The Extra's Rise
Chapter 672: Heavenly Demon (9)

Chapter 672: Heavenly Demon (9)

I stared at the magical ward analysis Luna had helped me piece together, hardly believing what we’d discovered. After days of her guiding my understanding of the magical construct, we’d finally found it—a critical flaw in the ward’s construction that could be exploited.

‘The anchor points aren’t perfectly synchronized,’ Luna explained in my mind, her knowledge of ancient magical theory proving invaluable. ‘There’s a brief moment during the ward’s renewal cycle where the binding weakens. If you can time a disruption correctly…’

‘How long do we have?’ I asked.

‘Approximately thirty-seven seconds when the ward cycles. More than enough time to get the little one past the boundary—assuming you can handle the magical requirements.’

The ward that had seemed impenetrable just days ago now had a clear vulnerability. But exploiting it would require precise magical timing and a level of power manipulation I wasn’t entirely confident I possessed.

“Arthur?” Luna’s voice pulled me from my magical theorizing. “You look different today. Are you okay?”

I looked up from my notes to find her watching me with those too-perceptive dark eyes. She was sitting at her small table, but instead of drawing random pictures, she had what appeared to be architectural plans spread out in front of her.

Plans? “What are you working on there?”

Her face lit up with excitement. “It’s our house! The one we’re going to live in when we leave here.” She gestured eagerly for me to come look. “I’ve been planning it for days.”

I moved to stand behind her chair, looking down at what was indeed a remarkably detailed floor plan drawn in colored pencil. The layout showed a modest two-story house with careful attention to practical details—kitchen, living room, bedrooms, even a small garden space.

‘She’s been planning our future.’ The realization hit me harder than it should have.

“This is your room,” Luna explained, pointing to a large bedroom on the second floor. “And this is mine, right next to yours so I won’t be scared at night. And this”—she indicated a slightly smaller room across the hall—”is for Cordelia, because she’s part of our family too.”

Our family. She’d not only been planning for me and herself, but had automatically included Reika in her domestic fantasy.

‘Look at that,’ Luna the qilin observed with obvious amusement. ‘The little one’s already planning your domestic life together. She’s more organized than you are.’

“And see this?” Luna continued, her excitement building. “The kitchen has a big window so we can see the garden while we cook. And there’s a reading corner in the living room where you can read to me. And the garden has space for butterflies and flowers and maybe even a tree we could climb.”

I studied the drawing more carefully, noting details I’d missed initially. She’d included mundane necessities like bathrooms and closets, but also thoughtful touches like a “art room” where she could draw and a “thinking spot” that appeared to be a window seat with cushions.

“Luna,” I said carefully, “this is very detailed. Where did you learn about house layouts?”

“From the books you brought me,” she said proudly. “Some of them had pictures of houses, and I studied them really carefully. I wanted to make sure our house would have everything we need to be happy.”

Everything we need to be happy. Such a simple goal from someone who’d never experienced happiness in any meaningful way.

The original plan flashed through my mind—extract the Heavenly Demon clone, use her power for my own purposes, prevent the catastrophic future described in the Saga. Luna had been meant to be a tool, a weapon I could wield against greater threats.

‘And now look at you,’ Luna the qilin commented with gentle amusement. ‘Planning to build her a house with a butterfly garden. You’ve gone completely soft, Arthur.’

‘She’s not a weapon anymore,’ I admitted to myself. ‘She’s just a little girl who wants a house with a garden and a family to love her.’

The transformation in my thinking was complete now, I realized. Somewhere over the past week, my mission objectives had fundamentally shifted. I was no longer planning to extract an asset—I was planning to save a little girl.

The thought still felt surreal. I was nineteen years old, barely an adult myself, yet here I was developing paternal instincts for a child who called me by my first name and drew pictures of our future home.

‘Age is just a number when it comes to caring about someone,’ Luna the qilin observed. ‘You’re more mature than most adults, Arthur. And that little girl needs someone who will put her first.’

“Arthur?” Luna’s voice carried a note of uncertainty. “Do you like the house? I can change things if you want different rooms or—”

“It’s perfect,” I interrupted, my voice rougher than intended. “Absolutely perfect.”

The relief on her face was palpable. “Really? You think we’ll be happy there?”

We. Always we, never just her. This child who’d been raised in isolation was incapable of imagining happiness that didn’t include the people she’d come to love.

