The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 71: Assassination

Chapter 71: Assassination

Zephyr raised his head slightly from where he lay, face half-buried in the loamy soil and leaves. His eyes stung—not from tears, but from the fire roiling deep inside him, burning slow and hot. His breath hitched again, but then—

"Well. Well, what do we have here?"

He blinked away the haze and turned his head, pushing himself up with trembling arms.

A girl stood at the edge of the clearing, half-shadowed beneath the swaying branches. Her black hair shimmered in the filtered sunlight, and her uniform was rumpled, like she’d been running—or hunting. One hand was behind her back.

And then he remembered. Back before they fought the mutated Ant...

They’d gone around introducing themselves, listing their Arts like names in a roster.

"My name is Kola," she’d said, voice calm but certain. "My first Art induces paralysis. My second... encourages allies."

At the time, none of them had cared. Strangers thrown together, barely teammates.

But now she was here. And she was looking at him like a problem she’d already solved.

"Not your best day, huh, Bloodhound?" Kola said as she stepped into the clearing, the venom in her tone was unmistakable. And then she moved.

A glint of silver—Zephyr’s instincts screamed. He twisted, throwing himself aside as her dagger whistled past, slicing through the space his throat had just occupied.

He hit the ground hard, air punching out of his lungs. Dirt bit into his skin as he scrambled away, his eyes never leaving her. His space sense flared wide in panic, his spatial sense relayed him an information— dagger in her right hand, another sheathed at her belt.

"You," he rasped.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she twirled the dagger in her fingers with cold grace. Her expression was no longer curious—it was clinical. Detached.

"You should’ve stayed dead," she said. "Now you’re going to suffer."

Zephyr pushed himself upright, fists clenched.

"What’s the meaning of this?" he spat.

’Why does everything try to bury me?’. He gritted his teeth, the fire inside flickering higher.

Kola didn’t reply. She launched forward again—faster this time. He barely raised his forearm in time to block the blade, the edge slicing across his skin with a searing chill. He shoved her off-balance and sprang backward to gain space.

She gave him none.

His hand darted to his waistband, drawing his own dagger.

Clang.

Steel met steel in a flash of sparks. The impact rattled his bones, but she didn’t even flinch. Her eyes locked onto his like a predator dissecting prey—every move calculated, every breath measured.

She moved like she’d done this before.

"Who sent you?" Zephyr growled, blade low and ready.

"I volunteered," she said flatly.

Then she spun low, sweeping a leg out to trip him.

But Zephyr didn’t retreat.

Instead, he stepped into the arc—reckless, brutal—and slammed his left leg forward, his knee crashing into her gut like a hammer.

Thud.

Air exploded from her lungs. Her eyes widened as she staggered backward, her sweep ruined. Zephyr pressed in without hesitation.

He barreled forward, ramming his shoulder into her chest and hurling her through the underbrush.

She hit the ground hard, rolled, and sprang back up, dagger flashing.

But something had changed, she was no longer in control. Zephyr came again—relentless.

She tried to counter—dagger arcing toward his side—but he caught it mid-swing with his own blade. Sparks burst. And then—he retreated just a step.

It was all he needed.

Kola’s arm, carried by her own momentum, overextended. Her balance faltered.

Zephyr’s foot lashed out like a whip.

His shin crashed into her ribs with bone-jarring force.

Crack.

The sound was sharp. Kola flew sideways, crashing into a low tree trunk with a grunt of pain. She slid to the ground, coughing, one hand clutching her ribs.

She looked up, dazed. ’how’. Her thoughts were a mess.

’he was supposed to be grade 3. How. Just how’. The reality in front of her was jarring, she was at Elpison grade 1 and she was being tossed around by someone who was supposed to be at grade 3 of Zeta.

She turned her head just in time as his foot crushed into the dirt where her skull had been a heartbeat before.

She slashed upward with her dagger at his leg in retaliation, but his limb moved like a ghost—faster than her eyes could follow.

Bang.

His heel struck her jaw with a dull crack, she lifted into the air from the sheer force of it, crashing against the earth. Her limbs stiffened, but her thoughts spiraled in chaotic disbelief.

How. How. How. Just—how?!

There were too many variables. Too many pieces she hadn’t accounted for, but the answer was clear.

Aether.

Until a person reached Elpison-rank, their Aether remained thin—light as air. It took reaching that rank for one’s Aether to condense, to become dense like gas, tangible in every motion.

But Zephyr’s Aether hadn’t waited.

