Extra is the Heir of Life and Death

Chapter 224 224: Just concern.

I woke up to the smell of something burning.

Not catastrophically burning. Not building-on-fire burning. Just the very specific, faintly tragic scent of toast that had stayed in the toaster thirty seconds too long.

I stared at the ceiling for a moment, disoriented not by cosmic revelations this time, but by the sheer normalcy of it. My body felt heavier than usual, not from exhaustion, but from the lingering awareness of what I carried.

The fragment pulsed faintly beneath my ribs, quiet and contained, like it had settled into its place.

Then I heard her voice.

"…it's still edible."

A pause.

"…probably."

I exhaled slowly and rolled onto my side.

A peaceful life.

That was what this was supposed to be.

No chained star-fragments. No weakening locks. No unmeasurable bloodlines. Just morning.

I pushed myself upright and ran a hand through my hair before standing. The floor was cool under my feet as I made my way toward the small kitchen area in our room.

Belle stood there in loose sleep clothes, hair slightly messy, holding a piece of toast in one hand and staring at it like it had personally betrayed her.

"It's black," I said flatly.

"It's crispy," she corrected without looking at me.

"It's charcoal."

She turned slowly, narrowing her eyes at me. "You're awake."

"I was until I smelled this."

She looked back at the toast, then at me again. "I was experimenting."

"With arson?"

"With time management," she shot back. "And you were sleeping like you'd died, so I didn't want to wake you."

I paused at that.

"You thought I was dead?"

"You didn't move for eight hours," she said. "You don't do that."

That was fair.

I stepped closer and gently took the toast from her hand. It was, in fact, black. Not slightly overdone. Fully carbonized on one side.

"You're eating this," I said.

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"You made it."

"You're the one who insulted it."

"That doesn't transfer ownership."

She huffed softly, then crossed her arms. "You look different."

I stilled for half a second.

"Different how?"

She tilted her head slightly, studying me with unsettling focus. "Sharper."

I forced a casual shrug. "I slept."

"You always sleep."

"Not always."

She ignored that. "It's subtle. But something's different."

Of course it was.

First seal broken. Second weakening. Fragment stable.

I reached past her for the toaster and started a new batch of bread. "Maybe I just had a good dream."

Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she let it drop.

"What was it about?" she asked.

I hesitated.

"You," I said finally.

That wasn't a lie, assuming the woman was Belle, which I know she wans't but still.

She hummed softly. "Romantic."

"Or a sign."

"That too."

The toaster popped, and this time the bread came out golden instead of catastrophic. I handed her a slice and took one for myself.

We stood there in comfortable silence for a few seconds, chewing.

The normalcy felt almost surreal.

I had seen something the size of a star chained in a void.

And now I was arguing about toast.

Life had a strange sense of humor.

"So," Belle said casually, "did you finish the homework?"

I nearly choked.

"You're evil."

She smiled sweetly. "You had all night."

"I was busy."

"Dreaming?"

"Falling off my chair, actually."

That caught her attention. "You what?"

I waved a hand dismissively. "Long story."

She leaned against the counter. "I have time."

"I don't."

"You're literally eating toast."

I sighed.

"I stood up too fast," I said. "Chair tipped. Gravity won."

"That's embarrassing."

"I survived."

"Barely."

I finished my toast and set the plate aside.

The question Belle had assigned lingered in the back of my mind.

A thousand dualflow users versus a single Vespera user.

Same skill. Same affinity. Same variables except energy.

Who wins?

Before, it had felt theoretical.

Now…

Now the word Vespera held weight.

Now I had stood before someone who called herself Goddess of Life and Death.

Now I carried a fragment that dwarfed top-tier SSS-rank fighters.

Perspective shifted.

But I couldn't tell her that.

"You're thinking again," Belle said.

"I always think."

"You think like you're solving the universe."

I blinked slowly. "I'm solving math."

"Math doesn't make your eyes do that."

"What do they do?"

"Go distant."

I looked away toward the window.

The campus outside was awake now. Students moved between buildings. The sky was clear. Ordinary.

"I'm fine," I said quietly.

She didn't push.

Belle wasn't the type to force answers.

Instead, she grabbed another slice of toast and took a bite, then made a face.

