Path of the Extra

Arthur's eyes narrowed as the metallic voice echoed through the facility.

"Warning. All cells have been opened. Warning. All cells have been opened."

The automated announcement repeated, drilling into his mind.

Cells.

It hadn't specified which cells—just all cells.

Arthur's expression darkened. That was a problem.

This wasn't an ordinary facility. It was designed to house experiments from the void realm. The subjects weren't just human but also low-ranking void creatures—beings that, at the very least, could be contained in cells.

The air grew heavier, and Azriel felt the weight of Arthur's aura seep into the room, prickling his skin. His body stiffened involuntarily, every hair standing on end.

Locked in his own body, Azriel could only watch. He couldn't move or speak on his own. In a way, though, it was... thrilling.

Arthur strode toward the door, his gaze cold and focused.

"What idiot caused this madness?"

But before he could reach it, Azriel's mouth moved on its own, his voice cutting through the tension.

"Doctor, are you sure about going?"

Arthur stopped mid-step, turning slowly, his sharp gaze boring into Azriel.

"What do you mean?"

Azriel smirked inwardly.

'...Woah, I really have a death wish.'

His lips moved again, forming a sentence he hadn't chosen.

"I'm just saying, Doctor... are you sure you know what your priorities should be right now?"

Arthur's face twisted with displeasure as he approached.

"666, enough with the games. What are you talking about?"

Azriel's tone was calm, almost casual.

"You're trying to replicate the blood of a voidwalker, aren't you?"

Arthur froze, his eyes widening.

"...How—how do you know that?"

Azriel's lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

"I know everything, Doctor."

The statement hung in the air, cutting through the noise of alarms, tremors, and distant shouts. Arthur's attention was fully on him now, the chaos outside irrelevant.

Those crimson eyes peeking through Azriel's disheveled hair seemed to pierce through him.

"This project... It's important, isn't it? If it succeeds, the Supreme Archon would undoubtedly be pleased."

"What do you know about the Supreme Archon?"

Azriel's lips twitched.

"Nothing much. I don't know his face or name—just that he wants to replicate more voidwalker blood. He gave you a real sample, didn't he? And you've been using it to create drugs like PE-2. With it, you've already killed thousands of people. You don't even see us as human, do you? To you, we're just animals. Makes it easier for you to do the things you do."

Arthur's jaw clenched.

"Enough, 666."

Azriel's voice lowered.

"You're a lunatic, Doctor. Obsessed with pleasing the Supreme Archon, even though your dead family would hate you for what you've become. You're a monster—venting your anger at the world for taking your wife and daughter, using the Supreme Archon's goals as an excuse."

Arthur's hand twitched.

"Watch your words."

Azriel leaned forward slightly.

"You're broken, Doctor. A monster who can't die because you're terrified of facing your wife and daughter in death. Look at yourself. You know I'm right. Why else are you making that face?"

Arthur's voice dropped to a growl.

"I'm warning you, 666..."

"Of what? That you'll kill me? Go ahead. But if you do, all the time and effort you've spent on me will go to waste. You'd have to kill thousands more just to find someone as compatible with the drug as I am."

"Don't speak as if you know anything..!"

Arthur's patience snapped. In an instant, Azriel was slammed against the wall, the back of his head colliding with a sickening thud. A groan escaped his lips.

'Fuck, that hurts.'

Azriel wanted to curse at his past self for provoking Arthur, but it was too late.

Arthur's voice was ice.

"Do you want to be killed, 666?"

Azriel laughed—a dark, hollow sound.

"You made me like this, Doctor. You made me into someone you can't afford to kill."

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"I can't kill you, but I can break you."

Azriel sneered.

"Break me? As if you could. Ever since I woke up in this world, I've been surviving—no matter what. That's all I know."

Arthur scowled.

"Are you going to keep talking?"

Azriel chuckled.

"You're right. I think I've wasted enough of your time."

Arthur's brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

Azriel's lips curled into a knowing smile.

"Doctor... you really should check on that voidwalker blood."

Arthur's mind blanked for a second. Then, his eyes widened in realization.

"No!"

In an instant, he disappeared, the gust of his movement toppling the chair and sending papers scattering across the room.

Azriel stared at the chaotic aftermath.

"...I better hurry."

*****

Azriel hurried through the dimly lit hallways, the flashing red lights casting jagged shadows on the walls. The occasional figure in a white lab coat brushed past him, their expressions frantic, their steps hurried. They didn't spare him a glance. They had no reason to.

They were all rushing toward the cells.

