An Extra's POV-Chapter 996: The Last Frontier [Pt 8]

The void shimmered like stretched glass as Rey drifted through the absence of all things, guided by the voice of the cat-like being beside him.

The vast sea of blackness, once static and unmoving, now pulsed with faint ripples—subtle distortions in the nothingness.

They marked the presence of power. The beginning of something new.

"Focus," the entity said, its tails forming intricate patterns in the air. "You must build above, not within. A new layer cannot exist as a parasite. It must be sovereign."

Rey closed his eyes, and in the darkness behind his eyelids, he stretched his senses far and wide. His Primeval Skills—Destruction, Knowledge, Death, Life, and all the others—flickered at the edges of his fading consciousness.

The embers of a once-immense power.

It was enough for now.

He raised his hands, his voice like thunder within the quiet:

"Let there be a new plane."

Golden rings spun around his arms, and the void itself trembled.

A crack appeared—then another.

Through those fractures, light seeped in—not from above, but from within Rey himself. The blueprint of existence, drawn from every star he had ever seen, every whisper of time he had ever touched, every memory of H'Trae that burned inside his soul.

The cat thing observed silently. Its glowing eyes narrowed in thought as Rey extended his hands toward the cracks and tore them open.

Through the gap, he saw it.

H'Trae.

But it was dying.

No longer a world of seas and sky. It looked like a collapsed sun, flickering red and gold and black. Its surface crumbled slowly inward, tendrils of energy spiraling off it like smoke. It was still beautiful, but in the way a sunset was beautiful—an ending, not a beginning.

"I found it," Rey whispered.

"You remembered," the cat said.

And that was all he needed.

With a silent roar, Rey reached for the star of H'Trae and wrapped it in his will.

Not power.

Not a Skill.

His will.

He forced it to obey.

Forced it to be free.

One by one, the chains of the System—thin, invisible threads—snapped and fizzled away into nothingness.

The old rules, the levels, the Classes—they burned.

"I hereby sever you," Rey said, his voice heavy with authority, "from the old design. No longer shall you be governed. You are yours… and mine."

He guided H'Trae—slowly—through the newly created layer, the layer that only he had dominion over. The dying star pulsed once, twice, and then flared brilliantly.

Rey's arms trembled.

A second later, the whole of existence shifted.

He didn't just place the world in this new plane.

He made rules.

Rules that he could never undo.

"No more Systems." "No more Skills." "No more control."

The light around Rey began to dim.

"...It's done," he whispered.

And it was.

H'Trae lived again, not as a copy, not as a replacement—but as itself, completely and utterly free. Its people would wake soon. The sky would shine again. They would not even know how close they came to oblivion.

But Rey would.

And he was fading.

The light in his veins flickered as if running out of oil, and the golden hue of his body began to break apart like particles in the wind.

The cat thing observed in silence.

Rey turned to it, eyes calm.

"I'll use what's left of my power to make you a path," he said. "To the world above. To the place you long for."

The cat tilted its head. "It won't be perfect."

"No," Rey admitted. "The path will be random. Unstable. But it'll be hidden. Undetectable to the ones above. It's the best I can do now."

The cat gave a slow, solemn nod.

"I thank you," Rey said softly.

The cat thing chuckled. "For what? We had an agreement."

Rey grinned faintly. "Still. Thank you."

The cat blinked slowly, its tails pausing mid-motion. Then it tilted its head again, curious.

"One last question, before you fade."

"Go ahead."

"You won't exist in H'Trae anymore. Not in this body. Not as you are. What happens to the people who remember you? The ones who love you? What becomes of their Rey?"

Rey smiled—an exhausted but satisfied smile.

"I made a duplicate," he said. "A perfect version of me, complete with all my memories up until the point I stepped into the Last Frontier. He'll take my place."

"You thought of everything." The cat blinked.

"I tried."

A long pause followed, quiet and heavy.

Then Rey looked at the cat thing and asked, "What about you? Do you… have a name?"

The creature grinned wide—wider than before. Its silhouette shimmered, and for a moment, Rey saw a shape behind the shadow. Wings. Horns. A face both divine and dreadful.

"My name is Lucifer," it said, voice echoing like falling stars.

Rey didn't flinch. He only nodded.

"I thought so."

But before either could say another word, the void began to shift.

Golden light—pure and perfect—descended from above. Not beams. Not rays. Entities. Silent watchers of law and order. The Ancients.

Lucifer smiled wide, fangs glinting.

"They've noticed."

Rey narrowed his eyes as the lights descended farther, illuminating the entire Last Frontier with a sacred, otherworldly glow.

"They're searching for H'Trae," Lucifer said. "They'll tear through the layer you created until they find it."

Rey stared at the lights. "I hid it well."

"Don't underestimate the Ancients," Lucifer warned. "If you want to keep them distracted… you'll need to give them something else to chase."

Rey nodded once.

"I'll fight."

Lucifer arched a brow. "Even now?"

"I'm not done yet," Rey said, stepping forward as his body began to burn away—light shedding like falling ash.

Lucifer offered a rare bow, low and respectful.

"Then I'll be going. The path you created for me… I will walk it."

He looked at Rey one last time.

"Farewell, Rey."

And with that, Lucifer vanished into the dark sea—gone without a ripple, without a sound.

Rey stood alone now.

The golden lights descended all around him, watching.

Judging.

He looked up at them with a smile.

"Come on… I believe it's high time we finally meet."