SSS Ranked Summoning: I'm An Extra With The Strongest Harem System
Chapter 69: Four Days For Nothing?[Bonus]

Chapter 69: Four Days For Nothing?[Bonus]

Darkness.

A never-ending stretch of black so deep it swallowed every trace of light, every whisper of existence. It wasn’t just the absence of light—it was a void. Suffocating. Infinite. Mikey floated in it, or maybe he was lying down—he couldn’t even tell. There was no up, no down. No sound. No smell. No taste. Just black.

It wasn’t peaceful.

It was terrifying.

His body didn’t feel like it existed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t twitch a muscle. There was no pressure, no sense of skin. Only the terrifying notion that perhaps he had ceased to be. That this was the end. And the longer he lingered there, the more that thought began to creep into his mind like a whisper clawing at the edges of sanity.

’Where am I?’ he thought, or at least he tried to.

He didn’t hear his own voice. Just a thought, reverberating in the black.

’Did I enter a game?’

No. That was wrong. There was no login screen. No HUD. No system prompts.

’Am I in the game menu?’

No, not even that.

’I don’t remember entering a game. So that would be unusual if I was.’

The uncertainty itched at him.

’So, if I’m not in the game... why can’t I see anything?’

He paused, willing himself to think harder.

’Wait... no. No, no. Am I... dead?’

The words echoed.

’Did I die from all the damage I took back then?’

The moment he thought of it, flashes of chaos surged into his thoughts—the beatdown, the agony, the laughter of Son. A bat. Blood. His vision fading.

’No. This can’t be. This can’t be it.’

He strained, desperately, clawing through the fog of his mind.

’Come on. Try and remember. Try and remember the last thing.’

The memory flickered, dim and distant, like a dying ember refusing to go out.

’What was the last thing I remember besides being beaten by son?’

He searched.

Then—a face. A voice.

’Miles. I met... I met Miles. That was it. He saved me from Son.’

A sudden sense of relief washed over him.

’That’s it. That was real. That happened. Wait... was that all just my imagination?’

Another thought wormed in.

’There’s a chance... son landed the final hit... Maybe I died instantly. And all of this... Miles, the save, the power... maybe it was just a figment of my mind before death.’

The thought chilled him.

’No. I can’t be dead. I can’t be.’

As if reacting to that desperate denial, something in his body stirred. A sharp inhale ripped through his lungs. His eyes snapped open.

He jolted upright, the rush of reality slamming into his senses.

"Ah—!" he gasped, blinking rapidly.

His heart thundered in his chest.

Softness.

Warmth.

Sheets.

He looked down, panting, and realized...

"I’m... in my bed?"

The sentence slipped past his lips like a lifeline.

His head dropped back against his pillow with a soft thump as he exhaled in disbelief.

A chuckle escaped him. Dry at first, then breathy. Then another.

He wasn’t dead.

"I’m not dead." he whispered. A laugh followed.

"It wasn’t all just a dream. I actually beat Son."

The weight of that truth settled into his bones.

"So that means... I changed my future."

His chest rose and fell heavily. His lungs dragged in the room’s air like he hadn’t tasted it in centuries.

But the peace didn’t last.

A new thought snapped into his mind like a whip.

His eyes widened.

He lurched up, frantically patting around his pants—what little of them he had on—until his fingers brushed against the familiar shape of his phone.

He yanked it out, his thumb trembling as it tapped the screen. The fingerprint scanner blinked. Recognized him and opened.

He didn’t hesitate. Straight to his banking app.

His breath caught.

The screen loaded.

A message at the top.

[Transfer complete:

Sender: XXXX XX XXXX

To: MikeyDixon.

Amount: $14,000.

New Balance: $14,136.62.]

His jaw dropped.

No.

Way.

His hand froze mid-air. The screen glowed like a taunt as he blinked.

Then blinked again.

Joy.

Pure joy coursed through him like fire.

"I got it. I got the money..." he whispered.

But the elation soured fast.

"Four days. That’s all it took?"

His joy warped into fury. Righteous, absurd fury.

He clenched the phone tight.

’So, all the pain... the beatings... the humiliation... all of it...’

If he had just waited four more days, he could’ve had the money.

’Could’ve just handed it over.’

