I'm an Extra, so What?

It didn't take long before only a handful of rangers remained—

Just four out of the dozens who had once roamed the dense forest.

Among them was Rosie, who had lost every single member of her group.

Not through bad luck, but through cold calculation—she had used her own allies as little more than human shields, sacrificial pawns to slow down threats while she slipped away untouched.

Then there was Luka, who hadn't so much as broken a sweat.

Bored out of his mind, he had spent most of the event perched high in the treetops, casually observing the chaos unfold beneath him.

The last two were wildly different from each other.

One was a shadow—silent, still, and utterly unreadable.

The man had concealed himself so well he might as well have been part of the forest itself, his camouflage so flawless that not a single movement gave him away.

The other, in contrast, was a deranged battle junkie.

He wandered the forest openly, challenging anyone and everyone he came across, grinning like a madman as he fought with unrelenting ferocity, uncaring whether he won or lost, bled or broke.

All he wanted was the thrill.

Luka finally dropped from the trees, stretching his limbs and cracking his neck, when he suddenly felt cold steel press against his back—

A scimitar, poised and ready.

"Hm?" Luka murmured, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, his expression still relaxed. "Woah…"

"Don't look back," a voice growled low from behind him.

"Whatever you say—" Luka began, but before the last syllable could leave his lips, he moved.

In a swift, violent motion, he slammed his elbow backward, driving it hard into the gut of the man behind him.

A guttural cough escaped the ambusher's lips as saliva sprayed from his mouth.

The blow hit its mark—

Center mass, clean and brutal.

Without wasting a second, Luka stepped forward, spun on his heel, and smoothly drew his Soulreaper dagger.

But the attacker recovered fast.

Too fast.

The moment Luka turned to face him—

The man swung with deadly intent, activating a skill in the blink of an eye—

[Ghost Edge]

His blade shimmered once, then vanished completely.

Luka's eyes narrowed.

He didn't hesitate.

He knew exactly what that skill was and what it meant.

'Ghost Edge… damn skill lets weapons pass through anything,' Luka thought bitterly.

And so, instead of attempting to block the strike—

Luka pivoted to the side, narrowly evading the invisible slash that hissed past his ribs.

He then triggered his own skill—

[Phantom Step]

His form blurred as he shot forward with supernatural speed.

He twisted and lashed out with his dagger in a precise, practiced strike—

Only to blink and find nothing there.

The man was gone.

Vanished, without a trace.

"What the...?" Luka muttered, halting mid-step.

His eyes flicked across the area, scanning every tree, every shadow.

Then it came.

[Phantom Cleave]

A sudden flurry of afterimage slashes appeared out of nowhere—flickering blades slicing through the air in every direction.

"Holy shit!" Luka's instincts screamed.

He dropped instantly, rolling backward, just as the ghostly slashes struck the space where he had been standing.

Each one would've landed dead-on.

"You're one annoying ghost," Luka muttered as he sprang to his feet and dropped into a defensive stance.

His grip tightened on his dagger.

He already understood what kind of fight this would be—

A battle of flickers and fakes, of shadows and reflexes.

Then, in the next blink—

The man was gone again.

A slow, knowing smirk formed across Luka's lips.

He had already figured out how to dismantle this opponent.

Attacks rained down from every angle—

Strikes appearing out of thin air without warning.

[Ghost Edge] and [Phantom Cleave] were used again and again, a relentless barrage meant to overwhelm him.

Yet Luka remained calm, weaving through the invisible slashes with sharp, economical movements.

He focused on conserving his stamina, only dodging what he had to.

Some strikes grazed him, thin lines of crimson opening along his arms and sides.

Blood beaded and trickled down his skin, but Luka didn't even flinch.

The hits were shallow—nothing vital, nothing that mattered.

Pain didn't so much as flicker across his face.

When basic, unskilled attacks came his way—

Luka didn't bother dodging at all.

Instead, he met blade with blade, the sharp ring of clashing steel echoing through the forest, filling the air like a grim chorus.

Meanwhile, the man attacking him—silent and disciplined at first—was beginning to fray at the edges.

His breathing grew louder, heavier.

Frustration brewed in his eyes, though he stubbornly kept his mouth shut, refusing to waste energy on pointless words.

But no matter how skilled he was, no human could maintain that kind of relentless assault forever.

His stamina was bleeding away rapidly, and he knew it.

Realizing he was on the verge of collapse, the man had no choice—he canceled [Ghost].

Bit by bit, his body shimmered back into visibility, the once-untouchable man becoming flesh and blood once again.

And the moment Luka caught even a glimpse of him, he acted.

He triggered [Phantom Step], disappearing into a blur of motion.

In the same instant, he slashed forward with his Soulreaper dagger, a deadly arc aimed straight at the man's torso.

The exhausted attacker tried to dodge, instincts screaming at him to move—but his body was too slow, too heavy with fatigue.

He twisted, but not fast enough.

The dagger tore into his shoulder with a sickening shlick, sinking deep into muscle and bone.

The man gritted his teeth, barely stifling a scream as agony flooded his senses.

In desperation, he lashed out with a wild kick aimed at the chest.

But Luka was ready.

The moment the man's foot came up—

Luka caught it with his free hand, gripping it like a vice.

It was then…

Black mist—cold, suffocating—oozed from the Soulreaper dagger.

It spread across the man's skin like a living thing.

True fear seized the man's heart.

A shriek of pure terror ripped from his throat.

His eyes bulged, pupils shrinking to tiny pinpricks as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

He shook violently, overcome with a fear so primal it crushed all reason.

Luka didn't waste the opportunity.

He twisted the leg sharply, flipping him backward onto the ground with a brutal thud.

Before the man could even think of recovering—

Luka was on top of him, pinning him down.

He pressed the tip of his Soulreaper dagger against the man's throat—not cutting, but close enough that a single twitch would end it.

"It seems this is my win," Luka said.

The man's entire body trembled.

His breathing was ragged, chest heaving up and down, sweat pouring from his skin as the last traces of the black mist finally faded away.

Clarity returned to his eyes—but so did helplessness.

Staring up, the defeated man found his voice, his lips quivering as he uttered the only words left to him:

"I... I give up..."