Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character-Chapter 107: [106] New partner (2)

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After Arkan finished recounting the past of the Somara Kingdom—whether his story was true or just a fabrication—Marcel still listened intently.

Every word Arkan spoke felt too concrete, too aligned with what he had kept locked away in his mind for so long.

’Logically speaking, how could someone who wasn’t part of that tragedy know such precise details?’

What he had just heard wasn’t just a tale or speculation.

Arkan knew something—something that only Marcel should have known. And that was what made him wary.

How could someone who seemed so unremarkable... know so much? More than that, how could he appear before him as if all of this was just a mere coincidence?

’Dangerous... This man is dangerous,’ Marcel thought. Yet instead of feeling threatened, he found himself experiencing something else—a faint admiration, tickling at his instincts. Unconsciously, the corner of his lips curled into a thin smirk.

"Putting your story aside," he said, his voice calm yet filled with caution, "what makes you think I would help you?"

His eyes locked onto Arkan’s, trying to pierce through his relaxed expression, searching for a crack in the man’s seemingly unbothered demeanor.

Arkan merely offered a small smile, as if he had expected that question from the very beginning.

"Well... you see," he said in a light tone, though there was something beneath his voice that was hard to ignore. "Even if you think my story is nonsense, I’m actually preparing for something far bigger—a catastrophe that’s coming."

Marcel raised an eyebrow. The statement was too vague, too absurd to be ignored.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone now sharper.

Arkan leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Marcel.

"Marcel... you understand, don’t you, why I told you all of that?"

Instantly, the air in the room grew heavier.

The Cult of the Evil God.

That name echoed in Marcel’s mind. He knew they weren’t just a cheap legend whispered in market alleys, nor were they merely a group of aimless fanatics. They moved in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to sink their fangs into the world.

"What exactly... are they planning?" he asked, his voice deeper, almost a whisper.

Arkan closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them, his gaze cold.

"Utopia," he murmured. "A world promised by their Evil God... built upon the ruins of the one we stand on now."

Rainer, who had been silent all this time, frowned. To be honest, he had never fully understood Arkan’s motives. The man’s sudden actions—introducing strange concepts like telephones, industrial revolutions, and siege weapons—had all seemed like directionless madness. But now... it was as if everything had finally become a beacon of light in the darkness that had clouded his mind.

Arkan continued, his voice deep and unwavering.

"The cult was born from Primordial Evil—a dark legacy from a time when the world was nearly consumed by absolute destruction. Back then, an entity, the very embodiment of ruin, descended upon the world, bringing catastrophe in its wake. But the world did not stand idly by. With its last remaining strength, it struck back—leading to a great war that ultimately ended in humanity’s victory."

He took a brief breath before continuing, his eyes burning with an undeniable seriousness.

"But before that destruction was completely erased, a revelation was given to those who worshipped it. A whisper of a promised world—a utopia that would rise from the ashes of the old civilization. From that moment on, those whose hearts were consumed by darkness eagerly worked to fulfill that prophecy. For hundreds of years, they remained hidden... infiltrating common society, embedding themselves in governments, lurking behind the curtains of power."

Marcel crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable, though his eyes reflected skepticism.

"Your story sounds like a fairy tale," he said firmly. "I’ve never encountered anything like this in all the literature and historical records I’ve studied. I have access to archives dating back hundreds of years, yet there isn’t a single mention of this."

Arkan smirked slightly, as if he had expected that response.

"Of course," he said casually. "History can be erased. If they’ve planted their people in key positions—among rulers and elites—wouldn’t it be easy for them to control what information is made public?"

He locked eyes with Marcel, his gaze sharp and resolute.

"If you don’t believe me, that’s not my concern," he continued. "But... you’ve felt their presence yourself, haven’t you?"

Marcel fell silent.

Those words, for some reason, struck deeper than he had expected, hitting a nerve he had long tried to ignore.

Arkan didn’t give him time to dwell on it.

"Now, make your choice, Marcel Vanhof Somara..." His voice grew heavier, like a hammer striking Marcel’s very conscience. "Will you fight alongside me to avenge your homeland... or will you remain a bystander, watching from afar as the people you know scream in agony while their world is torn apart before their eyes?"

