Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character-Chapter 77: [76] The Cursed Manuscript

-Third-Person Perspective-

The room remained silent, save for the faint crackle of fire from the hearth, casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. The woman in front of me stared deep into my eyes, as if searching for something—an answer, a reassurance, or perhaps just a confirmation of reality.

Fatigue was evident on her face—whether from the long journey or the betrayal she had endured, I couldn’t tell.

I crossed my arms, letting the silence linger for a moment, waiting for her to compose herself enough to speak.

"So, tell me what happened," I finally said, my voice calm but sharp enough to push her into action.

She took a deep breath before she began.

"It happened a month ago," she murmured, as if the words were heavy to say. "We found a man named Hassan in an ancient valley. Just as you predicted, there was a tribe there..."

I listened carefully as she recounted her journey.

Sarasota’s team had crossed endless deserts, braving both sandstorms and freezing nights. When they finally arrived at the valley, they found ancient ruins scattered across the land—the remains of a civilization long forgotten by time.

And within those ruins, they met Hassan.

A man with a long, graying beard and deep wrinkles carved by the years, but his piercing eyes were still sharp—like a dagger that never lost its edge.

"It was as if he had been waiting for us," the woman continued, her voice tinged with unease. "As if he knew someone would eventually come looking for him."

Hassan was not surprised when they mentioned the name Hassan-i Sabbah—a name buried deep in the underworld’s history. Instead, he simply gave them a small, knowing smile and nodded slowly.

"You’re a few centuries too late," he had told them.

But despite his cryptic words, he eventually gave them directions—to the place they sought.

The Temple of Assassins.

And that was where everything went wrong.

The woman in front of me clenched her fists, her fingers trembling slightly as she spoke.

"Reaching the temple was a nightmare," her voice turned hoarse, burdened with the weight of memory. "That place... was a graveyard."

Traps hidden in the stonework. Shadows that moved when no one was watching. It was a place designed to kill intruders, and Sarasota’s team paid the price in blood.

But after suffering heavy losses, they finally arrived at their goal—a temple hidden within a cave, its walls carved with ancient inscriptions, depicting the forgotten history of assassins.

At its center, a grand stone altar stood tall.

And resting upon it—a dust-covered manuscript, seemingly untouched by time.

"We found it," she whispered, her eyes hollow. "The book... it was real."

I could sense that something was off. If they had obtained the book, why was she the only survivor?

I remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"Our leader... changed the moment he read it."

I frowned. "Changed?"

She nodded, her expression uneasy. "His face... his eyes... everything about him shifted. It was as if he saw something that—" she paused, struggling to find the words, "—something he was never meant to see."

After reading the book’s contents, their leader ordered everyone to leave him alone for a while.

They complied, believing he simply needed time to analyze the text.

But an hour later...

"He called us back into the temple."

And that was when hell broke loose.

Their leader stood in the center of the chamber, the manuscript still in his hands. His expression was hollow, his posture eerily still.

And then, he spoke a single word.

"Forgive me."

Chaos erupted.

Blood splattered.

He snapped.

Moving with inhuman speed and precision, he slaughtered his own team, cutting through them as if they were mere insects.

"That wasn’t him," she whispered, her face pale. "He wasn’t human anymore... I don’t know what happened, but he... he changed."

His movements were too perfect, too unnatural. Before this, he had been skilled, but nothing extraordinary. Yet in that moment, he became a monster—executing techniques that no living assassin should have been capable of performing.

The screams of her comrades echoed through the temple.

Blades sliced through flesh before anyone could react. Blood pooled on the ancient stone floor, turning the sacred chamber into a grotesque slaughterhouse.

One by one, he hunted them down.

He gave them no chance to fight back.

Within ten minutes, the entire team was dead.

Except for her.

She inhaled sharply, as if she could still hear the dying cries of her comrades in her mind.

I said nothing.

I simply observed her, studying her expression, analyzing the depth of her trauma and fear.

Then, I leaned back in my chair and asked in a calm yet piercing voice.

"How did you survive?"

She bit her lip, her hands clenching into tight fists. "I hid... behind a large statue in the temple. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe loudly. I just... prayed that he wouldn’t find me."

She closed her eyes, recalling the terrifying moment.

"And he never did."

I frowned. Strange.

If he was truly that powerful, how could he have missed her?

But I held back from asking further—for now.

Instead, I met her gaze, then spoke in a calm, measured tone.

"And now, you’re here."

She gave a slow nod. "I have nowhere else to go. My team is dead. And he... he’s still out there."

I let out a long sigh.

This was worse than I expected.

It wasn’t just the manuscript that was dangerous—something inside it had the power to transform a man into a monster.

