Extra is the Heir of Life and Death

Chapter 201: Let’s just say... tonight is going to be memorable.

We walked hand in hand.

That alone still felt strange in the best way possible.

The tower behind us loomed like a silent witness as we descended the long exterior walkways, the wind brushing against my coat and tugging lightly at Belle’s hair. The evening sky stretched wide above us, painted in soft gradients of amber and blue, the sun already sinking low enough to stain the horizon gold.

Belle didn’t rush. She never did. Her pace was unhurried, confident, like the world would wait if she asked it to. Her fingers were laced through mine, firm and warm, grounding in a way I hadn’t realized I needed until now.

We passed through the last security threshold of the tower and stepped into the open parking lot.

And there it was.

Waiting.

A black Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut, its body low and predatory, edges sharp enough to look like they could cut air itself. The surface wasn’t just glossy, it drank light, absorbing reflections instead of throwing them back. Veins of faint silver circuitry ran beneath the transparent carbon shell, pulsing softly, like a heartbeat.

It didn’t roar.

It hummed.

Quiet. Dangerous. Alive.

"This thing still makes me uncomfortable," I muttered.

Belle smiled. "It should."

This wasn’t a normal car. Not even close. It didn’t run on fuel in any traditional sense. It fed on its user’s energy, converting mana, dualflow, or anything adjacent into raw propulsion. The internal stabilizers were reinforced with spatial anchors and inertial dampeners strong enough to withstand dualflow combat speeds. In theory, it could even take a trace amount of Vespera.

In theory.

In practice, doing that would turn it into a very expensive bomb.

I walked around to Belle’s side and opened the door for her. The door lifted upward in a smooth arc, silent and elegant. She paused for half a second, then glanced at me.

"Such a gentleman," she teased.

"Only when it counts."

She laughed softly and slid into the passenger seat, the interior conforming subtly to her presence, seat adjusting itself automatically. I closed the door and moved around to the driver’s side, settling in.

The moment my hand touched the control panel, the car responded.

A low harmonic vibration filled the cabin as it synchronized with my energy signature. The dash lit up in cool blue glyphs, speed and spatial readings scrolling faster than the eye could track.

I fed it a controlled stream of dualflow.

The car purred.

Then the tires lifted off the ground.

Not dramatically. Just enough to break contact, hovering a few inches above the asphalt. Gravity loosened its grip, replaced by a localized field that bent space just enough to make friction irrelevant.

"Ready?" I asked.

Belle tilted her head toward me, blindfold still in place, smile unmistakable. "I trust you."

I shouldn’t have felt my chest tighten at that.

I did anyway.

I pressed down.

The world blurred.

The parking lot vanished behind us in a single breath as the Jesko shot forward, acceleration smooth and terrifyingly fast. No whiplash. No pressure. Just motion. Pure, absolute motion.

Ten seconds.

That was all it took.

Ten seconds later, we were hovering before the massive academy gates, the reinforced archways shimmering as they recognized Belle’s authority and parted instantly. What normally took thirty minutes on foot had passed in less time than it took to blink.

I eased off the energy feed and the car settled back onto the ground like a predator folding its wings.

Belle let out a quiet laugh. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But can you blame me?"

We passed through the gates and merged onto the main thoroughway leading away from the academy grounds.

The road stretched wide and immaculate, lined with hovering lights and distant spires.

Traffic parted naturally as we approached, vehicles sensing Belle’s presence and moving aside long before we reached them.

As we drifted closer to the heart of the city, I realized it might be worth spelling out exactly what the Feast of Achievements was, because calling it a "feast" barely scratched the surface.

The Feast of Achievements wasn’t just an event. It was the event.

Once every year, without fail, the human domain paused. Trade slowed. Borders tightened. Conflicts were postponed unless they were suicidal to continue. Even the outer domains, those that pretended they didn’t care about human affairs, kept one eye turned inward on this single gathering.

Because tonight wasn’t about celebration.

It was about power recognition.

The Feast dated back to the aftermath of the First Unification War, when humanity finally stopped tearing itself apart long enough to realize that unchecked strength led to extinction.

The solution they came up with was... very human. Public acknowledgment. Prestige. Hierarchy reinforced not just by fear, but by witness.

