Extra is the Heir of Life and Death

Chapter 203: Stars of an artificial night

A man dressed in an immaculate black suit appeared on the floating stage in a flash of blue light.

The teleportation wasn’t loud. It didn’t crack or boom. It arrived with a clean, surgical shimmer that folded space inward for half a heartbeat and then smoothed it back into place. The man stood perfectly centered when the light faded, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back as if he had been there the entire time and reality had merely caught up to him.

The hall quieted.

It didn’t happen instantly, but the effect spread like a ripple through water. Conversations softened, then died. Crystal goblets stopped midair. Eyes turned toward the platform. Even the distant tables in the far reaches of the Celestium Conclave stilled, attention magnetized to the figure in black.

His suit looked custom-woven from midnight. No wrinkles. No dust.

The fabric seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, making the silver pin at his collar gleam like a star. His hair was slicked back neatly, streaked with dignified gray at the temples, and his voice, when he spoke, carried effortlessly to every corner of the hall without the need for amplification.

"Honored guests," he said, inclining his head just enough to acknowledge the room. "Welcome to the Grand Feast of Achievements."

The words rolled through the chamber with ceremonial weight. The air itself seemed to tighten, anticipation coiling in the silence that followed.

"Tonight," the announcer continued, "we gather to recognize accomplishments that have strengthened the human domain, expanded our understanding, and secured our future. Major achievements will be unveiled. Names will be etched into history. And as tradition dictates, we begin by honoring those whose presence elevates this gathering beyond mere celebration."

He turned slightly, gesturing upward.

"But before the proceedings roll into motion," he said, voice sharpening with formal reverence, "all guests will face the uppermost tier and offer their greetings to the Guests of Honor and VVVIPs."

Chairs shifted. Fabric rustled. Hundreds of attendees rose in near-perfect unison and turned toward the elevated platform that overlooked the hall like a throne suspended in the sky.

The announcer’s voice rang clear.

"His Majesty, the King of the Human Domain—Alios von Velkaris."

A wave of light unfurled across the upper platform, revealing the King seated upon a throne carved from white-gold crystal.

He looked neither old nor young, his hair falling neatly past his shoulders, his expression calm in a way that suggested absolute certainty in his authority.

The crown resting on his head shimmered faintly, a living artifact that pulsed with restrained power.

"Her Majesty, the Queen—Misha von Velkaris."

Beside him, the Queen inclined her head gracefully. Her hair was braided with threads of gold, and her gown flowed like liquid night, constellations stitched into the fabric.

Her gaze swept over the crowd with quiet intelligence, sharp and assessing, yet warm enough to command loyalty rather than fear.

"And," the announcer said, his tone subtly shifting, "the Strongest Human Alive—Belle Ardent."

Every eye snapped to her.

Belle didn’t stand. She didn’t wave. She simply sat beside Sebastian, posture relaxed, blindfold in place, hands resting calmly in her lap.

Yet the moment her name was spoken, the hall reacted as if a storm had been acknowledged. The air thickened. A collective awareness rippled through the crowd.

Respect. Fear. Admiration.

It all pointed toward her.

The audience bowed. Not deeply, not theatrically, but enough to signal understanding.

These were the pillars of their era. King. Queen. Strongest.

After a few seconds, the announcer allowed the silence to stretch, then clapped once.

The sound was crisp.

"Let the feast begin."

He turned back to the crowd, smile polished and professional.

"As tradition dictates, we will commence with the least notable achievements," he said smoothly. "Still remarkable, still worthy of recognition, but only the beginning. After the banquet, the most significant accomplishments will be presented."

A murmur of excitement threaded through the room.

The announcer raised a hand, and the colossal screens suspended above the platform flickered to life.

A face appeared—sharp-featured, black-haired, black-eyed, the lines around his mouth hinting at age and endurance.

He looked to be in his mid-forties, his expression caught between pride and disbelief.

"Please welcome," the announcer declared, "Marcus Hale."

A flash of blue light erupted onstage, and the man materialized in the same clean teleportation shimmer. He blinked once, steadying himself, then straightened his jacket with trembling fingers.

"Marcus Hale," the announcer continued, "ascended to S-rank three months ago at the age of forty-four."

A polite wave of applause swept the hall. It wasn’t thunderous, but it was sincere. S-rank ascension was no small feat, regardless of context. In most cities, this alone would have warranted a week-long celebration.

Marcus swallowed, stepped forward, and bowed deeply.

