The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 92: Blood fued

Chapter 92: Blood fued

Oliver’s gaze lingered on the horizon, wind tousling his hair as he added, more quietly—

"And... people mock us for another reason. A mistake—our mistake."

He looked Zephyr dead in the eyes.

"In the ancient wars... we dared to wage battle against the Demios Clan."

A bitter smirk curled his lip.

"And we lost—terribly."

He shifted, sitting forward. "Our ancestor, after taking revenge on those who had wronged her—killing every last one, from warriors to infants—let something fester inside her. A hatred for men. It twisted her. She decided the world needed to be cleansed of them."

"But she didn’t finish the purge. You know how these things go." He chuckled dryly. "Love conquers all. She fell for someone, and the slaughter stopped... but by then, the damage had been done."

Oliver’s voice dropped to a sober tone.

"There was a boy. Just a child. He watched his father—his entire family—be butchered by her hands. He survived. And he grew, fueled by vengeance... until the day he met a celestial."

"A cursed one. They say it drank death from a cup."

The wind stilled.

"The celestial was dying. It needed a host. So it made a pact with the boy. In return for shelter, it gave him power. But unlike our ancestor, who devoured her curse and became master of it—he embraced the celestial. Became one with it."

"With that strength, he stormed the Vermilion stronghold and killed her—our founder. Spared only her husband and three children."

Oliver paused, the weight of the tale pressing down like a stormcloud.

"The children didn’t forget. They didn’t forgive either. They waited. Hid. And when the time was right, they assimilated what remained of her."

"One fused with her flesh. Another her blood. The last... her bones."

"They rebuilt our clan on her remains—and shared that bloodline with the Mandune humans who served them. Slaves, essentially."

Zephyr said nothing.

Oliver continued, voice tight. "When our strength returned, the eldest sent a message to the Demios Clan... using his own flesh."

He turned toward Zephyr, and recited—

"Demios dog— You bark behind your mountains and feast on corpses,

But know this— We are not the dead you left behind.

We are her flesh, her blood, her bone.

You may have silenced her breath—

But you did not kill her voice.

Return, hound of war.

Let the ash remember your name".

Zephyr could almost hear the echo of it—an ancient threat wrapped in pride and vengeance.

Oliver gave a short laugh, but there was no humor in it.

"The ancestor of the Demios Clan was already in slumber then. But it didn’t matter. The clan moved. Bloodlust runs in their bones like wildfire. They stormed from their lands, tore through our strongholds, struck the capital like a thunderclap."

"They captured the eldest."

"Dragged him back. Along with hundreds of Vermilion clansmen. They returned the captives eventually—but the price... was steep."

Oliver’s eyes darkened.

"And that’s when it happened. The Demios general who led the assault—he was heard by spies of other clans, laughing, shouting across the battlefield".

"Virgins! Come out and let me show you the difference between Vermilion blood and Royal might!"

"Mocking our arts. Mocking our history. Mocking her."

"Ever since then, the name stuck. ’Virgin’—a slur to remind us of our downfall. A scar passed from tongue to tongue."

He looked away again.

"Sometimes it’s whispered. Sometimes it’s spat. But it always hits the same nerve."

As soon as Oliver stopped speaking an awkward silence descended.

Zephyr was lost in thought. ’The Demios clan sure has lots of enemies’. From the blurry recollection he could recall when he was thought back in the clan before he was thrown to the pit.

He was taught that the clan he was born into, wielders of the feared and cursed Black Flame, had long been the Solmyr Clan’s greatest rival. Their animosity was born not from politics, but from betrayal—deep, bloodstained, and unforgettable.

During the catastrophic Era of Rupture, the two clans had stood shoulder to shoulder against a rampaging Curse Leviathan, a being born from the heart of the void. In a moment of desperation, the Solmyr patriarch had channeled a sealing rite that required a blood tithe. Without warning, he sacrificed thousands of Demios warriors to empower the spell. The Leviathan was sealed—but at what cost?

The Demios Clan had never forgiven that treachery. How could they, they lost thousands of men, although majority were just slaves that were granted the bloodline of Demios, they were still members of the clan never the less.

But that was only the beginning.

Years later, the Demios heir, Vales Demios, engaged to a Solmyr daughter to forge peace, died in a cursed fire that they believed originated from tampered Solmyr relics. What should’ve been a union turned into a funeral pyre.

