The Extra's Rise-Chapter 472: Resurgence (2)

Rachel exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing intricate patterns of golden light in the air. Purelight—the rarest and most powerful healing magic—flowed from her hands into Deia’s injured shoulder where the Priest’s corruption spell had left an angry, pulsing wound.

"Stop fidgeting," Rachel murmured, her concentration absolute as the threads of light knitted damaged tissue and purged the lingering corruption.

Deia bit her lip, suppressing a wince. "Sorry. Just... hurry. They need us."

The distant sounds of battle echoed through the ancient stone passageways—metal against metal, the distinctive crack of astral energy, the unnatural hiss of blood magic. Somewhere ahead, Arthur and Lucifer were fighting for their lives.

"Done," Rachel announced, the golden light fading as she completed the healing. She looked pale, the effort of channeling Purelight taking its toll, but determination burned in her eyes.

Seraphina, who had been keeping watch at the passage entrance, turned to them. "We need to move. Now."

The four young women exchanged looks—a wordless communication born from countless battles fought side by side—before rushing forward through the twisting corridors. Cecilia took point, her hands wreathed in crimson flame that cast eerie shadows along the walls. Rose followed close behind, her analytical gaze scanning for traps or ambushes.

They burst into a vast chamber just in time to witness the aftermath of catastrophic violence.

The ancient room bore scars of an impossible battle—stone pillars shattered, frost patterns intermingling with scorched stone, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of spent mana. At the far end, Arthur stood swaying but upright over the prone form of Elder Lazarus, the vampire’s body mangled but still moving. Closer to them, Lucifer lay slumped against a cracked wall, his sword planted in the ground before him like an impromptu crutch, his body a testament to the price of victory.

Bishop Vale’s corpse lay in a pool of blackened blood, his chest a ruined cavity where Lucifer’s blade had pierced.

"Gods above," Seraphina breathed, taking in the scene with wide eyes.

Rachel was already moving, medical instincts overriding everything else. She scanned both injured fighters with a healer’s practiced assessment—Arthur wounded but standing, Lucifer barely conscious with multiple critical injuries. The choice was immediate.

"Deia," she called sharply, "help Arthur finish the vampire. I need to stabilize Lucifer."

Without waiting for acknowledgment, Rachel dropped to her knees beside Lucifer, gasping as her healing senses fully registered the extent of his injuries. Blood magic corruption threaded through his system, eating away at tissue and mana pathways alike. His left arm hung at an unnatural angle, shattered bones visible beneath torn skin. Blood leaked from his eyes, ears, nose—everywhere the corrupting magic had found egress.

"You idiot," she whispered, immediately calling forth her Purelight again. The golden energy flowed into Lucifer’s broken body, seeking the worst of the damage first. "What did you do to yourself?"

Lucifer’s eyes fluttered open, clouded with pain but still recognizably his—sharp, knowing, impossibly blue. "Won," he managed through bloodied lips, attempting a smile that came out as more of a grimace.

Across the chamber, Deia had reached Arthur. The princess—who had spent most of her life as an ornamental figure in her father’s court—now moved with the confidence of someone who had found her purpose. Golden light, different from Rachel’s Purelight but powerful in its own way, emanated from her palms as she steadied Arthur’s swaying form.

"You’re hurt," she said, her hands already working to repair the worst of his wounds.

Arthur nodded once, his gaze fixed on the fallen vampire elder who was attempting to regenerate despite catastrophic injuries. "Not as bad as him," he replied, his voice rough with exhaustion. "But I appreciate the help."

Strengthened by Deia’s healing, Arthur straightened and approached Elder Lazarus. The vampire’s red eyes tracked him, hatred and disbelief warring in their ancient depths.

"Impossible," Lazarus hissed, blood bubbling between his lips. "You cannot... a mere student..."

Arthur’s expression remained impassive as he raised his sword. "Perhaps you should have paid more attention in class."

The blade descended with perfect precision, separating the vampire elder’s head from his body in one clean stroke. The ancient creature’s form shuddered once, then began to disintegrate into ash—the final death that vampires feared above all else.

"It’s done," Arthur said quietly, turning back to the others. His gaze caught briefly on Rachel kneeling beside Lucifer, her face tight with concentration as golden light poured from her hands.

