The Extra's Rise-Chapter 487: Kagu Family (2)

I woke to the gentle chime of the room’s environmental system adjusting to my conscious state. The lights slowly brightened to a warm amber, and the temperature shifted from the cooler sleeping setting to something more comfortable for waking hours. For a moment, I simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, almost able to pretend I was back at Starcrest in my dormitory.

Almost.

The knock at my door was firm, unmistakably my father’s. Three precise raps, evenly spaced. I sat up, running a hand through my disheveled white hair.

"Enter," I called, my voice still rough with sleep.

The door slid open with a whisper. My father stood there, already dressed in training attire—loose black pants and a sleeveless gray shirt that did nothing to hide the powerful musculature of his arms. The Kagu family crest—a stylized eye within a spiral—was embroidered in silver over his heart. But it was his expression that fully woke me—tense, grave, the look of a man about to deliver news he didn’t want to give.

"Get dressed," he said simply. "There’s something you need to know."

Ten minutes later, I followed him down a corridor I recognized as leading to the family’s private medical wing. My heart began to pound as pieces clicked into place. The specialized facilities. The security protocols. The way the medical staff nodded to us with solemn respect as we passed.

"Your aunt," my father began, then stopped, seeming to search for words—something I’d never seen him do before. My father always knew exactly what to say, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

A cold weight settled in my stomach. "What about her?"

He took a breath. "She’s been recovered from the Southern Sea Sun Palace. A specialized extraction team brought her out last night."

Relief flooded through me. "She’s back? Is she here? I should—"

"Ren." The weight in his voice stopped me cold. "She’s in a medical stasis pod. She’s... unresponsive."

"Injured?" I asked, though I already knew that wasn’t it. Aunt Selene had survived injuries that would have killed most Immortal-rankers.

"No visible physical trauma," my father said, his clinical tone at odds with the worry in his eyes. "Her mana pathways are intact. Her brain activity is normal for deep sleep. But she won’t wake up. The medical team can’t identify the cause."

I stared at him, the implications sinking in. "A coma? Aunt Selene is in a coma?"

He nodded, his face grim. "Something happened in that palace, Ren. Something that could incapacitate a Radiant-ranker without leaving a mark. And until we figure out what it was..."

He didn’t need to finish the thought. We were all vulnerable. Even the strongest among us.

The war had just become infinitely more terrifying.

My father’s fists clenched at his sides, the knuckles whitening. I recognized the gesture—the physical manifestation of his desire to solve a problem with his hands, to punch his way through whatever threatened his family. But this enemy couldn’t be hit. This threat couldn’t be beaten into submission.

For perhaps the first time in his life, the Iron Fist had found a problem he couldn’t solve by fighting.

And that, more than anything, terrified me.

We stood in silence before Aunt Selene’s stasis pod. Through the frosted glass, her form was a blur of white and blue—her signature colors, even in unconsciousness. Medical displays scrolled with data in cryptic patterns that only specialists could decipher, though the red indicators needed no translation. Critical. Unknown. Unprecedented.

"We should go," my father finally said, his voice low but carrying the unmistakable edge of command. "The others will be gathering for breakfast."

I nodded, unable to form words. What could anyone say in the face of this? If Aunt Selene—the Twilight Ice Sovereign, scourge of the Northern Wastes, survivor of the Blood Moon Massacre—could fall without a fight, what hope did the rest of us have?

The walk back was silent until my father spoke. "Your classmates received communications from their families during the night."

Classmates was a generous term for my relationship with the other evacuees, but I didn’t correct him.

"Jin and Ian will be returning home today," he continued, his footsteps never faltering. "Their families have sent transport."

That wasn’t surprising. The Ashbluff and Viserion families wouldn’t let their heirs linger in the epicenter of a vampire uprising. They’d want them safely behind their own ancestral defenses, preparing for whatever came next.

