I'm an Extra, so What?
Chapter 122 - 122: Departure, and the Absence No One Mourned

The soft, golden morning light filtered through the branches of the ancient trees that bordered the elven capital.

Dew still clung to the cobblestones, and the airship dock.

Luka stood near the edge of the loading platform, a travel bag slung over one shoulder, his hair tousled by the wind.

Serene stood beside him, holding a wrapped box of elven pastries and casting suspicious glances at every approaching elf.

They had just said their goodbyes at the palace.

Nuvian, with her usual cold grace, had nodded her farewell, saying nothing more than "You did well."

Even that had felt strange coming from her.

Ahshala had tried to sneak into Luka's luggage, declaring that "boring places need cool people," until the Elf King personally plucked her out like a cat and grounded her to her room for a week.

Now, finally, they were leaving.

At least, they thought they were.

"Something's wrong," Serene murmured, narrowing her eyes. "Too many eyes. Too few smiles."

Luka grunted in agreement. "Yeah. I noticed."

A line of elves stood just far enough away to appear like simple onlookers, but their stiff posture and lack of chatter gave them away.

Among them stood Arwen — tall, sharp-featured, with his hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade.

He hadn't spoken to Luka since before the competition where he had offhandedly insulted him.

He was still holding the grudge. And judging by the hungry look in his eyes, he intended to feed it.

"Luka," Serene warned, stepping closer.

"Go up the ramp. If I'm not on board in ten minutes, take off."

She blinked. "What? No. Absolutely not."

Luka handed her the wrapped box. "Take the pastries. I don't want them getting squished."

"Luka—"

He smiled faintly. "Trust me."

She didn't like it, but she did what he asked. With one last glance at the growing crowd of elves, Serene slipped aboard the airship.

Luka turned.

And found Arthur waiting.

Of course.

He leaned against the stone pillar near the dock, arms crossed, expression unreadable — or at least trying to be. There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it was buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and pride.

"You," Luka said flatly.

Arthur didn't meet his eyes. "They just want to talk."

"They want to jump me."

A pause.

"They promised they wouldn't use weapons."

Luka let out a slow exhale. "Arthur."

Arthur finally looked at him, jaw tightening. "You embarrassed them. You embarrassed me."

"I did what I had to."

"You made me look like a joke!" Arthur snapped. "You made me irrelevant. You—"

"You did that yourself."

That stung. Arthur's face twisted in a mix of rage and shame.

And then Arwen stepped forward, flanked by two other elven nobles with smug expressions and unnecessarily shiny boots.

"We just want to have a little chat," Arwen said, all smiles. "Down by the training courtyard. You know — where we're not being watched."

Luka glanced at Arthur. "You leading me to a trap now? That's where you're at?"

Arthur didn't answer.

Luka chuckled once, bitterly. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

.

.

.

The courtyard was empty save for birds and the distant hum of wind through the trees.

The fountains were silent, and the stones were warm beneath the morning sun.

Luka stepped into the middle, cracking his knuckles.

The elves circled slowly, all pomp and show, drawing blades as though they were about to stage an opera.

Arwen smiled like a man already counting his trophies. "You insulted me. I won't tolerate that."

"You've been tolerating it all week," Luka replied. "What changed?"

Arwen's smile dropped. "Now, there are no rules."

Luka tilted his head. "So, just to be clear—you lured me here with Arthur's help, ambushed me, and now plan to 'punish' me with three-on-one combat."

"Correct."

"You're proud of this?"

"Very."

Luka took off his cloak, folded it neatly, and dropped it to the side. "Then I'll make this fast."

They attacked.

Arwen lunged first, leading with a flourish meant more for the crowd that wasn't there.

Luka didn't bother parrying.

He sidestepped, slammed a palm into the elf's wrist, twisted, and sent the blade flying into the nearby fountain with a splash.

The second elf came in from the left.

Luka ducked under the swing, jabbed him hard in the ribs, and swept his legs in one fluid motion.

The elf hit the ground with a gasp and didn't get back up.

The third tried magic.

Luka kicked dust in his face.

Arwen came back, screaming, trying to punch now.

