An Extra's Rise in an Eroge-Chapter 224: Fenrir [1]

Morrika wiped the blood from her mouth, her body covered in wounds, but her eyes still burned with unyielding determination.

They had fought. They had bled. And now, only half of their force remained.

The battlefield was silent, but not in peace—only loss and despair lingered in the air. Bodies of fallen warriors lay scattered across the corrupted land, their lifeless eyes staring at the crimson sky, their blood mixing with the rotting flesh of the ground beneath.

The survivors stood slumped, their breaths ragged, their souls heavy with the weight of the slaughter.

Friends were lost.

Brothers and sisters had died.

And yet… there was still no sign of Fenrir.

A creeping doubt began to set in. Had this all been for nothing?

A deep rage burned within Morrika's heart.

Her people had followed her blindly, believing in her trust. But now? She had led them to their deaths, and she wasn't even sure if what Arthur had told her was real.

With a snarl, she lunged at Arthur, grabbing his collar and lifting him off the ground with raw, unfiltered rage.

"You...!" Her voice trembled, but not with fear—with grief. "How much more do you want us to sacrifice?! How much more blood do we need to spill before you tell us the truth?!"

Arthur did not struggle, nor did he resist.

He simply stared into her eyes, understanding the pain she carried.

She had lost too much.

And she needed someone to blame.

But before Arthur could respond—

A low growl rumbled through the land.

It wasn't just a sound. It was a force. A deep, guttural growl that shook the very air, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard it.

The warriors snapped to attention, their ears perking up, their bodies tensing.

Morrika's grip on Arthur loosened as she too turned, her instincts screaming at her.

And then—

A shadow fell over them.

It was massive—not just in size, but in presence. A pressure so overwhelming that the very ground beneath them cracked.

Slowly, they all looked up.

And there, standing before them, was a nightmare made flesh.

A colossal black wolf, its fur darker than the void itself, stood like an unstoppable titan. Its golden eyes, once filled with wisdom and power, were now clouded with madness.

A massive golden collar hung heavily around his neck, its runes glowing with divine power, burning into his flesh and regenerating it at the same time, trapping him in an eternal cycle of agony.

Thick chains wrapped around his limbs, each one radiating divine energy, suppressing his strength, digging into his flesh so deeply that blackened blood oozed from the wounds.

And worst of all—

A huge crimson blade was pierced through his mouth, keeping it forced open, preventing him from closing it, from speaking, from roaring in agony.

Morrika's breath caught in her throat.

Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees.

"F-Fenrir…!" Her voice cracked. Tears welled in her crimson eyes.

Her people followed, their knees hitting the corrupted ground as they bowed their heads in worship.

"The sacrifices of our warriors… were not in vain…" Morrika whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

For the first time in decades, they had found their god.

But then—

Arthur's eyes sharpened.

Something wasn't right.

His instincts screamed at him, and before he could think, he lunged forward, tackling Morrika and rolling her across the ground.

BOOM!

The spot where she had been kneeling exploded as Fenrir's claw slammed into the ground, carving a massive pit into the earth.

Morrika gasped, shocked and confused.

Morrika's fists trembled as she stared at the colossal, tormented being before her.

"Why?" Her voice wavered, disbelief and sorrow mixing in her crimson eyes. "Why is he attacking us?"

Arthur, standing beside her, exhaled sharply.

"Morrika." His tone was firm, cutting through her haze of emotions. "Don't lose your mind. Look at him. Look closely."

Morrika's gaze shifted, and this time, she truly saw the madness lurking in Fenrir's golden eyes.

The once-proud beast of prophecy, the devourer of gods, was now nothing more than a shackled husk, his existence a constant cycle of agony and regeneration.

"His eyes…" Morrika whispered. "They're… empty."

"No," Arthur corrected, his voice grim, "they're full of madness."

Fenrir's massive chains glowed with divine runes, their holy fire searing into his flesh, burning him alive over and over again, only for his immortal body to heal instantly—trapping him in an endless loop of unimaginable torment.

And that sword—

A massive crimson blade, impaled straight through his mouth, preventing him from closing it, silencing his howls of pain for decades.

Follow current novℯls on ƒгeewёbnovel.com.

Arthur's voice was low, but sharp as a dagger.

"This is the punishment the gods gave him for killing one of their own. For swallowing Odin."

Morrika's breath hitched.

"But the Aesir Gods fell during Ragnarok…" she muttered. "Why would the others still torment him?"

Arthur's expression darkened.

"Because it's not just about the Aesir. Even if the gods of different pantheons are often at odds, there's one thing they will never tolerate—the humiliation of a beast killing a god."

His words hung heavy in the air.

The reality crushed down on Morrika.

Her God—her people's guardian—had been reduced to this.

A mindless beast, stripped of his dignity, his voice, and his reason.

Her rage burned hotter than ever before.