Rachel worked frantically, her Purelight burning away the blood magic corruption that threatened to consume Lucifer from within. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she directed her healing power with surgical precision, mending shattered bones, sealing ruptured blood vessels, restoring damaged mana pathways. It was delicate, exhausting work—especially after the battles they had already fought.

"Stop trying to hide how much this hurts," she scolded as Lucifer suppressed another groan when she reset a particularly damaged section of his arm. "I can’t heal you properly if you’re tensing up."

"Sorry," Lucifer managed, his voice steadier now as the worst of the injuries began to heal. "Old habits."

"Bad habits," she corrected, not looking up from her work. "You’ve always been terrible at admitting when you’re in pain."

A ghost of his usual smirk touched his lips. "Well, if I did, you’d never stop worrying about me."

"Someone has to," Rachel muttered, moving her attention to the corruption still lingering in his chest. "Since you clearly don’t worry about yourself. What were you thinking, taking on a seven-circle mage with blood astral energy?"

By now, the others had gathered around them. Arthur, supported by Deia’s shoulder, looked down at his friend with a mixture of concern and respect. "He was thinking the same thing I was," he said quietly. "That we needed to buy you time."

"And it worked," Rose added, her analytical gaze sweeping the chamber. "Though at significant cost."

"Worth it," Lucifer said, attempting to sit up straighter only to be firmly pushed back down by Rachel’s hand.

"Stay still," she ordered. "I’m not finished."

"Yes, ma’am," he replied with a weak chuckle. "This reminds me of when we were younger. You patching me up after I did something stupid."

Rachel’s hands paused momentarily, a shadow of something complex passing across her face. "You did do a lot of stupid things."

"I did," he agreed, watching her work. "Though you always heal Arthur first these days."

The statement contained no accusation, just a simple observation, but Rachel’s cheeks colored slightly. "That’s because he usually needs it more. You’re just... reckless."

"I don’t mind," Lucifer said softly, his voice holding a note of genuine acceptance. "I really don’t."

Something shifted in Rachel’s expression—relief, perhaps, or gratitude for an understanding she hadn’t expected. Their eyes met briefly, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between old friends who had found their places in each other’s lives, even if it wasn’t what might have once been imagined.

After a moment, she sighed. "I owe you an apology."

"For what?" Genuine confusion crossed Lucifer’s features.

"For what I said before. About you not being Hero-like." Her hands continued their healing work, but her voice had softened. "I was wrong. You’ve changed a lot these past years. What you did today... facing an Ascendant-ranker and a seven-circle mage... that was..."

"Stupid?" he supplied helpfully.

She bonked him lightly on the head, careful to avoid his actual injuries. "Heroic," she corrected, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "Though still incredibly stupid."

"I’ll take it," Lucifer said, his usual confident smile beginning to return as the worst of his injuries healed.

Cecilia, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly shifted her stance. "Not to interrupt this touching reunion, but we’re still in a chamber full of dead enemies beneath a palace controlled by vampires and cultists. Maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere else?"

"She’s right," Seraphina agreed, moving toward one of the archways leading deeper into the ancient structure. "We need to keep moving. Whatever answers we’re seeking are still ahead of us, and we don’t know how much time we have before more enemies arrive."

Rachel completed the critical healing on Lucifer, leaving him stable though far from fully recovered. "That’s the best I can do for now," she said, helping him to his feet. "You’ll need proper rest and further healing, but you’ll live."

"Thanks to you," he replied, retrieving his damaged sword and testing his weight on still-shaky legs.

Arthur moved to support his friend, offering his shoulder without comment. Lucifer accepted the help with a grateful nod—a silent acknowledgment between rivals who had just accomplished the impossible together.

"Which way?" Seol-ah asked, looking toward the multiple exits from the chamber.

Deia studied the ancient inscriptions barely visible on the archways. "This one," she decided, pointing to the eastern passage. "The symbols suggest it leads toward the heart of whatever this place was before the Palace was built on top of it."

As they moved forward together, Rachel fell into step beside Arthur. After a moment of silence, she spoke quietly.

"I meant what I said. You’ve changed."

Lucifer glanced at her, something genuine breaking through his usual confident mask. "So have you."

"For the better?" she asked, and there was a vulnerability in the question that surprised them both.

His answer came without hesitation. "Definitely for the better."

The hint of a smile touched her lips as they continued forward, into the darkness and whatever awaited them at the heart of the Southern Sea Sun Palace’s ancient secrets.