When the world began to rebuild after the Age of Rapture, and the great clans came together to crown the first sovereign king, it was agreed that the clan with the most Alpha-ranked individuals would provide the monarch. The Demios Clan, still wounded from the past, fell behind by one—a single Alpha short of supremacy.

And that alone shown their power, despite the fact that thousands of their men were slaughtered, they still failed the quest of sovereignity by just one Alpha. Just one.

Zephyr was inclined to believe that Demios clan were the real villain but all the evidence proved that they were Victims themselves.

But all these happenings could all be contributed to one problem— revenge.

And now he was walking down that path, no matter how he would avoid it, his path would led him back to revenge. The clan would have to answer to his blade.

But for now.

Zephyr didn’t know what to say, so he just let the awkward moment pass. He and Oliver sat down there in silence, staring at the sky either knowing what to say.

As the silence between them stretched, a flicker of motion caught Zephyr’s eye.

A snake.

Coiled loosely on a high branch across from him, its silver scales shimmered faintly in the filtered light. Its slit pupils met Zephyr’s without flinching. There was no movement, no hiss—just a silent understanding. Zephyr exhaled softly.

’Keal’.

He shifted his gaze back to Oliver, who was now rummaging through a side pouch, pulling out his usual dose of ’nutrient’.

"I got something to take care of". Zephyr murmured, rising.

Oliver glanced up, pausing mid-prep. "Right," he said, tone light, unconcerned. "Catch you later".

With a nod, Zephyr jumped down from the tree, landing with a quiet thud. He didn’t look back.

***

Ding

The door of the cafe opened with a ring from the bell hanging from the door pane. With a quick look Zephyr caught sight of Keal.

He sat alone at the same seat Zephyr had sat before, yet something had changed. The usual lazy presence was gone. In its place was a silence that coiled.

His posture was languid, but Zephyr could feel the pressure as he sat beside him. Like walking into a room with a predator barely pretending not to strike.

Keal’s eyes lifted slowly. They weren’t just watchful—they were reptilian. Cold, slit-pupiled, unreadable. His presence radiated like tension before lightning— calm, but dangerous.

There was no human warmth in his smile this time. Only amusement layered over something older, something primal.

"You have changed". Zephyr was getting an uneasy feeling from Keal.

Keal chuckled, and for a moment, Zephyr saw it—the flick of an invisible tongue, tasting the air between them.

"What do you mean, I was always like this".

Zephyr didn’t respond, he just stared at him, wondering why his presence reminded him of a snake.

A lady came forward and dropped some snacks on the table, she left without a word.

"Care for some chips".

Not being one to reject free food, Zephyr seized some chips.

Crunch.

"These are tasty". His eyes lit up as he began to devour it.

Keal let out a chuckle then leaned forward, and the shadows seemed to bend around him.

"I have a proposition," he said softly, each syllable sliding like scales over stone. "One that would benefit both of us".

Zephyr turned to look at him, but his hand never stopped throwing chips into his mouth.

"Be mine".

And Zephyr choked on the chips in his mouth.

"The hell do you mean be your’s".

Keal didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just smiled that same cold, serpentine smile.

"I mean join me," he said smoothly. "Join us."

Zephyr narrowed his eyes, his voice dry. "Not sure that sounded like a recruitment pitch. You made it sound like a marriage proposal."

Keal shrugged, eyes gleaming. "Dramatic phrasing is effective. Got your attention, didn’t it?"

Zephyr leaned back slightly, arms crossed. "So? What’s this about?"

Keal tapped two fingers against the table, slow and rhythmic. "An organization. One I built myself".

He looked Zephyr in the eyes.

"I’m not the only one."

Zephyr’s brow furrowed.

Keal’s voice dropped, serious now. "They’re all with me. The others."

Zephyr blinked. "Which others?"

Keal nodded once.

"All the transmigrators. Every single one of us who got dragged into this damned story? They’ve joined me. Green hair, quiet glasses kid, sharp-eyed girl—every one of them. We met. Compared notes. Shared what we remembered from the novel. They saw the sense in aligning."

He leaned in, voice low.

"We’re the only ones who know how this world ends, Zephyr. The only ones with memory of the Chapters that had happened. That man didn’t give us powerups. No cheat codes. But we have something better—perspective."

Zephyr stared at him, stunned silent.

’how was perspective better’.

Keal went on, voice now edged with something sharp beneath the smooth exterior.

"This world? It’s rigged. Filled with cycles of revenge, betrayal, curses repeating like broken records. All these clans and bloodlines are just players stuck in someone else’s loop. I plan to break it."

"So Zephyr join me".