"I... thank you," he began, voice rough with emotion. "I didn’t expect to stand here. Not at my age. Not after the failures I’ve had. But I kept walking. That’s all I did. I walked, even when it hurt. And if my story means anything, I hope it tells others that it’s never too late to rise.

When I first awakened, I was twenty-one. I thought that meant I was chosen. Special. I told my mother I’d be famous within a year. I told my friends they’d see me on the big screens, clearing gates no one else could touch. I believed talent alone would carry me. I didn’t train hard. I didn’t listen. I didn’t respect the work. And the world... corrected me very quickly.

My first real expedition ended with me being carried out. I slipped. I panicked. Someone else paid for my mistake. A man named Victor dragged me back to the exit while monsters were still breathing down our necks.

He lost his arm that day, while I kept mine.

I visited him in the hospital, and he laughed and told me it was just bad luck. But when I went home, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing the moment over and over again, thinking about the weight of his hand on my collar, the sound he made when he realized his arm was gone.

That was the day I learned awakening doesn’t make you a hero. It just gives you the chance to become one... or fail trying.

I failed a lot."

He paused...

"At thirty-five, I stepped into a gate again. Not because I was brave. Because I was tired of being afraid.

I was the weakest person in that squad.

Everyone knew it.

I knew it.

But I listened. I trained after every shift. I ran until my lungs felt like glass. I swung my blade until my palms split. Progress was slow. Embarrassingly slow. But it was progress. One step. Then another. Years passed like that. No spotlight. No glory. Just work.

I lost friends along the way. Good people. Better ascendants than I’ll ever be. Every funeral carved something out of me. Every time I considered quitting, I pictured their faces and asked myself what right I had to waste the days they didn’t get to live. So I kept walking. Not forward in leaps. Just inches. Inches are enough if you never stop.

When I finally crossed into S-rank, there was no grand revelation. No choir in the sky. I was in a training hall, sweating through another routine, when the world... opened.

If there’s anyone listening who thinks they’re too late, too broken, too far behind... you’re not.

I am standing proof that stubbornness can sometimes look like courage from a distance. You don’t have to be the strongest in the room.

You just have to refuse to leave it. Walk when you can’t run. Crawl when you can’t walk. Rest if you must, but don’t lie to yourself and call it surrender."

He bowed in front of the audience.

"I’m not proud because I reached S-rank. I’m proud because I didn’t stop trying to become someone my mother would recognize.

If my life has any meaning beyond this stage, I hope it’s this: the door does not close just because you’re slow. It closes when you decide you’re done knocking.

Thank you... for listening. And thank you for giving an old man a place to stand."

While his speech wasn’t exactly short, it was... Honest. Human.

The applause this time carried warmth.

He bowed again and vanished in blue light.

Another name followed. Then another.

A woman who had pioneered a new defensive barrier capable of shielding entire cities for minutes at a time. A pair of siblings who had eliminated a demon stronghold that had plagued a border region for decades. A researcher whose work on mana stabilization had reduced training fatalities across three academies.

Each achievement would have shaken smaller people. Here, they passed like steady drumbeats in a grand symphony.

The crowd reacted appropriately, applause, murmurs, nods of respect, but the energy remained restrained.

Everyone understood the hierarchy of the evening. These were the opening acts. The true thunder would come later.

The screens cycled faces in rapid succession. Teleportation flashes punctuated the stage like controlled lightning. Speeches overlapped in memory, blending into a tapestry of ambition and perseverance.

From the upper tiers, the King and Queen watched with composed interest. Belle remained still, unreadable, her presence anchoring the atmosphere even as achievement after achievement was paraded beneath her.

Time slipped by almost unnoticed.

When the twelfth speaker vanished and the stage finally emptied, the announcer stepped forward once more. He waited until the last echo of applause faded.

"Honored guests," he said, spreading his arms. "We pause here. The Feast of Achievements will resume after dinner."

A subtle shift rippled through the crowd. Formal tension loosened. Conversations reignited instantly, louder now, energized by recognition and speculation.

"Please make your way," the announcer continued, "to the banquet hall. Refresh yourselves. Celebrate. When we return, the greatest achievements of the year will be unveiled."

Blue light flared one final time, and he disappeared.

For a heartbeat, the floating platform stood empty.

Then the hall exploded into motion.

Above them all, the stars of the artificial night sky glittered on, indifferent and eternal, watching as humanity paused its ceremony to eat, drink, and prepare for the true revelations still waiting in the wings.