The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 189: The Fallen Still Walk

The backroom of the Drunken Hammer was as chaotic as ever. Shelves overflowed with gear, enchanted tools, and scrap metal piled like ancient relics waiting to be reborn. Noel leaned against the side of the counter, still holding the small box containing the rose-tinted earrings.

Balthor, polishing a silver ring behind the counter, glanced over.

"So," he said, voice teasing. "The gift’s for the girl from last time? The serious one with eyes like amber?"

Noel raised an eyebrow. "Elena? No. This is for... another friend. Helped me a lot recently. I figured it was time I paid her back properly."

Balthor chuckled, deep and warm. "You’re a good lad, you know that?" He lifted the earrings to inspect them, then set it aside. "Most boys your age are too busy chasing glory or coin. You? You’re out here buying jewelry for girls who helped you out."

Noel didn’t reply immediately. He kept his gaze on the cluttered walls of the shop. So many things had happened in the past few months—it felt surreal to be standing here again.

But there was a weight on his chest now. Something he had to say.

Noel turned back toward Balthor, more serious this time.

"Balthor... can I ask you something? It’s a personal question."

The dwarf looked up, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Course you can, kid. Go on."

Noel’s voice was low. "Did you ever have a brother?"

At Noel’s question, the mood shifted. The usual spark in Balthor’s eyes dimmed, like a candle snuffed out by a cold breeze.

He leaned back on his stool, fingers absently brushing the rim of his mug.

"Ah... so that’s what this is about," Balthor murmured. "Trouble with your own brothers, is it? Looking for some ancient dwarven wisdom?"

Noel offered a faint shrug. "You could say that. They’ve... changed recently. I’m not sure how to act around them anymore."

Balthor let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it.

"Well, I did have a brother. Younger. Torwan, his name was." His voice dropped a notch, tone thick with old emotion. "He was sharp. Smart enough to con a noble out of his fortune and still walk out with a thank-you letter. Brave too, though he’d rather talk than fight."

Noel listened silently.

Balthor continued, "He was supposed to inherit the forge with me. Said he’d turn the family smithy into something bigger—something modern. But then the last war happened." He paused, eyes fixed somewhere far away. "He joined the front lines, said we couldn’t sit idle while the world burned. I didn’t agree, but he went anyway."

A long silence.

"He died out there," Balthor said simply. "Or that’s what we were told. Never found the body. Just a helmet... and his old flask."

Noel lowered his gaze. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that back up."

Balthor waved it off. "It’s alright, kid. Some stories are worth remembering, even if they hurt."

The silence stretched.

Noel exhaled slowly, then spoke with quiet conviction.

"He’s alive, Balthor."

The dwarf didn’t answer right away. His eyes shifted to Noel, now narrowed and cautious.

"Noel... that’s not something you throw around for drama."

"I know. But I’ve seen him with my own eyes."

’Well, not really, but it counts when I got the info of him right?’

Balthor raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"He’s your size," Noel continued, "fiery red hair, long red beard. And a tattoo—on his left shoulder. A barrel of ale and a smith’s hammer." freёweɓnovel_com

That made Balthor blink. His expression darkened slightly.

"Plenty of dwarves have those kinds of tattoos."

"Not this one," Noel said. "It was custom. A matching pair, right? One tattoo for each brother. The barrel was Torwan’s symbol, and the hammer was yours. You wore yours on your right shoulder. He had his on the left."

Now Balthor froze.

"...That’s not public knowledge."

"I figured."

The dwarf leaned back, his jovial air now fully gone.

"And you’re saying he’s alive. That he faked his death all those years ago."

"He didn’t fake it," Noel replied. "He just survived. And he’s working under someone now—someone dangerous. Not because he’s evil. Just... lost in something bigger."

Balthor let out a breath like gravel. "So you’re telling me my little brother is alive... and part of whatever madness is stirring behind the scenes?"

Noel nodded. "He’s smart. Smarter than most people I’ve met. And that’s why I need your help. Finding him won’t be easy."

Balthor turned without a word, grabbed a small keg from behind the counter, and cracked it open. He didn’t offer Noel any. He just drank, slow and silent.

After a moment, he spoke through his beard.

"And how do I know this isn’t some twisted joke?"

Noel’s eyes narrowed. His tone was clear, calm, unshaken.

"If I wanted something from you, I wouldn’t mention Torwan. I’d say I had a lead, ask for payment. But I didn’t. I told you what I know—for free."

He paused.

"Because I want to stop what’s coming. Before it’s too late."

Balthor remained still, cradling the half-empty keg against his shoulder. His eyes were lost in the dim glow of the shop’s floating lanterns, and for a long moment, he didn’t say a word.

Then, in a low, gravelly voice, he muttered:

"I buried that idiot with my own hands. Or at least... I thought I did. Closed his casket, mourned him with our clan. Burned the old war flags and drank ’til I passed out for three days straight."

Noel didn’t interrupt.

"Torwan was the brains between the two of us," Balthor continued, "Always five steps ahead. Always had a trick up his sleeve. If anyone could cheat death, I suppose it’d be him."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at Noel.

"You sure it’s him?"

"Pretty damn sure," Noel replied.

Noel stepped closer.

"Look... I’m not asking you to fight him. That’s on me. But I do need your help to get to him. He’s smart, like you said. And he’s got dangerous people around him."

Balthor narrowed his eyes. "The kind of danger that bleeds kingdoms?"

Noel gave a half-smile. "Close enough. That’s why I need every edge I can get."

Balthor leaned forward, arms on the counter.

"I’ll help you find him. And if he’s truly gone off the deep end... then I’ll decide what to do with him. Myself."

"That’s all I’m asking."

They locked eyes for a long moment. Then, for the first time in the conversation, Balthor grinned.

"You’ve got guts, kid. Reminds me of someone I used to know."

Noel raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You?"

"Nah," Balthor said, tapping the keg. "Torwan."

Noel stepped out of The Drunken Hammer with both items tucked into his dimensional pouch—the carved relic with the unknown trait and the simple rose-colored earrings. The air outside was still warm, the sun having set but the heat of the day lingering in the stones of the street. The city of Valon was alive, buzzing with energy, laughter, and conversations from shops and taverns alike.

He adjusted his cloak slightly as he made his way toward the main road that led back to the Academy. Noir wasn’t with him this time—he’d left her resting comfortably in his room, curled up on the cool enchanted tile near the window.

’I’ll give Charlotte the earrings when I show her the city... that’s the least I can do after using her for that excuse.’

His steps were light, mind drifting between memories and strategies. But then, he paused.

There was tension in the air—something that didn’t match the tone of the evening. He heard it first: a sharp voice, angry, followed by another more fearful. Then silence. Then a muffled cry.

Noel turned his head toward a narrow alley that branched off the main street. The shadows between the buildings seemed thicker than they should be. Curious—and alert—he approached quietly.

There they were.

Two men stood in a threatening posture, cornering a young woman with her back against the wall. She was holding something to her chest—maybe a bag or a satchel—and trembling. One of the men reached for her while the other whispered something, but Noel couldn’t hear the words.

He narrowed his eyes.

’Seriously? In the middle of Valon?’

He took a breath, just loud enough for them to hear his steps as he approached from the side.

The men paused and turned their heads slightly.

Noel’s voice was calm, but cold.

"Is there a problem here?"