The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 534: When He Wakes

Marcus came back with a sharp intake of breath.

His body reacted before his mind did, muscles tensing hard against pain as his eyes snapped open. The first thing he felt was pressure—weight across his chest, heat flaring deep inside his ribs—and his instincts screamed at him to move. To roll. To get up. To find the threat before it found him again.

"Rob—"

The name died in his throat.

He tried to push himself upright, ignoring the spike of pain that tore through his chest and sent his vision blurring at the edges. The world wasn’t stone beneath his hands. It shifted. Rocked. That alone was enough to throw him off balance, confusion crashing into adrenaline as his breathing turned sharp and uneven.

"Marcus."

A hand pressed down on his shoulder.

Firm. Immediate. Real.

"Stay still."

The voice cut through the haze before he could force his body to obey it. Marcus froze, breath hitching, every muscle still coiled as if expecting chains to snap out of the air at any second. His eyes darted around the room, searching for movement, for mana pressure, for anything that didn’t belong.

There was none.

The ceiling above him was wood. Clean. Unbroken. A lamp swayed faintly with the slow rhythm beneath everything, not from impact, but from motion. The air felt empty in a way that battles never were—no tension crawling along his skin, no hostile presence pressing against his senses.

A ship.

His focus snapped back to the figure beside him.

Noel sat close to the bed, leaning forward slightly, one hand still resting on Marcus’s shoulder. He wasn’t armed. He wasn’t tense. His posture was calm in a way that felt completely wrong if there was still a fight happening.

Marcus swallowed hard. "Why are you—" His voice came out rough, scraped raw. "Why are you sitting there? We have to move. He’s still—"

"No," Noel said quietly. "He’s not."

The certainty in his tone cut deeper than force ever could.

Marcus stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast. "Roberto," he said, the name edged with something sharp and unfinished. "He turned. He was right there and then—" His jaw clenched. "Did he follow us?"

Noel didn’t look away.

"You’re not on the island anymore," he said. "You’re on a ship. You’ve been out for days."

The words didn’t land all at once. Marcus’s gaze drifted again, slower now, taking in the bed beneath him, the walls, the gentle sway that hadn’t stopped since he woke. The absence of pain where something should have been wrong finally registered. The lack of chains. The lack of pressure.

Days.

"And Roberto?" Marcus asked, quieter now.

Noel exhaled, then spoke without hesitation. "He was the First Pillar."

The room seemed to tilt harder than the ship ever had.

Marcus’s breath caught, his eyes fixing on a point somewhere above Noel’s shoulder. "No," he said automatically. "That doesn’t—" His voice failed him, disbelief giving way to memory. The smile. The timing. The way the attack had come from behind, clean and precise. "He stabbed me."

"Yes," Noel said. "He did."

Silence stretched between them as Noel explained what Marcus had missed. Not rushed. Not softened. The truth, laid out carefully. The Second Pillar. Charlotte’s Blessing. The fight that followed. Where they were headed now.

By the time he finished, Marcus’s hands were clenched tight against the sheets.

"So you handled it," he said finally. "While I was out."

"You survived," Noel replied immediately. "That’s not nothing. You held on long enough for Charlotte to save you. Long enough for us to finish it."

Marcus turned his head away, teeth clenched. "Feels like I failed."

Noel didn’t argue the feeling away. He just answered it. "It feels like that because you’re alive to feel it."

That got through.

Marcus’s shoulders sagged slightly, the last of the fight draining out of him now that there was nothing left to aim it at. His breathing slowed, uneven but no longer panicked.

Noel stood after a moment, careful not to rush it. "I’m going to get the others," he said. "Clara’s close. Try to rest a bit, alright?"

Marcus nodded faintly, exhaustion finally winning now that his body understood the danger was gone.

As Noel reached the door, Marcus spoke again, his voice rough but steady. "Noel."

He turned.

"Next time," Marcus said quietly, "don’t let me miss it."

Noel gave a faint, crooked smile. "Get better first."

Noel closed the door quietly behind him.

The corridor outside felt narrower than it had before, not because of the space itself, but because of the weight he was carrying now that Marcus was awake. The ship creaked softly around him, a familiar, almost comforting sound, and for the first time since the battle, his steps slowed without him forcing them to.

Clara was there.

She stood a few paces down the corridor, hands clasped tightly in front of her as if she didn’t quite know what to do with them. Her posture was rigid, shoulders drawn in, eyes fixed on the door Noel had just stepped out of. She looked exhausted in a way sleep didn’t fix, dark circles beneath her eyes and tension etched into her expression from days spent waiting, hoping, bracing herself for bad news she hadn’t allowed herself to voice.

She looked up the instant she saw him.

Noel didn’t drag it out. He didn’t soften it or dress it up. He simply said, "He’s awake."

For a heartbeat, Clara didn’t move.

Then her breath hitched sharply, the sound breaking out of her like she’d been holding it in for far too long. Her eyes widened, glassy with sudden, overwhelming relief, and she brought a hand up to her mouth as if to keep herself grounded.

