The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 319: CULTIST’S GARDEN

Chapter 315: Cultist’s Garden

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​Three of them rushed us, moving with a jerky, unnatural speed. They didn’t run; they skittered, their root-like legs tearing up the sanctuary floor.

​"Leon, front! Selena, flank!" I shouted, dropping into a crouch.

​"On it!" Leon roared.

​He didn’t defend. He attacked.

​[Lionheart Sword Style: Form 3 - Rising Sun]

​The [Breaker’s Hammer]—which Leon had modified to channel his sword arts—erupted with a blinding golden aura. He swung it in a massive upward arc.

​WHOOSH.

​The golden flame collided with the lead Dryad. Usually, plant monsters are resistant to blunt force, but the Holy affinity of the Lionheart flame acted like acid against the Rot. The Dryad howled as her thorny limbs turned to ash upon contact.

​"Burn!" Leon gritted his teeth, driving the hammer down. "Crushing Claw!"

​SPLAT.

​The Dryad dissolved into a pile of black sludge and embers.

​To my right, the second Dryad lunged at Selena.

​"Consume..." the monster hissed, its maw opening to reveal rows of wooden needle-teeth.

​Selena didn’t blink. She didn’t dodge. She simply calculated.

​"Inefficient trajectory," she noted dryly.

​She side-stepped a mere inch, letting the Dryad’s claws rake the air where her throat had been a millisecond before. In the same motion, she spun her [Shadow-forged Scythe].

​SNICK.

​It was a quiet, clean sound. The Dryad froze. A thin line of black mist appeared around its neck. Then, its head slid off its shoulders.

​"Target pruned," Selena stated, stepping over the twitching body.

​The third Dryad hesitated. It looked at the burning remains of its sister, then at the cold-eyed reaper. It turned to flee, scrambling back toward the dark recesses of the farm.

​"Oh no, you don’t," I muttered.

​I couldn’t let it raise the alarm.

​[Skill: Void Step]

​I blinked through space, reappearing directly in the creature’s path. I didn’t have the mana for a [Void Cut], but I didn’t need it. I had physics.

​I drove my dagger into the Dryad’s knee joint, using my momentum to sweep its legs. It crashed to the ground. Before it could rise, Leon was there, his boot slamming onto its chest to pin it down.

​"Stay down," Leon ordered, the golden fire in his eyes flaring.

​The creature hissed, spitting black bile, but it didn’t move.

​The Harvest

​With the immediate threat neutralized, we took a moment to look at what the Dryads had been guarding.

​It was a nightmare of industrial alchemy.

​The back of the cavern had been converted into a processing plant. Massive pumps made of jagged, black iron were drilled directly into the amber flesh of the World Tree’s roots. They pulsed rhythmically, sucking out the glowing white sap.

​But the sap didn’t stay white.

​As it passed through a series of glass chambers filled with purple Nether-crystals, the sap turned black. It bubbled and hissed, transforming from life-giving mana into volatile, destructive sludge.

​"They’re refining it," I realized, walking up to one of the glass tanks. [Quantum Analysis Mind] displayed the chemical composition.

​[Substance: Dark Mana Concentrate]

[Purity: 92%]

[Effect: Highly addictive mana source. Increases spell potency by 300%, causes cellular degeneration.]

​"This isn’t just for the city," Leon said, looking at a stack of crates nearby. "Look at this."

​He pried open a crate. Inside were rows of sealed black vials, packed in straw.

​"A shipping manifest," Leon said, pulling a parchment from the box. He read it, and his face went pale. "Destination: The Black Citadel."

​" The Demon Cult’s headquarters," I finished grimly. "The Elven Council isn’t just using Dark Mana to power their city. They’re exporting it. They’re arming the enemy."

​"Treason," Selena said. She was standing by the iron pumps, tracing the pipes with her hand. "High Treason. Punishment: Execution of the entire lineage."

​"Wait," I said, holding up a hand. "Someone’s here."

​My [Nova AI] had picked up a heartbeat. A fast, panicked heartbeat.

​I signaled to the others. We moved toward a small office carved into the root wall, the door slightly ajar.

​Inside, a figure was frantically shoving papers into a brazier, trying to burn the evidence.

​"Stop!" I shouted.

​The figure turned. It wasn’t a monster. It was an Elf—a High Elf researcher wearing the white robes of the Science Guild, now stained with black oil.

​He dropped the papers and raised his hand to cast a spell.

​FLASH.

​Before he could utter a syllable, a shadow blurred past me.

​Selena slammed the researcher against the wall, her hand clamped around his throat. She lifted him a foot off the ground.

​"Casting sequence interrupted," Selena droned. "Subject captured."

​The Elf clawed at her hand, his eyes bulging. "Let... me... go! You don’t know what you’re doing!"

​Leon rushed in, extinguishing the fire in the brazier and saving the half-burnt documents.

​"Who are you?" Leon demanded, holding up the charred papers. "Who ordered this?"

​The researcher sneered, though his face was turning blue. "You... you are nothing. The Benefactor... he sees all. The Tree is his."

​"The Benefactor?" I stepped forward, my dagger in hand. "You mean the Demon Lord?"

​The Elf’s eyes widened. "He is no Demon! He is the Gardener! He will prune this weak world and grow a new one!"

​"He’s a fanatic," I muttered. "We won’t get anything out of him with standard questions."

​I looked at Selena. "Drop him."

​Selena released her grip. The Elf collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

​"Selena, guard the door," I ordered. "Leon, check the files."

​I crouched down in front of the researcher.

​"My name is Michael Willson," I said, my voice low and cold. "And I don’t have time for fanaticism. You have ten seconds to tell me where the Spirit Gate is, or I let the ’Blood-Witch’ behind me have a snack."

​I pointed a thumb at Selena.

​Selena paused her sharpening of the scythe. She looked at the Elf, tilted her head, and let out a low, predatory growl—a sound she had picked up from her brief time as a feral beast.

​"Hungry," Selena whispered, improvising perfectly.

​The researcher paled. He looked at the dead Dryads outside, then at the girl with the obsidian eyes.

​" Sub-Level 4!" he shrieked. "The entrance is in Sub-Level 4! But you can’t enter! The roots... they scream down there! Even the Master doesn’t go there without the amulet!"

​"What amulet?" I pressed.

​He fumbled at his neck, pulling out a necklace with a shard of the black Nether-crystal. "This! It... it wards off the whispers! Take it! Just don’t let her eat me!"

​I snatched the amulet. [Item Obtained: Ward of the Void (Key Item)].

​"Tie him up," I told Leon. "We’re going deeper."

​We left the researcher bound and gagged in his office. As we stepped back into the humid, pulsing heat of the main cavern, the ground shook.

​RUMBLE.

​Dust fell from the ceiling. The amber light of the walls flickered and turned a sickly red.

​"The Tree knows we’re here," Lysandra’s warning echoed in my mind.

​"Nova," I checked the time. "Time until Lysandra’s trial?"

​"41 Hours," the AI chirped.

​"We have to hurry," I said, looking down into the abyss where the black veins converged. "The Gardener is waiting."

​(To be Continued)