Would things have gone differently?

But a new realization settled.

’No. That’s not exactly correct.

My older self told me he paid off son. But Son still didn’t let him or Aurora go.’

His shoulders dropped.

’So maybe... maybe this was the right path. Miles interfered and Son was actually forced to back off.’

He remembered the leader’s eyes. The way he stood.

’Still... Miles exposing himself like that... all for me?’

He lifted a hand to his face, dragging it down slowly.

The moment his palm touched his cheek, he winced. A sharp sting.

He pulled his hand away and stared at it.

Oily.

A sheen of ointment.

’Ointment?’

His brows furrowed.

He pulled the blanket off.

No shirt. No pants. Just his underwear.

His eyes widened as a secondary realization hit him.

"Wait... How the hell...did I get back to my room?"

Click.

The door opened and Aurora stepped in, her arms loaded with two thick white takeout bags. The scent hit him instantly.

She shut the door with her foot and turned, and their eyes met.

He instantly yanked the blanket up to his chest.

"What... are you doing here?" he asked, eyes wide.

She blinked, lips curling into a grin.

"I brought takeout. I’m literally the one who’s been taking care of you."

His heart skipped.

"Taking care of...? How long have I been out?"

She walked over and set the bags beside him. Then sat next to him on the bed.

"Just a couple of hours, I guess. You were knocked up pretty good, so I got you some pain relievers and meds. Figured you deserved some rest."

He glanced down at himself, then around the room.

For a moment, he just let the silence speak.

Then, softly, he said,

"I’m... okay, I guess."

She smiled.

"That’s good to hear."

"What’s that smell?" he asked, sniffing.

"Oh. I got you your favorite," she replied, reaching into the takeout bag.

She lifted the lid and handed him the bag.

He opened it. His eyes lit up.

His favorite. Chicken ramen. Extra spice. Buttered garlic shrimp on the side.

He looked at her, then back at the food.

And without thinking, he tore into it.

Munch.

Munch.

Stuffing his face.

He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was. Flavors burst across his tongue, each bite more heavenly than the last. Within moments, half the meal was gone.

He paused only when he heard it.

A soft laugh.

Aurora.

Her laughter rang gently, her smile lighting up her face.

It hit him like a wave. She looked... happy. Genuinely.

The first time he’d seen that since the whole son ordeal.

He swallowed hard.

"W-What’s funny?"

She took a moment, stifling the chuckles. Then looked at him with a fond smile.

"Nothing. I just... I missed spending time with you to be honest...."

He paused, a piece of shrimp still dangling from his lips.

He smiled.

"Me too."

They both sat in silence for a bit. Eating.

Then he looked at her again.

"I know I’m gonna be okay now. You know that, right?"

She nodded, her eyes soft.

"Yeah. I do. It’s all thanks to you, anyway. I mean, I was ready to pay double, but you actually saved me. I don’t know how, but you did. You’re an actual lifesaver, Mikey."

He chuckled.

"Well, if I’m a lifesaver, you should’ve brought drinks."

She laughed. A real one. Throwing her head back, losing herself in it.

In the midst of that, she leaned a little too far back, and her tray teetered.

"Oh crap—" she gasped, fumbling as the food threatened to spill.

She lunged forward, trying to steady it.

Mikey’s eyes dropped, his breath shallow.

She bent forward to pick up the tray, her movements innocent... unguarded.

The hem of her already short skirt lifted, rising inch by slow inch.

His breath hitched.

There it was—pure, delicate lavender. A soft pair of panties hugging the gentle swell of her cheeks. The fabric clung lovingly to her, outlining every curve like it had been made just for her.

His gaze lingered, helpless.

The smoothness of her thighs, the perfect curve of her ass—full, heart-shaped, flawless. It stole the air from his lungs. Time itself seemed to pause, holding its breath with him.

A throb pulsed low in his gut.

He swallowed, slow and heavy, his mouth suddenly dry.

A thousand thoughts fought for space in his mind, but none came out. Only heat. Only hunger.

The moment remained, almost unending, but it seared itself into his memory, vivid and untouchable, along with a singe thought which ricocheted inwardly.

’Nice...ass...’

This chapter is updat𝓮d by fre(e)webnov(l).com