Luka caught the arm, pulled him forward, and drove his elbow into the back of his head.

Arwen crumpled.

Arthur stepped back, eyes wide.

"You—You actually—"

Luka walked past him.

Arthur flinched.

"You set me up," Luka said quietly, not even turning around. "Because your pride couldn't handle not being the center."

Arthur scowled. "You think you're better than me?"

"I don't have to think it," Luka said. "I just have to remember."

Arthur swung.

It was messy, driven by frustration and desperation.

Luka ducked, slammed his shoulder into Arthur's gut, and threw him across the courtyard like a sack of potatoes.

Arthur landed hard, groaning.

Luka stood over him, eyes cold.

"I'm done."

"You—You can't just leave me here!"

"I am."

Luka turned away, picked up his cloak, and started walking.

Arwen groaned near the fountain, the others twitching in the grass. Arthur dragged himself to his knees, staring after the ranger in disbelief.

"You'll regret this!"

"No," Luka called over his shoulder. "You will."

.

.

.

Serene nearly dropped the box of pastries when Luka strode up the ramp of the airship, brushing grass off his sleeves.

"You're late!"

"Had to throw away some trash."

"Please tell me that was metaphorical."

He smiled, just faintly.

The airship's engines roared to life, the deck vibrating beneath them.

Luka leaned against the rail as the platform shrank behind them, elves growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

He didn't look back.

Serene stood beside him.

"You okay?" she asked.

Luka nodded once. "I'm done with him for right now."

"Good. He never deserved your patience."

The ship soared higher, clouds parting as the vast expanse of the world stretched before them.

Ahead was home.

And finally — finally — peace.

As the airship cleared the outer rim of the elven capital and crossed into neutral skies, a familiar voice called from the passenger deck.

"Well, well. The team returns—minus one."

Luka turned to see Kira, standing with a steaming cup of tea in one hand and her signature dry smirk on her lips.

"Where's Arthur?" she asked casually, raising a brow.

Luka didn't miss a beat. "He… uh… said he wanted to stay behind. Something about diplomatic relations."

Serene, standing beside him, coughed loudly into her hand, clearly trying not to laugh.

The healer snorted.

Gregor, lounging with his helmet beside him, muttered, "Poor elf kingdom."

Kira's eyes narrowed with amusement. "Diplomatic relations, huh?"

"He was very passionate about it," Luka added, deadpan. "Said he had a lot to offer them. Strategically. Spiritually. Emotionally."

Kira's laughter broke through the hum of the engine. "Right. I'm sure they're thrilled."

Gregor leaned back with a grunt. "How's he gonna get back? Think he'll write us an angry letter or just show up in a week smelling like moss and bad decisions?"

"Maybe he'll challenge the Elf King to a duel," the healer offered. "Lose, obviously."

"Or marry into the nobility," the mage deadpanned. "The ultimate revenge."

Everyone burst into laughter, even Kira chuckling behind her tea.

She gave Luka a knowing glance. "You didn't push him off the ship, did you?"

"Nope," Luka said. "He walked right into his own fate."

Kira gave a content sigh, sipping her drink. "Honestly? I don't even care. You won the final round. That's what matters."

Serene nudged Luka lightly with her elbow. "Not bad for a 'backup ranger,' huh?"

Kira nodded in agreement. "You carried the team in the end. You and Gregor actually showed up. That's all I could ask for. You made the humans proud."

Luka didn't say anything, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

As the airship glided through the clouds, everyone gathered near the railing, basking in the rare quiet after the week of chaos.

They shared jokes, relived moments from the competition, and speculated wildly about Arthur's current predicament — ranging from "prison" to "forced etiquette school."

No one was worried.

No one missed him.

And no one cared.

Luka closed his eyes briefly and breathed in the cold, clean air of altitude.

The wind was behind them now.

'At least I'll get some time away from that stupid bastard,' Luka thought, relieved.

He knew Arthur would do everything in his power to get revenge, and he was certain the guy would grow stronger on his way back — that much was inevitable.

But that was a problem for another day.

After everything, he needed — and deserved — a much-needed vacation.

'I should really get some rest...'

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