The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 94: A good day to be an assistant

Chapter 94: A good day to be an assistant

Zephyr still chose not to join Keal.

He couldn’t.

Not because Keal was wrong or because something about Keal made him uneasy— but because Zephyr couldn’t let anything bind him to this world. Not a cause. Not an affection. Not even a terrifying future. He was already struggling with the bond he had with Merin.

He’d promised himself he would leave after his revenge. That was the deal.

But now... even that was fraying.

Zephyr didn’t know how to move forward with the idea of revenge anymore. On one hand, he burned with it—wanted to watch Keede choke on his blade, wanted to crush the ones who’d called him "Aetherless trash." But on the other, the path to vengeance seemed to run parallel with the destruction of this world.

A world that had once been fictional to the masses.

A story.

But now... it breathed. The people bled. Laughed. Hurt. Hoped.

They were real.

And a lot of them were innocent.

Zephyr sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. His conclusion was simple, but it did little to bring him peace— he would kill only the ones directly responsible for his fall. Keede. His father. The cowards and snakes who threw him away.

But as much as he wanted that to be enough, something inside him resisted.

A quiet, angry voice in his head growled—After all you’ve been through, you’re just going to give up because of some words?

He tried to reason with it. Bargain. Say it was for the greater good.

But his mind wasn’t listening.

Sigh.

Another long exhale slipped from his lips before—

"—For fuck’s sake, are you gonna keep sighing like some tragic romance girl or are you gonna act like you’ve got a spine?".

Zephyr blinked.

He turned to see a girl with shoulder-length pale-gold hair and vivid yellowish gold eyes scowling at him from the bench beside his. Her arms were crossed, and she was glaring at him like he’d personally offended the gods with his breathing.

She wasn’t done. "You sound like an abandoned kettle. Get it together, Assistant."

Zephyr stared, deadpan.

So this was his life now.

He thought back to how he even got there in the first place.

After turning Keal down one last time, Keal had walked past him, shouldering him hard in passing and muttering, "Pathetic."

Zephyr didn’t look back.

He just kept walking toward the administration hall, where he met Oliver on the way. The boy looked pale, muttering something about how this whole process was supposed to happen after the Source Quest for the advancement to Delta rank. Not now.

Together, they had stepped inside.

Everything after that moved fast. Students were being sorted into six-man squads with barely enough time to breathe. Zephyr and Oliver got split up almost immediately. To Zephyr’s dismay, Camila ended up in Oliver’s team.

Then came the instructor.

A woman in her thirties, hair jet black and eyes like glassy obsidian. Sharp voice. Sharper eyes. She didn’t give them a chance to settle in before dragging their newly formed group to an open training field.

"Introduce yourselves, as you would be staying together from now on". She said.

That’s when it hit Zephyr—he wouldn’t be returning to his dorm. He would be living here, with these strangers.

They went around quickly. Most were awkward. Some were overly confident. Zephyr gave a short name and nothing else.

Then, with all the grace of a thrown dagger, the instructor pointed at the girl next to him on the bench.

"You. Squad leader."

Zephyr nearly had a heart attack.

For a second, he thought she was pointing at him.e was not ready for that level of responsibility.

Thankfully, it wasn’t him. It was the girl. The scowling one with yellowish gold eyes and an attitude sharp enough to shave steel.

"Samantha," she had said simply, like her name carried a weight he should already know.

The instructor wasn’t done.

"You," she said, looking at Zephyr now. "Assistant."

He didn’t even get a chance to protest before she vanished into the distance. She left to prepare their accommodations.

And ever since, Samantha had taken the role very seriously.

She’d been berating him nonstop, from his unserious attitude during their squad check-ins to—apparently—his excessive sighing.

Zephyr sighed again, slower this time. Out of spite.

Samantha glared.

"I swear—one more of those and I’ll have you running laps until your lungs fall out."

He turned his head slowly, expression blank.

"...Can I sigh internally?" he asked dryly.

She didn’t laugh.

"Not if I can feel it," she shot back.

