I'm an Extra, so What?
Chapter 114 - 114: The Annual Elf-Human Showdown (3)

"The next bout will be a test of restoration and resilience! A clash between those who safeguard life on the battlefield! Representing the Empire: Elara of the Silver Light! And representing the Kingdom…"

The announcer paused, the silence stretching like a taut string—

"The First Princess…Nuvian of the Moonlit Grace!"

The reaction was immediate—

Cheers erupted.

Elara swallowed hard, her hands gripping her staff a little too tightly.

Luka placed a hand on her shoulder:

"You've got this. You're stronger than you think."

Elara turned her head, giving him a faint smile. "Thanks… I think."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Just don't embarrass us. That's all I ask."

Luka shot him a glare but said nothing.

Elara stepped forward, her silver robes flowing with each step.

She looked delicate, almost fragile.

Nuvian met her gaze as she raised her staff.

The announcer raised his hand:

"This is a match of endurance and restoration. Victory will be declared when one contestant is unable to maintain their healing abilities. May both sides demonstrate the true art of restoration!"

The ground beneath them shimmered, and barriers rose up, encasing them in a dome of translucent light.

Unlike the rugged, forested landscapes of the previous matches, this arena was pristine—carved from white marble with pools of clear water dotted throughout.

Plants bloomed with radiant life, their petals stretching toward the soft sunlight filtering through the dome.

Elara stepped to the center, her staff aglow with silver light.

Nuvian mirrored the motion, her steps as fluid as flowing water.

"Begin!"

Skills surged through the arena as both women extended their staves, light erupting from their hands.

Elara's skills spilled forth in waves of silver, cascading over the ground and causing flowers to bloom where it touched.

Her aura shimmered with protective light, a testament to her mastery of restoration.

But Nuvian did not move.

She merely raised her hand, and the light around her began to pulse rhythmically, like a heartbeat.

A gentle glow spread from her feet.

The flowers straightened, the grass grew thicker, and even the pools of water seemed to sparkle with renewed life.

"Is she...healing the arena?" Sylas asked, incredulous.

"It's not just healing," Luka replied quietly, eyes fixed on the display.

"She's reinforcing it. Strengthening the environment itself."

Elara wasted no time.

She raised her staff and murmured a skill, light swirling around her like a cyclone.

Tendrils snaked out, touching the marble floors and weaving barriers of silver light that crackled with protective energy.

It was a skill of fortification, designed to shield and protect.

Nuvian watched with serene eyes, her expression unchanging.

Then she lifted her staff, drawing an elegant arc in the air.

Moonlight spilled from its tip, scattering like droplets of rain.

Where each droplet landed, shimmering lilies sprouted, their petals unfurling.

The lilies glowed, and pulses of light rippled outward, colliding with Elara's barriers.

For a moment, nothing happened.

But then, the silver light began to flicker, tiny cracks splintering through the magic.

"No way…" Gregor muttered, gripping the edge of the stone barrier.

"She's breaking her defenses just by growing flowers?"

"It's purification skills," Sylas murmured, brow furrowed:

"Those lilies are siphoning off her fortifications."

Elara's eyes widened, sweat beading on her forehead. She doubled down, pouring more mana into her barriers, reinforcing the crumbling walls of light.

The lilies pulsed again, and another crack splintered through.

Nuvian's expression remained unchanged, her hand still raised as more lilies blossomed, spreading like waves.

The marble itself seemed to thrive under her influence, veins of light creeping through the stone, reinforcing its strength.

Elara clenched her jaw. "Not...yet," she whispered to herself.

She slammed her staff into the ground, and waves of silver light erupted from her, washing over.

Her skills surged back, pushing away the lilies and repairing her barriers.

For a moment, it seemed like she had regained control.

But Nuvian only watched, eyes half-closed as if in meditation.

She raised her hand higher, and the moonstone at her staff's tip flared brightly.

All at once, the lilies glowed, and light exploded from each one, flooding everything with ethereal radiance.

Elara gasped, stumbling back as her barriers shattered like glass.

The silver light she had spread across the ground faded, sucked away by the radiant blossoms that now coated the arena.

She dropped to one knee, panting heavily. "How...how is she doing that?"

Luka sighed. "It's not just healing...she's draining her."

Sylas cursed under his breath. "That's not healing skills. That's...mana leeching."

Arthur crossed his arms, face grim. "It's advanced elven mana. The kind only royals are supposed to know."

Nuvian lowered her hand, her eyes still calm.

"Do you yield?" she called out.

Elara pushed herself to her feet, legs trembling.

She raised her staff again, light flickering desperately at its tip.

"Not...yet…"

The Elf Princess inclined her head.

"Very well."

With a wave of her hand, the lilies pulsed again, and silver light drained from Elara's staff, flickering and sputtering before vanishing completely.

Elara fell to one knee, gasping for breath, her strength fading.

Luka could see it in her eyes—the fight was gone.

Elara looked up, eyes glassy with exhaustion. "I...yield."

The announcer's voice cut through the silence.

"Victory to Nuvian of the Moonlit Grace!"

The crowd erupted—

Nuvian bowed her head gracefully before turning back to her side of the arena.

Elara was helped up.

Luka walked over to her, helping support her weight.

"You did good," he said quietly.

