I'm an Extra, so What?
Chapter 90 - 90: Fighter Selection Trial (4)

Nike had seen enough.

She could no longer stay silent—

Not when every step she took seemed to bring her deeper into a trail of violence and broken bodies.

For what felt like an eternity, she had walked behind the boy she once knew, her childhood friend, the one who used to laugh with her under sunlit skies and sneak her sweets when the elders weren't looking.

But that boy was nowhere to be found now.

Instead, in his place stood someone she barely recognized—someone whose rapier flashed like lightning and whose expression had grown as cold and unreadable as a frozen lake in winter.

Arthur had become a storm, cutting down everything in his path without hesitation, without remorse.

Nike had watched him sever arms with clinical precision.

The sound of steel meeting flesh had become all too familiar.

Screams echoed in her ears like a dirge.

And now, in front of her, another person—this time, a young woman—trembled.

Arthur raised his blade again.

The young woman's eyes were wide, pleading, uncomprehending.

"…" Nike's breath caught in her throat.

Her legs froze, but her heart roared louder than ever before.

She couldn't do this.

She couldn't keep pretending she was okay with any of this.

"No more…"

The words came out in a whisper first, barely audible.

Then louder—stronger.

"Enough, Arthur!"

The moment her voice broke the silence, the world seemed to pause.

Arthur's rapier stopped mid-swing, its sharp edge hovering barely an inch from the young woman's exposed arm.

The victim let out a choked gasp, then turned and bolted, stumbling as she ran, falling over herself in her desperate bid to escape.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy—suffocating.

Slowly, Arthur turned toward the sound of the voice that dared to stop him.

His cold, unreadable expression shifted slightly as his gaze locked with his childhood friend.

Nike stood there, frozen in place, her chest heaving with emotion.

She was terrified—there was no denying that—but something inside her refused to yield.

She clutched her fists tightly at her sides and forced herself to speak, even as her voice trembled.

"You need to stop. This... this isn't you. You're not like this, Arthur. You were never like this."

He didn't answer right away.

Instead, he blinked slowly, his brows lowering just a fraction as he muttered under his breath.

"This isn't me…?"

There was something almost childlike in his confusion, something lost and fragile buried beneath the icy calm he wore like armor.

He took a single step back, as if the words had physically hit him.

For a brief moment, Nike thought she saw the boy she used to know—the boy who held her hand when she cried, the one who swore to protect her no matter what.

Encouraged, she stepped forward.

"Where did he go, Arthur? Where did my warm, kind-hearted childhood friend disappear to? The one who used to smile so easily… The one who helped others without being asked? Now all I see is someone obsessed—someone cold and distant and... and terrifying!"

She felt her throat tighten.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she kept going.

"I don't understand. Is this all a cry for help? Is this you begging for someone to reach out to you? Why are you doing this? What are you hoping to prove?!"

Her voice cracked at the end, and she lowered her head as the tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

Arthur stood in silence for a moment, just staring at her.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Are you finished?"

Nike looked up, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Did you even hear what I just said?" she shouted, voice raw with emotion.

"Are you even listening to me anymore?"

Arthur took a slow, deliberate step toward her.

His eyes glinted strangely in the light.

"I heard every word," he said calmly.

"I know you're trying to protect me… and in your own way, I believe you still care. But you have to understand something, Nike—"

He smiled. It was soft, even gentle, but somehow more unsettling than his blank stare.

"—I am the chosen one. And everything I'm doing is leading toward that truth. Like I told you before, just give me time, and you'll see. I will prove it to you."

He took another step.

"But it seems… you've stopped believing in me."

His expression began to twist, that cold edge creeping back in.

"It seems that bastard—Luka Junker—has done something to you. Somehow, he's poisoned your mind... turned you against me."

Nike's eyes narrowed, her confusion plain.

"Poisoned...? Arthur, what are you talking about? Luka hasn't done anything like that!"

"…" Arthur sighed and turned his head slightly, glancing up toward the floating orbs in the sky—recording devices.

In one swift motion, he sheathed his rapier, bent down, and picked up a handful of small stones.

"What are you doing?" Nike asked, alarmed.

Without answering, Arthur flung the rocks with frightening precision, smashing the recorders one by one.

Several tried to flee, but none escaped.

Shattered pieces rained down like metal snowflakes.

"You can't do that!" Nike shouted. "Those are academy property—Arthur, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

He turned back to her, his expression now unreadable once more.

"What I'm about to say isn't for anyone else to hear."

He took another step toward her.

"Ever since I arrived at this academy—the first step on my path to the summit—Luka has stood in my way. I don't know why, but every opportunity, every recognition, every person that should've come to me… he took. He took them all."

His voice was low, nearly a growl.

"And worst of all, he took you."

Nike shook her head, backing away now, her pulse rising fast.

"No. That's not true. Luka didn't take me. He's not the person you're making him out to be."

Arthur's jaw tightened for a moment, then softened again.

"It's okay," he said quietly.

"You're confused. You've lost your way. That's why I'm going to help you find it again."

He extended his hand toward her—gently, as if nothing had changed.

"Come back to me, Nike. It's not too late. Just take my hand, and everything will go back to how it used to be."

Nike stared at him, trembling, her breath shallow, caught between horror and heartbreak.