I leaned back, gazing at the ceiling, my mind racing with possibilities.

Then, I smirked.

"Interesting."

The woman stared at me, shock evident in her expression. "You... you’re not afraid?"

I met her gaze, my smirk widening slightly.

"Afraid?" I repeated, my tone playful yet intrigued. "Of course. But I’m far more interested in what turned him into that."

I rose from my chair, walking leisurely around the room, my mind already processing the possibilities.

"So... let’s start from here. That book... I want to know what’s inside."

I leaned back in my chair, letting my thoughts digest the information I had just heard.

So, in the end, the manuscript itself wasn’t inherently dangerous—at least not in the beginning. It was merely a collection of techniques, philosophies, and history, a record of assassins from an era long past.

But one section stood out.

A hidden Chapter.

A passage that detailed forbidden rituals—techniques that allowed one to borrow power from entities best left untouched.

And worse...

Sarasota’s leader had succumbed to that temptation.

I tapped my fingers against the desk, letting the weight of this revelation settle.

If that were the case, then the massacre he committed wasn’t just a moment of insanity—he had read that passage and sought to master it.

No matter how skilled a fighter was, there was no way he could have slaughtered his entire team in mere minutes.

Unless...

He had opened a gate that should have remained closed.

That technique—without a doubt, it was a demon-pact ritual.

I took a slow, deep breath. A ritual that could only be used once.

If that were true, then the massacre wasn’t just a slaughter.

It was a sacrifice.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting old memories from the novel’s lore resurface in my mind.

Hassan-i Sabbah...

A legendary figure. Not only known as the first Assassin, but also as a visionary.

He wrote that manuscript not to spread chaos, but to warn future generations of a catastrophe he foresaw centuries ahead.

That prophecy...

I opened my eyes slowly.

If my memory was correct, that prophecy was carved into an ancient mural, hidden deep within the southernmost ruins of the continent.

And in the novel, it wouldn’t be discovered until Rainer’s dungeon expedition in Volume Five.

A prophecy that didn’t just foretell the world’s downfall, but also the awakening of something far worse than mere war.

Hassan-i Sabbah knew.

He knew the world would face a greater threat than warring kingdoms or ambitious rulers.

That’s why he recorded his techniques in the manuscript.

Not just to preserve knowledge, but to train assassins capable of fighting the darkness to come.

And because he didn’t want to contaminate the world with the abyss, he sealed all demon-related techniques in one separate section—accompanied by a warning.

Not a guide, but a cautionary tale.

But, as with all things involving human greed...

Someone eventually gave in to temptation.

I clenched my fist slightly, feeling the pulse in my fingertips.

Things were already spiraling out of control. Sarasota’s leader had walked a path that should have never been taken. Now, with demonic power coursing through him, he was bound to become a major threat in the future.

I exhaled slowly, then smirked.

That didn’t mean I didn’t have a way to deal with him.

I already understood how that power worked—its mechanisms, its conditions, its weaknesses.

Demonic rituals were never free.

There was always a price to pay.

And while I didn’t know exactly what Sarasota’s leader had sacrificed, I could make an educated guess based on the way he slaughtered his comrades.

Still...

The best strategy wasn’t to fight him head-on.

I needed to craft a scenario where I had absolute control—one where I could maximize my advantage while minimizing unnecessary risk.

I glanced at the woman standing before me.

Her body was weak, but her eyes remained sharp and guarded. She had lost everything, and now the only place she could go was here, to me.

I sighed, leaning back. "For now, you should rest."

She gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. Understandable. She wasn’t in a position to trust anyone just yet.

I studied her in silence for a moment before continuing.

"But you know how I work. I don’t offer protection for free."

She lifted her head slightly, caution flickering in her gaze.

I smirked. "So, you’ll work for me." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

She didn’t respond immediately, but from her expression, I could tell she had expected this.

"I’ll place you as my personal maid," I continued. "You have no objections, do you?"

She hesitated for a few seconds before finally answering.

"No... I have no objections."

Good.

I crossed my arms, contemplating. "And you’ll need a name."

She raised an eyebrow.

I met her gaze, my smirk returning. "I can’t keep calling you ’woman in black’ forever, can I?"

She looked slightly confused but didn’t protest.

I tapped my fingers against the desk, considering my options.

A name that was simple, easy to remember, yet carried an elegant and strong presence.

"Florence," I murmured.

She blinked. "Florence?"

I nodded. "Yes. Florence. What do you think?"

She lowered her head slightly, testing the name on her lips.

"...Florence."

For the first time since she arrived, I saw something change in her expression.

It wasn’t just fear or caution anymore.

But something else.

Something that resembled acceptance.