I'm an Extra, so What?
Chapter 112 - 112: The Annual Elf-Human Showdown (1)

Luka glanced around, noting the faint glimmer of runes that spiraled along the edges—fail-safes to prevent mortal injuries.

Of course, pain was still very real, but death was off the table.

At least officially.

From the center, the announcer's voice echoed once more:

"The first match will determine the flow of battle—each side shall select one champion to face off! The victor shall earn an advantage for their team."

Luka watched as the main character stepped forward without a hint of hesitation, his armor gleaming beneath the sunlight.

His sword rested on his shoulder.

"I'll handle this," Arthur declared, his eyes locked onto the elven formation.

Nuvian watched him, her expression cold.

Her hair fluttered in the breeze, and her eyes met the human's.

She raised her hand gracefully, signaling one of her men to step forward.

A tall elf with sharp features and braided silver hair stepped out from the formation.

His armor was sleek and form-fitting, designed for agility rather than brute force.

Twin daggers hung from his hips, and his eyes glowed faintly with mana.

He inclined his head toward the Elf Princess before turning his gaze to human.

"That's Eledrin," Sylas murmured. "He's one of her best Fighters."

Luka just shrugged. "Arthur's been dying to show off. Might as well let him."

Sylas raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem worried."

Luka's gaze remained steady. "Either way, we win."

Sylas chuckled softly. "I suppose you're right."

The announcer's voice thundered another time:

"Representing the Empire: Arthur of the Fighter Class! Representing the Kingdom: Eledrin of the Fighter Class!"

The two combatants stepped forward, taking their positions at opposite ends.

Arthur stretched his shoulders, rolling his neck with an audible crack.

Eledrin stood perfectly still, his hands hovering near the hilts of his daggers, eyes unblinking.

Luka leaned back against the pillar, arms crossed.

This wasn't his fight, and frankly, he wasn't eager to jump in just yet.

The first match was always about posturing, about making statements.

Arthur wanted to flex his strength, and Eledrin was clearly eager to show the grace and precision of elven combat.

"Begin!" the announcer shouted, and the stadium erupted with cheers.

Arthur surged forward immediately, his massive sword swinging with a force that made the air crackle.

The blade glowed as it cut through the space between him and Eledrin.

But the elf was already gone.

Eledrin's form blurred, slipping out of Arthur's path with a dancer's grace.

His twin daggers flashed, slashing towards Arthur's side.

Metal rang against metal as Arthur twisted, catching the blades with his own armor plating.

Sparks flew, and the crowd gasped.

"That all you got?" Arthur sneered, bringing his sword around in a wide arc.

This time, Eledrin didn't dodge.

He parried, his daggers flaring with silver light as they absorbed the force of Arthur's blow.

The ground beneath them cracked from the pressure, sending dust spiraling into the air.

Luka watched with mild interest.

The main character was stronger than he looked, but he wasn't used to fighting opponents who didn't rely on raw power.

Eledrin, on the other hand, moved with an economy of motion.

Every step, every parry, every flick of his wrist was precise.

Gregor grunted from beside him. "Think he's gonna pull it off?"

Luka didn't hesitate. "Arthur? Yeah. He'll brute force it."

As if on cue, Arthur roared, slamming his blade down with both hands.

Eledrin's eyes widened just a fraction as he attempted to sidestep, but the force of the blow sent cracks spiderwebbing across the stone beneath him.

He staggered, and Arthur pressed his advantage, swinging relentlessly.

Eledrin moved with grace, but Arthur's relentless assault began to wear him down.

Each strike forced him back a step.

"Prideful idiot," Sylas muttered, but there was a hint of admiration in his voice.

Luka just shook his head. "He's showboating. He knows she's watching."

His eyes flicked to the Elf Princess, who stood with her arms crossed, her expression unchanging.

Arthur's obsession was painfully obvious—

Luka found it almost embarrassing.

Then, with a flash of steel and a burst of skill, Arthur brought his sword down in a sweeping arc.

Eledrin raised his daggers in a desperate attempt to parry, but the force shattered his stance.

Arthur's sword came crashing down, splintering the stone beneath them and sending a shockwave of dust and light erupting into the air.

When the dust settled, Eledrin was on his back, his daggers shattered beside him.

Arthur stood triumphant, sword tip pressed lightly against the elf's throat.

