The Extra's Rise-Chapter 482: War Commencement

The war didn’t knock politely on the door. It kicked it down, tossed a grenade into the hallway, and marched in wearing vampire boots and cultist robes. The Eastern Continent hadn’t been ready—not even close. One moment people were enjoying tea and training exercises, and the next, Red Chalice lunatics and bloodsuckers were holding an impromptu apocalypse.

Of course, it wasn’t just the surprise attack. That would’ve been forgivable. No, the bigger issue was that vampires—at equal mana rank—were stronger. Not a little stronger. Stronger in that annoying, unfair, nature-rigged way that made humans look like they were playing at war while the vampires had been born for it. They healed faster, hit harder, and had the kind of combat experience that comes from centuries of not dying.

Which is why, at the moment, the battle at the Southern Sea Sun Palace—a place that sounded like it should be hosting a beach wedding, not a bloodbath—was still going strong. That was where the elites were. Not students, not regional guards. The big names. The heavy hitters. And even they were struggling.

"They’ll be pulling out soon," Mo muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he’d just reviewed a tax audit written in fire and blood. "We tried to crush them all at once. Didn’t go quite to plan."

No one needed to ask what "not to plan" meant. The air in the chamber got heavier, like everyone had simultaneously decided to inhale the weight of their failure.

The plan had been simple. The Eastern powers—minus Mount Hua sect, who had wisely decided to stay home—threw their elite troops at the island to wipe out the threat in one grand heroic charge. Only, the vampires had other ideas. Stronger ideas. Bloodier ideas. Ideas that ended with the Eastern alliance eating its own teeth.

I stood silent among the Masters, listening and watching. The issue wasn’t just numbers or even power. It was experience. The East had grown soft. That’s what happens when you don’t live under constant siege like the North, South or the West. They’d grown used to training for war instead of fighting one. There’s a difference between sparring in a polished dojo and surviving an ambush in a cratered battlefield.

That difference was now a pile of vampire casualties—and the humans hadn’t come out on top.

’The West, North and South keep their swords sharp by necessity,’ I thought grimly. ’The East keeps theirs sharp for ceremony.’

Mo finally turned toward us and gave a small sigh, the kind that carried the weight of twenty sleepless hours. "You’ve given us what we need for now. Go rest. We’ll reconvene when the others return from the Palace."

Lucifer raised a hand like he was in a classroom again, voice calmer than it should’ve been. "What about the other students?"

"Half have been sent to the Kagu estate," Mo replied. "Safer there. The rest are already here. We won’t be talking about sending any of you back home for a few days—assuming there’s a home to go back to."

None of us argued. There was nothing to say. We nodded. Some more stiffly than others. The air outside might’ve been clean and cold, but inside the Mount Hua Sect hall, it smelled like war—and no one was ready to breathe easy just yet.

The guest quarters assigned to us were sparse but comfortable—typical Mount Hua aesthetics, where practicality met just enough luxury to remind you these people weren’t monks. They were warriors with good taste.

We gathered in what seemed to be a common area, a circular room with low tables and cushions arranged around a central hearth. None of us were ready to be alone with our thoughts just yet.

"So," Cecilia said, dropping onto a cushion with none of her usual grace, "that went well."

Rachel shot her a look that could have curdled milk. "Thousands of people are dying. Show some respect."

"Respect won’t bring them back," Cecilia replied, but the usual edge in her voice was dulled. Even her sarcasm sounded tired.

Seol-ah stood by the window, her silhouette rigid against the fading light. Her hands were clasped behind her back so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She hadn’t spoken since Mo’s briefing.

Lucifer noticed too. He moved to stand beside her, not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel his presence. "Your father is one of the strongest Integration-rankers in the East," he said quietly. "And the Moyong family techniques are specifically designed for survival in hostile conditions."

"They’ve never faced vampires before," Seol-ah replied, her voice thin and brittle. "None of us have. Not in centuries."

"True," Lucifer acknowledged. "But the Moyong family has faced extinction before and survived. Your bloodline doesn’t know how to die easily."

It wasn’t exactly comforting in the traditional sense, but I saw Seol-ah’s shoulders relax a fraction. Sometimes the truth, however harsh, was more reassuring than empty platitudes.

The room fell silent. No one knew quite what to say to that. How do you comfort someone whose entire identity had just been revealed as a lie?

"It wasn’t your fault," I said finally.

Deia’s laugh was a broken thing. "Wasn’t it? I was there every day. I saw the signs. The strange visitors. The restricted areas. The way my father would disappear for days into the lower levels. I just...didn’t want to see."

"None of us saw it coming," Seraphina stated matter-of-factly. "Not even my father."

Seol-ah turned from the window. "We should try to rest. Tomorrow will be..." She trailed off, unable to find a word adequate for what tomorrow would bring.

"A shit show," Cecilia supplied helpfully. "An absolute, unmitigated disaster of epic proportions."

A ghost of a smile touched Seol-ah’s lips. "Precisely."

Mount Hua Sect wasn’t just a sect—it was the sect. The kind of place where even the guest rooms had heated floors, mana-regulated air circulation, and windows that could tint themselves at your emotional whim. It didn’t matter that a war was going on outside; inside these walls, it felt like the universe was politely holding its breath.

We were each given private quarters by the staff, who moved with the brisk, unbothered efficiency of people used to housing Radiant-rank visitors and the occasional dragon. My room was large enough to host a diplomatic summit, complete with a bed that looked like it could classify as a small moon. The sheets smelled faintly of lotus and static mana, and the lights adjusted themselves based on your mood—or possibly your blood pressure. Frankly, it was overkill, but I wasn’t complaining.

I was just starting to debate whether I should enjoy a long bath or pass out face-first on the bed when there was a soft knock at the door.

Seraphina stood there, draped in a silk robe issued by the sect, her silver hair loosely tied and her expression softer than usual. There wasn’t any hesitation in her gaze—just the kind of calm you only got from someone who’d already made up their mind.

"Mind if I sleep here tonight?" she asked. "Just need... something steady."

We’d done this before. After battles. After trauma. After days that stretched on far too long and left you with silence ringing in your bones. This wasn’t some romantic, breathless moment. It was comfort, shaped like routine.

"Come in," I said, shifting to one side of the massive bed.

She padded across the room and slid under the covers like she belonged there—which, at this point, she sort of did. No awkward glances, no uncertainty. Just the warmth of her settling beside me, one arm wrapping lightly around my waist, her forehead resting between my shoulder and chest. Her breathing began to slow almost immediately.

"Thanks," she murmured.

I didn’t say anything. Just held her a little closer.

For now, we didn’t have to be soldiers, strategists, or saviors. Just two people clinging to the quiet in a world that rarely allowed it. Wrapped in high-thread-count sheets and the hush of mana-padded walls, we fell asleep. And for a few hours, that was enough.