"Fenrir is not in his right mind." Arthur's voice broke through her thoughts. "Getting close to him right now would be dangerous. From what I can tell, those chains restrict his movement, but even bound, he is still an SSS-ranked calamity. One wrong move and he will rip us apart."

Morrika gritted her teeth. "So what do you suggest? That we leave him here? That we walk away, knowing he's suffering like this?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"I never said that."

She turned to face him fully, her breathing heavy, her body still shaking with frustration.

Arthur met her gaze calmly, his voice unwavering.

**"I'm saying—think before you act. If you charge in recklessly, you'll just die. We've come this far, so don't throw it all away because of your emotions. We need a plan."

Morrika's jaw tightened.

She hated it.

She hated that he was right.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back toward Fenrir, who still loomed like an unmoving nightmare, his eyes glowing with primal rage.

Her hands curled into fists. "Then let's make one. Because no matter what it takes—"

Her crimson eyes burned with conviction.

"We're breaking those chains."

Arthur and Morrika moved further back, beyond the reach of Fenrir's claws. The wolf's massive form trembled, his chains glowing with cruel divine runes, his golden eyes swirling with nothing but madness.

Morrika exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus. "If we want to calm him down, we need something potent. Something divine."

Arthur arched a brow. "Any suggestions?"

Morrika nodded, her voice serious. "A high-class divine elixir. One infused with purification properties. It can temporarily suppress his madness, allowing him to regain some sanity."

Arthur's stomach dropped. Divine elixirs weren't just rare, they were stupidly expensive.

A heavy weight settled on his chest, but with a deep sigh, he opened the System Shop.

As expected, the price made his heart ache.

"[Divine Elixir of Serenity] – 2,000,000 Eroge Points]"

With a rock lodged in his chest, he confirmed the purchase.

A shimmering vial appeared in his hand, the liquid inside glowing like liquefied moonlight, radiating an aura of divine purity and power.

Arthur sighed internally.

"There goes a million points…" but his gaze drifted to Morrika, and a dark promise sparked: I'll claw double that back from her later.

She was a sight—her clothes torn to ribbons, clinging desperately to her curves, exposing far too much of that tanned, battle-honed body.

Her abs flexed, glistening with sweat and streaked with dirt, the shredded beast skin peeling back to reveal broad shoulders, blood tracing a slow path down her collarbone to pool in the deep cleft of her full, straining breasts.

Her thighs—thick and powerful—burst through the slashed fabric, slick with moisture, the frayed edges riding high to tease the firm swell of her ass.

Her silver hair hung wild and wet, drenched in blood and sweat, sticking to her flushed skin in tangled strands, framing her as she shouted orders to her warriors. Crimson splatters marked her like war paint, and damn, she was searing—enough to stir his cock to life, hard and insistent, even with chaos roaring around them.

Morrika narrowed her eyes, catching his burning stare. "What?"

Arthur blinked—then coughed, shaking his head. "Nothing. Forget it."

She frowned but didn't press. "Then stop wasting time and tell me the plan."

Arthur held up the elixir. "Simple. You and the others will keep Fenrir distracted. I'll get in close and pour this into his mouth."

Morrika's eyes locked onto the vial in Arthur's hand. Even without touching it, she could feel the divine energy pulsing from within, radiating an overwhelming sense of power.

She swallowed hard. "Arthur… where did you even get something like this?"

Arthur smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Did you forget who I am? I'm Arthur Ludwig, heir to one of the Six Dukes of the Hestia Empire. Having life-saving elixirs on hand is nothing unusual for someone of my standing."

Morrika crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "That still doesn't explain why you're giving it to us. We only met yesterday. I've challenged you, doubted you, and yet—here you are, offering something priceless. Why?"

Arthur twirled the vial between his fingers, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "Does there always have to be a reason?"

Morrika's lips pressed into a thin line. "There always is."

Arthur chuckled, tucking the vial away. "Then let's just say I have a soft spot for wolves."

"Consider it a favor."

Morrika stiffened, her jaw tightening. "A favor? Do you even understand what that means? The Wolf Tribe… we could never repay a debt like this."

Arthur let out a light chuckle, shaking his head. "Who said anything about repayment?"

Her brows furrowed. "That's not an answer."

He exhaled, his smirk softening. "Fine. If calling it a 'favor' makes you uncomfortable, think of it as an investment—a gesture of goodwill. Consider it the start of a… mutually beneficial relationship between me and the Wolf Tribe."

Morrika felt something tighten in her chest. His voice carried no condescension, no expectation—just calm certainty.

She studied his face, searching for hidden motives, yet found none.

Instead, she saw a man who spoke with absolute confidence, who offered without demanding, who—despite his arrogance—had already won her respect.

Her fingers curled into fists as she took a slow breath.

"Arthur."

He stopped mid-step, glancing back.

Her crimson eyes burned with unshaken resolve.

"If we return alive from her. No matter what you ask of me…" She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I will fulfill it."