The Extra's Rise-Chapter 268: Rachel Creighton (1)

I watched the man in front of me, my hands glowing with soft, golden light as I healed his wounds.

Arthur lay still, his breath steady but heavy, his body recovering from the absurd levels of power he had just forced himself to wield. The injuries were deep, layered with exhaustion that went beyond the physical.

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I pursed my lips.

Then I asked.

"Did you predict this?"

Arthur's eyes widened slightly. He looked at me, but he didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

I knew him too well.

"When the Baron told me the Knight Captain was busy, I knew you were here," he finally said, voice rough but calm. "So I had to adjust my plans accordingly."

I frowned. "Why didn't you just call me?" My voice was sharper than I intended. "Why didn't you tell me before going up against a Bishop?"

Arthur exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. Then he looked at me again, and there was something raw, something achingly real in his gaze.

"I need to be stronger, Rachel," he murmured.

His fingers twitched, as if reaching for me, but stopping just short.

"I love you," he said simply. "I want to protect you. With my own strength."

Something in me broke.

Tears pricked at my eyes before I even realized what was happening. A sharp, overwhelming swell of emotion surged through me, and I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to keep healing him even as my vision blurred.

I wasn't stupid. I knew how Arthur thought. I knew his mind worked in ways most people couldn't even begin to follow.

But hearing those words—

Hearing him say them—

It made me hurt.

Because I loved him too. So much it terrified me.

And he kept doing this.

Risking himself. Throwing himself into the jaws of people who would tear him apart without a second thought. Carrying the weight of everything, always thinking he had to be the one to take the fall.

Tears slipped down my cheeks. I sniffled, blinking rapidly, trying to focus, trying to keep the light steady in my hands.

That was when I noticed it.

The black ink laced across his skin.

Dark letters curled over his forearms, his wrists—pulsing, alive, unnatural.

My hands hovered over them, my magic flickering slightly.

"What is this?" I asked, wiping my face and focusing on the wrongness sinking into his body.

Arthur let out a breath. "Reika's Gift."

I froze.

My brow furrowed, my hands pausing.

Reika.

A girl.

I stared at him, my hands still hovering over his arms.

"A girl gave you this power?" I said slowly, tilting my head.

Arthur blinked. "I—wait, that's not—"

I smiled.

Then I reached into my spatial ring and pulled out a pair of enchanted cuffs.

Before he could react, I grabbed his wrists and snapped them on.

Arthur blinked at me again, confused. "Rachel—?"

"I'm capturing you now," I said sweetly, tightening the cuffs with a satisfied click.

Arthur opened his mouth, probably to argue.

Then—

Something shifted.

The black ink on his skin shuddered.

And then—it began to fade.

Arthur froze.

The power he had stolen, the strength he had borrowed—it was vanishing.

His breathing hitched. His body jerked slightly as something tore itself away from him.

I watched as his limbs trembled, as his muscles strained, as the sheer recoil of his actions finally hit him.

And I smiled wider.

"See?" I said, brushing my hair back. "I told you not to overdo it."

"You're… enjoying this?" Arthur muttered weakly as his body gave out, collapsing against me.

I let out a soft hum, patting his head like he was some overworked idiot who had finally realized just how mortal he actually was.

"You won't die with me around," I whispered, my hands glowing as I poured healing magic into him. My brows furrowed, the warmth of my spell doing little to ease the knot of worry tightening in my chest.

Because as much as I liked holding him like this—his weight pressing against me, the warmth of his breath on my shoulder—his injuries were bad.

Not just bad. Dangerous.

He had pushed himself too far. No, not too far—he had demolished the limit, trampled over it, and then had the audacity to keep going.

"Arthur," I said, my voice dropping to something sharper, "you cannot do this again. Ever."

He didn't respond.

Because he knew.

Because if he did this again, if he pushed himself to this extent one more time—

He could actually die.

And I wasn't letting that happen.

I tightened my grip on him.

"Tch." I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Luckily, you're still not that strong."

Yet.

He would be. I knew he would be.

And when that day came, when his power reached a point where no one could stop him—

I would have to capture him before that.

But right now, he was still mine to keep in check.

I rubbed my ring, summoning a set of potions into my hand. The highest grade, the kind that could restore someone from the brink of death.

"Open up," I ordered, uncorking one.

Arthur made a vague, uncooperative sound.

"Ugh, seriously?" His body had zero strength left, so I had to tilt his head, carefully pressing the vial to his lips and making sure he actually drank it.

One potion.

Then another.

Then another, each one working its way through his broken body as my magic continued to mend the worst of the damage.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I let out a slow breath.

His health had stabilized.

I rested my forehead against his, closing my eyes for a moment.

"Idiot."

But at least he was my idiot.

I turned my gaze to the violet-haired girl approaching, and the moment my eyes landed on her, she flinched.

Good.

I narrowed my eyes. She looked exhausted—worn down, unsteady on her feet.

Recoil.

Of course. Arthur hadn't been the only one to push himself past reason.

I sighed and reached into my ring, pulling out another potion. With a flick of my wrist, I tossed it to her.

"Here," I said. "Drink it. You took some recoil, didn't you?"

She caught it, nodding slightly before uncorking it and drinking.

I barely paid her any more attention, shifting my focus back to the man slumped against me, his head resting against my chest.

Arthur.

I traced my fingers through his hair absentmindedly, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. His body had finally stopped trembling, his mana stabilizing under my constant healing.

I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead.

"Arthur…" I murmured, my lips curling into a slow smile. "Now, what type of cag—house should I build for us?"

Arthur made a tired noise, barely lifting his head. "Rach… I'm drowsy…"

I pulled him closer. "Shh, it's alright. I'm here."

He didn't argue. He didn't push me away.

For the first time, Arthur Nightingale—cunning, untouchable, infuriating Arthur—was completely defenseless.

And trusting.

I wasn't letting go of this.

The sounds of battle still rumbled in the distance. The clash of steel, the sharp pulses of astral energy. The Knight Captain and the Bishop were still locked in combat, though the tempo had slowed.

I glanced toward the fight, assessing.

The Bishop was stronger—no doubt about that—but he wasn't at full strength. He had spent too much fighting Arthur.

My fingers absentmindedly traced over Arthur's wrist, feeling the faint pulse beneath the skin.

'Arthur couldn't have done this much damage on his own.'

I frowned slightly.

'Did he fight Carrie too?'

The other Ascendant-ranker in this city.

That… would explain a lot.

I exhaled slowly, stroking Arthur's hair as he drifted further into unconsciousness.

"Idiot," I whispered. But my arms tightened around him all the same.

Even though he was an idiot who put himself in danger, I was the bigger idiot who loved him.