The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 87: Obelisks

Chapter 87: Obelisks

Noctis hadn’t moved when the boy first spoke, he didn’t need to, the bastard Tristan wasn’t talking to him. His words, all sharp with theatrical venom, were aimed at Oliver.

He never really knew the point of Oliver existence in the first place, in his first life he never really acheived anything. Apart from losing control when ever he used his Art.

While until the conspiracy around Vermilion clan was revealed. The boy actually merged with a piece of a mad celestial flesh, granting him mind blowing powers.

’Troublesome’. Oliver was troublesome because he knew he would be killing him in the class next semester test. He would loss control and he would be the one to put him down.

He wouldn’t allow him to rampage and kill Camila just like in his past life, this time no more hesitating. Camila was too critical for his plan.

Noctis was taken out of his thoughts when Tristan tone dripped with mockery rang out, but it was the way his eyes never blinked, never wavered off Oliver, that made Noctis narrow his gaze.

He wasn’t just taunting. He was peeling back layers—waiting for someone else to bleed.

Zephyr stepped forward eventually.

Noctis felt the shift. That had been the goal all along. Not Oliver. Zephyr.

And then the boy pivoted—finally—his attention sliding over to Noctis like a snake brushing past bone.

"You liked the princess, right Noctis?"

Noctis didn’t respond. He didn’t blink. But something inside him slid sideways. The way the boy said liked—like it was something to be ashamed of.

He felt his control slip by a breath, but he hastily controlled himself, he was very well aware of the kind of manipulator Tristan was. He was indeed the one who caused him to challenge the Demios clan. A wrong move he must say.

"Tell me, Zephyr... how’d you do it?".

"Sneaking into the bathhouse? Into her arms?"

There it was the trigger. Not for Zephyr, not even for Oliver but for him.

Tristan wasn’t aiming to provoke shame. He was stitching guilt to desire, then twisting the blade. He wanted Noctis to react—to show something. And when Noctis did, even the smallest twitch—he knew.

That damned smirk widened.

The moment his shadows moved, the boy’s own response came like a flare through blood. Tendrils. Veins. Cracking sinew. Sanguis. Not defensive. Not fearful. Excited.

He wanted this.

They clashed. The room broke. Chaos tore through walls like wild ink.

But even then—even as Noctis drove a shadow-limb through a wall and sent beds spiraling into splinters—he started to realize it.

The battle was shifting.Not because of power.

But because of positioning.

Each blow, each dodge—the boy kept dragging them closer to the edge, subtly angling them toward the corner where Zephyr stood. And Noctis, moment by moment, followed.

A blood-vein snapped toward that corner. Another tendril followed it—not toward him.

Toward Zephyr.

’He’s not trying to beat me’. The thought coiled around in his guys.

’He’s trying to pull Zephyr in’. The realization was cold, precise and much too late.

Because then Zephyr moved, and the air screamed.

Limbo – Border Jail.

The spatial pressure burst like a prison collapsing inward. Noctis flinched—not from fear, but from how deliberate it was. Zephyr hadn’t just reacted on instinct—he’d responded with full intent.

And when the shimmering air faded, the yellow-haired boy stood crouched, bleeding and smiling like a victor.

"Didn’t expect the mute decoration to bite back."

"Guess we’re a trio now."

That line wasn’t a revelation. It was a checkmate.

Noctis’s eyes narrowed. He was breathing evenly. But his mind? His mind was boiling.

Tristan hadn’t lost control. He never wanted control. He had designed this moment—to fracture the balance.

It wasn’t just about pride or power. It was about entangling Zephyr.

The silence that followed wasn’t peace. It was the kind of quiet only predators enjoyed. Because now, the board had changed.

Three players one instigator and a bastard grin to rule them all.

"Tch".

’i lost control again’. Noctis was angry, but not at Tristan. But at himself.

He had been tricked again, the first time by Tristan. Tristan had told him nine percent truth and one percent lie.

And that lie made him Storm to Demios land with the Vermilion clan. Results— Vermilion clan was led to waste with him barely surviving, he barely survived with Vermilion clan wiped off the map. Although Demios clan survived it wasn’t without consequences.

Barely three months later he found out the truth, Seralyn the third princess had died in the vermilion clan in pursuit of purity and Tristan had blamed it on Demios clan.

He was devestated by the revelation but Vermilion clan were gone leaving few survivors. It was then he knew that being an Alpha ranked individual didn’t mean immunity to deceit.

And then they came, Contamination.

His head always throbbed when it came to this point in his memory, even he an Alpha ranked individual had gone mad when he saw the source of Contamination.

He should have died, but the world Will ressurated him while leaving him with the knowledge of a hidden realm. The realm above Alpha.

Stigma.

Noctis was brought out of his nostalgia when he felt the tension in the air.

The three of them stood in a triangle now—Noctis, cloaked in seething shadow; Tristan, half-grinning through blood and gore; and Zephyr, hands still lowered from Limbo, breath curling in the broken air like steam.