"Awake?" she repeated, barely above a whisper.

Noel nodded once.

That was all it took.

She brushed past him without a word, breaking into a hurried run down the corridor, her steps uneven but determined as she reached for the door. Noel watched her go, his hand half-lifting as if to follow before stopping himself.

He stayed where he was.

They needed that moment. Both of them did.

Noel leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes briefly as the weight in his chest shifted. Clara had carried more than fear these past days. He knew that. All of them did. She had told them quietly, in fragments and half-finished sentences, voice shaking as she admitted the truth she hadn’t been able to share with Marcus before the mission. If he had known, he wouldn’t have let her come. He wouldn’t have let any of them take the risk.

Which was exactly why she hadn’t said anything.

Now, finally, she could.

Noel didn’t listen at the door. He didn’t need to. Whatever was being said in that room belonged only to them.

He pushed himself away from the wall and went to find the others.

Elena was the first he spotted, seated near the infirmary entrance, her hands folded in her lap as she stared down at the floor. She looked up when Noel approached, reading his expression instantly.

"He’s awake," Noel said.

Elena’s shoulders relaxed, her breath leaving her in a soft rush. "Good," she said quietly. "Really good."

Elyra was next, standing near the stairwell with her arms crossed, posture composed but eyes sharp. She met Noel’s gaze, and he didn’t need to repeat himself fully. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

"It’s time?" she asked.

"He’s awake," Noel confirmed.

Something eased in her expression, just a fraction. "Alright."

Selene didn’t speak when Noel told her. She simply inclined her head, acknowledging the information in her own way, eyes briefly closing before reopening, her attention already shifting back to the present.

Charlotte was resting nearby, propped up against the wall with a blanket around her shoulders. When she heard the news, her lips curved into a tired but genuine smile. "I’m glad," she murmured. "She’s been waiting."

Garron reacted with a sharp exhale and a grin he didn’t bother hiding. "About damn time."

Laziel didn’t say anything at first. He just nodded, jaw tight, then muttered, "Good," under his breath.

They gathered outside the room without being told to, forming a loose, quiet line along the corridor.

From inside, muffled voices rose and fell, indistinct but unmistakably alive. Clara’s voice broke once, then steadied. Marcus’s voice followed, raw and disbelieving, then choked with emotion he didn’t bother hiding.

Noel stood a little apart from the others, hands resting at his sides, listening just enough to know that both of them were still breathing.

After a while, Noel shifted his weight.

He didn’t know how long they waited. Time on the ship had a way of stretching when no one was counting it. Eventually, the voices inside the room softened, the sharp edges worn down into something quieter.

Noel stepped forward first and raised his hand to the door. He knocked once, gently. Not to interrupt, only to announce themselves.

There was a pause.

Then Marcus’s voice, rough but clear. "Yeah."

Noel opened the door.

The room felt warmer than before, fuller somehow. Clara sat on the edge of the bed, one hand clutching Marcus’s shirt as if letting go still felt dangerous. Her face was streaked with tears she hadn’t bothered to hide. Marcus was crying too, openly, shoulders shaking as he leaned forward, forehead pressed briefly against hers, breath uneven and helpless in the best possible way.

No one asked what had been said.

Something fundamental had changed in the air, something fragile and bright that hadn’t been there before. Life, stubborn and undeniable, pushing forward where it had no right to exist.

Garron stopped just inside the doorway. His grin didn’t come this time. His chest rose once, sharply, and he scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand, turning his head away as if dust had gotten in his eyes. "Damn," he muttered, too quietly to be a joke.

Laziel hovered a step behind him, awkward and unsure what to do with his hands. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then finally smiled, small and genuine, even as his eyes shone a little more than he’d admit. "Guess... guess that explains it," he said, voice light but unsteady.

Elena moved in closer, her expression soft, eyes warm with understanding. She didn’t speak, only nodded once toward Clara, a silent acknowledgment that carried more comfort than words ever could.

Elyra remained near the door, arms at her sides, posture composed. She took everything in without comment, her gaze steady and respectful, as if this was something sacred she had no right to intrude on further.

Selene stood beside her, quiet as always. She said nothing. Her eyes lingered on Marcus and Clara for a moment longer than usual, then lowered slightly, a subtle sign of acceptance that only those who knew her well would notice.

Charlotte leaned lightly against the wall, still wrapped in her blanket. She smiled, tired but sincere, one hand resting against her chest as she watched them. There was relief there, and something gentler beneath it. Something hopeful.

Noel stayed back.

He didn’t step into the center of the room. He didn’t say anything. He simply watched, standing a little apart from the others, the corners of his vision softening as the scene settled into him. Marcus was alive. Clara was smiling through tears. Something new had taken root in the middle of all the loss and violence they’d left behind.

The ship continued on its course, steady and unbroken, carrying them forward as life quietly insisted on going with them.