If you were strong, you stood on that stage.

If you were influential, you spoke.

If you were dangerous, the world made sure to remember your name.

And if you were neither?

You watched.

The venue itself changed every decade, rotating between the great capitals of the domain, but the structure never did.

A colossal amphitheater, larger than most cities, built with layered spatial reinforcement so dense that even Vespera-level outbursts wouldn’t crack it.

The stands could seat tens of millions comfortably, with another hundred million watching through projection arrays across the domain.

At the very center stood the Ascension Dais.

A floating platform of white-gold stone, suspended by gravity anchors and surrounded by a ring of sigils older than most nations. That was where speakers stood. Where feats were announced. Where promotions, condemnations, and sometimes executions happened.

Yes.

Executions.

The Feast was also where the domain reminded everyone that power came with responsibility—or consequences.

The King and Queen attended every year.

That alone told you how important this was.

The King of the Human Domain was not a ceremonial figure. He was a high-tier Ascendant in his own right, one of the few individuals who had reached the upper echelons of power without ever stepping outside the domain.

His presence wasn’t loud, but it was absolute. When he entered the amphitheater, the ambient energy changed. Like gravity had decided to pay attention.

The Queen was worse.

Where the King embodied authority, the Queen embodied judgment. Her affinity was unknown to the public, classified at the highest level, but rumors said she specialized in Truth-binding—an ability that made lying in her presence physically painful.

Whether that was true or not, people behaved as if it were.

They sat above the Dais, on a throne platform carved from crystallized time-stone, flanked by the Twelve Pillars of Governance: representatives of the military, academies, research councils, religious orders, and intelligence bureaus.

Astralis Academy always had a seat.

Belle’s seat.

Vice-Principal, strongest combatant in the domain, living deterrent against invasion. When Belle attended, it wasn’t just an appearance. It was a statement: Astralis still stands above you.

Below them, in descending order, sat the ranked Ascendants.

S-rank closest to the Dais.

Then A-rank.

Then B-rank.

C-ranks like me were usually observers, not participants. Even newly ascended ones. We watched. We learned our place.

Tonight was... different.

Achievements announced at the Feast varied wildly. Some were simple acknowledgments: a newly charted domain, a sealed catastrophe, a breakthrough in spatial engineering.

Others were personal: successful ascensions, mastery of rare affinities, victories against entities that had plagued humanity for generations.

Every announcement was verified.

Every claim was backed by proof.

False glory was not tolerated.

Because the Feast also served another purpose.

It was where alliances formed.

Noble houses used it to parade heirs.

Military factions scouted recruits.

Researchers hunted for sponsors.

And then there were the unspoken aspects.

The undercurrents.

The silent challenges.

The way gazes lingered too long on promising figures.

The way certain people didn’t clap.

The Feast of Achievements was a battlefield without weapons, where reputation was armor and ambition was ammunition.

"So," Belle said casually, breaking the silence as the cityscape began to rise in the distance. "Nervous?"

I considered the question honestly.

"No," I said. "Excited."

"That’s worse," she replied dryly.

I chuckled. "You’ll be on stage. They’ll be staring at you. I’ll just be standing there."

Her head turned slightly toward me. "You really believe that?"

I shrugged. "Let them underestimate me. Makes things easier."

She hummed thoughtfully. "You’ve changed."

"Have I?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "You’re quieter. More... composed. Like you’re holding something back."

I kept my eyes on the road. "Maybe I am."

She didn’t push. That was one of the things I appreciated most about her. Belle knew when to press and when to wait.

The city ahead gleamed like a crown, towers layered with light, banners already unfurling in anticipation of the feast. I could feel the density of powerful auras even from here, stacked and overlapping like pressure in the air.

A devilish smile crept onto my face before I could stop it.

Belle noticed immediately.

"Oh no," she said. "That smile means trouble."

"Does it?"

"It really does."

I leaned back slightly, fingers tightening on the controls as the Jesko glided forward. "Let’s just say... tonight is going to be memorable."

She tilted her head, curious now. "For who?"

I glanced at her, golden eyes reflecting the city lights.

"For everyone."

The smile stayed on my face as the Feast of Achievements drew closer.

They had no idea what was coming.