The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 68: Zephyr vs Lunethra

Chapter 68: Zephyr vs Lunethra

"Wooo!" Zephyr whooped as the beam of light burst from his bazooka. He had expected something similar to his usual gun—a focused pulse of compressed Aether. Instead, what he fired felt more like igniting a sun.

He had aimed to kill Lunethra along with the other boy, but she dodged at the last second. Still, her hand didn’t make it—severed clean by the blast.

The beam struck the boy square in the chest, piercing through his heart. That was when Zephyr was supposed to stop. That was the plan.

But he adapted to the beam that was shot, instead of the usual single shot.

With a resolved expression, he dragged the beam downward, slicing the boy in two. A forced chuckle escaped his lips as the body fell to the ground in a limp, lifeless heap.

"That’s what you get for disrespecting the dead," he muttered, dropping from his perch.

As his boots hit the ground, a jolt of pain shot through his body. He nearly stumbled—his bones rattling, muscles protesting—but he forced himself to steady. He suppressed the grimace just in time. The cold glare on Lunethra’s face told him she hadn’t noticed.

He let the now-melted bazooka clatter to the ground, from his back, he drew his scythe. The weapon sang a cold, metallic whisper as it slid free, eager. Hungry. His left hand dipped to his waistband, fingers curling around his gun. The chamber hummed as it began to charge, glowing with a low, malevolent light.

Lunethra didn’t speak.

She stood across from him, cradling her severed arm stump, steam rising from the charred flesh. Her eyes were no longer calm. They burned. Not with pain—but with something colder. Something quieter.

Hatred, distilled.

Zephyr stepped forward.

"So," he murmured, voice low and curious."should I end it.... or you want to do it yourself". The reason Zephyr wanted to kill her earlier was because her entire eyes had blackened off, he was even wondering what business she had still being human.

Lunethra didn’t answer, she lunged.

She moved like a ghost—fluid, sharp. Her blade— chariot howled as it sliced toward him. He ducked low, narrowly avoiding the cut as her sword screamed past his ear. Her momentum carried her forward, and he used it, twisting into a spin. The butt of his scythe cracked against her ribs, eliciting a grunt.

But she didn’t stagger.

She retaliated instantly, her knee driving into his side. Bones cracked as pain flared through out his side, Zephyr’s vision blurred—but he fought through the blurriness.

He spat blood as he retreated giving Lunethra space— more like giving himself space to breath. He could feel as the blood from the reopened would across his chest seeped and soaked his new makeshift bandage and uniform red.

As he retreated backwards, trying to catch his breath—but Lunethra didn’t give him the courtesy. She was on him again, relentless, her body moving like it didn’t even remember it had lost a hand.

He barely raised his scythe in time to block another vicious overhead slash. The force drove him to one knee. Sparks flew. His arm screamed from the impact.

She’s faster than before.

Her blade came at him again and again—precise, merciless. Every strike forced him to retreat, his heels scraping along the dust-slick floor as pain bloomed fresh across his battered form. Zephyr’s movements grew heavier. Slower.

Lunethra didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Her silence was judgment. Her sword, the sentence.

Zephyr twisted suddenly, feinting a side sweep with his scythe before throwing his charged gun forward—he fired, point-blank.

Lunethra deflected it— The Aether pulse shattered against her sword’s edge, scattering raw energy like glass.

Zephyr’s expression faltered as the expected damage was negated. But adapted to the new situation on the fly. The slight distraction was just enough for Zephyr to slide under her guard and slam a fist into her stomach. She staggered and coughed but didn’t fall.

Instead, she responded with a feral headbutt, bone met bone but Lunethra reeled, Blood dripping from her forehead. As she circled around him.

Zephyr almost laughed at the situation, but the little grunts that managed to leave his mouth made his chest hurt, so he decided against outright laughing.

And then Lunethra dashed forward, catching him mid-step. Her blade arced up, slicing across his shoulder.

Flesh split heat poured out with the blood, Zephyr roared and swung his scythe, barely keeping her from gutting him where he stood.

The two clashed again—harder this time. Sparks burst between them, for every strike Zephyr threw, Lunethra gave back two. His scythe tore the ground, but her blade kissed skin. Again. And again.

A cut across the thigh. A graze at the cheek. A deep stab into his left side.

He bled.

Badly.

And yet, when she pressed the attack—sword raised for what could’ve been the killing blow, but missed.

