Reborn As An Extra In My Own Novel-Chapter 70: Final Fight [3]

(Inside the heaven’s palace dungeon – Deerheart’s black orb)

The world inside the dungeon was vastly different from what I wrote in THD.

In the original plot, Deerheart didn’t actually create an orb to complete his spell since he didn’t sense much danger from the first and second years, and that was exactly why Matt could defeat him, but at the cost of almost the entire school.

If I could have followed the original timeline, then a war could have later ignited between the Empire and England that would eventually spread to Germany, giving the demonic cult more than enough time to execute their plans.

But the plot had now diverted drastically from the original storyline.

Firstly, during the original plot, far more students had died, but right now, most of those students were still alive, including the girls he had abducted, since he couldn’t do much because of the suspicion that was building among students and teachers alike.

But none of that mattered right now.

I didn’t know why, but as I looked at Deerheart who stood at the center of an altar inside an ancient throne room, I couldn’t help but recall my last lesson with Neko-sensei.

Would finding my essence of combat play a role in this fight?

I wasn’t sure.

The throne room was vast but also empty. Wind howled from side to side.

It felt strangely like a final boss battle, like the ones I’d play without eating or moving because I didn’t even have the appetite.

Previously I didn’t understand what real adrenaline felt like, even now I wasn’t certain, but the cold sensation in my palms, my racing heart, my eyes that wouldn’t waver even with the chill I felt—

That was what adrenaline felt like in that moment.

Deerheart faced a grand throne made of a strange kind of brick that also covered the floor, it felt like obsidian, but the color and the holes around it resembled an old cemented structure.

’So this is where I die first. I think it’s a fitting burial place.’ I grinned.

I was now completely sure I was going to die, even the system had shown me signs, but contrary to what people said, I wasn’t afraid.

Maybe because there was a chance I could be revived, or maybe it was because of the strange celestial code I had received: Weaver of life. Either way, I had hardened my mind.

"I know you can sense my presence."

Deerheart shrugged, then slowly rose to his feet, the aura he radiated was enough to make me want to give up before the fight even began.

A mid-tier A rank was no joke.

Four moves, maybe five at most.

Deerheart’s eyes still glimmered brightly behind his glasses, he was now dressed in a generic mage robe.

"The robe really suits you." I laughed.

Deerheart kept a blank expression, then sighed. "I’ve been waiting for you, young lord."

My eyes narrowed. "Wow, you didn’t even laugh at my joke, and now you’re calling me a young lord. You do know I’m not a noble, right?"

Deerheart raised his hand and summoned seven swords above his head. "I suppose you don’t know about your lineage yet."

I couldn’t afford to be careless or use any half-hearted trick against him.

This time, I was going all out from the beginning.

I summoned Star of Ruin as the glow of its radiant orb-like light illuminated the already bright room.

Each time I used Star of Ruin, I had always tried to limit how I used it, from a pistol to only a sword, but this time I was going to use every single drop of mana I had, even the one stored in the pebble vestige I got from the lab.

[User has activated pebble vestige, your mana has tripled for ten minutes]

As soon as Deerheart moved his hand forward, signaling the blades to strike me, I shaped Star of Ruin into ten daggers linked together by a chain and infused my ice mana into them, making their color appear faint blue mixed with silver and lavender.

The swords were quickly deflected by my daggers that froze them on contact.

Since Star of Ruin was a vestige that actually bonded with the user’s core and let them create any weapon they wanted at the same rank as the original, I could generate an endless number of blades.

But my mana was still my biggest limitation.

Dodging an attack that nearly grazed my face, I raised my blade to strike his side, and as if I were nothing more than a fly, he swung his hand and smashed me into the wall.

Blood burst from my mouth as my vision blurred, the blade formed from Star of Ruin nearly slipping from my hands.

I slowly opened my bloodied eyes, unable to even think. For a brief moment, I saw my life flash before me.

’Not here, not now, not like this.’ I staggered to my feet and gripped the blade tightly once more, this time forming more daggers around me.

Deerheart’s eyes held a glimmer of mercy, but nothing more — it was clear he knew, too: if he wanted to reach his goal, I had to die.

But I wasn’t planning to die without landing a hit, nor was I planning to die by his hands.

As soon as Deerheart launched his attack, I shaped a massive cube out of Star of Ruin over Deerheart’s body.

With a glance, he moved his blade and shattered the cube into fragments of light.

But that short moment gave me enough time to close the gap.

I swiftly switched places with the shadow I’d placed on the box and infused my hand with the new flame talent I’d recently acquired.

