The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 69: Revelations

Chapter 69: Revelations

Flabbergasted was far too mild a word to describe what Zephyr felt, he was shocked. Disoriented. Surprised.

Everything he’d believed had been a lie in the past few moments had been a lie. What overturned school? What Apocalypse?.

"I’ve been fooled."

The thought echoed in his mind, his teeth clenched tight in false anger as he layed down alone on his bed in the darkness.

What S.C.A.R nonsense, the real terrorists was an organization called Black Omnibus. And here he was being fooled. And Mr. Fisher even admitted to twisting the the general knowledge.

He said he was having fun hearing students curse at an organization that didn’t even exist.

After what they’d called the "Apocalypse Tournament," they were informed—casually, even smugly—that the tournament was the Apocalypse. That was it, no world-ending war, no divine reckoning.

A tournament they hadn’t even known they were participating in.

Mr. Fisher had gone on with explanations, details, some long-winded speech—but Zephyr hadn’t listened. Not really. His mind had shut down the moment the truth cracked open. Instead, he’d focused on the nearest distraction.

The all-you-can-eat buffet.

That was how he found himself in the cafeteria, devouring plate after plate until he’d nearly ruptured something. He couldn’t say why. Hunger?— yes. Resentment?— at the prize of the meal he normally couldn’t afford. Pettiness?— because every food devoured was a won battle against the school stinginess.

’i would’ve said I’d eaten my words, if I wasn’t already full from the school’s delicious food. Haha’. He laughed quietly in his mind.

He’d cursed the school so many times before, saying they didn’t know how to treat a human. But now he didn’t agree with his previous sentiment.

Now, that they were back in the dorms where silence ruled, no one spoke, not out loud, not even in hushed tones.

Maybe it was mental fatigue. Maybe shame.

Or maybe—like him—everyone was too busy trying to process the impossible.

It was still noon, but the dorm’s transparent ceiling had already dimmed to night mode. The crystal blackened all over until it was pitch black, it was time to rest their broken hearts and disoriented minds.

Zephyr lay on his bed, eyes wide open, but he wasn’t the only one awake.

He could hear it—the softest sounds in the dark. A quiet chorus of muffled sobs, low curses spoken into pillows. Anger. Grief. Shame.

But not because they’d failed.

No.

They were crying because they never knew they were in the competition to begin with.

And now that it was over they knew that they had lost— badly.

Zephyr nearly jumped when he heard a snap from the furtherest edge of the room. Something had been broken.

"Seems someone lost their cool". Zephyr muttered under his breath as he adjusted in his bed as he prepared to sleep, but still his mind Wondered back to Mr. Fisher’s words.

Apparently, the school ran the Tournament in myriad ways. Each class. Each batch. Each time, it was different.

Sometimes it was a death match. Sometimes a survival game. Sometimes... a simulation masked as regular school life, just like this one.

The only constant was that the students were never told, not until it was already over. And the worst part that made everyone bleed was that. They had graded it.

Snap.

Zephyr flinched again.

"Is someone following my thoughts?" he wondered. "Why does every snap line up with my most depressing conclusions?"

A ridiculous idea struck him—maybe someone was reading his mind. But that didn’t matter now. Not when he was getting to the worst part, or the best part.

The grading system.

No matter how many students you killed—or didn’t kill, no matter what alliances you built or games you played. As long as you were the last one standing...

You were ranked first.

And Zephyr knew exactly who that was.

’Me. I took first’.

He shrieked in his mind like a little girl that was told that her dress had flown up in public due to wind.

Bang. Crash.

Zephyr nearly shot out of bed as the room was rocked by the violent sound.

Before he could even react, someone stormed out of the room. The door slammed open and shut.

"FUCK!!!"

A boy shouted, his voice raw and broken, before disappearing down the hallway.

Silence fell again—but this time, heavier.

"_"

’Hello...? Is anyone there?’. Zephyr didn’t know why he was doing this. It was insane to even think someone might be reading his thoughts.

But still...

’That’s three times now. Three depressing thoughts, three snapping sounds.’

Maybe it was just coincidence, or maybe his mind was looking for pattern where they were non. Still, he couldn’t help but test it one more time.

