The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 95: All grown up

Chapter 95: All grown up

In the pitch-black room, there was no light. Nothing but the void that was darkness.

Yet from the farthest corner, a soft, ghostly glow pulsed—a faint lump of lavender light hovering in the dark like a dying star.

It was hair. Zephyr’s hair.

The glowing strands shimmered faintly with hues of silver, and just beneath them, two lavender orbs rippled with concentric circles, reacting to every subtle movement of his body. Every tilt of his head left behind twin trails of spectral light—like color given weight, like lavender color given substance.

His hand moved in a blur across the parchment before him, fingers deftly guiding the sealing brush with precision. The brushstroke was smooth, confident, and alive. A soft sheen of pale lavender Aether coated his hand, and if one looked closely, they’d see it—thin, silken threads of energy flowing from his fingertips, through the brush, and into the symbols.

Each glyph he etched came to life for a moment, glowing brightly in lavender before turning pitch black.

"Done."

The word slipped out, husky and low. Zephyr’s voice had long since shed the awkwardness of his fifteen-year-old self. He was sixteen now—and his voice carried the weight of everything he’d endured in the past year.

So much had changed.

First and foremost, he had mastered the art of weaving and sealing.

He could now create Hollow Arts— not modified but created from scratch. He was now a master of sealing.

He had pushed his power to its limit, breaking into Grade 3.

And yet, he hadn’t neglected his other strengths.

"Now for the final piece."

Zephyr’s lips curled into a rare, almost boyish grin. His voice brimmed with excitement.

He called the device his Exorcist Tool—though Merin had flat-out rejected the name. For now, it remained an experimental label.

He placed the weapon on the table—a sleek, compact gun reminiscent of the scientific ninja tools from morden Shinobi tech— okay he designed it directly like the one used in Boruto. I mean what’s the point of knowledge if you can’t use it.

The gauntlet had a smooth frame, matte black plating, and etched channels waiting to be filled.

Zephyr extended one hand, coated in that ever-present pale lavender Aether, and touched the seal he’d just finished.

The parchment quivered.

Then the seal began to move—drawn into the Aether, soaked into the stream of his hand, weaving its way through his body. It slid on top his clothes then along his chest, coiling upward and downward, moving through his second hand like a ghost through walls.

And then, it began embedding itself into the gauntlet.

Bit by bit, the inscription disappeared—sinking into metal, merging with the device like it had always belonged there. When the last line vanished, Zephyr picked up the gauntlet and raised it to his eyes.

His eyes flickered to life again, the ripple rings in his irises glowing faintly.

Every detail lit up in microscopic clarity—imperfections, heat signatures, residual flow, seal structure, soul-thread alignment. He searched for flaws, combing every layer.

Nothing.

’Perfect’.

He deactivated the eye with a wince. His vision pulsed painfully. He’d kept it active for nearly three hours.

’Worth it’.

It had taken dozens of failed attempts, until one day he thought. ’Why not use the eye? I can control it now’.

The throbbing in his skull was manageable. He was used to it.

He held up the gauntlet and let out a long breath of satisfaction.

"Muhahahahaha—"

The laugh cracked through the silence—deep, dramatic, utterly unnecessary.

Then BANG BANG BANG—sharp, rapid knocks hammered the basement door.

Zephyr nearly dropped the gauntlet.

"What". He growled at whoever was at the door.

Samantha’s voice rang out like a whip.

"Stop laughing like a damn maniac and come to the dining room!" her voice faded with grumbling.

"Annoying bastard finally lost it."

Zephyr didn’t respond.

He simply slid the gauntlet onto his right hand. The fit was smooth, exact—almost like the metal itself had molded to him.

"Fitting."

It was simple—sleek polished silver with matte-black patterns scattered across the surface. He hadn’t bothered with decoration; truthfully, he hadn’t expected it to work at all.

He removed it carefully, tucked it under his left arm, and started up the stairs.

Despite the complete absence of light, he navigated effortlessly. His Space Sense had evolved. The whispers of space no longer came, but in their place was something better— A living map.

A permanent blueprint of everything within reach—walls, floors, objects, people. At first, it was maddening, having a second perspective overlap his own.

