Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character-Chapter 106: [105] New partner

###

Arkan’s Office

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier, as if the air itself hesitated to move. The dim glow of the chandelier cast long shadows against the walls, creating the illusion that this office held more than just secrets.

Arkan let out a slow breath, allowing the tension to settle even deeper before he finally spoke.

"I see... Hmm..."

The words were little more than a murmur, yet they carried an inexplicable weight. He leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked atop the wooden desk, its surface faintly marked with scratches—scars from the past.

His gaze met Marcel’s—a deep stare filled with unspoken questions.

"You have the right to know what happened to the Kingdom of Somara."

Silence filled the room.

Rainer, who had been standing quietly in the corner, lowered his head slightly, as if already aware of the gravity of the story about to unfold.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Arkan continued.

"Very well... Let’s begin with your uncle—

And his expedition."

Two Decades Ago

A dense wilderness consumed the world in impenetrable darkness. The air was thick with moisture, carrying the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves beneath their boots. Moonlight barely pierced the massive canopy above, making the surroundings feel like the open maw of a beast, ready to devour those who strayed too far.

And here, at the heart of this abyss—

The last King of Somara—your uncle, Marcel—stood on the precipice of a history that would change everything.

The expedition had begun as a simple journey.

Their destination:

The ruins of an ancient temple, buried deep within legend.

Some claimed it was a myth.

Others called it a curse.

But Somara sought the truth—

And the truth is often more terrifying than mere folklore.

Yet before the expedition had even set out, a stranger had appeared before your uncle.

A man cloaked in gray, his hood pulled low, shrouding his face in shadow. His voice was neither deep nor high—

Yet when he spoke, the air itself seemed to still.

He came with an offer.

Power.

Knowledge.

A "gift" that, he claimed, would help Somara rise once more.

But your uncle refused.

Somara needed no aid from a man who wouldn’t even show his face.

Yet that refusal... was the beginning of the end.

Weeks passed in the grueling march through the wilds.

And finally, they arrived.

The temple lay in the shadow of colossal trees, consumed by time and nature. Its cracked walls were blanketed in thick moss, while roots—**as thick as a man’s arm—**coiled around the stone like ancient serpents, unwilling to release their prey. The air here was heavy, as if the temple’s tragic past still whispered among its crumbling remains.

Your uncle stood at the head of his soldiers.

Despite the temple’s ominous presence, he marched forward without hesitation.

The conquest of the ruins was swift.

But their victory—

Did not last.

That night, everything changed.

Without warning—

The shadows moved.

Something unseen stirred within the ruins.

And then—it attacked.

The creatures that emerged...

Were neither human nor beast.

They appeared like living shadows,

Their eyes—burning crimson embers in the dark.

But Somara’s warriors were no mere soldiers.

Under the command of the last King of Somara,

They fought with everything they had.

Blades clashed.

Magic ignited the battlefield.

The once-sacred ground was now drenched in blood.

They won.

Or at least—

That’s what they believed.

Because in the depths of the night—

Someone was watching.

And at last, the gray-cloaked man revealed his true intentions.

From within the temple, something emerged.

A towering figure stepped forth from the abyss—

Its form grotesque, its skin as black as coal,

Its eyes burning like molten steel,

Its muscles bulging like forged iron.

A Brutal Goblin.

Not an ordinary monster—

But a twisted mutation, born from a forbidden ritual.

Its growl was low and guttural—

Like metal grinding against stone.

And without warning—

It struck.

Somara’s warriors were forced onto the defensive.

Their weapons cut into the creature’s flesh—

But could not bring it down.

With a single swipe,

A knight was sent flying—

His body shattering against a stone pillar.

The temple grounds became a slaughterhouse.

But with a strategy that nearly cost them their entire force...

They finally managed to slay it.

Yet that victory... was a lie.

Because the real enemy... was still waiting.

The Forbidden Artifact

Amidst the blood-stained ruins—

Your uncle found it.

A small box.

Forged from black metal,

Etched with mysterious carvings that no sorcerer could decipher.

And when he opened it—

There was no gold.

No treasure.

Only a single, pulsing red crystal—

Beating like a living heart.