’Anyway... I topped the class. Surpassed Lunethra.’

The sobbing sound in the room grew. Louder. Sharper.

"_"

’Which means... I’ll be representing our class.’

The sobbing swelled again but this time they were even choking sound, as if someone was choking on their tears.

"_"

’I’ll just leave it. Time to focus on the next stage...’. After the tournament among the three classes of the Phoenix Wing, the top combatant was supposed to fight against the top combatants of the remaining wings.

’Two days from now, I’ll be fighting the girl from the Black Tortoise Wing... and I’ll probably fail.’

The upcoming matches were announced on the large digital billboards across the mall and cafeteria.

The winner of the Black Tortoise Wing was a girl from the Vermilion Clan—the same girl who had brutally defeated him back at the entrance exam.

The winner from the Tiger Wing hailed from the Solmyr Clan—also a girl.

The winner from the Dragon Wing came from the Demios Clan.

Aside from that, he didn’t know their names or their rankings.

But one thing was certain: he’d probably lose.

Unless...

’Unless I get my hands on the Amplifier Art’.

He had seen how the thunder bastard used the Amplifier, not only did it boost his Arts—it had amplified his speed and strength as well.

Even Lunethra had used it.

He’d seen the wonders of that Art.

’Speaking of thunder boy I wonder what the school will do with him. He did try to molest a princess. And in a moment of realization he knew the answer. ’They will probably kill him, just like in my case’. Zephyr was sure of his hypothesis, he was sure that the boy was going to pay a horrible price.

’Speaking of the thunder boy, the population of our class has dwindled.’ He hadn’t really paid attention to the rest of the students before, but now that he was lying here, truly settled... He noticed it.

There were fewer people than there had been this morning.

’I wonder what happened to them’. Then he thought amused. ’they weren’t all like him... right. Going around doing immoralities’. He let out a silent chuckle as he wandered off back to the Amplifier Art and then his mind touched on a touchy subject.

Zephyr hadn’t seen Merin since the rankings had been announced, not even a single word of congratulations.

’She’s pissed’. he thought, exhaling.

He had half-expected her to show up, maybe scold him in her usual sharp, clipped tone—or at least comment on how he had "miraculously" beaten Lunethra. But her silence was louder than any insult.

He had struck a nerve, and he knew exactly which one.

Merin had always loved weaving class. Not just enjoyed it—loved it. The way her eyes lit up when discussing thread flows, mindscapes, and rune logic was something even he, dense as he was when it came to emotions, had noticed.

It was the one place where she wasn’t cold. Where her walls came down, even just a little.

And that was why he had gone for it.

Tactical vulnerability, target their heart, and they’ll leave the rest exposed.

He had thought it clever at the time. Saying words like ’that the difference between you and me’. At that point he was frustrated and angry.

But now...?

The sad part was—he respected her.

She was the one who had first introduced him to Hollow Arts.

She had taught him how to shape power with thought, but she had also been firm with the boundaries.

"Until when you can modify every hollow Art you’ve learned and make it yours". She said seriously one afternoon. "You are forbidden from carving any into your mindscape. Understood?"

She hadn’t said it in anger, she had said it to protect him. That was her way, rules mattered, timing mattered.

Of course, Zephyr hadn’t listened, he had carved one.

It was rushed—sloppy even—but he had been so sure he could stabilize it.

He couldn’t.

The structure inside his mindscape had cracked the moment he activated it. The rune thread misaligned with his soul thread resonance, and within seconds, feedback had started building— pain. He’d almost lost his mind— literally.

It took him half a day to purge the Art out—disentangling the threads before they could anchor deeper.

He hadn’t told anyone. Especially not her.

"If Merin knew...".

He didn’t even want to finish that thought. And now, with the tournament behind them and the wing competition looming, he needed that knowledge more than ever. He needed her guidance, her technique, her precision.

But more than that—he needed her forgiveness.

Because this time, he couldn’t win alone, and if he had to face someone like the Vermilion girl again, he’d need to not just engrave an Amplifier Art...

He’d need to engrave a perfect one and who better to do it then Merin.