Episode 21: Genre Misunderstanding: An Extra's Survival Story

Episode 21: Too Strong

“Haa! Haa!”

She runs. She keeps running without stopping. Even as her breath catches painfully in her throat, she doesn’t stop.

She is an ability user. She can fight. And yet—she left the scene.

It’s true that she was told to go get help. It might be the right thing to do, since she’s too weak to do anything herself. Still, some part of her wonders if that’s just an excuse.

“Haa… haa…”

Seria finally stopped. An indescribable wave of self-loathing clung to her.

This wasn’t right. She didn’t come all this way just for something like this.

Her parents, who weren’t even her birth parents, had willingly taken her in.

The barony’s retainers and citizens who had trained and supported her with sincerity.

She remembered how overjoyed they were when she awakened her ability.

They’d praised her like she was the pride of the territory, making someone who once felt like nothing seem like the most extraordinary person in the world.

They had expectations. And she wanted to meet them. Even if she lacked talent, she wanted to try.

She didn’t want to disappoint them. That’s why she couldn’t run away.

A thought flashed through her mind—if she turned her back now, she’d never be able to return.

“You can do it, Lady Seria.”

She remembered what Abel told her during their journey to the academy—when she had spoken of herself as a pitiful ability user who only awakened by chance.

“No one looks up at the stars and says they’re worthless. Even if they’re smaller than a firefly, even if they don’t shine like the sun or moon—they’re still stars in the sky.”

“You may think you’re a firefly, Lady Seria, but to someone else, you are a star.”

“There’s no reason to belittle who you are right now, nor to be impatient or afraid. Everyone starts out as a firefly. The future—no one knows what it holds.”

Nothing is set in stone. If the future can be shaped, then it depends on her.

She remembered Abel’s words. Remembered the brave man who charged at the enemy despite the odds. She wanted to be someone he wouldn’t be ashamed of. Someone worthy of being called an ability user—just like he said.

“Hey!”

Having steeled her resolve, Seria grabbed the arm of the first male student she encountered.

“Please alert the faculty. The annex urgently needs help.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a dangerous person there. We need as many people as possible.”

With those words, she turned without hesitation. The boy, flustered, grabbed her arm.

“Wait! Where are you going if it’s that dangerous?!”

“I have to go back.”

Her voice carried unwavering determination. The boy couldn’t stop her.

And so, left with her request, he stared blankly in the direction she disappeared.

“You let your guard down!”

A supremacists cultist—someone they thought was dead—rushed at the male student.

But the boy didn’t even look at him. He simply raised his arm to block the strike.

Clang!

The sound wasn’t that of a blade meeting flesh. It was metal against metal.

The reason became clear with the cultist’s shocked voice:

“Ggh! Y-You damn mutated ability user…!”

The boy’s arm had transformed into something clearly inhuman. Smooth metallic skin had replaced flesh. Not a scratch could be seen on it. Instead, the cultist’s sword gave off a dangerous crack.

As his weapon snapped, the cultist was forced to use his hidden ability.

“You’re fools with superior blood who still choose to mingle with lesser beings!”

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from—someone who’s hurt innocent people and fellow ability users alike.”

With both arms clad in steel, Rel Karhan, the freshman, crushed his opponent in a single blow.

He had held back for a long time. Ever since his father became the Prime Minister of the Republic, he had been expected to behave like a well-mannered politician’s son.

The same was true at the academy. Every word he spoke, every action he took—it wasn’t just his own. It represented the Republic.

So he endured. But at this moment, there was no longer any reason to.

“Guh…”

“For the record, my dream is not to be a spineless politician who only fights with words in parliament.”

He wanted to be a warrior. To fight not with words, but with strength and steel.

The moment he awakened his ability, he saw it as a step toward that dream. That’s why Rel came to the Continental Academy—to walk the path toward a new life.

“And you lot will be the first sacrifices for that future.”

Having defeated the cultist in one blow, Rel turned back toward the direction Seria had disappeared.

Those eyes filled with resolve—she had looked like a lone pink blossom before, but now, she looked like a true warrior.

‘I want to know more about you.’

Rel immediately set off to find the faculty. The first thing he needed to do—for her—was to rally reinforcements.

***

The surprise assault on the academy came from both outside and within.

From the outside, a carefully selected group launched the invasion. From the inside, those who had hidden their identities for a month—or even years—began to move.

The Intention of the ability supremacists was simple: to create what they believed was the “true” world.

To that end, they began executing everything they could.

They eliminated future enemies, planted seeds of betrayal in those who might become allies, and kidnapped anyone who might waver—using them as hostages to manipulate other ability users.