Zephyr blinked. "That’s not how sighs work."

"That’s how my sighs work," she snapped. "And as your squad leader, I—"

Zephyr held up a hand. "Okay, okay. Fine. No more sighing."

She gave him a suspicious look before nodding, reluctantly appeased—for now.

Zephyr leaned back slightly, eyes drifting upward. His thoughts were still a storm. Still torn. But the presence of someone who was ready to argue about something so ridiculous was oddly grounding.

Maybe revenge could wait a few more hours.

’At least until she stopped yelling at me’.

Just then, the instructor returned, barking, "Move it. With me."

Without waiting, she turned and marched off.

They followed towards that same place Zephyr had passed to get to the Red sphinx district. She took out a similar token and swiped at the air, causing the same vertical spilt to appear in thin air. Then they entered in an orderly fashion.

The roads beneath their boots shifted—no longer the polished stone tiles of the school, but asphalt, lined with street lamps and parked hover-bikes.

It felt strange. Like stepping into a different world.

And then it hit him.

Zephyr frowned. ’This place... looks familiar’.

The clean-cut lawns. The identical houses. The tree-lined sidewalks.

It looked almost exactly like those quiet American suburban neighborhoods he used to see in sitcoms. Too clean. Too peaceful.

Then it clicked.

He stopped walking for half a second.

"...Is this the street from Black-ish?" he muttered under his breath.

The instructor led them past a series of nearly identical houses, only to pause in front of one with a flickering porch lamp and a crooked mailbox. She began fumbling with the keys to the door, muttering curses under her breath.

But before she could open it—

A door from the house next to theirs creaked open.

Zephyr turned, just in time to see Oliver stepping out, dragging a trash bag across the driveway like it was packed with cursed artifacts. Dust poured out behind him like the house was being exorcised.

His face was sweaty, shirt half untucked, hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted.

Oliver looked up, spotted Zephyr, and grinned. "Hey—!"

"OLIVER!"

A shrill voice cut through the air like a blade.

Oliver flinched. Hard.

He dropped the bag, panic flashed across his face, and without another word, he spun on his heel and bolted back into the house as more dust puffed from the windows like the place was coughing.

Zephyr stared at the cloud in silence.

"...Should I be worried?" he asked aloud.

The instructor finally got the key to turn and kicked the door open with a dramatic grunt.

The answer to Zephyr’s question arrived instantly.

A wall of stench and grime smacked him in the face like a physical blow. Inside was worse than he could have imagined—torn furniture, abandoned gear, mystery stains, and layers upon layers of dust. The air itself looked gray.

One of the other squad members gagged audibly.

Zephyr stared into the dark, chaotic interior—paper, garbage, broken frames, furniture piled like a hoarder’s apocalypse.

The instructor stepped aside, casual as anything, and gestured grandly.

"This," she said, "is your new home."

Zephyr wanted to laugh. Or scream. Maybe both.

"As part of your bonding exercise, you’ll be responsible for cleaning it up. I’ll be outside." She proceeded to seat on a chair positioned beneath the shade of a nearby tree, sipping something pink.

Zephyr dragged his feet toward the door, already bracing for the allergic reaction he could feel creeping into his bones.

"Oh, and Squad Leader and Assistant are exempt. Feel free to let the others handle it."

Zephyr paused.

Samantha raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what?"

"I don’t repeat myself," the instructor said, putting on a pair of sunglasses.

Zephyr didn’t wait a second longer. He turned right around and casually strolled over to a patio chair directly across from the instructor.

Samantha turned to stare at him, blinking.

"What are you doing?"

"You heard the lady."

She narrowed her eyes. "We’re the leaders. We should set an example."

"We are. I’m showing them the fine art of delegation."

"You mean cowardice?"

"I mean survival instinct."

She stared at him for a while, a long while. Zephyr was starting to feel uncomfortable before she turned around while muttering something under her breath, then she proceeded to lead the rest of the squad into the war zone. The boys threw him a glance of envy.

’what a good day to be an assistant’.