The Extra's Rise-Chapter 398: The Well of Miasma (2)

It was the end of year 2043.

New Year's Eve should have been a time of celebration, a moment to welcome fresh beginnings with hope and joy. But in the Nightingale household, the atmosphere was thick with dread.

"He should be back by now," Alice whispered, her eyes vacant as she sat motionless on the sofa. Her fingers trembled slightly until Douglas gently covered them with his own.

"He may be late," Douglas said, his voice steady despite the worry etched in the lines around his eyes. "The border regions are unpredictable this time of year."

Alice turned to him, her expression fracturing. "B-but... if he's late... does that mean he's caught?" The question hung in the air like a physical thing, the fear they'd both been avoiding for months finally given voice.

"Shh, don't say that," Douglas murmured, drawing her closer. His lips pressed into a thin line as he struggled to maintain composure for them both.

They had learned of their son's "training expedition" from Mythos Academy eleven months ago. The explanation had been deliberately vague—a special research opportunity, a chance for exceptional growth, assurances of safety protocols. The elite institution's reputation had temporarily assuaged their concerns.

Their attempts to track Arthur through his phone had led nowhere—the signal lost at the Northern border, where the Umbravale Covenant's influence corrupted both land and technology. The Academy representatives had been clear: Arthur would return before the year ended.

But midnight approached, and with it, the terrible certainty that if their son didn't return tonight, he never would. Captured or killed—the distinction hardly mattered beyond the Northern border.

'I hope Aria is having fun at her party,' Douglas thought as he held his wife, feeling her tears dampen his shirt. He had insisted their daughter maintain her plans, wanting to spare her this vigil. If the worst happened, she deserved one final evening of normalcy before their world collapsed.

Across the city, Aria Nightingale stood among laughing friends, streamers and confetti falling around her as music pulsed through her friend's home. Unlike her peers, her eyes remained fixed on her watch, the minutes ticking relentlessly toward midnight.

'Why haven't mom and dad messaged yet?' The thought circled her mind like a predator. 'Did he not return? Isn't time running out?'

She had known the truth—more than her parents suspected.

As the countdown to midnight began around her, tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Then, through the moisture, her watch screen blinked with an incoming message.

A single line from her father: "He's home."

The tears fell freely now, relief washing through her like a physical force as her friends counted down, oblivious to her private celebration that had nothing to do with the New Year.

Arthur was back.

______________________________________________

"Is it true?" Cecilia demanded, her voice carrying through the imperial residence with such force that the attendants froze in their New Year preparations. "He's back? He's back in Avalon?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Nate confirmed, the Imperial Knight's formal posture belying the tension in his voice. "He entered Avalon city approximately thirty minutes ago. He is currently in protective custody."

"Protective custody?" Cecilia's crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, the temperature in the room seeming to drop several degrees. "Who dares to detain him?"

Nate suppressed a shiver, having witnessed the consequences of the princess's displeasure before. "Your Highness, it was implemented for safety purposes. Standard protocol for anyone crossing back from beyond the Northern border. Please understand—"

"Take me to him," Cecilia interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "Now."

The Imperial Knight hesitated, caught between protocols. "Their Majesties and His Highness are attending the Royal New Year's Reception. Do you wish for me to inform them of your departure?"

"I don't have time for diplomatic niceties," Cecilia said, already moving toward the door, her formal gown rustling with each determined step. "Get me a car and let's go. Immediately."

"Yes, Your Highness," Nate bowed deeply before activating his communication device to arrange transportation.

Alone for a moment, Cecilia pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the rapid cadence of her heartbeat. After eleven months, three days, and approximately four hours—not that she had been counting with obsessive precision—she would see him again.

Arthur.

The sensation of his hand in hers, the particular way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the solid presence of him beside her—memories she had revisited countless times during his absence. Memories that had sustained her through diplomatic functions and royal obligations that suddenly seemed meaningless in comparison.

She had never been one to acknowledge weakness, even to herself, but Arthur's absence had created a void she could neither ignore nor fill. The realization both disturbed and fascinated her. How had he become so essential?

The sleek, armored vehicle arrived without sound, its autonomous systems recognizing the imperial signature. Cecilia slid inside, Nate following with practiced efficiency.

"Where is he being held?" she asked as the car pulled away from the palace complex.

"The Sentinel Facility, Your Highness. Northern Quadrant."

Cecilia nodded, her expression unreadable as she gazed out at the glittering lights of Avalon. The city celebrated around them, oblivious to the return that mattered more to her than any New Year.

In mere minutes, she would see Arthur Nightingale again—changed, perhaps, by whatever trials he had faced beyond the border. But present. Real. Returned.

The thought sent an unfamiliar warmth through her chest, one she had finally stopped trying to suppress or analyze.

Some truths needed no explanation.

"Clear the area," Cecilia commanded as she swept through the Sentinel Facility corridors, her imperial tone leaving no room for argument. Guards and officials scrambled aside, pressing themselves against walls as she passed.

"Your Highness," began the facility director, hurrying alongside her with evident distress, "there are protocols that must be followed before anyone can—"

"I said," Cecilia cut him off without breaking stride, crimson eyes flashing dangerously, "clear the area."

The director's protest died in his throat. With a curt nod, he motioned for the remaining personnel to withdraw.

Nate followed several paces behind, observing with quiet fascination. He had served the imperial family for years, but rarely had he seen the princess exercise her authority with such raw determination.

When they reached the secured wing, Cecilia paused before a door marked only with a simple designation code. For just a moment, Nate caught something unexpected in her usually composed features—vulnerability, perhaps even fear.

Then it was gone, replaced by imperial resolve as she waved her hand over the access panel. The door slid open silently.

Arthur Nightingale stood by the window, gazing out at the glittering New Year celebrations illuminating Avalon's skyline. He turned at the sound of the door, and Cecilia froze in the threshold.

For three heartbeats, neither moved.

Then she was across the room, propriety forgotten as she threw her arms around him, burying her face against his shoulder. Arthur's arms enfolded her immediately, his eyes closing as he held her tight.

Nate remained in the doorway, momentarily forgotten. The reunion before him was not what shocked him, however—it was Arthur himself.

The Arthur before him now stood differently, held himself differently. An aura of quiet power radiated from him, subtle but unmistakable to Nate's trained senses. The air around him seemed charged, like the stillness before lightning strikes. It was the kind of presence that couldn't be taught or manufactured—only forged through trials that few survived.

'Impossible,' Nate thought, his pulse quickening with a swordsman's instinctive recognition of a worthy opponent. 'He's still technically high Integration-rank, but this pressure...'

His fingers twitched reflexively toward his sword hilt. The disciplined Imperial Knight in him maintained composure, but the warrior in his blood sang with excitement. He had heard rumors of what happened beyond the Northern border, of course—training grounds where survival itself was considered success. But to transform someone this completely in less than a year...

When Arthur finally looked up and met Nate's gaze over Cecilia's shoulder, the Imperial Knight felt an electric jolt of recognition. Those eyes held a depth, a knowing, a capacity that hadn't been there before—a silent challenge that made Nate's combat instincts flare to life.

A memory surfaced: the Sophomore Ball at Mythos Academy, where Nate had last encountered Arthur. That night, Princess Cecilia had ordered him to "acquire" Arthur during her confrontation with two rival princesses and the daughter of a count. Back then, Arthur hadn't even reached Integration-rank—he was merely the top-ranked second-year student at Mythos Academy, exceptional but still developing. Nate had handled him with ease then. But this...

That boy who was just growing into his potential had somehow bloomed into a monster.