An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge - Chapter 264
Chapter 264: Beaten up Alex
Arthur’s smirk lingered, but when the group broke apart to prepare, he rose to his feet.
“Fine. You lot handle the crowd. I’ll keep the real threats busy.” He rested a hand on his sword and started toward the shadows without waiting for a reply.
Emily stepped forward. “Arthur be careful out there—”
He only waved a hand back, his tone light. “Don’t worry. I won’t die that easily.”
Then he was gone, his figure swallowed by the treeline.
The silence that followed was broken by Oliver, who drew in a slow breath and turned toward the others. “He’ll do what he wants. That leaves us to organize the rest.”
The gathered students—frightened, tired, some wounded—watched him expectantly. Oliver’s expression hardened. “Listen carefully. The Black Hand isn’t endless, but they’re dangerous because they move in squads with master-rank leaders. That means anyone wandering alone or in small groups is easy prey. Our priority isn’t killing them head-on—it’s gathering survivors. Once we have numbers, we fight back.”
He glanced toward Amara, who stepped forward, her voice sharp and clear. “We form a core team of six. That team will handle threats and guide the rest to safety. Everyone else moves in formation around them.”
Oliver nodded and continued, “The six will be myself, Amara, Noah, Emily, and two of the strongest among us—Gareth and Lianne. We’ll lead from the front, sides, and center. Everyone else follows tight. No stragglers.”
The names were met with murmurs, but no one objected. Gareth, a burly spear-user, and Lianne, a fire mage with sharp eyes, stepped forward without hesitation.
“Good,” Oliver said, scanning their faces. “We’ll move in sections. Noah scouts ahead. Amara and Gareth take the flanks. Lianne supports with spells, Emily stays in the middle with the healers, and I’ll direct from the front. If we’re attacked, stay calm, follow orders, and don’t scatter.”
Agreement spread quickly. Fear was still there, but structure gave the survivors something to hold onto.
“Then let’s move,” Oliver ordered.
They doused the fire and set out. Noah vanished first, slipping through the brush ahead like a shadow. Oliver led the front line with Gareth, the core group behind them, and the bulk of the students protected in the middle.
The night was heavy, the forest thick with sounds of distant monsters. After nearly an hour of steady movement, the first scattered camp came into sight—a dozen students holed up behind makeshift barricades. Relief flooded their faces when they saw Oliver’s group.
But the reunion lasted only seconds.
The air shifted. A low whistle cut through the dark, and then three shadows burst from the treeline—Black Hand. Two cloaked swordsmen and a mage.
“Form up!” Oliver barked.
The six core members snapped into action. Gareth stepped forward, spear clashing with the first swordsman. Sparks flew as their weapons locked. Amara’s blade cut across the second attacker’s guard, forcing him back. A flare of dark mana surged from the mage, a crimson bolt streaking toward the cluster of students—only for Lianne’s fire wall to catch it mid-air, exploding in sparks.
Emily’s chants followed, her light magic strengthening Gareth’s guard.
Noah appeared from behind, spear flashing as he drove it through the second swordsman’s shoulder, dropping him with a pained grunt.
The fight lasted barely a minute. Outnumbered, the remaining two assailants fell quickly under the squad’s coordinated assault.
When it was over, silence fell again. The students they had rescued stared wide-eyed at the dead attackers, then at Oliver’s group with something between fear and admiration.
Oliver wiped his blade clean and gave a short nod. “That’s how it’s done. We don’t panic. We stay together. Move out—we’ll bring them with us.”
The survivors fell in, swelling their numbers. The formation tightened again as the group resumed its march deeper into the island, the faint glow of Emily’s magic casting light over the uneasy faces.
And somewhere in the shadows ahead, Arthur moved alone, already hunting for the next squad.
~~~~
Arthur’s POV
Arthur moved through the forest like a shadow, the muffled sounds of distant fighting faint in the night air. The smell of blood carried on the wind before he even saw it. He slowed, crouching on a low branch, eyes narrowing.
Below, in a small clearing lit by faint moonlight, Alex was on one knee, blood dripping from his lip. Across from him stood a tall masked man radiating killing intent. Even from this distance, Arthur could feel the weight of his aura. A swordmaster.