All while publicly revealing themselves—calling out to those with hidden resentment:

“Why not join us in creating a new world, one for ability users alone?”

“Kuhk!”

“We got him! Drag him away!”

“Aaagh!”

“Kill him. Their parents have already chosen a different path from ours.”

Even before the operation began, targets had been clearly divided into two categories: those who must be eliminated to prevent future threats, and those who could potentially be persuaded or used.

The Winter Princesses belonged closer to the latter category.

“Your Highnesses. Please, reconsider. If we overthrow the current rules and systems and create a world just for ability users… then the Empire, the greatest enemy of the Northern Principality, will collapse from within.”

The empire, with the largest population, also has the largest number of ability users.

Ironically, it is also the most oppressive toward them—placing the most restrictions.

It’s the empire that emphasized obligation over rights, instilling a mindset that ability users exist to serve.

That’s why the supremacists saw the empire as their greatest enemy—their prime target.

But the Northern Principality, which had long clashed with the empire, seemed like a promising ally. It was reasonable to believe that persuasion could work on them.

“To follow the strong is nature’s way.”

“To cast aside the weak is also nature’s way.”

Hearing Irshu and Tarshu’s reply, the supremacists clicked their tongues in frustration.

Was it the harshness of the northern lands? The Principality had always clung excessively to the idea of strength.

Only the strong were allowed to speak. The strong took more and better. The weak remained beneath them unless they became strong themselves.

The point of the princesses’ words was clear:

They didn’t see a need to listen to those weaker than them.

If the supremacists wanted to persuade them, they’d have to prove their strength and reduce the princesses to the position of the weak.

“Sigh… children, really…”

Clearly born to privilege and possessing abilities, the world must have seemed easy to them.

Understandable. Who would dare go all out against a princess?

But there was something they didn’t understand.

Supremacists didn’t become what they were because they were weak. On the contrary, supremacists were always the ones who had everything to begin with.

“Then try blocking this!”

Sparks crackled from the supremacist’s hands.

An electric-type ability. Weak electricity might only sting, but with the right talent, it could pierce through anything—a terrifying spear of voltage.

“They’re coming, Irshu.”

“I know, Tarshu.”

The princesses wielded ice abilities—balanced in both offense and defense.

As long as they could defend properly, the opportunity would come. If both sides fought with all their might, the advantage would go to the side with greater numbers.

“But…”

What neither the supremacists nor the Winter Princesses expected—

Crash!

Thud!

Something suddenly burst through the wall and flew in their direction.

“Guh?!”

The supremacist was blindsided—struck by the flying object and sent tumbling far away.

What landed, however, came to a stop right in front of the princesses.

“…An enemy, Irshu?”

“No idea, Tarshu.”

Still wary, the two princesses kept their powers at the ready as they slowly approached.

“Ah.”

“Oh.”

A familiar face. That man. Abel Rotensilt.

The one who radiated overwhelming strength.

But his appearance now was completely different.

Bloodied, torn up, cracked in several places.

Clearly in critical condition. At a glance, he looked half-dead—he needed to be taken to the infirmary immediately.

“Is he alive, Irshu?”

“Looks dead to me, Tarshu.”

With dainty white fingers, the two princesses gently poked Abel’s cheek.

In that moment, his eyes shot open—and he slowly sat up.

“You’re alive?!”

“You’re not dead?!”

Given his condition, it was hard to believe he could even move.

He should’ve collapsed again immediately.

But instead, Abel rolled his shoulders and got to his feet—nonchalantly wiping the blood from his face and smearing it across his clothes.

“You two… You’re the princesses from before.”

“Irshu.”

“Tarshu.”

“Thank you. I lost consciousness for a bit after taking such a beating—it’s been a while since I got this wrecked. Thanks to that, I woke up right away.”

Crack. Crack.

As Abel reoriented himself, Irshu and Tarshu cautiously walked up to him.

“You okay?”

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m not okay. It hurts a lot. I’m human too, you know.”

Of course—being an ability user doesn’t make someone invincible. In the end, they’re still human.

“But you seem fine.”

“You don’t look like you’re in pain.”

“Well, I’ve been like this since I was a kid. I’ve gotten used to it.”

The hellish training he underwent since childhood to awaken his abilities.

The blood and sweat. The brutal hours.

For Abel, power was both a gift—and not a gift.

“I may look like this, but I’ve mastered the art of endurance and survival.”

As he stood there, smiling brightly while blood still dripped from him, The two princesses gulped.

Was it fear?

No—it was their hearts racing.

Because this—this was the figure of a true strong one.

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