The air froze.

Your uncle held the crystal in his palm,

His breath hitching as he watched it throb against his skin.

His hands trembled.

His pulse quickened.

And in that moment—

A black mist erupted.

The knights screamed.

But there was nothing they could do. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Your uncle let out a cry of agony.

Not just the scream of pain—

But the scream of a soul being shattered.

And when the mist cleared...

His eyes had changed.

Cold.

Empty.

Abyssal black.

That was the beginning of Somara’s fall.

And that—

Was how your uncle was swallowed by darkness.

Back to the Present

Arkan let out a slow sigh, letting the story hang in the silence of the room. The air felt heavier, as if the tale he had just revealed had shrouded the place in the dark shadows of the past.

Marcel remained silent.

However, his hands clenched on his knees, fingers so tight that his knuckles turned white.

His eyes were clouded with emotions that were hard to describe—anger he struggled to suppress, sorrow he refused to show, and something deeper... something that could not be put into words.

In the corner of the room, Rainer bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect for the bitter truth that had just been unveiled.

Arkan stayed calm, though in his mind, he knew—

This was the true beginning of Marcel’s story.

As the silence grew suffocating, Marcel’s voice finally broke through.

"So... that’s how it happened? How my uncle changed completely and ended up stabbing my father in the back?"

His tone was low but laden with tension. He took a deep breath, as if trying to digest the facts he had just learned.

"Damn... so that’s the reason. The monster wave that appeared back then... they weren’t just an ordinary threat. They were sent to weaken my uncle, to drain his strength, to make him vulnerable... and in the end, to break his mind."

Arkan shrugged, his lips curving into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it.

"That’s right. Not that I have much credibility in telling this story. For all you know, I could be making it up," he said lightly, though there was a hint of challenge in his tone.

Marcel scoffed, but not out of anger—more like a humorless chuckle born from exhaustion.

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I can see it... You’re not lying. Everything you said makes sense."

His gaze sharpened, reaching back into the past he had long buried in his memories.

"My uncle was serving as a general under my father’s command at the time. He led the expedition to the southeastern continent. But the reason he did it wasn’t just because of the kingdom’s orders..."

Marcel exhaled, allowing his mind to retrace the nearly forgotten memories.

"He was a true adventurer. He didn’t care about politics, didn’t care about power. The only thing that ever kept him alive... was the search for something greater. A challenge worthy of his spirit."

His eyes flickered, as if, in the distance, he could see the figure of his uncle—a man he once admired, but who now remained only as a shadow in a dark history.

Silence filled the room once again, leaving only the sound of their restrained breaths. Marcel was still lost in his thoughts, while Arkan leaned back in his chair, letting the tension settle before finally speaking.

"So, it’s my turn now, isn’t it?"

Arkan’s voice was calm, but there was something beneath his casual tone—a firmness that couldn’t be ignored. He looked at Marcel with an unreadable gaze, waiting for a response from the man who still seemed slightly dazed after hearing such a heavy truth.

Marcel lifted his head, as if snapping back to reality. "Ah... yeah."

Arkan gave a small nod, then, with a tone that sounded light yet serious, he continued.

"In that case... will you work for me?"

Marcel froze, his brows furrowing slightly. He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes studied Arkan’s face, searching for something behind that request.

Marcel watched Arkan with wary eyes. His gaze narrowed, trying to discern the hidden meaning behind the sudden request.

"Why...?"

Arkan sighed, as if he had already anticipated the question. With a casual motion, he lifted his hand and gestured around the room.

"Because I need someone experienced in this field," he said before leaning back in his chair. "You can see the state of my office for yourself."

Marcel shifted his gaze.

The room was indeed a mess. Documents were scattered across the desk, some even lying on the floor, completely ignored. The bookshelf in the corner was overflowing, with several half-unrolled maps left carelessly on top. The place looked more like the den of an exhausted academic than the office of someone responsible for strategy and governance.

Arkan shrugged. "Administration is mentally draining, you know? Not to mention politics. I’d rather be out there in the field, not stuck behind a desk all day."

He looked at Marcel with an unreadable expression.