And they were all rushing to their deaths.

The chaos around him was deafening. Rumbling tremors shook the floor, accompanied by the distant screams of people and the guttural howls of creatures. The cacophony reached Azriel's ears, making his heart pound. Yet, his body kept moving forward, propelled by a will that wasn't his own.

And then, as abruptly as it began, the alarms stopped.

The metallic voice ceased its announcements, leaving the hallway unnervingly silent. Even the red lights dimmed, casting the corridors in an eerie half-darkness. The sudden stillness clawed at Azriel's nerves, filling him with dread.

He quickened his pace.

Faster.

Faster.

The hallway seemed endless until, finally, he stood before a massive, familiar gate.

The underground colosseum.

Azriel pressed his palm against the cold surface of the gate. The floor beneath his feet trembled as ancient runes—unreadable to him—lit up with a bright blue glow. The gate groaned open, revealing the arena beyond.

He stepped inside without hesitation.

In the center of the arena stood a small figure—a girl. She turned to him as if sensing his presence, her black hair swaying in the faint breeze. A bright smile stretched across her face, and she waved enthusiastically.

"Mister!"

Azriel approached her, his steps quick. As he stood before her, he scanned her from head to toe, relief washing over him when he saw she was uninjured.

"You really did it…" he murmured, his words barely audible but enough for her to hear.

Iryndra tilted her head, her innocent expression unchanging.

"Mister, are you okay?"

Azriel offered her a soft smile.

"Of course. Thanks to you opening all the cells, getting here was... easier than I expected."

Her expression brightened, but Azriel's brows furrowed as his gaze softened in concern.

"How are you holding up? Do you still have mana left?"

Iryndra raised her left hand, showing him a bronze ring that glinted faintly in the dim light.

"See this? It's not a storage ring; it's a void artifact. It helps me store extra mana!"

Azriel blinked, genuinely surprised. He nodded in acknowledgment.

Before he could say more, the ground beneath them trembled violently. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling, crashing around them.

Azriel's face darkened.

'Idiot. Hurry.'

With a hesitant look, Azriel asked, "Did you get it?"

Iryndra nodded and raised her right hand, tapping a silver ring on her finger. A vial materialized in her palm, containing a swirling black liquid.

"This one, right? There were only two awakened and some dormants guarding it, so I got rid of them easily. Hehe."

Azriel's lips twitched at her casual tone.

The fact that a child could "easily" handle such a threat made him uneasy, but he couldn't deny her prowess. Her affinity and [unique skill] had proven invaluable.

And only Vincent, Arthur, and the other three Horsemen posed a real threat to the two.

After all, Vincent is a master,

and Arthur, a grandmaster.

Those two alone are enough to handle most of the challenges here.

"Good." Azriel took the vial from her carefully.

Iryndra watched him curiously.

"Mister, are you going to drink it?"

Azriel shook his head, his expression grim.

"If a normal human who isn't a master even touches a drop of this, it'll burn through them like acid. Drinking it would melt my body from the inside out."

'The only exception is if you're an Apostle. For some reason, they can handle voidwalker blood without issue.'

But his original didn't share that information with Iryndra.

She frowned, confused.

"Then why do we need it?"

Azriel smirked.

"Why else? The doctor already knows this vial is missing. Right now, he's panicking—tearing everything apart trying to find it. Meanwhile, the void creatures are killing the subjects, and the subjects are killing each other. It's pure chaos up there."

Iryndra's eyes widened as she watched frost creep over the vial in Azriel's hand, freezing the black liquid solid.

"This entire project—New Eden—relies on this blood," Azriel said, his voice cold.

"Let's end it for good."

He threw the frozen vial to the ground, shattering it into a thousand tiny shards.

'Damn, that felt good.'

Somewhere, the doctor was likely tearing through the facility, hunting for a vial that no longer existed.

"Whoa, Mister…" Iryndra's voice was a mix of awe and disbelief. "You really must have a death wish."

'Yes! Tell me!'

The current Azriel agreed. His original self's actions felt reckless—borderline suicidal. But somehow, it was working.

Or so he thought.

"And I'll be the one to fulfill that wish."

Both of them froze, their eyes snapping toward the source of the voice.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the gate.

Blood soaked his white gown, staining it deep crimson. His face was partially obscured by a bandage, but his dark, menacing gaze was unmistakable.

"I knew you were behind this…"

His voice was low and venomous.

"I won't let you run anymore, brat."

Subject 431.

The Horseman of War.

Declared.

Against Azriel.