Elara smiled faintly, though her eyes were heavy.

"She's...stronger than I thought."

Luka watched the Elf Princess walk away.

He couldn't help but feel the air grow heavier.

The echoes of the crowd's cheers for the Elf Princess's victory still hung in the air, fading slowly as the announcer stepped forward again.

His voice, magically amplified, resonated through the arena:

"The next bout shall be a clash of arcane prowess! A test of mastery over the elements and control of the battlefield! Representing the Empire: Sylas the Crimson Flare! And for the Kingdom…Eldrin of the Verdant Gale!"

Sylas cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders as he stepped forward.

His crimson robes flared around him, etched with runes that shimmered in hues of red and gold.

A finely carved staff rested in his grip, its head crowned with a ruby that flickered like embers.

He turned back to Luka and the others, flashing a grin.

"Watch and learn. Time to remind these elves who the real masters of magic are."

Arthur merely grunted, his arms folded.

Luka gave him a nod. "Just don't get overconfident."

Sylas laughed. "You wound me, Luka. I've got this."

He strode confidently into the center of the arena, the marble under his feet pulsing with residual energy from the last match.

On the opposite end, Eldrin stepped forward with a grace that seemed almost supernatural.

His robes were a deep emerald, adorned with living vines that shifted and pulsed as if alive.

His staff was taller than Sylas's, crafted from what appeared to be a living branch, spiraling upwards to cradle a sphere of jade that pulsed with emerald light.

Gregor leaned over to Luka.

"That guy looks like he walked out of a damn forest."

"He probably did," Luka replied, eyes narrowed. "Be careful, Sylas."

The announcer raised his hand. "May the art of the arcane flourish! Begin!"

The instant the word left his mouth, Sylas thrust his staff forward.

"Firebolt!" he shouted, and a streak of crimson energy blazed across, leaving trails of scorched marble in its wake.

But Eldrin didn't even flinch.

He raised his staff calmly, twirling it in a smooth arc.

A barrier of swirling leaves materialized before him, absorbing the blast with a soft rustle before disintegrating into a gentle breeze.

Sylas clicked his tongue. "Alright, no more games."

He slammed the base of his staff into the ground, and runes flared up along its length.

"Inferno Burst!"

Flames erupted around him, swirling into a maelstrom of heat and ash.

The fire coalesced into jagged spears, hanging in the air like crimson arrows.

With a flick of his wrist, Sylas sent them flying, each spear shrieking through the air with blinding speed.

Eldrin's eyes shimmered with emerald light.

He raised his staff, and the ground beneath him pulsed with life.

Vines erupted from the marble, spiraling upward to form a barrier of thick roots and leaves.

The fire spears slammed into the wall, splintering against the living shield, but not breaking through.

Sylas smirked.

"Hiding behind plants? That's the best you've got?" He raised his staff high, the ruby flaring even brighter.

"Let's burn that down. Scorching Rain!"

The sky above the battlefield darkened, crimson clouds swirling above.

Beads of fire began to drip from the sky, increasing in intensity until it became a torrential downpour of flames. The roots and vines hissed and crackled, steam rising in plumes as they were scorched away.

Luka leaned forward, eyes sharp. "He's not holding back…"

Arthur grunted, his eyes fixed on the flames. "He shouldn't. Elves are tricky."

But even as the flames raged, Eldrin stepped forward, untouched.

His staff pulsed with green light, and the scorched vines seemed to regenerate, sprouting anew even as fire rained down.

He raised his staff.

The ground trembled.

Marble cracked and split as roots—thicker and more resilient than before—erupted from the earth, towering around him.

Flowers bloomed along the vines, releasing clouds of shimmering pollen into the air.

Sylas raised an eyebrow.

"Think some plants are gonna stop me?" He slammed his staff down again.

"Meteor Surge!"

A flare of crimson light erupted in the sky, and fireballs began to plummet from above, each one wreathed in blazing heat.

They crashed against the roots, splintering and exploding with bursts of fire.

Marble shattered, dirt scattered, but Eldrin stood firm, his staff still raised.

Sylas pressed harder, channeling more mana, sweat beginning to bead at his brow.

"Fall! Burn to ash!" he roared.

Luka's eyes narrowed. "He's overextending…"

But it was too late.

As Sylas poured more and more mana into his skill, Eldrin simply raised his hand, whispering softly.

The flowers along his vines glowed brightly, and then the pollen spread—drifting on an unseen breeze until it mingled with the crimson flames.

There was a shimmer, and then the fires began to dim, their intensity bleeding away as if swallowed by the air itself.

Sylas's eyes widened. "What the hell?"

Eldrin's voice carried across, "Verdant Suppression. Your flames feed the earth. The more you burn, the stronger I become."

Sylas gritted his teeth, slamming his staff down again.

"Firestorm!"

Flames roared back to life, swirling and blazing with renewed intensity.

The marble began to crack under the heat, but the pollen merely glittered brighter, absorbing the flames bit by bit.

Eldrin moved his staff, and with a flick of his wrist, the vines surged forward.

They coiled around Sylas's ankles before he could react, sprouting thorns that pulsed with green light.

Sylas cursed, waving his staff.

"Ignite!" The vines caught fire, but did not wither.

Instead, they tightened, drawing mana from the flames themselves.