"Yield," he demanded, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Eledrin's eyes burned with defiance, but after a tense moment, he nodded. "I yield."

The announcer's voice boomed over the roar of the crowd.

"The first match goes to the Empire!"

The elves remained quiet, their expressions solemn.

Arthur withdrew his sword, sheathing it with a flourish and turning back to his team.

His eyes flicked to the Elf Princess as he passed.

If he was hoping for acknowledgment, he was sorely disappointed.

Nuvian's eyes never left her fallen comrade.

When Arthur reached the group, he couldn't hide his grin.

"And that's how it's done."

Luka gave him a slow clap. "Congratulations. You beat the warm-up."

Arthur's grin faltered, replaced by a scowl. "You're just jealous you didn't get to show off."

Luka raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'll take my turn when it matters."

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"Better hope you're not too rusty. I won't be carrying your dead weight."

Luka's smile remained, but his eyes sharpened.

"I wouldn't worry about me. Just try not to get yourself killed when things get serious."

Before Arthur could retort, the announcer's voice appeared.

"For the next match, a test of precision, stealth, and mastery of the bow! Representing the Empire: Luka of the Ranger Class! And representing the Kingdom: Ardyn of the Ranger Class!"

"Looks like you're up," Gregor grunted, clapping Luka's back with a force that nearly threw him off balance.

Luka steadied himself, rolling his shoulders and giving a slight nod.

"Guess so."

Arthur scoffed from behind. "Try not to embarrass us, alright?"

Luka just glanced back with a deadpan expression.

"I'll try not to outshine you."

Before Arthur could retort—

Luka stepped forward, his hands moving fluidly as he pulled his own bow from his back.

It was dark, heavier, engraved with faint red lines of mana infusion.

The string hummed slightly as he pulled it back to test the tension.

Satisfied, he walked to the center, meeting the elf's gaze.

The elf's eyes were sharp, assessing.

He inclined his head in a small gesture of respect.

Luka returned it, his grip steady.

He knew better than to underestimate an elven archer.

Rangers among elves weren't just hunters—they were precision incarnate.

"Ready yourselves!" the announcer shouted, his voice crackling with magical amplification.

"This is a duel of range and stealth. The first to land three decisive hits is the victor!"

The stone platform they stood upon rumbled, and sections of the floor shifted and dropped away, revealing a miniature forest landscape: towering oaks, thick underbrush, and scattered ruins.

Luka raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's convenient."

Ardyn simply smirked, nocking an arrow with a practiced motion. "Try to keep up, human."

Luka's grin was lazy, almost indifferent. "You'll wish you hadn't said that."

The announcer's voice rang out once more. "Begin!"

In an instant, Ardyn vanished into the treeline, his form disappearing.

Luka didn't move at first.

He watched, eyes scanning the landscape, fingers hovering just above his quiver.

He could hear the soft rustle of leaves, the faint whisper of branches swaying.

Ardyn was fast—fast enough that Luka had barely caught a glimpse of him before he disappeared.

A flicker of movement to his left.

Luka didn't look; instead, he rolled to the side, an arrow slicing through the air where he'd just stood.

It thunked into the stone behind him, vibrating from the force.

"Quick," Luka murmured, brushing the dirt from his pants.

He straightened, scanning the treetops, waiting.

Ardyn was clearly testing his reaction speed, trying to gauge his response time.

Luka's hand moved like lightning, snatching an arrow and nocking it in a fluid motion.

He exhaled slowly, and then fired—not at where Ardyn was, but where he would be.

The arrow whistled through the air, slicing through branches and leaves before a distant grunt signaled contact.

[One Hit Registered: Luka → Ardyn]

The crowd murmured in surprise, and even Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered.

Luka allowed himself a half-smile. "One."

"…" Ardyn emerged from the shadow of a tree, a shallow cut visible on his shoulder.

His expression was less amused now, sharper.

"Impressive," he called out, his voice echoing slightly.

"But it won't happen again."

Luka didn't respond with words. Instead, he raised his bow, nocking another arrow.

Without another word, Ardyn disappeared again, slipping through the trees with the grace of a ghost.

Luka remained still, eyes scanning, listening.

His heart beat steadily, each pulse a countdown.

He moved backward slowly, pressing himself against one of the stone ruins, bow still drawn.