The Extra's Transcension-Chapter 62 - 56: Compensation (3)

The academy grounds stretched before him, eerily devoid of life.

Lyrium stood alone in the vast courtyard, his figure dwarfed by the grand architecture that once teemed with students and scholars alike.

But now, an unnatural stillness clung to the air, wrapping around him like a suffocating veil.

The usual hum of activity—the laughter of students, the rhythmic clang of practice swords, the murmured incantations of spellcasters—had vanished without a trace.

He had sensed it the moment he left his dormitory.

A strange, insidious wrongness permeated the very atmosphere, gnawing at the edges of his awareness.

The absence of life was not merely a coincidence; it felt deliberate, as if the entire academy had been swallowed by an unseen force.

His gaze swept across the deserted expanse, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every shadow, every corner, searching for any sign of movement.

The grand halls, once a beacon of knowledge and power, now loomed over him like the hollow remnants of a forgotten past.

But what unsettled him most was not the emptiness itself—it was the mana.

Mana was the lifeblood of the academy, an ever-present current flowing through its very foundation.

Yet now, it felt... wrong.

Distorted.

Twisted in a way that defied logic.

It was neither absent nor diminished, but rather warped—its once fluid presence now jagged, like cracks in a flawless mirror.

It prickled against his skin in irregular waves, sending an unnatural chill down his spine.

"Did I wake up in another timeline or something?"

He muttered, his voice laced with forced amusement.

But the words rang hollow, dissipating into the oppressive silence.

The attempt at humor did little to quell the unease twisting in his gut, because deep down, he knew—this wasn't some fleeting illusion or elaborate deception.

Something was terribly, fundamentally wrong.

Then, instinct compelled him to look up.

His breath caught in his throat.

The sky—once vast and infinite—was fracturing.

Jagged fissures spread like veins across the heavens, glowing with an eerie, otherworldly light.

The very fabric of reality seemed to groan under the strain, as if some unseen force was tearing it apart thread by thread.

Shadows bled from the cracks, shifting and writhing with an unnatural hunger, distorting the once-familiar expanse above.

The world itself was breaking.

"No… this can't be happening. This… this is too soon for this phenomenon to occur,"

Lyrium murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He understood exactly what was unfolding before him, yet disbelief still clouded his gaze.

The fractures in the sky were not a mystery to him—he had read about this moment, knew its significance, and yet… it wasn't supposed to happen now.

His hands clenched into fists.

"And I'm still not strong enough to stop it,"

He admitted, the weight of that realization pressing down on him like an iron shackle.

He had foreseen this calamity within the pages of the novel, had steeled himself for its inevitable arrival.

But not like this.

Not when he was still unprepared.

Despite the sheer magnitude of the catastrophe unfolding before him, he remained unmoving.

Fear did not consume him, nor did panic cloud his mind.

He simply stood there—unfazed, yet powerless.

*****

Silas exhaled sharply, his virtual sword humming with residual energy as his opponent dissipated into flickering light.

"Tch. Still not real enough,"

He muttered, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the lingering dissatisfaction.

The academy's VR system was praised as one of the most sophisticated magical constructs ever created—a marvel of both arcane engineering and technological innovation.

Yet to him, it still felt… hollow.

The enemies moved with mechanical precision, their attacks predictable, their patterns exploitable.

There was no real weight behind their blows, no raw unpredictability that came with a true battle.

Even the pain—despite the system's attempts to simulate damage—was dulled, more of an inconvenience than a genuine consequence.

No fear.

No adrenaline.

No real stakes.

And that was the problem.

Across the battlefield, Ren continued to fight, his focus razor-sharp.

Every movement was precise, every strike calculated.

Meanwhile, Lily remained stationed at the control panel, her eyes flicking across streams of data as she adjusted the system for maximum efficiency.

'Where are you, Lyrium, mate…?'

Ren couldn't shake the unease creeping into his thoughts.

Lyrium had abruptly logged out of the VR simulation, and no one—not Silas, not Lily—could explain why.

The sudden disconnection made no sense.

Together, they had tried searching for him, but the system offered no trace of his presence.

Eventually, Ren had been forced to return to the battle, engaging a mana-beast that lunged at him with unnatural ferocity.

Everything seemed normal.

Until the world glitched.

For the briefest moment, reality stuttered.

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The battlefield froze mid-motion—opponents locked in place, magic lingering in the air like a paused frame.

