SSS Ranked Summoning: I'm An Extra With The Strongest Harem System
Chapter 61: Hurdles(2)[Bonus]

Chapter 61: Hurdles(2)[Bonus]

A crooked smile played on the older Mikey’s face as he leaned back against the cold cell wall, the dim light flickering above casting fractured shadows across his cheekbones.

His gaze remained fixed on the younger Mikey, who stood frozen, still processing the whirlwind of strange truths he had just been handed.

Mikey’s eyes darted uncertainly, not at his older self but at something off in the corner.

He blinked, momentarily disoriented.

"So... what am I supposed to do?" he asked, his voice carrying the fragile tone of someone caught between denial and reluctant belief.

His older self grinned, like it was all a joke he had long since gotten over.

"It’s pretty easy, actually."

Mikey frowned, his brow furrowing in slight doubt.

"What does deceptive reasoning have to do with any of this?"

The older Mikey’s face lost some of its humor, turning thoughtful.

"That’s the bizarre part of it all. Deceptive Reasoning might just be our one shot at nailing the motherfucker."

Mikey’s jaw tightened.

"How the hell is Deceptive Reasoning gonna help me? Honestly, it’s done more harm than good so far."

As he heard this, Mikey’s older self cocked an eyebrow.

"Harmed you how?"

"Well, for starters..." Mikey began, frustration creeping into his voice,

"...it dragged me back. Made me form the deal with Son."

"Son?" the older version echoed, his brows drawing together in confusion.

Mikey caught the confusion and clarified, "Yeah.... Son Parker."

There was a pause. The older Mikey squinted like something didn’t add up. Then, he shook his head slowly.

"Deceptive Reasoning doesn’t have the capability to affect your body. It sharpens the mind. Clears out manipulation. But it can’t force you to move or make physical decisions."

Mikey blinked.

"But it did... it pulled me back."

"Then you wanted it to." the older man said flatly.

"Deep down, that was your call. No ability can force your body like that. Your body isn’t built that way. Deceptive Reasoning’s only job is clarity, not control. If you acted, it was because some part of you wanted to."

Mikey didn’t reply. The silence was heavy, his face clouded in thought.

’...Huh...that’s not right...So... was it really me? Did I sabotage myself?’ The realization sat uncomfortably in his chest, a bitter truth that left his throat dry.

He turned his eyes back to his future self, still searching inwardly for a answer to his thoughts.

"That’s... really hard to believe," he murmured.

"But... I suppose you’re the most experienced one here..."

Older Mikey gave him a look. Not pitying—just tired.

"Now you’re catching on."

Mikey’s fingers flexed.

"Then what’s the plan? How do I use Deceptive Reasoning to beat Son?"

The future version of him laughed. Not in a mocking tone, but rather in an amused manner.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I’m not the one in the fight."

Mikey blinked.

"Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?"

"I am helping. Giving you insight. Listen, the only way to beat Son... is in the fight. Directly. Face to face. No plans. No simulations. No perfect scenarios. Because no matter what we come up with, the fight won’t go how we expect."

A breath passed between them.

"So..." the older man continued,

"...just keep increasing your stats. That’s all you can do. Maybe—just maybe—if the Lord permits it, you’ll land the hit."

The words were meant to be hopeful, but they hung like a quiet curse. Mikey didn’t trust him. Not entirely. But then again... he didn’t trust himself either. Landing a hit on Son Parker. As easy as it sounded it felt more like watching pigs fly was more possible than achieving that goal.

At that moment, his thoughts were interrupted.

"There’s something else," the older Mikey said, tone shifting.

"One last thing before you go."

Mikey’s eyes narrowed.

"What?"

The older Mikey exhaled, slowly. "Son Parker... he’s just one of the Hurdles. He might be a minor one, or a major one...but he isn’t the real hurdle to look out for."

The future Mikey paused for a moment before he recommenced his speech.

"That’s right. There’s something bigger. The real problem... is Miles."

"Miles?" Mikey repeated slowly, his brows drawing tight in confusion, lips parting just slightly as if saying the name might somehow summon clarity.

A shadow passed over his older self’s face, dimming the fire that had once danced in his eyes.

