I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 273

"Have fun," I replied as a gust of cold wind swept past me as I leapt down from the rooftop.

Once I was certain that no one could see me, I slipped into a narrow, shadow-drenched alley. The noise from the collapsing base was distant now.

I reached up, fingers trembling, and removed the earpiece that could track, listen, and watch my every movement. The tiny device flickered red for a second before I held down the power switch and shut it off completely.

A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escaped me.

I stumbled back until my shoulders met the cold brick wall, and my knees nearly buckled. My hand flew to my chest as a sharp, suffocating agony surged through me. It felt like a thousand needles stabbing straight into my heart, synchronized with every beat.

I am currently experiencing the backlash of the Spectral Seal in using that much power.

My vision blurred at the edges. "D–Damn..." I hissed, squeezing my eyes shut as the pain intensified in waves. My fingertips dug into the fabric over my heart as though I could pry the pain out with sheer will.

The alley swayed slightly, or maybe it was me swaying, but I forced myself to stay upright as a shaky laugh slipped out. "Tch... figures," I muttered under my breath. "The system leaves for a ’vacation’ and my body decides to act up."

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

From the sky, bits and pieces of debris rained down, chunks of concrete and twisted metal plummeting through the smoke-choked air, crashing onto the streets below with thunderous echoes.

Amid the chaos, smoke, and screams, Dagur and William stood on a rooftop overlooking the wreckage. The fifty-story monument of Malum Inceptio that had stood defiant just five seconds ago, now reduced to a smoldering heap of rubble. To top it off, it was only a single dagger that had caused this catastrophe.

Dagur let out a low whistle. William gave a small, satisfied laugh.

"Looks like we made the right choice," William said, folding his arms as he admired the scene.

Dagur grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Told you. My eyes are never wrong."

The ground below was a storm of fire, sparks, and panicked voices. People ran. Some screamed. Some stared in shock at the ruins. But none of that mattered—not to the two of them.

Their first goal was accomplished.

Now it was their turn.

Dagur hopped down from the ledge with a casual roll of his shoulders, almost bored. William planted the butt of his spear against the concrete, stretching as if preparing for a jog.

"Remember," Dagur reminded, "we’re only killing the directors. Boss is watching."

William sighed, but nodded. "I know, I know. I’m not going to accidentally massacre the whole building."

Dagur gave him a side-eye. "...Accidentally?"

"Point is, I’ll behave," William replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his grip on the spear tightened instinctively, betraying the thrill of the hunt coursing through him.

As they approached the hellish ruins, William’s eyes caught movement to his right. A figure jumped down from what remained of the tenth floor, landing on a cracked slab of concrete with grace.

His instincts screamed ’director’.

"I’ve got one," William said.

The man didn’t wait—he bolted, weaving through smoke and debris, clearly aiming to disappear into the chaos.

William didn’t hesitate as he hurled his spear with tremendous force.

SWOOSH—THUD! 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Bull’s eye.

The spear impaled the man’s leg, pinning him to a chunk of broken foundation. The man howled, fingers clawing desperately at the long weapon. But William’s spears weren’t made for everyone to lift—they were infused with his Aura, heavy and unyielding to anyone but him.

"Gotcha," William murmured.

He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers.

The spear responded instantly, pulling William through the air like a magnet. His body shot forward, wind whipping his hair, and he landed effortlessly beside the trapped director.

The man glared up in fury and fear, his teeth bared, blood pooling around his leg in a dark, sticky halo that stained the rubble beneath him. His suit was now torn and soaked.

"You scum! Do you know who I am—?!" he spat, his voice a venomous snarl, eyes wild with desperation.

"Honestly? No," William replied flatly. "And I can’t be bothered to memorize names that are insignificant to me."

With bored precision, he pressed his boot down on the man’s chest and yanked his spear free from the pinned leg.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKI—!" The scream cracked through the smoke-filled air, agony twisting the man’s face but he didn’t get to finish.

