The Extra's Rise-Chapter 823: Bet (2)

The massive axe descended through the air like a falling star, its trajectory aimed directly at the courtyard where I stood. Vorgath Ironmaw—the Axe King—had put everything behind this opening strike, the kind of devastating attack that had ended countless battles before they could truly begin. The weapon’s edge gleamed with miasma and Axe Unity while the very air seemed to split before its passage, creating a wake of distorted space that spoke to forces beyond conventional understanding.

I had been prepared to meet the strike head-on, my hand already moving toward Nyxthar’s hilt while my enhanced reflexes calculated the optimal angle for deflection. This was exactly the kind of straightforward challenge I had expected from someone whose reputation was built on overwhelming force rather than subtle technique.

What I hadn’t expected was for Meilyn to suddenly appear between the descending axe and its intended target.

"Meilyn, no!" I called out, but she was already in motion, her own weapon materializing in her hands with practiced efficiency.

Her scythe was a work of art in its own right—a weapon forged specifically for someone of her capabilities and enhanced with enchantments that reflected years of accumulated battle experience. The curved blade gleamed with silver light while intricate runes ran along its shaft, marking it as a weapon worthy of someone who had earned the rank of Grand Marshal through merit rather than politics.

She moved with the fluid grace of someone who had spent decades perfecting her craft, her stance shifting into perfect defensive positioning while her golden eyes tracked the axe’s approach with analytical precision. But even as I watched her prepare to intercept the strike, I could see the fundamental problem with what she was attempting.

Meilyn was powerful—high Immortal-rank, with combat experience that few could match and technique refined through countless battles. Under normal circumstances, she would have been more than capable of deflecting or redirecting an attack from most opponents, regardless of their reputation or classification.

But Vorgath Ironmaw wasn’t most opponents.

The Axe King was one of the five Cult Leaders, beings whose power approached the legendary while their willingness to embrace corruption and destruction removed most of the moral limitations that constrained conventional combatants. His strength was in the low Radiant-rank category, with decades of experience fighting opponents who possessed capabilities that defied easy categorization.

Meilyn’s scythe met the axe’s edge with a sound like thunder splitting the heavens, silver light clashing against malevolent darkness in a display that would have been visible from miles away. For a moment—just a moment—it seemed as though her defensive technique might succeed in redirecting the devastating attack. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Then Vorgath poured more power into his strike.

The additional force wasn’t subtle or gradual—it was an explosion of violent energy that transformed what had been a powerful but manageable attack into something approaching a natural disaster. Dark mana erupted around the axe’s blade like liquid shadow given physical form, while the weapon’s enchantments blazed with renewed intensity that spoke to their creator’s willingness to embrace any cost for the sake of absolute destruction.

I watched in slow motion as Meilyn’s defensive stance began to buckle under the overwhelming pressure. Her scythe, despite its quality and her considerable skill, simply wasn’t designed to handle forces of this magnitude. Hairline cracks appeared along the weapon’s shaft while the protective enchantments that should have absorbed the impact started to flicker and fail.

Her golden eyes widened with shocked recognition as she realized that her strength, considerable though it was, had been insufficient for the task she had attempted. The axe continued its descent, its trajectory barely altered by her intervention while her defensive position crumbled under the weight of absolute power.

But I was already moving.

Nyxthar cleared its sheath in a single fluid motion, the legendary blade singing with anticipation as I channeled everything I had learned during my time in the demon realm. Soul Resonance flooded my system with enhanced capabilities while Lucent Harmony synchronized my magical channels for optimal efficiency. Seraphim’s Embrace wrapped me in protective energy that made my skin shine with subtle radiance, while every technique I had mastered combined into perfect unity of purpose.

I reached Meilyn’s position just as her scythe finally succumbed to the overwhelming force bearing down upon it. The weapon shattered like glass, fragments of enchanted metal scattering across the courtyard while she stumbled backward with shock clear in her expression.

My left arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against my side while my right hand brought Nyxthar up in a perfect defensive arc. The timing was precise to the microsecond—any later and the axe would have completed its devastating trajectory, any earlier and I wouldn’t have been in position to provide the support Meilyn needed.

Vorgath’s massive weapon met Nyxthar’s edge with an impact that shook the very foundations of Fort Meridian.

The collision should have been catastrophic. The Axe King’s strike carried enough force to level city blocks, channeled through a weapon that had carved through legendary defenses and shattered the strongest fortifications. By every reasonable calculation, the impact should have sent both Meilyn and me flying across the courtyard while the fortress itself suffered structural damage from the residual energy.

Instead, I didn’t budge so much as an inch.

Nyxthar held the massive axe motionless above our heads, its edgeless blade somehow perfectly positioned to catch and contain forces that should have been beyond any single weapon’s ability to manage. The legendary sword hummed with satisfaction, its ancient enchantments responding to the challenge with the kind of enthusiasm that spoke to a weapon forged for exactly this type of confrontation.

Around us, the air itself seemed to hold its breath as the impossible sight registered on everyone present. Vorgath’s eyes widened with genuine shock as he processed what had just occurred, while his massive frame trembled with the effort of maintaining pressure against an immovable object.

But it was Meilyn’s reaction that caught my attention most completely.

She stared up at me with golden eyes wide with disbelief, her enhanced senses no doubt working frantically to understand how someone who hadn’t yet reached quasi-Radiant-rank could casually stop an attack that had shattered her own legendary-grade weapon. Her proximity to my position meant she could feel the controlled power radiating from my form, could sense the careful balance of forces that allowed me to make this kind of demonstration look effortless.

"How?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling energy that surrounded Vorgath’s still-pressing axe. "Your mana signature... you’re not even Radiant-rank yet. This should be impossible."

I smiled slightly, appreciating her analytical approach even in the midst of such dramatic circumstances. "Rankings are just numbers," I said quietly, my voice carrying easily despite the supernatural forces at play around us. "They don’t account for everything that matters in real combat."

To emphasize the point, I shifted my grip on Nyxthar slightly and applied just a fraction more force to my defensive stance. Vorgath’s axe, which had been straining against my blade with tremendous pressure, suddenly found itself being pushed backward with casual ease.

The Axe King snarled with frustrated rage as he realized that his opening gambit—the attack he had been planning and anticipating for eight years—had been not just stopped but dominated by someone he had expected to crush through sheer overwhelming force.

"Retreat," I whispered to Meilyn, my lips close enough to her ear that the words wouldn’t carry to our opponent. "Get your people to safety and leave this to me."

Meilyn searched my face for any sign of doubt or uncertainty, her golden eyes reflecting the kind of sharp intelligence that had earned her command of the western frontier. Whatever she found in my expression seemed to convince her that arguing would be both futile and potentially dangerous for everyone involved.

"Don’t you dare lose," she said fiercely, her voice carrying the kind of absolute command that had made grown soldiers leap to obey her orders. "I didn’t spend eight years worrying about this duel just to watch you get yourself killed through overconfidence."

"I don’t plan to," I replied with genuine warmth, appreciating her concern while simultaneously preparing for what came next. "But you need to trust me on this."

She nodded reluctantly, her military discipline overriding personal inclinations as she recognized the tactical reality of the situation. With careful movements that spoke to years of combat experience, she extracted herself from my protective embrace and began retreating toward the fortress’s main structure.

"All units, full withdrawal to secondary positions!" she commanded, her voice carrying across the courtyard with practiced authority. "Establish defensive perimeter around the command center and await further orders!"