I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 270

I crossed my arms and nodded. "Perfect."

Kairos’s gaze swept over the sofa, then the room, then me. "You work fast."

"It’s called being efficient," I said. "And being bullied by deadlines."

"It’s only a deadline if someone is rushing you," he said. "I didn’t."

I rolled my eyes. "You gave me a cave full of bugs, rocks, and zero furniture. Trust me, that’s pressure."

His lips twitched—just barely. If I hadn’t been looking right at him, I would’ve missed it.

I sank onto the couch, the plush cushions yielding beneath me like a cloud, and let out a deep, contented sigh as the softness enveloped my tired body. "Now try sitting on it," I urged Kairos, reaching out to tug gently at his sleeve.

Kairos looked down at my hand on his sleeve then lifted his eyes back to mine, unreadable as ever.

"I told you," he said, "I prefer standing."

I tugged again, harder this time. "And I told you I spent a ridiculous amount of time and money on this thing. Sit."

For a heartbeat he didn’t move. The cave felt too quiet—like even the air was waiting to see if the infamous leader of the Nightjars would obey someone as insignificant as me.

Then, without a word, he lowered himself onto the couch.

The cushions dipped under his weight, swallowing him just a little. He sat stiffly, as if the concept of being supported by furniture was something foreign. His posture was straight, hands resting on his knees, expression neutral.

It was the most awkward, funniest thing I had ever seen.

"Well?" I asked, leaning forward. "How is it?"

"...Soft," he said eventually, like he wasn’t sure if that was the correct answer. Then his eyes flicked up to me. "You look... pleased."

"I am pleased," I said proudly. "It’s my work after all."

I stood up, grabbing the remote from a nearby makeshift table and handing it to him. "Here, watch some T.V. I’m going outside to have a little stretch," I said, already heading toward the exit.

It had been days since I last trained, and the need to move—really move—itched under my skin like a restless pulse. The hideout’s cool, stale air brushed against me as I stepped out, leaving Kairos alone with the couch he absolutely pretended he didn’t like.

I found myself in a wide, open clearing, with a lone tree in the distance serving as my target. The moment I saw it, I activated my Spectral Seal, feeling that familiar rush of power. Without hesitation, I pulled out my daggers and launched them toward the tree. They multiplied the instant they left my hands, splitting like shards of light.

Next, I conjured my bow, nocked an arrow, and aimed for the hilts of the multiplying daggers, trying to channel more power into the shot. I thought that hitting the hilts would amplify the effect, maybe even cause some kind of chain reaction.

But in the end, I was probably too confident.

The arrows hit the daggers’ hilts, sure, but nothing spectacular happened. Instead of giving a powerful boost the daggers shattered into useless fragments.

I stared at the falling pieces. "Tch. Useless."

It was a frustrating failure. So I kept going.

Over and over.

Throw, multiply, shoot—fail. Throw, multiply, shoot—fail. My arms grew sore, then numb, then shaky. Sweat dripped down my back, my fingers stung, and the ache in my shoulders burned. But I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t afford to.

By the fifth hour, my body was trembling from exhaustion, but my mind felt razor-sharp. If I couldn’t match the Nightjars now, I had to work until I could.

When I finally dragged myself back into the hideout to gather my things, the first thing I noticed was the soft glow of the TV. The second was the couch.

Kairos, lying down, his body relaxed in a way I’d never seen before.

Sleeping.

"...Is he actually asleep?" I blinked, stunned.

A slow smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. So he was human after all, capable of surrendering to rest like anyone else. The sight was oddly endearing, this powerful figure vulnerable in slumber.

Quietly, I pulled out my phone and crept closer. Just one photo. Blackmail material. Or maybe just evidence that the terrifying leader of the Nightjars was, in fact, capable of horizontal rest.

I raised the phone, ready to hit the shutter when a message popped onto the screen.

"I confirmed the truth."

My thumb hovered over the keyboard to reply, but then a searing pain exploded in my chest, right where the Spectral Seal pulsed beneath my skin.

I gasped, the phone slipping from my fingers as the pain twisted deeper, burning from the inside out.

’Damn system—what did you do this time—’ I cursed inwardly, clutching at my shirt as the agony intensified, a white-hot fire that radiated through my veins.

I tried to steady myself, tried to breathe, tried to stay conscious, but it was too much—unbearable, overwhelming.

The world tilted.

And before I could even call out—

Everything went black.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Whitney pulled up to Forbes VIP Hospital. She’d just come back from visiting her uncle in Ravensbrook Province, and her mind kept drifting to Angela — Angela’s father had transferred her to this very hospital four days ago, in hopes she’d properly recover here.

The limousine came to a soft stop in front of the hospital’s entrance.

Whitney turned to her driver. "You can go ahead," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I’ll call you when I’m leaving."

"Understood, miss," he replied, nodding respectfully before pulling away.

Whitney opened the door and stepped out. She inhaled sharply. For some reason, she felt nervous—like something heavy sat in her chest. She pushed it down and walked toward the entrance.

"Whitney’s here!" Christian called out.

She blinked and looked up.

Standing in front of the hospital doors were Cypher, Edge, Christian, and Rex—like they had formed some kind of welcome committee. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"You’re here, Whitney," Edge said, arms crossed, expression annoyingly calm.

She smiled at him, bright and knowing. "Were you waiting for me?"

"No," Edge replied immediately.

Her smile sharpened. "Then why are you standing here?"

"We just arrived at the same time you did," he said without a shred of guilt.

Christian snorted, but it was Rex who leaned toward her and whispered, "He’s lying."

Whitney’s smile grew even wider—smug, triumphant, and just a little touched.

