The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 82: My ****

Chapter 82: My ****

"Wipe that scowl off your face," Merin said dryly, arms crossed as she leaned beside the frame of the transfer gate corridor. "You’re not walking into a battlefield."

Zephyr didn’t reply.

He merely exhaled through his nose, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve, flattening the tension from his features until his expression became unreadable.

His fingers tightened slightly around the thin, metallic token.

After leaving the cafeteria, they went to the administration hall to get his transfer token. It was a single use token, no return trip. Once used, the token would burn itself out, and wherever he ended up, he’d have to stay. At least until someone with authority sent for him again.

Now, here he was—standing at the threshold and without a word, Zephyr stepped forward.

He raised the token and place it in mid air, in between the pillar like structure, dragging his hands down, it was like using a knife to tear open a curtain. The space in front of him rippled like water.

He looked ahead, and he could see people moving around, non even spared him a glance as if the tearing of space was normal. At least in this world, it was.

He turned to stare at Merin. "This is it". His voice was dry barely concealing his emotions, she was officially the only person he could have a talk with. The first person that hasn’t treated him like he was a stain.

Keal don’t count. Neither did Mr. Fisher.

"Yeah it’s true". She smiled at him. "I’m going to miss my favorite student".

"Your only student".

Merin eyes twitched at his words then the she said. "Goodbyes are always hard so promise me you will get yourself a girlfriend and hopefully make me Aunt".

They both laughed knowing how impossible it was given his reputation.

"Look the gateway is about to close, you better hurry up".

"Hmm". Zephyr stared at the opening again and took a deep breath. He advanced towards the split in the space then stilled his heart and turned around.

Turning around, he bowed a deep short bow filled with emotion. "Thanks for everything."

Then, without another word, he rushed through the split before it sealed shut.

Merin stood there for a moment, stunned.

He’d said thank you before. But this time... it was different, this time it had weight—like for a moment, just a moment, he was about to cry.

"Silly kid," she murmured, a fond smile curling her lips. "I’m still going to teach you up there." With a soft laugh, she turned away, already imagining the look on his face when he realized she was still going to be teaching him.

*********

As soon as Zephyr crossed through the gate, Aether surged into his veins.

Residual energy from the dimensional tear crackled along his limbs—just like the first time they’d crossed into the Second Realm. For a heartbeat, the rush cleared the fog of worry from his mind.

"Well. Just me again," he muttered.

He took in his surroundings.

A large open plaza stretched before him—more like a town square than any academy. It reminded him of Cinderholt, the capital city of the Black Mountain Reach— Territory of Demios clan.

Wide streets paved with smooth blackstone, elegant lanterns powered by embedded Aether crystals, and a mix of students, staff and civilians bustling about like villagers. Shops, stalls, and suspended walkways gave the area life. He even spotted a group of students haggling with a smith over the price of reforging a spell-etched blade— they were being extra loud.

In the center of the plaza stood a fountain, circular and wide, with a tall statue at its heart.

The figure was completely clothed—head to toe. Not even the face was visible. No skin, no eyes, no hint of gender. Robes flowed down like rippling stone, and strange symbols were carved across its sleeves and chest. The effect was eerie. Sacred. Intimidating.

He didn’t know whether to bow or look away.

"First things first. Administration Hall," he murmured.

He took a single step forward—then paused.

"Excuse me."

The voice was quiet. Nervous.

Zephyr turned to see someone approaching him. A boy, glancing around like he didn’t want to be seen. His pace was awkward. His eyes darted side to side. Paranoid.

’Ginger’.

Zephyr’s mind flashed. The same red hair. The same energy. This was the guy he saw the other day—before everything went sideways.

The boy finally reached him. "H-hey," he said while rubbing the back of his head with an awkward grin.

"Hey," Zephyr replied, his gaze sweeping over him with practiced instinct.

Messy ginger hair like he’d just rolled out of bed. Long black pants—too long, really. Shoes pitch black with gleaming silver soles. His shirt was short-sleeved and had a shiny silver gleam all over as if it was made of silver, and layered under a black cardigan marked with a strange, mouth-like sigil on the chest—an open jaw inked in fine silver. And a black tie to top it.

His face was sharp, but not overdone. Handsome in a restless way. Ginger-colored eyes that kept drifting around, only to snap back to Zephyr. Then drift again.

Zephyr caught himself staring a bit too long.

He coughed, a dry awkward cough. "You need something?"

"W-well you see.....". The guy trailed off along the way with an embarrassed expression on his face.

Zephyr raised an eyebrow. ’what’s wrong with him, am not scary.... am I?". He had been recently told that a scowl seems to have found his face very enticing to stay.

"Look I got someplace to be".

"I could take you there". He sounded rushed, Zephyr immediately went into suspicious mode.

"I mean, you are knew here so I think I could be of help". The boy tried to put up a confident look but his sweating was giving away his nervous state.

’i was going to ask around anyway, might as well take up his offer’.

"Hmm fine show me the way to the administration hall". Zephyr agreed, better then blinding asking around.

The boy led the way, weaving through the crowded plaza with nervous energy. Zephyr followed quietly, his gaze flicking from building to building, taking in the new environment. The air was thick with Aether and chatter— hawkers, information brokers, even a duo of robed duelists arguing about honor codes.

All the while, the ginger-haired boy kept glancing back at him, lips parting slightly like he wanted to say something... but never quite did.

Zephyr noticed. He just didn’t care enough to make it easier for him.