He had been born into the Demios Clan. One of the strongest bloodlines in this world. And even without actively cultivating, the passive effects of that heritage had blessed him.

If her Aether was water... his was mud.

And then there was Merin.

That madwoman hadn’t just trained his body. She had trained his Aether—pressurized it, crushed it, reshaped it. Forced it into density far beyond its grade.

Right now, his Aether wasn’t just Grade 3. It was pressing at the edges of Elpison Grade 2.

Which meant... Zephyr had been right. He could stand toe-to-toe with a Grade 1. And against a lower Elpison like her? He could dominate.

Kola coughed again, blood flecking her lip. She looked up slowly, disbelief finally giving way to something more dangerous— fear.

’Is the power of a son of Demios’. The thought was jarring, both practically and theorically it was impossible but the reality in front of her was telling her otherwise.

’is it true what he said’. She remembered the old man said to her— No matter how one trains, one cannot surpass sons of Demios. This one had seen it and has lived it.

It wasn’t that se brushed away his words, but he was supposed to be Aetherless Three months ago. He was supposed to be handicapped. He was supposed to be struggling at the bottom of the ladder. But why was she the one on the ground and in pain.

She struggled up as she screamed in her mind. ’I can’t fail, mother— they will kill her. I can’t’, she’s all I have, she can’t did no’.

Before she went on this mission her mother was held hostage, should she fail, her mother would pay the price. She was scared, she had heard of his stories but they assured her that he was barely at grade 3 of Zeta rank.

She had attacked confident on her abilities and the information. But the scene in front of her didn’t go according to script.

Bang.

A muffled bang rang out as Zephyr’s fist landed in her jaw like a piston. Her jaw snapped back into position as she staggered sideways, blood pouring out if her mouth but she was at grade 1 Elpison.

She swang her head forward and let out a shrill scream, but Zephyr fist landed square on her face. He head flew back as the force lifted her up her feet, Zephyr hand clasped around her hand then dragged her close to himself.

His knee hit her stomach with such a force that her stomach released it content. Bile mixed with blood poured out of her mouth.

Her body fell to the ground with a soft thud, her thoughts jumbled up.

Zephyr stood close to her, his chest moving exaggerating, he raised his dagger upward but to bring it down and kill her became a problem.

He didn’t hesitate back in the ’tournament’. He killed without second thoughts, the two Zephyr had fully merged thus he didn’t feel bad or hesitate when he killed the students. Although he did pray for them.

But now he couldn’t bring his body to strike her, he fought against the overwhelming urge to back off.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Although her thoughts were all jumbled up because of Zephyr’s strike that felt like missile war head. But at the end of the day she was an Elpison.

’how could it have gone so wrong’. She wondered admist her pain. She glance at the still struggling Zephyr. She wasn’t, she had full confidence in her ability but she still couldn’t forthom how she had failed.

Two weeks after school she was told to monitor him, which she did until after the tournament where she was told to follow him around saying he would be vulnerable after leaving the hall. She didn’t ask questions, she just did what she was told.

She saw him enter the administration hall and a few minutes later he came out looking lost, she secretly followed him while subtly manipulating him using her Art.

When she said her first Art allows her to ’encourage’ he allies, she wasn’t lying and she wasn’t saying the truth either.

Her first Art. Passio— Confidere. Allows her to plant suggestions into the mind of anyone.

She first suggested for him to head to the alley, she wanted to be extra careful. That was how he found his way to the alley and she subtly encouraged him to lash out at the combust bin.

Satisfied that it worked she encouraged him to head to the forest where the killing was to be carried out, but instead of planting depressing suggestions for him to commit suicide, she wanted to prove that even she from such a lowly background could surpass a member of a grand clan.

But realty dealt with her. She had come to realize that the grand clan, inheritors of Cursed celestials truly couldn’t be touched.

"No matter how one trains. One cannot surpass a member of Demios clan".

And the worst thing was that the battle had already started before she had met him physical and she had still lost.

With depressive thoughts she reached to her pocket, her Art was waning as her Aether was rapidly sucked out of her body to supplement her Art. Using her manipulation Arts took a toll on her Aether and she had been manipulating him ever since the beginning.

She took a black pill as the depressive Aura crushed on her face. She was told that this could help her if she failed to manipulate him to death. Or she could die from it, she didn’t know.

She popped the pill into her mouth as her Aether suddenly surged. Her skin cracking as her eyes blackened.

She was turning to a Miasma creature.