’fuck it’. he panted, eyes hazy with pain, ’she’s holding back’. The thought came a long time ago. He had witness the strength of grade 2 before when Merin had lowered her strength and battled him.

But he wasn’t exactly sure if she was holding back or that it was her lost hand that was holding her back. His thoughts leaned towards her hand limiting her strength.

But just moment ago he had let himself open purposely but instead of his neck her blade darted to his cheek. That was now he knew her human side was still fighting.

"I will save you". Zephyr muttered under his breath, but he was fighting someone at Eplision grade 2 and words could be heard from far away not to talk of he who was right in front of her.

Lunethra froze.

That one sentence—it cracked something. She lunged again, faster, fiercer. He parried, barely, and then planted his boot into her abdomen, forcing her back.

A single word echoing in her mind. "Don’t pity me".

Both stumbled apart, gasping, bloodied, swaying on the brink.

Zephyr checked himself. ’Barely enough for a single Art’. He had been supplementing his strength and healing with Aether even since the fight and he couldn’t afford to use a single Art who he would be sucked dry. He could say the same for her as she hadn’t used her Art too.

’she’s probably holding back the beast.... I got to kill her quick’. He stood up and moved with one despite charge, Lunethra seems to know that this was a desperate charge as she too charged in.

Zephyr lunged forward—not with finesse, but with sheer desperation. His scythe scraped low, scooping a burst of dust and sand from the ground. With a twist of his wrist, he flung it into Lunethra’s face.

Her eyes slammed shut, she didn’t curse nor did she panic. She simply reacted and closed her eyes, when her eyes opened again, her sword was already raised, perfectly positioned.

But Zephyr was too fast, too reckless. ’i can’t stop’. He couldn’t stop, he slammed into the blade.

It sank into his side with a wet, cruel sound—but he didn’t scream. He adapted. Letting the pain fuel him, he kicked off the ground and used the momentum to hurl himself higher. His hand shot out and clamped around her throat.

They crashed to the earth—hard, dust and blood rising in clouds around them.

Zephyr ended up on top.

His hand still gripped her neck.

She thrashed beneath him, her mouth opening wide for breath—but all she got was a flood of his blood, still gushing from his wounds, pouring into her mouth like a curse.

She gagged as she choked on his blood. Her head twisted, trying to spit, but pinned beneath him she had no such luxury. Her throat flexed, but she refused to swallow. Her body bucked—but his weight held her down.

And then—

Her free hand—her swordless right—rose with shaking precision. Her fingers clawed for his face, delicate nails becoming blades. Zephyr tried to jerk back, but not fast enough.

A nail pierced his eyelid.

His body convulsed before he could think— his body moved by itself, his grip slipped from her neck—just for a heartbeat.

But then he surged forward.

His jaw snapped down on her outstretched wrist, teeth sinking into flesh. Blood bloomed into his mouth, hot and coppery. She gasped.

And that was all the opening he needed.

His hand slammed back down, this time around her throat with renewed force.

Her mouth opened again—mid-spit, his blood, now mixed with her blood. It all mixed and dripped down her cheeks, into her nose, painting her face with death.

She tried to pull away. Her legs kicked, but the strength was leaving her. Her struggles turned to twitches.

And then— Stillness, her eyes widened, then dimmed. And Zephyr...

Collapsed.

His limbs gave way, his body crashing beside hers like a felled tree. He wanted to move. To get up. To even crawl.

But nothing answered.

His body was gone. Burnt. Emptied. Every cell screaming.

But—

She wasn’t breathing, and that was all that mattered. She had died.

In the middle of his grip. Choked on blood, his blood, blood of the little Ghost.

His head lolled to the side, one eye sealed shut by blood, the other barely able to stay open.

"...Sorry," he rasped to no one.

And then the world tilted, as the sky and the ground swapped places.

Darkness licked at the corners of his vision. And then.

Tick. Tick.

The time struck 10:00 Am on the clock. Zephyr blinked then shifted his gaze, he was in class, everyone was seated. Lunethra gaze was burning through his body from the other side of the class. He fell the comfortable leather underneath his body.

His clothes— intact. No blood. Aether full. Class undestroyed.

"W-what t-the..... h-how".

Then Mr. Fisher voice cut through his Strom of emotions. "First place— Zephyr Demios".

"Huh".