Arthur’s fingers tightened slightly around his sword hilt. Way out of Alex’s league.
If it had been anyone else, the fight would already be over. The body would already be cooling.
But this was Alex—the “hero” of this world, the supposed protagonist. Arthur had no doubt that by the end of all this, Alex would crawl his way to victory. He almost smirked at the thought.
Show me what you’ve got, protagonist. If you’re going to survive here, you better earn it.
For now, Arthur settled on a tree branch, hidden from sight, arms crossed. If things get too bad, I’ll step in and save him. Make him owe me. A little debt never hurts.
His crimson eyes watched, unblinking. The show began.
Alex’s POV
Through the haze of blood dripping into his eyes, Alex’s mind flickered back to his training—his master’s voice echoing from years ago.
“The way of battles isn’t just to win. It’s to uphold the honor of a fighter.”
That’s what martial artists preached. But reality? Reality was standing in front of him, masked, stronger, faster—reality didn’t care about honor.
“Master… what if one day I meet someone far above me?” Alex had asked once, solemnly.
“In a higher realm, it’s difficult,” Luke had smiled faintly. “But believe me, miracles happen. Sometimes you can’t back down, no matter what. And Alex…”
Luke had crouched down, eye to eye with him. “Do you know what the most frightening enemy really is?”
“An evil man? A madman?”
“Partially. But there’s someone worse.” Luke’s voice had gone quiet, a whisper against Alex’s ear.
The memory blurred.
Alex’s lungs burned. He couldn’t inhale. Couldn’t exhale. His chest felt locked; his mind felt hot and sluggish. He coughed blood into the dirt, tasting gravel on his tongue.
When his vision steadied, the masked man was already moving.
TASH!
A hand cracked across Alex’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. A boot followed, driving him back into the ground.
“Boy. Lay low.” The man’s voice was like a lord’s command. “Know your place.”
Alex’s limbs flailed weakly like a fish out of water. Rage flared in the man’s eyes. He bent, fisting Alex’s hair, yanking him up.
“Ahhh!”
Another slap. Then another.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Each hit rattled Alex’s teeth. One felt loose in his jaw.
“I thought you were a weakling,” the man sneered. “But it seems you’re a tough nut to crack. Your mother must’ve bred you well.”
He spat, yanking Alex’s face up by the chin.
“Look at me. What are you proud of?” SLAP! “You’re nothing. Just another bastard.” SLAP! “Seeing your face makes me wonder how ugly your mother was.”
The man’s spit hit Alex’s cheek as his hand closed around Alex’s throat, squeezing.
“You’re nothing. A weak little chicken.”
“I wonder why you were one of the targets on high priority.”
“Tsk…” “Useless swine. I controlled my strength and still, you can’t hold the candle of a good punching bag.”
“You even failed at this.”
His voice dripped contempt.
“Blame your luck.”
Alex’s whole body trembled. His swollen cheek stung, his teeth ached, his internal organs screamed, but none of it compared to the humiliation boiling in his chest.
How dare he.
Alex’s nails dug into his palms. His lips bled where he bit them. The humiliation burned hotter than the pain.
Everyone has a bottom line. He crossed mine.
At that moment—he felt it.
Something deep, something dormant, something wild stirred. Magic like a caged beast broke loose.
His head spun. His vision blurred. His body felt broken. But his anger drowned it all.
If he was going to die here, he’d drag this bastard with him—even if it meant clawing up from the depths of the abyss. Even if it meant offering his soul to the Devil himself.
Arthur’s POV
Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he felt the sudden ripple in the air—the surge of magic around Alex spiking, raw and chaotic. The corners of his mouth curved.
So, you’re finally waking up.
That’s the heaven’s chosen for you. Once his life is in danger the world itself decides to help him. An inexplicable surge of energy out of nowhere. A timely awakening.
Protagonists sure got some perks.
But hey, who am I to complain. I am just some extra.
He leaned back against the trunk, watching the protagonist’s first real miracle unfold.
Let’s see how far you can go before I have to step in.
************
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!