The air in the room grew colder—or perhaps it was just Marcel who felt it.

Arkan’s words weren’t just an offer.

They were an ultimatum.

In an instant, his mind raced toward a vision of the future.

The image of burning cities. The cries of children who had lost their parents. Legions of monsters trampling what little remained of civilization. Blood, ash, destruction.

And in the midst of it all, he stood—helpless.

No.

He could not let that happen.

Marcel exhaled slowly, steeling his resolve.

No more hesitation. No more excuses. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

With a firm, steady voice, he met Arkan’s gaze and said,

"Where’s the contract?"

###

Arkan handed over the contract without saying much. Without hesitation, Marcel took the pen and signed it. With a single stroke, he was officially Arkan’s deputy.

However, before they could move forward, there was one thing that needed to be taken care of first.

Marcel glanced at himself, only now realizing how disheveled he looked after years of living in the shadows. His robes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and his aura was far from that of a prince.

Arkan, observing him with a critical gaze, let out a sigh.

"Alright, before you start working, there’s something we need to fix first," he said, waving his hand. "Servants, prepare everything. We need a... full makeover."

Marcel eyed him suspiciously. "Full makeover?"

Arkan grinned. "Of course. I can’t have my deputy looking like a beggar."

Before he could protest, Marcel was ushered into another room, where the servants were already prepared to revamp his appearance.

Once he returned, dressed in more appropriate attire and with his hair neatly groomed, the next step was introducing him to his workplace. Arkan led Marcel on a tour, showing him how the system in his territory operated.

Although technically still under the rule of the Lutharian Kingdom, the governance in Arkan’s domain wasn’t entirely feudal like most other regions in this world. He had implemented a federal system, distributing power and responsibilities among various departments in a more structured manner.

In a world still trapped in a medieval feudal system, Arkan’s approach was revolutionary. But there was a reason he chose this system—something rooted in his background as a modern man from the 22nd century.

And the final step in this major transition—publicly announcing that Marcel was now his deputy.

A decision that would shake many factions.

However, Arkan ensured that the people wouldn’t immediately reject this decision. In his announcement, he stated that Marcel would be given one year to prove himself. If, within that period, he failed to meet expectations, the public had the right to submit a petition for his removal from office.

A smart move, buying time while also easing the concerns of skeptics.

Once everything was settled, Marcel glanced at Arkan with a blank expression.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

Arkan turned to him, grinning. "Of course. Besides, if you’re incompetent, you’ll be kicked out eventually."

Marcel chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I’m still surprised by the system you’ve built. But you’re right... everyone should work in the field they’re best suited for."

"Exactly. I need to make sure that the people working here are efficient and reliable. And I’m sure the public will judge your performance soon enough."

Marcel raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. "What? I haven’t even started working yet."

"That’s the point," Arkan replied, smirking.

The two of them chuckled, walking leisurely down the castle corridor.

Many challenges awaited them, but for now... things felt just a little bit lighter.

###

That night, Arkan returned to his chamber in the castle—a room that resembled a workshop more than the quarters of a noble. The walls were covered with sketches, blueprints, and various drafting tools. On the large wooden table in the center, rolls of paper lay scattered, filled with scribbled calculations and intricate designs.

He sat in his chair, exhaling before resuming his work. Computer-Aided Design (CAD) and Technical Drawing—something he used to complain about back in his mechanical engineering days—had now become his only means of bringing a technological revolution to this world.

This time, his project was a steam engine.

Not just any steam engine, but an innovation that would reshape the economy of his territory. With improved logistics, the transportation of goods and people would become significantly faster.

Steam trains.

He adjusted the design of the front to be more aerodynamic, reducing air resistance and increasing speed. It wasn’t the 22nd-century high-speed trains he dreamed of, but for now, he had to settle for a lite version.

As he was busy recalculating pressure ratios and fuel efficiency, a knock echoed at his door.

Arkan turned, his brows furrowing slightly.

Outside stood Rainer, his expression as serious as ever.

"Arkan, we need to talk."