The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 66: Sniping with a Bazooka

Chapter 66: Sniping with a Bazooka

Zephyr woke up, not with a gasp or jolt—just a slow, grainy blink. His eyes burned, crusted with dust, and everything was dim and gray, like waking inside a dying storm.

More importantly, his body didn’t hurt. That was the first warning.

Pain was the signal of life. Pain screamed keep going. But now? Now there was only a thick, alien weight. Like he’d been buried in the ocean floor.

Stone pressed against his spine. Above, a broken ceiling let shafts of light spear through drifting motes of dust. Somewhere far away, the earth vibrated—muffled booms echoed like war drums under water.

His thoughts were sluggish, blurred by trauma.

’That animal’.

The memory of the thunder boy surged forward—savage, smiling, merciless, and the brutal beat down. A shiver passed through Zephyr’s bones.

He tried to sit up, agony bloomed instantly, pain lanced through his chest like molten iron. His ribs flared. Arms refused to lift, he collapsed back with a choked breath, blood wet on his lips.

His scythe—gone.

Zephyr coughed a bitter laugh. "Thank goodness". He rasped. "He didn’t follow...".

He wouldn’t have survived if that boy had jumped right after him. No way.

Zephyr forced his head to turn, each motion syrup-slow. His uniform was shredded. His right arm—raw and seared from Lyria’s Vapor. His chest bare, streaked in soot and blood. His right leg was exposed up to the thigh, foot bare, skin mottled and raw. But the good thing was, the boys lightning had cauterized all his wounds, except the now bleeding wound across his chest.

Darkness flirted with the edges of his vision. His heart thudded faintly in his ears.

He breathed. In, out. Again. Syncing his rhythm with the pulsing ache in his body, counting the seconds. Rest. Regulate.

Crunch, his eyes snapped open, then he heard it.

Not footsteps, but something being dragged. Something scraped against the stone floor.

Zephyr’s breath caught.

’He’s back?’.

His pulse spiked, instinct screaming. But as the shape approached—emerging through the gray dust and broken beams—something was wrong.

’Too low’.

The silhouette was too low for someone dragging something. And then the silhouette came out of the hazy dust and Zephyr saw the truth of the situation.

A boy was crawling.

His abdomen was torn open. Entrails spilled behind him in a grotesque smear. Yet he crawled—clawed forward—inch by inch.

Toward Zephyr.

The sound—drag, drag, drag—filled the silence. Wet. Horrific. Relentless.

Zephyr watched, frozen. No words were spoken. The boy’s eyes locked on his.

Then, just a few feet away, the boy collapsed face-first in front of Zephyr. His hands twitched once.

Then stilled— He died with his eyes open.

Zephyr closed his own eyes, then he inhaled and exhaled. Then again—deeper.

’his is in a better place now’. That was what he used to console himself. Then school had barely been attacked a few hours and students were dropping like flies. All ounces of morality left in the students turned to immorality.

’And yes, when I say students... I am taking about that bastard if I was not clear enough’.

He began to circulate his Aether, just as Merin had taught him. Focused on his breathing. On each pulse. Each flare of warmth beneath the skin. His injuries didn’t vanish, but the worst of the pain dulled, like fire smothered beneath ash.

Eventually, he forced himself up—staggering like a broken marionette.

He knelt beside the boy’s corpse. Quiet now. Still.

"...I’m sorry."

He stripped the boy’s clothing—functional, intact—and whispered a short prayer under his breath. Then tore strips from his own ruined rags, wrapping them tightly around his more serious wounds. His ribs screamed, but he moved on.

Clothed, bound, focused. He moved around and explored where he had found himself. With caution he went down stairs towards the lower floor.

And then he saw that the ruin he’d fallen into was a training facility—one he would have been heading toward before all this.

Zephyr limped down a fractured hallway, past scorched tiles and shattered support beams. He found the weapons room— racks of training gear, half-crushed by debris, but still standing.

He chose a scythe first—plain, balanced, familiar. Then a dagger, to replace the one he’d lost in the chaos.

Past the melee gear, the gun cases were shattered. He stepped carefully over glass and broken casing, eyes scanning.

A small sidearm—good.

Then... something bulkier.

A bazooka-like weapon sat against the wall, slightly scorched but intact. He picked it up, feeling the weight settle into his arms.

He knew the drawbacks. ’it took too much time to charge, and even more time to cool off, It can only offer one shot’.

But it had enough punch to level a building.

’Or snipe a lightning-wielding bastard’s head clean off’. He chuckled at his own thoughts before his eyes narrowed his grip tightened around the weapon.

He didn’t care about honor. He didn’t care about proving strength, he was going to kill that boy even if it was the last thing he did.

BOOM.

He froze. Thunder cracked in the distance. Electric blue light flared in the dust above.

Once. Twice. Not an illusion.

He raced back up the stairs, weapon slung over his back. He climbed through fractured staircases until he reached a ledge overlooking the wreckage.

No humans, as far as his eyes could see, only creatures— once human twisted with miasma were present.

Dead air, thick with blunt flesh and blood.

But then and there, in the chaos, he saw two figures.

The thunder bastard.

And Lunethra.

Locked in battle, blows echoing across the broken world. With two dominant colours.

Gold and Blue.

Zephyr stared for a heartbeat. Then turned and sprinted downward again—urgency burning in his chest, he got to get there— fast.

But not to help her, he just didn’t want to be late. Because if she killed him before he got there, it would be his loss.

"Please thunder bastard last a little longer". Zephyr muttered under his breath as he slipped through the exit door. "I want to kill you myself... slowly if possible.