William plunged the spear straight into his heart, the spear piercing through flesh and bone with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed in a brief arc, and the director’s eyes widened in shock before going dull, his body going limp in the debris.

"That’s one," he murmured as he withdrew the weapon.

Meanwhile, Dagur was enjoying himself a little too much.

He had cornered a director, a bulky man with hardened skin ability, and yet Dagur treated the fight like a game. Every time the director swung, Dagur met fist with fist, grinning widely. But his toxic secretion began eating through the director’s hands with every impact.

The hardened fists turned purple. Then black. Then soft.

Dagur let out a playful hum as he watched the director’s fingers melt off. "Aw, come on. Keep punching~" he taunted.

The man shrieked, stumbling back, only for Dagur to seize his head and slam a toxic-coated punch straight into his face. Bones cracked, skin dissolving, as the screaming stopped.

Dagur stood, brushing specks of blood off his knuckles. "Next," he chirped.

William exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he pulled his spear free from another director he had found after his first kill. "He’s more psychotic than I am," he muttered.

"What the fuck is happening?! And who the hell is that psycho?!"

The shout cut through the chaos.

William turned toward the voice. An Eldorian man stood on a chunk of collapsed concrete, pointing in horror at Dagur.

William recognized him immediately, another director though he forgot the name.

The moment the man’s gaze shifted to William, dread twisted his features as William smiled sweetly. He shot forward, closing the distance in a blur, his spear raised for the strike.

"SHIT!" the director yelled, drawing his sword and bracing himself. He met the incoming strike head-on, weapons colliding with a metallic shockwave.

The difference in power was instant.

William’s spear carried the weight of a falling mountain. The director’s knees buckled. One hit, and he dropped to a kneel, teeth grinding as he struggled not to be flattened.

Sweat poured down his face. His hands trembled against the spear’s pressure. "W–Wait—! Hold on—let’s talk—!" he gasped, panicked.

William only grinned wider.

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

Nightjar’s Hideout

I finally contacted Magellan through the comms after a moment of rest. He opened a portal straight back to our hideout. The hum of magic dissipated as I stepped through, the air shifting from Abyss’s perpetual night to the cool, earthy dampness of the cave.

The hideout looked vastly different from when I’d first arrived. Of course, only two weeks had passed since I’d begun the transformation, so the work was far from complete. But even in its unfinished state, the cave had been elevated from a crude cavern to something resembling a functional sanctuary.

I had reshaped it into a dome-like structure with a central lobby at its heart, the ceiling arching high. Doors radiated outward from the lobby, leading to each member’s private room, my cluttered workshop brimming with tools and half-finished projects, a research lab humming with magic devices, a kitchen stocked with supplies, a restroom for basic needs, an infirmary equipped with basic medical bays, and other spaces still under construction. The air was fresher now, with ventilation shafts I’d carved into the rock, and soft lighting from magic crystals bathed the space in a warm glow.

"I’m back," I said, pulling down my hood as I entered the lobby, my voice echoing slightly in the domed chamber.

"Good work," Kairos said, his back still facing me. "The others will handle the rest."

I glanced at him, he was watching the projected video hovering in the air—a holographic feed of the ongoing chaos in Abyss. He was watching intently as William and Dagur were in the middle of a battle.

I approached and stood beside him, my eyes drawn to the screen where the fight raged on. But then my gaze drifted downward, accidentally landing on Kairos’ hair. It was messy, tousled strands falling haphazardly across his forehead, yet undeniably soft—a blend of Glacier’s silky fur and Macaron’s unruly feathers. The sight stirred something unexpected in me.

Before I could stop myself, my hand reached out, fingers brushing through his hair in a gentle stroke.

Kairos didn’t react at first—didn’t flinch, didn’t look up, didn’t even pause the projections of William crushing a skull or Dagur gleefully melting someone’s face.

But I froze, my hand hovering mid-air, fingers still tingling from the contact. ’What... What the hell did I just do?’ My mind reeled of embarassment. I had just reached out and stroked my boss’ hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.