If Noctis were to choose who he would kill first, it would definitely be that bastard.

Then it happened, the boy moved first.

In a blink, his sinewy vein-arm stretched wide, snapping forward like a whip toward Zephyr’s ribs.

Noctis intercepted—his shadow limb crashing into the fleshy tendril with a thunderous crack, throwing sparks as it twisted the meat into a spiral.

The yellow-haired boy didn’t stop. He ducked low, carving a path toward Noctis now, shoulder surging upward as his bulked arm struck.

Noctis met it mid-swing. Their powers collided—darkness and flesh grinding with unnatural noise, a screeching, tearing ripple that split the floor beneath them.

BOOM.

They parted in an instant. Debris rained down like ash.

Noctis wasn’t going all out, if he wanted Tristan would have been dead seven times over. His heavenly restricted phantasm obelisk— the Abyss eyes weren’t a joke.

Obelisks the world will called it.

He was shocked when the world will told him about such legendary obelisks, it said they were eyeballs of the seven original Celestial.

The didn’t grant power, they granted law, it told him it was going to be releasing it in his next life, told him to gather the eyes, killing the welders if he had to and combat the Contaminations.

’The Seven Eyes. The Obelisks. The Celestial last curses. I own one. The world Will told me the rest’.

’Abyss Eye — Law of Nothing. From my research it Devours existence. Absorbs not power, but presence. Nothing escapes it—not sound, not light, I don’t control it, I just keep it from swallowing the world. Truly a burden’.

’Crown Eye — Law of Dominion. World will says whatever it sees, it rules. Gravity, movement, thought—everything bows. The eye doesn’t ask. It commands. My first target to absorb’.

’Torch Eye — Law of Sacrifice. Burns the user every time it shines. Each miracle costs something—blood, memory, soul. But it can rewrite death itself. Only fools or saints would use it. I will absorb it, if I want to survive running mad’.

’Halo Eye — Law of Reflection. Reflects more than light. Pain, attack— sent back twice as sharp. Not very useful, but useful never the less’.

’Vermin Eye — Law of Hunger. It eats. Not flesh, but meaning. Aether, Art, lifespan. The longer it’s denied, the hungrier it becomes. Eventually, it’ll eat its wielder too. Not that different from my abyss eyes. Stays with me nevertheless’.

’Pale Eye — Law of Stillness. Freezes everything—motion, sound, even time. One look, and you’re locked. Still. Forever. It doesn’t kill, well not immediately’.

’Omen Eye — Law of Clairvoyance. Doesn’t see the future, it forces understanding of everything. Looks at you and tells you the truth. Makes you see what you shouldn’t, perfect example of too much knowledge breaks people. Pretty useless for me, not looking for a history class’.

Noctis breathed out as he shaked his head sideways, apart form his eye he currently didn’t know where the other ones were.

Then he heard a low, commanding voice.

"Enough."

From the far doorway—half-hidden by the warped doorframe and hanging vines—she stood.

Pink eyes. Pink hair braided, the school uniform tight against her body displaying her curves.

The Third Princess. No matter how many times he sees her, she always manage to steal his breath away.

He didn’t know why but in this life she started to cover her left eye, did something happen to it.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" she said again, slower this time. Her eyes moved from one to the next—Noctis, Tristan, and finally... Zephyr.

A flicker passed through her gaze. Not disdain. Not surprise.

Calculation.

"Tch." Tristan clicked his tongue and straightened, veins receding, his right arm bubbling down to a wiry, scarred limb. "Guess playtime’s over."

Noctis didn’t say anything. The shadows melted from his back in slow, reluctant shudders.

Zephyr exhaled.

"Next time you want to test your strength—go to the arena. Or the Wastes. Not my tower."

She was gone before anyone could answer.

Silence fell, thick and uneven.

The yellow-haired boy looked around, then whistled low. "Scary woman."

Noctis turned and walked towards another bed, his was destroyed in the fight.

’At least I got something out of the fight’. The abyss eye didn’t only grant him a law, it also allowed him to implant a curse on someone.

Unless Tristan had one of the Obelisks or had an higher Aether then him, Noctis could absorb his him anytime.

The curse worked in a way that by implanting a piece of his shadow into his opponent he could drain them of Aether and their life force .

Even when if Tristan managed to became a Delta and had access to his mind scape he wouldn’t be able to see the mark in his mind scape.

And even if he saw it, he couldn’t remove it himself because his Aether is lesser in quality and quantity to Noctis, and the only way was to open up his mind scape to someone on an even higher rank then him. But that was basically suicide, because then could enslave you.

That kind of intimacy was frowned upon, your mind scape was where your true name was and to your horror some one managed to get a whisp of it, then could use it to enslave you.

Noctis lay down on his bed as he looked at the leaf sealing.

’now where do I start searching for the other eyes’.