“I think we’ll be very happy,” I assured her.

For the next hour, Luna walked me through every detail of her planned house. Where we’d put furniture, how the garden would be laid out, what colors she wanted to paint the rooms. She’d thought through practical considerations like proximity to schools and shops, but also emotional ones like making sure the living room was arranged so the family could spend time together.

‘She’s nesting,’ I realized. ‘This is a child preparing for the family life she’s never had.’

When our session ended, I found myself holding Luna’s house plans with the same careful reverence I’d shown her first drawing. This wasn’t just artwork—it was a blueprint for the life she wanted to build with us.

Walking back to our quarters, I reflected on how completely my priorities had changed. The analytical part of my mind could still recite the original mission parameters, but those felt distant and irrelevant now. What mattered was the drawing in my hands and the child who’d created it.

I’m going to give her that house, I decided. Somehow, some way, she’s going to get her garden and her reading corner and her family.

I found Reika waiting in our quarters with her own collection of reports and data files. She looked up when I entered, and I saw something shift in her expression when she noticed the drawing in my hands.

“Another picture?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew it was something more significant.

“House plans,” I said, spreading Luna’s drawing on our table. “She’s been designing the home she wants us to share.”

Reika leaned over to examine the layout, and I watched her face soften as she took in the details. When she reached the room labeled “Cordelia’s Room,” she inhaled sharply.

“She included me,” Reika said quietly. “She planned a room for me.”

“She considers you part of the family,” I confirmed. “Has from the beginning, I think.”

We stood there in silence, both studying a child’s vision of domestic happiness. Finally, Reika spoke again.

“Arthur… what are we doing?”

The question was loaded with implications. What are we doing falling in love with a child we came here to extract? What are we doing planning a future that has nothing to do with our original objectives? What are we doing pretending we could be parents when we’re barely adults ourselves?

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I came here planning to use her power, to extract her as an asset. But now…”

“Now she’s drawing us house plans and calling us family,” Reika finished.

“Are you having second thoughts?” I asked, studying her expression carefully.

Reika was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the outline of the garden Luna had drawn. When she finally spoke, her voice was firm.

“No. If anything, I’m more committed than ever.” She looked up at me, and I saw determination in her eyes. “That little girl deserves the life she’s planning. She deserves parents who will love her, not use her.”

Parents. There it was, the word neither of us had quite been willing to say out loud.

“We’re nineteen and twenty-one,” I pointed out. “We’re children ourselves in many ways. And I have four other girlfriends.”

“So?.” Reika’s expression grew thoughtful. “Age doesn’t determine whether you can love a child, Arthur. And Luna needs love more than she needs anything else. I’m sure the four of them will also understand”

She was right, of course. Luna’s needs were emotional, not practical. She needed stability, affection, and the security of knowing she was wanted for who she was rather than what she could do.

“The ward has a vulnerability,” I said abruptly, shifting focus back to practical matters before I got too lost in domestic fantasies. “Luna helped me understand the magical construct’s weakness.”

Reika’s demeanor immediately sharpened. “What kind of vulnerability?”

“There’s a brief moment during the ward’s renewal cycle where the binding weakens. Luna—” I gestured vaguely at my head, indicating my qilin companion “—says it’s a common flaw in wards of this complexity. Thirty-seven seconds where the magical barrier becomes permeable.”

“Tell her about the power requirements,” Luna reminded me.

“The downside is that exploiting it requires precise magical timing and significant power. I’ll need to channel a disruption spell at exactly the right moment.”

“And the neural implants?”

“Those are actually easier. I can hack the control system remotely and initiate a safe shutdown sequence. The implants will power down gradually rather than shutting off all at once.”

I spread out my own technical diagrams alongside Luna’s house plans. The contrast was stark—cold engineering schematics next to a child’s loving vision of home.

“When?” Reika asked simply.

“Soon. Cardinal Akasha returns in three days, maybe less. If we’re going to do this, it has to be before then.”

Reika nodded, studying both sets of plans. “Then we’d better make sure everything goes perfectly. Luna’s counting on us.”

Luna’s counting on us. The weight of that responsibility settled on my shoulders, but it didn’t feel crushing. If anything, it felt purposeful. For the first time since arriving at this facility, I had a goal that mattered more than strategic objectives or mission parameters.