An Extra's Rise in a Romance Fantasy Novel-Chapter 34: Into The Bead [4]

The shadows didn’t slow down. They didn’t hesitate. They kept pouring out of the mist the way a river breaks through a cracked dam, one after another, shapes twisting and stretching as they sprinted toward me. Some dragged long, claw-like arms behind them. Others hunched low, bodies jittering like they were barely holding their form together.

My legs were shaking. My breathing was ragged. The weight pressing down on me grew so heavy it felt like someone was trying to fold my spine in half.

Still, I lifted the sword.

The next shadow lunged.

I swung through it with a harsh whoosh. The blade carved the figure apart, and the pieces dissolved before they touched the ground. Another came from behind, silent except for the faint hiss of its form shifting. I pivoted, the motion stiff and dragged down by gravity, and cut it cleanly across the middle.

The mist burst outward around me like ink in water.

My palm tore open even more. The skin around my fingers split from the strain of holding the sword so tightly. Blood leaked down my wrist in thin red trails, dripping steadily onto the ground.

My arm screamed.

But I kept moving.

Three shadows rushed me at once—one from the left, two from the front. They came too fast, their shapes flickering as they ran. I swung low to cut the first one, then pushed through the pain in my shoulder and twisted my whole torso to slice the second.

Whoosh.

The third slammed into me before I could reset my stance.

A jolt went through my ribs. I almost dropped the sword.

But I forced my arm up and brought the blade down in a short, sharp arc.

The shadow split from head to waist, dissolving into smoke before it hit the ground.

My knees buckled again.

The gravity wasn’t just pushing me—it was grinding me into the floor. Each breath felt heavier. Each heartbeat slower. My vision pulsed in and out like someone was dimming the world at random.

Shadows kept pouring through the mist.

Ten. Fifteen. Maybe more. I lost count. They circled me, shapes drifting and swaying in a slow, predatory rhythm, like they were waiting for me to collapse.

And honestly, I was close.

My muscles shook nonstop. My fingers were numb except for the pain. My chest ached with every breath. My blood felt heavy, sluggish, like the gravity was pulling it through my veins.

But quitting wasn’t an option.

So I stabbed the tip of the sword into the ground, used it to push myself upright, and forced my back straight despite the crushing pressure. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached.

Another shadow sprinted forward.

I met it with a wild, desperate swing.

Whoosh.

Then another came. I cut it. Then another. Then three at once. My arms moved on instinct, every slash fueled more by survival than technique. The mist around me thickened with each kill, rising like waves of black smoke that curled under my feet.

The screams started next.

Not mine.

The shadows.

Short, thin cries that sounded like something tearing apart from the inside. Every one of them let out the same sound when the blade hit. It crawled under my skin and sat there, cold and sharp.

My breathing fell out of rhythm.

My swings slowed.

Pain jolted up my shoulder with every motion. Blood splattered the ground in thin arcs each time the sword whipped through the air. My veins felt hot, like they were burning under the skin.

But I didn’t let the blade drop.

This realm might break me, but it would do it fighting.

Another wave hit me. Shadows rushing in from every angle, arms stretching into points sharp enough to slice through flesh. The ground vibrated under their movement. The air trembled with pressure.

I let out a raw noise—not a roar, not anything dramatic. Just the sound of someone forcing their body to move one more time.

I swung again.

Whoosh.

Again.

Whoosh.

Again.

WHOOSH.

Shapes split. Mist exploded around me. The shadows dissolved back into the fog that spawned them. But the cost dug deeper. Every swing tore more blood from my palm. Every cut sent fire down my arm. Every breath dragged pain across my ribs.

My legs shook so hard I nearly fell.

I raised the sword for another strike—

And the world cracked.

A flash exploded in front of me. Not white. Not blue. Every color at once. A rainbow burst that swallowed my vision and drowned the mist in a single, blinding wave.

The ground vanished beneath me.

I didn’t even fall. I just stopped existing in that place. My body snapped forward like I’d been yanked out of a collapsing dream—

—then light pierced my eyes.

The scent of wood and grass rushed back in. The weight vanished. The gravity was gone.

My body slammed onto the cottage floor.

Sylveon’s voice hit me immediately.

[Leon! Leon! Wake up! Hey! Wake up!]

His paws pushed at my chest. His face hovered over mine, ears flicking back and forth in frantic motion, eyes glowing with that soft color they held whenever he worried too much.

I sucked in a breath. Then another. Air never tasted so real. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

My voice came out hoarse.

"How long... was I gone?"

Sylveon blinked, confused. Then surprised.

[Gone? You didn’t even disappear for a full second! You touched the bead and then—bam—you fell! I thought you fainted!]

A second.

I stared up at the cottage ceiling, chest rising and falling too fast, sweat cooling on my skin. Inside the bead, it felt like hours—long, grinding hours of pain and fighting and screaming. But outside...

Not even a second.

A stretched-out moment. An infinite second. Something that lasted forever on the inside but barely existed out here.

"...fuck."

Sylveon perked up, worried. [Leon?]

I didn’t answer. I lifted my arms and stared at them.

No blood.

No cuts.

No torn skin.

My palms were clean. My forearms unmarked. Not a single wound from the bead carried over.

But something else had.

Strength.

A quiet, heavy strength that sat inside my limbs like new muscle had been stitched into me without me noticing. My body felt sharper. Denser. Tighter. Every breath came easier, cleaner.

I pushed myself up, and my balance felt different—like the floor itself couldn’t pull me down the same way.

My gaze drifted to the training blade lying near the wall.

I stood. Picked it up. Rolled my wrist once. The blade felt light, almost too light.

Then I swung.

Whoosh.

A single clean arc cut through the air. The sound cracked sharp, fast, and heavy at the same time, like the air itself stepped out of the way.

That one swing... I knew it.

Easily enough to kill a man.

I lowered the blade, staring at my own hands.

The bead didn’t wound the body.

It reforged it.

And this was only the beginning.