeps stretching forward, sure. Always forward. But the moment it touches another loop, the moment it brushes against something it shouldn’t, or couldn’t before—" he stopped mid-stride.

His hand rose into the air, fingers gently curling as if grasping something delicate and invisible.

"—that contact creates something new. A second thread. A new direction. A new possibility. One that didn’t exist a moment before, but now... now it’s just as real."

He looked over his shoulder at Mikey, eyes soft but filled with the quiet weight of experience.

"So no, time isn’t a road you walk down. It’s a web. A tangle. And every wrong step you take can twist another thread into place."

His smile returned, faint but warmer this time.

"You’re not stuck, Mikey. You’re just in the middle of the knot."

Before Mikey could even process the thought, his future self cut in again, his tone sharper.

"However..." His glance flickered directly at Mikey now.

"It’s not like every intertwine leads to a completely different world. Some are subtle. But when that intertwine is strong enough, it creates a new yarn. Another timeline, entirely. The exact point where the intertwine occurs, that’s what we call a hurdle."

"Hurdle?" Mikey repeated.

"Yeah. Hurdles. Hurdles vary. Could be major. Could be minor. Doesn’t really matter. But each one acts like a fork— or rather, an intertwine- either you stay on the original path or branch off into something else."

He stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"It may not be much." he continued.

"...but via my encounters with my own older self back then, and the shit I had to go through, I managed to deduce a few hurdles. One of them was... my battle with Son Parker."

At that name, Mikey felt his breath hitch.

"Son Parker is a hurdle?"

The older self didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he chuckled. But the sound was dry, laced with something bitter.

"Yeah," he said finally.

"It was an important event. I didn’t realize it back then, not fully. But that battle... it changed things."

"What happened?" Mikey asked quietly, his tone filled with intrigue.

"Did you... win?"

That’s when his future self burst into laughter. Loud, guttural, and completely unrestrained—like a thunderclap in a church. The sound ricocheted off the cold, narrow cell walls, too alive, too free for a place like this. He laughed so hard his body curled forward, one hand clutching his stomach, the other gripping the edge of the cot as if to keep from toppling over.

Mikey just stared, wide-eyed and unmoving.

’He laughs a lot for someone who knows he’s going to die... for someone sitting on death row...’

"Win?" the older Mikey finally wheezed, between the tail-end of a chuckle.

"Back then? I was just like you. Spent hours grinding. Training my ass off. Thought I was ready for anything the world could throw at me."

He gave a final, breathy laugh and leaned back, wiping at the corner of one eye where a single tear had escaped—whether from laughter or something else, Mikey couldn’t quite tell.

"I even bought a skill from the store—Taekwondo. Thought I was slick. Boy, that helped a lot." he said sarcastically, chuckling again.

"But here’s the thing..." he said, sitting up straighter.

"...Something none of you ever realize about Son... He’s just too damn fast."

"Too fast?" Mikey echoed.

"But... I blocked one of his attacks."

Mikey’s future self froze.

"What did you just say?" he asked, slowly turning his gaze to Mikey.

"I said... I blocked one of his attacks. Why?"

His future self stepped forward, eyes narrowing.

"You blocked an attack from Son Parker?"

"Yeah," Mikey said, uncertain.

"Why is that so surprising?"

"Because he’s Son Parker! And... I never did. Not once."

The room fell silent for a beat.

"I don’t know," Mikey said.

"It just kinda happened."

"See? This is what I’m talking about," his future self said, stepping from side to side, his hands now clasped behind his back, chin down in thought.

Mikey frowned.

"Um... is something wrong?"

His future self didn’t answer at first. He just kept muttering.

"That doesn’t make sense. That’s not right. In my own timeline, Son was just too fast. Too fast to even follow. I couldn’t track him, let alone react."

He stopped talking, locking eyes with Mikey again.

"You blocked his hit?"

Mikey gave a small nod, affirming to his conversation.

The older Mikey took a step closer, tone dropping to a near whisper.

"Good. Can you do it again?"

"I don’t know." Mikey replied.

"Probably?"

"Good," his older self said again, louder this time. A strange joy lit his face.

"That’s really fucking good."

He laughed—softer now, but genuine—as he scratched his head, his expression slowly shifting into something... hopeful.

"I don’t understand." Mikey said.

"Why are you so happy?"

"Why am I happy?" the man repeated, voice rising. "Don’t you get it? In all the timelines I’ve seen, not once did I ever block an attack at your level. If you can, even possibly... then maybe—maybe—you can skip the hurdle."

"The hurdle?" Mikey asked.

His future self nodded grimly.

"Yeah. In the normal rounds of your battle with Son Parker, he brutally destroys you. You lose. Bad."

Mikey’s mouth dropped open.

"Oh. That’s... not exactly what I wanted to hear."

"What did you expect? You really thought you were going to land a hit on Son Parker?"

"I mean... my stats are really high."

Mikey mumbled.

His future self scoffed.

"Stats? Believe me, your stats are nowhere close to Son’s. In my timeline, I never landed a single hit. Not one. That was the beginning of everything falling apart."

He walked back to the bed and sat.

"But now? In this timeline, you blocked him. I don’t know how, or why, but you did. And if there’s even the smallest hope to create a new hurdle—this is it. You need to land a hit on Son Parker."

Mikey swallowed. "The way you hyped it... it sounds even harder now."

"Of course it’s harder," he muttered with a slight dry smile.

"But we’re going to think of a plan."

"A plan?"

"Yeah. First things first—don’t do what I did. I wasted most of my points on skills. Bought a ton, hoping they’d help. But they didn’t. I couldn’t even keep up with him. Maybe your case is different, but we’re not going to risk it."

Mikey nodded slowly.

"I guess... but maybe we could just—"

"It’s not about maybe," his future self interrupted.

"We have to play this right. One mistake, and it’s over. Your current stats aren’t enough. I was well past a thousand when I fought him for the third time. Still didn’t land a hit."

Mikey stared down at his hands, heart heavy.

"If stats can’t help me... and skills won’t either... how the hell am I supposed to beat Son Parker?"

The older Mikey’s face changed. His expression became calm, almost calculating.

"We’ll let the system help. There’s one skill you’ve got left that might make the difference."

"One skill?" Mikey asked.

His future self’s mouth curled into a knowing smirk.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Deceptive Reasoning. "

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