Extra's Ascent

"Aydin! What the hell are you doing?!" Aldrich's voice thundered across the space, sharp, commanding, and unlike his usual calm tone.

The sound alone was enough to make Aydin's heart skip. He wasn't used to seeing Aldrich like this. So agitated, furious, not just annoyed but genuinely incensed. His eyes carried a glare that seared through the air, one so intense it sent a chill through Aydin's spine.

And frankly, Aldrich had every right to be livid.

Here he was, standing on a battlefield where the stakes weren't just personal, but continental, where entire destinies were at play. Yet in the midst of that gravity, Aydin was causing a delay, digging up the remnants of some old misunderstanding like a child refusing to grow up.

Ridiculous.

Aldrich could barely suppress the storm rising within him. There was only so much patience one could exercise. And Aldrich Aldaman had just exhausted his.

He drew in a deep breath, forcing his expression into something more composed, even if the fury still simmered beneath the surface. Though his limbs remained bound by the inscription beneath him, there was nothing restrained about the sheer presence he now radiated.

"Aydin," Aldrich called again, voice low but firm, laced with something cold and unyielding.

"Do you know the one thing you should never do when you're up against an Aldaman?"

It was a question that echoed like prophecy, an ominous foreboding, and undeniably serious.

Aydin blinked, clearly lost. His brows furrowed in confusion, his lips parted but no answer came. Because truthfully, he didn't know. Not really.

Who were the Aldamans? What defined their legacy? What did their bloodline Art embody at its core?

If Aydin had truly understood any of those things, he would've known without doubt: what he was doing right now was the exact thing one should never, ever do when facing an Aldaman.

Unfortunately for him, realization dawned just a fraction too late.

Aldrich's eyes widened, both pupils now emblazoned with a distinct clover-shaped pattern. The clovers began to rotate, each revolving around the other in a mesmerizing dance, chasing one another in circles yet destined never to meet. It was a spectacle that stole Aydin's attention completely.

The moment his gaze locked with Aldrich's, he froze. He became entranced and shackled by the illusory force embedded within those swirling eyes.

And just like that, Aldrich broke free.

The inscriptions that had chained him moments ago shattered like fragile glass, dissipating as though they'd never been. Aydin, too slow to react, staggered backward in disbelief. He didn't even register Aldrich moving until it was far too late.

One step. One fist.

Aldrich's punch landed square in his chest, driving through flesh and sinew like a spear. Aydin's entire body jerked, his feet skimming the edge of the floating brick, nearly toppling over.

But Aldrich didn't let him fall, not yet.

He caught Aydin by the shoulder, stabilizing him with one arm while the other remained buried in his torso. The gesture wasn't out of mercy, but domination.

"Aydin Astravon," Aldrich whispered, leaning close so his voice slid directly into his ear, heavy and unforgiving. "You've overstepped. Against the Clover Eye…" His voice was cold, improper to someone he called a friend. "Ease your pride and understand that before my eyes...you are nothing."

Then, with a swift motion, he withdrew his fist and with a gentle push of his finher, he had Aydin falling off the edge, sentencing him to a humiliating fall.

Or so Aydin believed.

Because what he experienced was nothing more than illusion.

The reality was far different if it's seen through from Aldrich's point of view.

It happened the moment those clover pupils began to turn, an illusion was cast. A masterstroke, perfectly timed. Aydin, locked in eye contact, was pulled into a world of falsehood so vivid that his body responded to its trauma as if it were real.

And the illusion… succeeded spectacularly.

Now, in the truth of the present, Aydin Astravon lay crumpled on the floor, unconscious, his face frozen in a grimace of fear. The moment the illusion gripped him, his mind buckled under its weight. His mana flow, once sustaining the binding inscription that kept Aldrich tied down now faltered. And with that, the technique failed, freeing Aldrich in a single heartbeat.

Aldrich had understood it all, how the Art worked, how Aydin's mana had been channeling into the trap, and how severing that mana source would free him. It took nothing more than perception and patience to identify the weakness and exploit it.

Yet even now, Aldrich wished it hadn't come to this. Casting an illusion powerful enough to simulate death on a classmate, no less, was not something done lightly. It wasn't deceitful, but it was invasive. Scarring. And Aydin would wake with the memory of that torment etched into his mind.

Still, Aldrich hadn't chosen it out of cruelty. He had made a tactical decision to strike at Aydin's pride, to crush the illusion of equality he still clung to.

Aydin had been playing games, distracted by personal grudges while everyone else was waging war. If this ordeal shook him back into awareness, then maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.

Aldrich turned away, his task complete. He leapt from one brick platform to another, the wind whipping against him, determination in his eyes. Finally, he reached the last hovering brick.

But instead of landing, he propelled himself forward, diving from it altogether.

He landed smoothly, crouching slightly as his toes absorbed the impact, every muscle fluid and controlled. Not even dust stirred from the landing.

"Oh, Al! Took you long enough," Saldrich's voice rang out from nearby.

She stood casually, bouncing a ball in her hand, tossing it into the air and catching it with ease. The ball danced between her fingers, as if mocking the seriousness of the previous moment.

"If you're down here alone," she mused, "that means you beat both Selina and Aydin? Not bad."

Then she glanced toward Fiona, smirking. "Fiona, your boyfriend's kind of a monster, you know."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "He's also your brother, remember?"

"I know, right?!" Saldrich laughed. "And I thought he was just some mild-mannered mystic. But damn, Aldrich, who the hell are you?"

As the banter flowed between them, Aldrich's eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for his teammates.

Opius was the first he spotted, unconscious, sprawled out against the dirt like a discarded doll.

Then came Valeria. It took a moment, but he eventually located her embedded in a section of the brick wall, completely knocked out. Her body had made a crater.

The terrain itself bore testimony to a brutal clash, craters, burn marks, debris scattered like confetti after war.

But what caught Aldrich's eye most was the state of Fiona and Saldrich. The both of them were untouched or at least looked the part. They had no dirt. No scrapes. Not even the faintest sign of fatigue.

He didn't need to be told what happened.

This hadn't been a battle. It was a one-sided display. And his team had been the ones on the receiving end, leaving them temporarily signed out.

Damn it.

This… this was the worst possible outcome.