The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 113: Did you forget?

Chapter 113: Did you forget?

These questions weren’t random— he was sure of it.

In the past, he might have ignored them or shrugged them off. But ever since he awakened the Omen Eye, with its power of clairvoyance, he’d learned to take things more seriously.

This was the first time he truly felt afraid—afraid of the unknown.

Without even realizing it, he began combing through the decisions he’d made in recent times. Small things. Big things. Maybe it was an instinctive defense, maybe a desperate distraction. Maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him something he wasn’t yet ready to admit.

And then it struck him—

Turning down Keal’s proposal.

At the time, it had felt righteous. Like drawing a line in the sand, like protecting what little autonomy he had left. He had told himself it was about freedom. That joining Keal’s cause— allying with a rebel faction destined to bleed for ideals— was not his way.

But now... now it just looked stupid.

Even if he hadn’t wanted to swear loyalty, he could have accepted the offer in name, played the part, kept close, and harvested their knowledge of the future. Information was power. And he had cast it away like a child spitting out medicine.

Why?

Why had he been so rash? Why had he assumed he didn’t need allies?

Zephyr didn’t think of himself as wise or clever, but this... this brand of self-sabotage startled even him.

It wasn’t just a poor choice— it was a crack in his foundation. Could he still trust himself not to take anymore rash decision.

And once he started noticing the cracks, he can’t help but wonder— How many more are there, just beneath the surface?

He stood there in the quiet of his Nexus, under the watching stars and pulsing pillars, unable to shake the sensation—

That the real battle had already begun. And he was already several steps behind.

The feeling started to climb up his throat. Subtle at first— then sharp, hot, heavy, each breath felt just a little too shallow. Each beat of his heart sounded just a little too loud.

His Omen Eye began to throb. Not painfully— but with pressure. Like something inside it was stirring. Then he realized this wasn’t about the future anymore, it had something to do with the present.

A quiet presence began to coil around his chest. Not visible. Not physical. But real.

A sensation that slid across his spine like cold smoke.

Then— A gaze.

He felt it. Like fingers tracing the nape of his neck.

Zephyr froze.

His breath caught halfway through his throat. His lungs refused to move. Every instinct— every survival-honed reflex that had once helped him survive the Pit— screamed.

’Something is here’. Inside the Nexus, that should have been impossible. This place was his— his soul made manifest, his mental plane, bound and shaped by his will. No one else should be able to even perceive it, let alone trespass.

And yet...

The mist began to shift, as if responding to his agitated emotions. And then a tendril of fog slithered forward and began to take shape.

A figure. Hazy. Blurred. Made entirely of the same mist that formed the Nexus— but it moved like a record.

It ran. Stumbling. Small. Barefoot.

It was him.

A younger Zephyr.

Thin. Starving. Face bruised. Breath ragged. Running in circles like a rat in a trap.

The illusion played out like a record, but the emotions it stirred were razor-sharp. He watched as the younger version of himself tried to escape— only for a long hand to lash out of the mist and seize him by the neck.

The boy’s feet kicked helplessly.

Then— he was dragged.

Into darkness. Into the Pit..

’why is it showing me this? Is it reacting to my agitated emotions or something else’.

"H—

Before Zephyr could continue he felt his outer body shift, it seems Limbo was shifting again. Throwing a suspicious look at his surroundings he willed it and his spiritual body left the plane.

As he left the plane was silent with no movement, until a shadow moved behind the curtain of mist. The shadow solidified and if Zephyr was here he could see that it was the figure of his younger self.

The figure didn’t do anything, it walked towards one of the pillars and wrote on it, scrapping the stone pillars with it’s nail.

The mist desolved, leaving two words behind.

"Did you forget?".

******

Zephyr appeared back in Limbo— only to find the starry expense gone, he was falling. Down into an abyss of eternal blackness.

But just before the dread of weightlessness could bloom fully in his chest, a soft flash rippled beneath his feet.

A translucent red platform caught him mid-descent, forming out of nowhere. His Aether had adapted to the environment of Limbo.

Limbo— Border Jail.

It wasn’t oversaturating his Aether anymore, it was one and the same. His Aether had aligned with the plane.

He stood, steady, as a low hum pulsed through the space. He looked around. The walls of stars were still endless, the sky still wept thin streams of silver like bleeding cracks. But now, the pressure felt different. Familiar. Almost cooperative.

For the first time, invoking Arts here didn’t a strain, they came easily.

But also his recent advancement had also changed a lot of things.

His purple Aether— his original state—

had split into red and blue for a reason. At first, it had seem like a symbolic evolution. But the truth ran deeper.

Aether, like fire or ice, could hold elemental attributes. But it also carried aspects— intent, spirit, ideology. And when two aspects pulled in opposite directions, harmony became impossible.

Jailer, the red Aether, was all restriction. Vows. Chains. Control.

Specter, the blue, was freedom. Movement. Transcendence.

And yet, both were born of the same source— his Aether.

So why had they split? Because they were incompatible.

He hadn’t realized it at the time, but every time he’d tried to summon an Art, he was forcing opposing philosophies to coexist. Like commanding a flame to freeze or demanding silence to scream.

The fact that any of his powers worked at all was a miracle.

But now...

Now, things were different.

His Aether had grown— matured.

It had reached a point where it developed a will of its own. Not intelligence in the human sense, but something simpler. An instinct. A pressure toward independence.

It was one of the basic effects of advancing to Delta rank, his Aether would now work proactively to clear any and every foreign things in his body.

So it had acted on it’s sense if independence. It had torn itself apart— not in rebellion, but in refinement.

Now, each aspect stood alone. Free from contradiction. Jailer and Specter, both distinct. Clear. Focused.

That clarity would transform his Arts, they would be no more conflict he didn’t know about, no more inner resistance.

He clenched his hand, and red Aether flaired atop his clenched hand like the light of a dying star.

"Time to get out of here". Zephyr muttered. He would have gone after that frog creature, but Zephyr knew how risky and pointless it would be.

One— Limbo was a vast plane and trying to specifically look for a creature was like trying to cup up water with a seive— pointless.

And besides after the recent foreboding he wasn’t in the mood to stick around. Even though the feeling had dulled, he was still feeling a Little disturbed, like they was something he missed.

Infact the entire senerio was disturbing, he thought someone was in his Nexus. No one could enter your Nexus without your permission, and even if someone entered and caught a glimpse of your true name, you are finished.

Zephyr then looked through his stuff— which was nothing, everything he’d entered Limbo with was gone— except the dagger.

Even after the wreckage left by that frog-like creature on his body, the blade had remained, quietly resting on his waistband.

He drew it. And without ceremony, slashed through the air.

Space peeled open like silk, revealing the field where he’d once said his ’farewell’.

No theatrics. No resistance.

He stepped through— and the portal closed behind him.

But the tear did not vanish, instead, the line it left behind shivered. Then, with unnatural speed, it launched upward.

Just above Zephyr previous position— a frog-like figure with grinning teeth was gazing at the previous spot Zephyr once stood in. A flicker of intelligence passed through its eyes.

The line of light looped itself around its pinky finger. The thin line was the spatial coordinates of Zephyr’s world. In other words if that line were to be ripped open, the creature could cross over.

And the creature turned— and ran towards his mating kinsmen.

If Keal or Noctis had seen the creature, they would have understood something immediately. It was a simple detail, plain, easy to miss.

Creatures didn’t use weapons.

No matter where they were from—Shade, Riftspawn, Limbo-beasts— none of them ever used weapons.

Only one kind of monster could.

A creature not born, but transformed.

A being touched by something ancient and final.

Extinction.