"Miles." the older man confirmed, voice low, grim.

"That’s what he goes by. No last name. No aliases. Just Miles."

He leaned forward, the chains on his wrists clinking with the movement, but his gaze never left Mikey’s. It was the kind of look you gave someone when you were handing them a loaded gun, knowing full well the safety was off.

"He’s the leader of the Iron Vipers," the older Mikey continued, voice dropping to a near whisper.

"The most dangerous man in Metropolitan High school. Strongest in raw power. Strongest in command. Strongest in influence. No one dares to cross him, and no one walks away when they try."

Mikey’s heart gave a dull thud, like the echo of a dropped stone deep inside his chest.

"And he’s the problem?" he echoed, uncertain, the word tasting foreign on his tongue.

"Yes." his future self replied, but there was no triumph in his voice. Only the weight of regret.

"But listen—we can never make Miles our enemy. Not ever."

Silence crashed into the room like a wave, heavy and oppressive, as if the very name carried a curse. Mikey could feel the truth of it settle deep in his bones.

"You see, I...uhh....I lost...." the older man said quietly, almost too softly to hear.

"In my own timeline I lost to Son, failing to land a single hit....and left with nothing more than my shame."

Mikey blinked, stunned. His throat tightened, but he said nothing.

"Alot more happened....but when I couldn’t pay up the 14 grand..." He shook his head softly.

"The Vipers made my life a living hell. You’d think it would end after I scraped the money together. But it didn’t. It never did. Son wouldn’t let it go. I tried to run, to disappear. They found me...and no matter how far I ran, it was just never far enough for Son."

His voice cracked, bitter and hollow.

"Eventually, word reached Miles. And when it did... that was it. I became an enemy of the Iron Vipers. I didn’t last long after that. Doesn’t matter how many secrets you carry. Doesn’t matter how strong you think you are." He laughed quietly, but there was no joy in it.

"Not when you’re up against a monster like him."

He paused, staring at nothing. His shoulders were heavy with memory. Then he glanced up, the edge in his voice softening.

"You don’t need all the details. Not yet. Some truths are too heavy to carry until you’ve got stronger shoulders."

Mikey stood there in silence, trying to breathe through the flood of new information. Miles. The Vipers. Son. So many names and fates wrapped in chains he couldn’t yet see clearly. And yet... amidst the storm inside his mind, there was a strange calm.

He felt ready.

Not in the way of someone fully prepared—but like someone who had finally stopped running. Like someone who was willing to take the first step.

He looked his future self dead in the eyes, jaw tight with growing resolve.

"So....all I have to do for now..." Mikey said slowly,

"....is keep leveling up... and then, when the time comes, just improvise in the fight?"

The older Mikey’s lips curled into a faint grin.

"Exactly."

Mikey exhaled, the breath shaky but determined.

"And maybe... just maybe... I might land the first hit."

The space between them stilled, the air thick with that charged silence only two versions of the same soul could share.

Then suddenly—

His future self burst into laughter. It was loud, unfiltered, wild in its freedom. It echoed through the stone walls of the cell like a thunderclap. He staggered back, gripping his ribs as he wheezed between bouts of laughter, almost collapsing onto the cot.

Mikey blinked, his face contorting in half-worry, half-annoyance.

’Mmmm...Has he finally lost it?’

"Man." the older Mikey gasped, wiping a tear from his eye,

"I really hope you do it. I’m rooting for you, kid."

He slumped back on the bed, still chuckling, a lopsided grin stuck on his face like it refused to leave.

"Don’t screw this up. Your future’s on the line. All of it."

A quiet beat passed.

Mikey turned to look at him one last time. He didn’t say anything—but he didn’t need to. The silence between them had shifted. It no longer carried the tension of unknowns. Now, it pulsed with shared determination.

The older Mikey seemed to sense it too. He let his head fall back onto the cot’s cold surface, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes. "Here comes the first hurdle," he murmured.

Mikey’s lips twitched upward. Just slightly. A faint smile. A glimpse of something stronger stirring inside him.

"Yeah," he said softly.

He closed his eyes, letting his breathing slow. And then, in a tone barely above a whisper, but brimming with meaning, he spoke:

"Return."

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