"Still slightly burned," she muttered.

"Tragic."

She flicked a crumb at me.

I caught it without looking.

Her eyes narrowed again. "See?"

"See what?"

"You didn't even look."

"I have reflexes."

"You always had reflexes."

"Maybe I'm just better."

She stared at me for a second longer than comfortable, then smiled faintly.

"I'll beat you in training later."

"There it is."

"You look like you need it."

Training.

Movement.

Normal structure.

That sounded good.

We cleaned up the kitchen area together, bumping shoulders occasionally, arguing lightly about whose turn it was to wash dishes even though there were only two plates.

The mundane rhythm grounded me.

After we finished, Belle stretched her arms over her head and glanced at me sideways.

"Race you to the courtyard."

"I'm not dressed."

"That's not my problem."

Before I could respond, she darted toward the door.

I stared at it for half a second.

Then I followed.

We ran down the hall like idiots, nearly colliding with two other students who jumped out of the way with startled expressions.

"Morning," Belle called cheerfully as we passed.

I shook my head.

The courtyard air was cool, sunlight spilling over the stone paths. She reached the center first and spun around triumphantly.

"I win."

"You cheated."

"How?"

"You started running mid-sentence."

"That's strategy."

I walked toward her more slowly, letting my breathing remain steady.

She noticed.

"You're not even winded."

"I ran five seconds."

"You usually pretend to be dramatic about it."

"Maybe I'm growing up."

She snorted. "Unlikely."

We began light stretches out of habit. Side bends. Shoulder rolls. Routine.

I could feel my body differently now.

More aligned.

More responsive.

The first seal's effects weren't flashy, but they were present. Energy moved through me with less friction. My Soulflames stirred at the edge of perception, stable and controlled.

Belle watched me subtly during a forward stretch.

"Don't analyze me," I said without looking up.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Maybe."

I straightened and met her gaze.

"You're really okay?" she asked, softer now.

There it was.

Concern.

Not suspicion.

Just concern.

"I'm okay," I said honestly.

Confused, yes.

Carrying a chained fragment of something beyond gods, yes.

But okay.

She seemed to accept that.

"Good," she said simply.

We moved into light sparring after that.

Nothing intense.

No flashy techniques.

Just controlled exchanges.

She came at me with a quick feint to the left, shifting her weight to test my reaction.

I sidestepped without thinking.

Too clean.

Her brows lifted.

"Okay," she murmured.

She pressed harder, faster combinations, sharper angles.

I matched her.

Not overwhelming.

Not humiliating.

Just… precise.

At one point she pulled back and stared at me.

"You're definitely different."

I lowered my guard slightly. "You said that already."

"You're not forcing anything."

"I wasn't before."

"You were."

I tilted my head. "You're projecting."

She rolled her eyes but smiled.

We slowed eventually, both slightly flushed but not exhausted.

She dropped onto the grass and lay back, staring at the sky.

I sat beside her.

Clouds drifted lazily overhead.

"You ever think about how small we are?" she asked.

The question hit differently now.

"Sometimes," I said carefully.

"And how ridiculous it is that we fight and stress and compete like the world revolves around us?"

"Yes."

She turned her head slightly toward me. "You sound like you've thought about it a lot."

I let out a quiet breath.

"I have."

She nodded once, then returned her gaze to the sky.

Silence stretched between us.

Comfortable.

Simple.

For a moment, I let myself exist only here.

No second lock.

No siblings.

No cruel father.

Just grass under my hands and sunlight on my face.

After a while she nudged my arm lightly.

"Come on," she said. "We still have a week before that homework is due."

"I know."

"But you're going to obsess over it anyway."

"Probably."

She grinned. "Then at least obsess while eating something that isn't burnt."

I huffed a quiet laugh.

We stood and headed back toward the building at an easy pace.

As we walked, I felt the fragment pulse once, steady and contained.

Three percent.

Second lock weakening.

Unmeasurable bloodline.

But right now—

Belle was complaining about toast ratios and planning what she wanted for lunch.

And I found that grounding.

Cosmic revelations could wait.

For today, I chose this.

And for the first time since waking on the floor with memories crashing through me, I felt something simple.

Contentment.