But now?

Now it was second nature. Like blinking.

Anytime he activated his eyes, his brain would receive 360° of unfiltered reality, and he managed to pass through the surge of information for up to three hours, the second perspection was nothing. After a couple of activation of the eye he was able to adapt.

Zephyr stepped into the dining room.

Miss Esmeralda sat at the head of the long table, graceful as always. The rest of his squad was already present, their hands poised above their plates.

They all froze the moment he entered.

It wasn’t hatred. Not because of what he’d supposedly done to the third princess.

Only he, Samantha, and a boy named Peter were from clans. The rest were commoners—cautious, neutral. And neither Peter nor Samantha seemed to care about his past.

So it wasn’t fear.

It was something else.

"You look worse than usual". Miss Esmeralda muttered looking up from her newspaper.

Zephyr blinked. ’What?’.

Then he caught his reflection in the steel-polished wall.

’Oh’.

He was still in his white pajamas, silver hair sticking out wildly in all directions like a frizzed mess of starlight. His once-red eyes had dulled long ago—now pale lavender with literally black luggage under his eyes from the countless sleep deprived nights.

He grunted and walked to his seat, unbothered. His stomach was screaming.

He immediately began stacking his plate—bacon, beef, lamb. A mountain of meat.

Samantha wrinkled her nose. "Can’t you for once eat anything that didn’t have a face? At this rate you’ll be 70% saturated fat and 30% rage."

Zephyr rolled his eyes. ’Here we go again’.

"I think that falls between not a problem and not your problem."

Samantha didn’t say anything, she just grunted at his words.

Then peter poked the gauntlet with the end of his fork. "Finally done with your project".

Zephyr nodded with his mouth preoccupied with meat.

The room descended into silence with only the sound of fork and knives against the plate.

"So what’s today schedule". Miss Esmeralda spoke up, she was done eating.

"Combat lesson". Samantha was also done eating. "Then battle drill".

At the words battle drill a collective grunt filled the air. All having a collective thought.

"Around round of unfiltered torture. Great".

"Can’t we skip it today". Cynthia a normally shy girl spoke up. Her main aspect was healing but they still had her join in the drill.

It was clear that medic were the weak link, and this drill was to toughen her, in case her squad mate couldn’t make it to her in time, or she was targeted she should at least be able to defend herself.

"Yeah am still sour from our previous session". Another girl Victoria spoke up.

".... I... also .. agree". The last guy’s name was Gary, his art dealed with persuasion so he was normally quiet so as to avoid mind controlling his squad mate.

The guy reminded him of Kola, so he subconsciously kept a distance.

Although he didn’t say anything he also agreed, the main reason for everyone reluctant to participate was because of the squad leader Samantha— the demoness.

They didn’t give her the name, it was the other teams they fought that gave her the name.

The teams usually had a competition every month, they battled for resources and recognition.

Out of all the teams, they usually came out fifth, which was pretty good based on their team status, they had three commoners and Three clan members.

While the other teams were filled with clan members and very few commoners. The leaders and assistant of each teams were given nicknames.

And unsurprisingly Zephyr was nicknamed ’Sloth’. Because of how tired and lazy he looked, with deep bags that were quickly becoming luggages under his eyes, he looked like a war refugee.

"No we can’t skip it". Samantha vehemently denied skipping the drill. "We had been stuck at fifth place for a while now, we need to stive for an higher position". Although the rest of the team were satisfied with the current position, Samantha was far from satisfied.

"Huhh that hit the spot". Zephyr leaned back in his chair, a silly smile plastered on his face.

Samantha looked at him with disgust. "If only Zephyr would take this more serious, i am sure that by now we would’ve at the very Least took third place and if lucky second". She said as a frown settled on his face.

Zephyr face twitched before looking at her, although she didn’t outright say it, he knew what she was talking about.

"How about we head to combat class right now". He always skipped combat class, and even drills— most of the time.

He would use the excuse of Merin teaching him sealing to escape drill sessions. But now that she has been called to war he didn’t have that excuse anymore. The whispers of war was beginning to spread with lots of students denying the possibility, but he knew.

And also he could test his new weapon, it was a win-win situation.