His mind was elsewhere. His cursed eye had started to throb again, pulsing faintly beneath the skin—slow, rhythmic beats like a second heart trying to wake up. He clenched his jaw.

’Not again’.

"You okay?" the boy finally asked, catching the slight tension in Zephyr’s step.

"Yeah," Zephyr muttered. "Keep walking."

The awkward silence returned, thick enough to smother the plaza’s noise. It followed them past stone paths and levitating stairways until they reached a spiraling tower with twin banners—the administration hall.

Before they entered, the boy suddenly stopped and took a shaky breath.

"I—I’m Oliver. Vermilion Clan," he said, forcing the words out.

Zephyr gave him a blank stare. Then—

"What do you want?"

Oliver looked like he’d been hit. He rubbed his arm, clearly flustered. "It’s about... the other day."

Zephyr’s memory flickered. The alley, the red-haired boy crouched against the wall, silently sobbing while inhaling from a faintly glowing canister, eyes bloodshot shaking like a leaf.

He sighed. "Don’t worry. No one’s going to know."

Oliver blinked, stunned. His shoulders slumped—relief washing through his frame like he’d been carrying the weight of that moment since it happened.

And then, like a floodgate had been kicked open, Oliver launched a barrage of questions.

"What’s your name—wait, is it Zephyr? I think I heard someone say that the winner was Zephyr —wait, are you that Zephyr? Like the Zephyr? Oh my god, are the rumors about the fight real? Are you the Lavender ghost? Wait, is it true you—"

Zephyr narrowed his eyes. "You talk a lot."

"Y-yeah, sorry. Nervous habit. I just—whoa, whoa—don’t glare like that! You’re scary, man."

Zephyr wasn’t even glaring. He was just reevaluating him again. ’perfect protagonist template, tsk better avoid you from now. I still want to live longer’. It was universally approved. Protagonist = Trouble.

Strangely Oliver wasn’t talking again, with a frown he traced his graze and then he saw her. And his heartbeat, from the one in his chest to the one in his eyes both stopped.

Amid the flow of students coming out of the administration hall—a figure stood out like a knife among spoons.

Well she was the only one coming out of the hall, but you got the point.

Her hair was red, but not Demios red. It had an inner gleam, like wine catching firelight, styled with loose waves that framed a sharp, confident face.

Her outfit was nearly identical to Oliver’s—short-sleeved silver shirt with a black cardigan—but she wore a pleated skirt instead of pants. White thigh-high socks hugged her legs with a hint of elegance, and a small, old-time watch rested on her ankle like it belonged there. Every part of her attire looked sharp, fitted, deliberate.

Even her shoes gleamed—polished black, silver-soled. Her lips were full, painted a crimson that matched the slight shimmer in her eyes—red and piercing, yet playful.

If Zephyr was asked to describe her it would be— An exquisite creature.

And when she spotted them—Zephyr especially—her face broke into a grin.

She raised a hand, waving with open excitement. Then she strode over like they were old friends reuniting.

Zephyr’s thoughts scattered.

He had fought through an apocalypse, murder attempt and a literal damnation pit.

But this? A beautiful girl waving like they were besties? Danger.

"Hi there!" she said brightly, reaching them in just a few graceful steps.

Zephyr subtly shifted back half an inch.

Oliver blinked. "Camila...?"

She beamed at him. "Yup! Camila." Then she turned to Zephyr, hand extended like a duelist offering a challenge. "You must be Zephyr. The Zephyr. Wow."

Zephyr stared at her hand, then back at her. Before he hesitantly shaking her outstretched hand.

’soft, hot’. It was like there was no bone in her hand, just Flesh. Zephyr hand was like it was on fire.

He withdrew his hand barely a moment later as if she was glass that needed to be handled with care.

She looked at her hand with a frown, and despite the frown she still looked so beautiful. The she looked up at him and pouted.

Zephyr’s soul nearly fled his body.

"You don’t need to be so gentle with me". She looked at him as if she was offended. "I have a body count of four hundred".

Oliver besides him started a coughing fit, it seems he was choking on thin air.

Camila squinted at him, arms still crossed as she leaned in a little too close for comfort.

"So... what’s your body count?"

Zephyr blinked, his mind short-circuiting.

"...Body count?" he muttered, brow creasing. If it was what he was thinking then this life plus his former life, that will be a big fat ZERO.

She tilted her head, clearly amused. "You know, the number of enemies you’ve defeated." There was a brief pause.

Zephyr exhaled sharply through his nose, relief washing over him like a cold wave.

’Thank goodness’. For a moment, he’d thought—

’why am I relieved’. But that would be answered later.

"I can’t remember," he said honestly, voice calm but distant. "Not sure if I even kept track."

That earned a flicker of curiosity in her eyes before she grinned again—sharp and confident. "Then let’s fight," she proposed cheerfully. "I’ll show you mine and you show me yours. Power, I mean."

Zephyr stared at her, blank-faced. "...Sure."

"Yay!" she beamed, spinning on her heel. With a skip in her step, she waved at Oliver over her shoulder. "Later, Ollie!"

"Thank you! I mean later. Did she just give me a nickname! Am I friends with Camila. Am I best friends with Camila".

He felt a Peircing glare coming from his side, raising his head he turned to see Zephyr glaring at him.

Oliver coughed to clear the awkward air before putting up a serious expression.

"Bad move," Oliver with his serious expression looked over to see her bounce off like a landmine with a ponytail. "She’s gonna school your ass." He looked like he was a bogeyman.

"You don’t say". Zephyr also turned to look at her.

’this place might not be so bad’.