When we entered the dining hall, the mood was somber despite the lavish spread laid out across the table. Aria and Ava sat close together, speaking in hushed tones. They’d grown up in neighboring estates and had been inseparable since childhood—a rare genuine friendship among the calculated alliances of the Great Houses.

Jin stood by the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the morning light, gaze fixed on the distant mountains. His posture was impeccable as always, hands clasped behind his back in the traditional Western stance of contemplation. I’d never seen him slouch, not even during the worst combat drills at Starcrest. His jet-black hair was immaculately styled despite everything, not a strand out of place. Jin Ashbluff wore control like others wore clothing—it was his first defense against a chaotic world.

And then there was Ian, who somehow managed to look cheerful despite everything. He was piling his plate with fruits and pastries, chatting animatedly with one of the serving staff—something about a recipe his mother used to make. A burst of laughter escaped him, bright and incongruous in the solemn atmosphere, before he caught himself and offered an apologetic smile to the room.

That was Ian Viserion—a perpetual ray of Southern continent sunshine in human form. His family controlled most of the maritime trade routes and specialized in weather manipulation techniques, and Ian himself seemed to embody that bright, changeable energy. His golden-bronze skin practically glowed with vitality, and his amber eyes sparkled with an irrepressible zest for life that even a vampire uprising couldn’t fully dim.

"Morning, everyone," I said, forcing normality into my voice as I took a seat.

Ian immediately bounded over, sliding into the chair beside me with a plate heaped with colorful foods. "Ren! Have you tried these berries? They’re infused with some kind of mana stabilizer—absolutely genius. Makes me feel less like I’ve been trampled by a herd of nightmare beasts."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. "Only you could be this enthusiastic about breakfast after what we’ve been through."

He grinned, the expression lighting up his features. "What’s the alternative? Moping won’t kill vampires." He popped a blue berry into his mouth and made an exaggerated sound of pleasure. "Besides, we need to keep our strength up. Can’t fight the forces of darkness on an empty stomach."

"Neither will optimism," Jin commented dryly, finally joining us at the table. Where Ian was all warmth and animation, Jin moved with the measured precision of a calligraphy brush—each step deliberate, each gesture economical. His silver-blue eyes betrayed nothing of his thoughts, but the tightness around his mouth suggested he was as affected as the rest of us.

"Maybe not," Ian conceded, undeterred, "but it’ll keep us from defeating ourselves before the fight even begins." He nudged Jin with his elbow. "Isn’t that what Master Liang was always saying? ’The mind surrenders before the body’?"

Jin’s expression softened fractionally at the mention of their shared combat instructor. "Something like that," he admitted, selecting a single piece of fruit with careful consideration. "Though I doubt he was referring to your particular brand of relentless cheer."

"Of course he was!" Ian protested with a laugh. "Why do you think he always paired us up for sparring? Your gloomy disposition and my sunny outlook—perfectly balanced, as all things should be."

"He paired us because no one else could keep up with you," Jin replied, but there was the faintest hint of affection in his otherwise neutral tone. "Your unpredictability required someone with..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Patience."

Ian clutched his chest in mock offense. "You wound me, Ashbluff. And here I thought it was my dazzling personality and stunning good looks."

My father cleared his throat, interrupting their familiar banter. "I understand you’ll both be departing today."

The playfulness drained from Ian’s expression, though he maintained a small smile. Jin merely nodded once. "My family’s transport arrives at noon. The Western Summit Council has called an emergency session."

"And mine’s coming in about an hour," Ian added, his normal exuberance dimming slightly. "My father wants all Viserion vessels recalled to Southern waters. They’re establishing a maritime blockade."

"Smart," Ava commented, her delicate features thoughtful. "Vampires can’t cross running water without assistance."

Ian’s usual smile twisted into something grimmer. "That’s the theory we’re betting the continent on." He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the serious turn of the conversation. "At least I’ll get to see my little sisters. They’ve probably turned my room into a fort for their dolls by now."

"And what about you two?" I asked Aria and Ava, wanting to give Ian a moment to compose himself.