The ambient noise cut to silence.

Then, without warning, the simulation fractured.

The sky above—once a seamless digital construct—shattered like brittle glass, jagged cracks of distorted light splintering outward.

Code unraveled, the structured illusion giving way to something raw and unstable.

And in that moment, Ren knew—something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Then—

Darkness.

A suffocating void swallowed everything, consuming sight, sound, and sensation in an instant.

And then—

They were somewhere else.

Silas barely had time to process the sudden shift before a rush of air struck him, cold and biting against his skin.

His instincts flared, his body tensing as he tried to regain his bearings.

He wasn't in the academy's combat room anymore.

No.

This was the real world.

The weight of gravity, the scent of the wind, the unfiltered mana in the air—it was unmistakable.

The artificial constructs of the VR system were gone, replaced by the raw, unrestrained presence of reality.

But something was very, very wrong.

The sky, still fractured and broken, loomed overhead like a cosmic wound.

The ground beneath him felt unstable, as if the very fabric of the world had shifted.

The mana—wild, erratic—hummed with an ominous resonance, seeping into his bones.

This wasn't just a malfunction.

This was something far worse.

It was fractured.

And from within the rifts, something stepped out.

Silas turned sharply, his gaze landing on Lily and Ren.

They were both there—alive, breathing—but just as disoriented as he was.

"The hell just happened?"

He growled, his grip tightening around his sword as instinct took over.

His body tensed, every muscle coiled, prepared for a threat he couldn't yet see.

Ren didn't answer right away.

His eyes were fixed on the sky, his face unreadable.

It was only when Silas followed his gaze that he saw it—something was emerging from the fractures above.

A presence. A shape. A formless shadow bleeding through the cracks in reality itself.

Lily was the first to voice the thought clawing at the edges of their minds.

"We… we didn't log out…?"

Silas felt his pulse spike.

That shouldn't be possible.

The academy's VR system was advanced, but no matter how immersive, it was still just that—a simulation.

There was always an exit.

Always a way back.

And yet…

His breath hitched.

A cold realization settled over him like a suffocating weight.

Because now that he truly took in his surroundings—the scent of the air, the texture of the stone beneath his feet, the raw energy of the mana coursing around them—

"But… aren't we in the real academy?"

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

And no one had an answer.

*****

Azrael stood at the precipice of the fractured sky, his expression unreadable—save for the glint of amusement in his eyes.

The rift above pulsed, widening with each passing second, tendrils of unstable energy unraveling the very fabric of reality.

A storm of chaos brewed at its edges, distorting the world beneath it.

And yet, Azrael merely smiled.

Everything was falling into place.

His gaze flickered downward, as if peering through the vast distance between them, settling on a single name.

A single existence.

Eugene Darcyroix.

Azrael's smile deepened.

"Let's see how you handle this."

*****

Eugene stood inside the combat room, his breathing unsteady as he tried to make sense of the chaos unraveling outside.

The walls of the academy trembled ever so slightly, a faint hum of magic reverberating through the structure, as if the very foundation of reality itself was reacting to the disturbance.

He had witnessed it firsthand—the sky fracturing like fragile glass, the unnatural rift widening with each passing second.

And yet, no matter how much he strained his thoughts, no explanation surfaced.

The academy's protective barriers should have prevented anything of this magnitude.

This wasn't supposed to be possible.

Desperation creeping into his voice, Eugene turned toward his instructor, hoping—needing—answers.

"Professor… I don't know what's happening to the sky right now…"

His words lingered in the heavy silence of the room.

Darcyroix, ever composed, did not answer right away.

His face remained impassive, but there was something unsettling in his stillness.

Without a word, he stepped toward the window, placing a gloved hand on the glass as he observed the unnatural phenomenon beyond.

The eerie glow of the rift bathed his figure in a distorted light, shadows stretching unnaturally across the floor.

A long pause followed.

Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, he finally spoke.

"Miss Anna…"

He began, his tone laced with something unreadable.

"Have you ever heard of"

"The Outer Gods?"

The moment the words left his lips, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet.

Eugene's breath hitched.

A sudden weight pressed against his chest, as if the very mention of those words had shifted something fundamental in the world.

A sharp gasp escaped from Miss Anna, her fingers clutching the edge of the desk as her face drained of color.

"..!!.."

She had heard of them.

And from the sheer terror in her expression—

She wished she hadn't.

*****