"What are you smiling at?" Edge grumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

"Nothing, let’s just go in," Whitney said, her voice softening as she gestured toward the doors.

The five of them drew in a deep breath as they stepped inside. Walking through the corridors before stopping in front of a room but no one seemed to reach for the doorknob.

"You can go in. She’s fine," a nurse’s gentle voice encouraged from the hallway. Taking the words as permission, Edge reached for the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.

The door creaked open, revealing the room bathed in the golden hues of sunset filtering through the window. They were greeted with a soft breeze from the opened window. Angela stood there, framed by the light, looking out silently, her back to them.

Whitney and the others hesitated a bit before stepping in, their footsteps muffled by the carpet, but Angela didn’t pay attention to them whatsoever. Her posture was rigid, lost in her own thoughts.

"Princess, your friends are here," Aamon said, his voice warm and steady from where he sat in the corner of the room, a laptop sat on his lap. It was only then that Angela turned around, her expression softening as she noticed them.

"Hey, guys," she said, walking slowly toward the group.

Whitney felt her heart stutter, a nervous flutter that made her avert her gaze. She couldn’t look straight into Angela’s eyes—not yet, not with the burden of unspoken truths hanging between them.

"I heard I slept for a week, have I?" Angela asked, her laugh was light and familiar, as though nothing serious had happened.

Whitney swallowed hard, working up the courage to speak. "Y-Yeah."

"Are you feeling okay?" Cypher asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, I wouldn’t be standing otherwise," Angela replied, even as she stretched her arms overhead to demonstrate.

Edge gave her a warm smile. "I wouldn’t expect anything less from you."

Turning to her father, Angela’s tone shifted slightly. "Dad, can you leave the room for a moment? I want to catch up with them."

Aamon stood up, grabbing his laptop before gently ruffling her hair. "Anything you want, my princess." He left the room with a nod, the door clicking shut behind him.

Angela’s gaze immediately sharpened as she faced her friends again. "Do you guys have time today?"

"Why? Do you need—" Cypher began.

"I do, but—" Edge chimed in, his eyes narrowing.

"Wait, let me—" Christian interjected, waving a hand.

"I’m open—" Rex added, shrugging.

Angela cut them off with a decisive hand raise. "Since I slept for a whole week, help me train. I need to regain my skills."

"Shouldn’t you rest for today?" Edge asked, his voice laced with concern, his eyes scanning Angela’s face for any sign of lingering weakness.

"No, I don’t have the time," Angela replied sharply.

"Time?" Edge pressed, tilting his head, confusion knitting his brow.

"Yeah," she said, a bitter smile twisting her lips as she muttered, "There’s someone I want to kill, so I have to work and train hard." Her words carried an indifference that masked a deeper resolve, fueled by a hatred that simmered just beneath the surface.

Whitney’s breath hitched. Her hands trembled at her sides.She wanted, desperately, to speak for Remillia. To tell Angela she was wrong. To stop the hatred from taking root.

But the words clogged her throat like thorns.If she slipped, the truth would spill out. So she bit her tongue hard enough to taste metal and closed her eyes. The truth burned inside her, a secret that could end misunderstandings, but loyalty to Remillia held her back. For now.

"K-Kill?" Christian stammered, his eyes widening in shock.

"Yeah, why?" Angela replied, as though she were talking about homework.

Everyone fell silent, the room’s atmosphere thickening with dread. Then Rex laughed awkwardly. "Haha—wait, you’re actually serious?" But when Angela didn’t even blink, his laughter withered instantly. "Oh. You’re serious."

"I’m down for that," Edge said, crossing his arms.

"So?" Angela looked at the rest of them, her eyes sweeping the group. "Are you going to help me or not? If you’re not available, I’ll just train with Edge then."

Cypher turned serious, his expression hardening into something resolute. "This person... Have we already met this person you wanted to kill?"

Angela met his stare without flinching. "Yes."

"I won’t let you do that," Cypher declared, clenching his jaw.

"And why not?" Angela countered, her voice rising with challenge. "Do you even know what that person did?"

The atmosphere instantly turned terrifying, the air crackling with tension as Angela and Cypher locked in a challenging stare, their gazes clashing like swords.

Before it could escalate further, Christian coughed loudly on purpose and Rex stepped forward, clapping his hands to break the tension.

"Okay—WHOA. Hey. Enough death stares," Rex said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, stepping between Angela and Cypher. "Let’s all chill before someone ends up hospitalized again."

"Angela, I thought you wanted to train?" Christian asked, trying to sound casual, though his voice wavered slightly.

"Yeah, I thought you don’t have time?" Rex added, nodding vigorously.

Cypher broke their tense standoff, his gaze dropping as he exhaled sharply. "I’ll help you train, but killing a person isn’t the right—"

"Shut it and just follow me," Angela cut him off, her voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. Then she turned her gaze to Whitney. "I almost didn’t notice you there. You’ve been quiet since you entered."

"Just... thinking some things," Whitney murmured, her mind racing.

"You want to come train with us to clear your mind?" Angela asked, her tone almost gentle, a rare softness in her eyes.

Whitney shook her head, unable to maintain her composure anymore. She left the room first, the door clicking shut behind her.

As she walked down the hospital corridor, her thoughts spiraled. ’Why did Cypher react like that? Did he know the truth too?’ Her heart pounded at the thought.

’No... that couldn’t be. We were the only ones there. And he said he went outside the hospital... Cypher never lies.’

’Or... is he still the same Cypher?’

The question gnawed at her as she kept walking, her mind racing with possibilities she wasn’t ready to confront or else Remillia’s situation will get even stickier.