I punched Deerheart in the face as hard as I could.

As his face rippled, he flew toward a doorway that stood next to where I’d landed, only there was no door, and beyond it was a vast sky with no ground in sight.

Deerheart pushed his feet down and used the friction to stop himself, then looked at me without moving.

The six open windows and four large doors that filled the floating palace with light seemed to shift toward him.

"You remind me of my younger self," Deerheart said, then unleashed the full brunt of his overwhelming mana.

The entire palace trembled as I stumbled, my knees dropping to the floor.

I could feel an invisible yet domineering force weighing down on me like a thousand mountains, even insects couldn’t survive the immense pressure.

Deerheart smirked faintly, resting his palm on his skeletal-like face. "Most asked me why I did what I did." His next words sent tremors through my very soul. "Humans are fragile you see, trapped in their own complacency...

... Those who once fought their way to the top amidst the chaos of the apocalypse now sit behind desks, barking hollow orders...

... They’ve squandered their true potential, their brilliance, all to pacify their deteriorating minds and outdated ideologies. Pride, arrogance, selfishness, all concealed under the guise of justice and equality...

... Soon enough child, you’ll realize, the greatest flaw in the gods’ creation, the one thing that plagued and tainted this beautiful world, is humanity itself."

Deerheart’s words didn’t come without reason.

They weren’t selfish, or self-righteous.

No, he had felt the pain of living in a world of nobility where power dictated all.

He had lost his family and loved ones, his wife who had been there with him all his life...

He had lost them all. To be honest, I couldn’t even say that I wouldn’t have done the same, if not worse than him.

But that didn’t mean I was going to let myself perish, maybe I might have done worse... No, I could have done worse.

But doing worse didn’t mean I was any better than a villain just because it was me. And the same way I was planning on killing Deerheart would be the same way someone would kill me.

Deerheart finally raised his broken blade high above his head as my eye widened.

I cursed in my head. I had done my best to block the blade previously, shattering it into fragments, disabling it, and leaving the once radiant blade as a jagged broken sword, but even then, I could do little to nothing to deflect the attacks.

’Damnit,’ I cursed, gritting my teeth so hard that I could taste blood. ’Die! Die! Just die already...’ But no matter how much I cursed or how much Star of Ruin had swung from left to right, I couldn’t stop the blades that moved like rampaging lightning, not to even mention closing the gap with Deerheart for more than ten seconds.

All I could do was kneel where I stood, letting Deerheart’s figure loom above me. My eyes still glimmered softly due to mana, but even that began to falter.

"So much for thinking I wouldn’t have to die"

My zone was slowly dwindling, and my clairvoyance slowly turning blurry.

Deerheart raised his blade above my neck. "Do you still intend to fight back?"

I met his gaze, panting. "What, do I annoy you?"

The man didn’t flinch. "To be completely honest? Yes, Kaiser. You’ve ruined not just my plans — but theirs too."

"Then I guess I achieved something, at least."

Deerheart scowled. "Do you think this is a joke, kid? Do you take yourself to be some kind of righteous hero?"

I paused, my voice low. "Hero, you say?" I smiled bitterly. "Calling myself things like ’hero’ would be an insult to those who put in hard work fighting for justice."

I lowered my gaze, gathering every last ounce of strength and mana within me. "Truth is... I’m selfish. Egotistical. Reckless. The list goes on and on. You could say I’m the farthest thing from a genuine protagonist."

I swiftly stepped back from my kneeling position and took a proper stance, ice particles flaring around me. "Do you still think I’m heroic?"

Before Deerheart could even respond, I raised my blade above my head and pointed the tip at chest.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Deerheart screamed, attempting to stop the blade from piercing my body. "Do you plan on sacrificing yourself? Suicide, is that what you want?"

I scoffed. "Don’t even kid yourself." I smirked, my blade inches away from my skin. "Do you think you have what it takes to kill me? If I die by your hand, even if temporarily, that would mean your ideology and your ways of doing things are right."

Deerheart’s eyes twitched; he couldn’t understand where I was heading with my words.

"So even if I need to go to hell to defeat you, I will go with my own two feet." The incandescent blade pierced through my core, making blood splatter in all directions. My hands trembled, and my already pale skin turned paler.

Looking at him through my now-blurred vision, I murmured, "No man born of a woman has the power or authority to kill me."

The sword slipped from my hands as my dancing shadows and wounded saints disintegrated into sparks of light

At that point — even I could tell... I was dead.