Transmigrated as an Extra: Awakening of The Ex‐Class'-Chapter 72 : Mixed feelings

The King, like a living shadow, rose slowly from his seat, the creaking of the throne beneath his movement echoing like the echoes of a forgotten world. His figure was imposing, his presence absorbing the light in the room, and when his feet touched the floor, everything in the room seemed to shudder. The already heavy air became thick, as if the castle itself were holding its breath at the magnitude of what was about to happen.

With a slow and precise movement, as well as that characteristic confidence, he began to walk toward the meeting room. Each step he took resonated on the floor like a Titan, and the shadows around him lengthened as if responding to his will. He had no intentions, nor was he in a hurry, but his every movement radiated absolute power, an imposing calm that permeated the veins of those who followed him.

"Let’s go." The king’s voice wasn’t a shout, nor a roar; it was merely a normal, monotonous tone, but it contained a power that vibrated in the flesh of those present, like a command that admitted no response, only obedience. It was a mixture of sufficiency and disdain, as if there was no need for others to understand as long as they obeyed. For him, there were no explanations. Only actions. freewёbnoνel.com

Everything in his path seemed to darken even more, as if merely being in his presence could swallow the light itself. The Duke and Duchess, almost breathless at the palpable authority emanating from the Lord of the Throne, began to move swiftly. The Duchess of Zamora, with a gesture full of respect and fear, stepped forward, followed by the others, not daring to utter another word. This was not the time to argue, not even to breathe too deeply.

The meeting room was located at the end of the corridor, the stone walls blocking any sound other than their footsteps. Soon the atmosphere was filled with a dense silence, barely broken by the creaking of the wood under the weight of their footsteps. As they drew closer, the air grew heavier, as if a deeper darkness began to envelop them. The walls, covered in ancient runes and symbols, seemed to watch them.

The king stopped before the door to the meeting room, a gigantic structure of dark wood, adorned with strange, twisted carvings that almost seemed to move on their own. With a simple gesture of his hand, the door opened, its hinges creaking with a guttural sound, as if resisting the very weight of the darkness emanating from that place.

As they entered, the room was lit by black candles that emitted a sickly light, as if fueled by something not of this world. The long table in the center was surrounded by chairs made of human skin.

The king looked at everyone present for a moment, his gaze impassive like a dark tide sweeping everything in its path. Without another word, he entered the head of the table, his presence so overwhelming that even breathing was difficult. He sat on the edge, his figure impeccable, and with a gesture of his hand, indicated that the others should sit.

***

『Cyan’s Perspective』

What I witnessed was out of this world, so incredible that I found it hard to believe. When Erwing faced the demon, something shattered in the air, as if reality itself yielded to the magnitude of what was happening. His movements, so precise and perfect, were almost imperceptible to the human eye. Every time the demon attacked, it seemed that time vanished around him, as if he were reading his every move. That sword fight wasn’t a simple defense; it was a language of supremacy with a terrifying force where every dodged blow, every cut made, seemed predestined.

But the most incredible thing about the whole situation was that final blow. At first, I thought it had been a slow, almost elegant movement, as if his sword had stopped in midair before slicing into the Eldrath’s body. But no, in the blink of an eye, I saw his enemy disintegrate, his body dissolve into the wind, as if he had never existed. Not even the demon could comprehend what had happened in that second. It all vanished with a sigh.

For a moment, I was lost remembering those scenes, but now, well, here he was, in front of me, Erwing. Lying in that hospital bed, his face calm, after killing the demon, he fainted. I had to carry him back to the other first-year students.

Erwing had me nervous. I couldn’t stop wondering what was going through his mind at that moment. Was he thinking about his victory, or perhaps, like me, questioning the price of it all? I couldn’t help feeling guilty, not because of his victory, but because I could have helped him and decided to stay out of it. I had done everything to prevent events from taking a different turn, and yet, I had put him in danger. Is it worth risking my friend? I thought, yet I couldn’t help it.

The question tormented me. As I left the recovery room, walking down the hallway, that familiar feeling had already become part of my routine; my heartbeat seemed heavier. In my room, I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Even though I knew that, according to the novel, nothing would happen to him, anguish enveloped me. The fragility of life, the inevitability of death, felt more real than ever. I felt depressed for a moment, but then, as always, I put back on that unwavering mask, that expressionless expression I’d had since coming into this world.

***

『Erwing’s Perspective』

When I open my eyes, a clean white ceiling welcomes me, as if it had been recently decorated. The soft, artificial light emits a glow that seeps into every pore of my body. My pupils slowly adjust, the feeling of disorientation washing over me like a thick fog. The air smells of antiseptic and something else, something I can’t quite place, like fresh grass mixed with the subtle scent of aged wood.

Beside me, by the headboard of the bed, is a small dark wooden shelf. On it, an antique pocket watch with Romanized numerals marks the time. It seems past eight, but I’m not sure. I’ve been unconscious for hours, maybe days. I don’t know how I got here or why. My memories are broken fragments, fragments of a dream that is already fading with the light of day.

Beside me, next to the headboard of the bed, is a small dark wooden shelf. On it, an antique pocket watch with Roman numerals marks the time. It seems past eight, but I’m not sure. I’ve been unconscious for hours; I don’t know how I got here or why. My memories are broken fragments, fragments of a dream that is already fading with the light of day.

I look at my body; every part seems intact. The wounds the demon left, those deep marks and broken ribs, have disappeared. There is no trace of the cuts or the bruises that once tormented me. Could this be... holy magic? I remember the pain, the anguish... the feeling that my life was fading away, but now... now everything is fine.

My hands tremble as I try to comprehend. What happened? How did I get here? How am I alive?

The last thing I remember is... the figure. A shadowy being running at great speed toward me, so fast I couldn’t measure it with my eyes. The sound of its screams was distorted, as if it were drowning in the deep waters of a distant ocean, its words floating, unreachable. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, red as fire, but as empty as the deepest darkness. "Run!" it had shouted at me, its voice echoing like thunder in my mind, but it was too late. The impact, the pressure... the fall. Then, nothingness.

I strain to remember more, but the image fades like sand through my fingers. The only thing clear is that this figure, this presence... could have been the one who brought me here. I’m grateful, but... why am I still alive?

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The power I accessed, the price I paid... everything indicated that my existence would vanish, just like that demon I had to kill. But somehow, I’m here. Alive. Fear and confusion intertwine within me, as a complex feeling dawns on me.

"Thank you, thank you, God..."

The silence surrounding me feels heavy, dense, as if the entire space were suspended in an eternal instant. The warmth of the room caresses my skin, a softness that almost feels foreign, as if it had never stopped being cold. And yet, it’s real. Everything is real. I’m alive. The emotion of this moment, of this simple fact, hits me full force, like a wave that sweeps away everything in its path. A mixture of relief and bewilderment envelops me, making my chest tighten and my eyes water involuntarily.