The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 331: THE CIVIL WAR BEGINS

Chapter 329: The Civil War Begins

​The Hall of Verdicts, a place designed for solemn judgment and whispered debates, transformed into a slaughterhouse in the span of a single heartbeat.

​Maria’s Frostheart with her Armor smoked where Valen’s dark lightning had struck it. She stood like a sentinel of ice between the High Council and the rest of us, her staff humming with a dangerous, unstable resonance.

​"Insolence!" Valen screamed, his benevolent grandfather mask completely gone. His face was twisted into a rictus of hate. "You dare raise a weapon against an Elder? This is treason! This is a coup!"

​"No," I said, my voice magnified by the silence that followed the lightning strike. I pointed at the black smoke rising from Valen’s staff. "That is the coup. You just tried to murder a woman the World Tree declared innocent."

​I turned to the Silver Guards ringing the dais.

​"You saw it!" I shouted. "The Tree spoke! Are you Knights of Sylvaren, or are you dogs of a traitor?"

​The Captain of the Guard detachment—a tall elf named Lieutenant Solara—hesitated. She looked at the blooming Moon-Lilies on Lysandra’s wrists, then at Valen’s dark magic.

​"Stand down," Solara ordered her men, lowering her spear. "The Tree’s judgment is absolute. Elder Valen, you must surrender your staff pending an investigation."

​Valen looked at Solara. He looked at the hesitant guards. He realized that the narrative had slipped from his grasp. He couldn’t win with words anymore.

​So, he chose violence.

​"Surrender?" Valen laughed, a high, manic sound. "To whom? To a broken system? I am the only thing holding this city together!"

​He reached into his robes and crushed a black crystal.

​SCREECH.

​A piercing sonic signal swept through the amphitheater.

​"Order 66," I muttered, recognizing the setup instantly.

​Half of the Silver Guards—the ones positioned closest to the exits and the VIP boxes—suddenly stiffened. Their eyes glazed over, glowing with a faint purple light.

​They didn’t hesitate. They turned their spears not on us, but on their comrades.

​SHING. SPLORT.

​Lieutenant Solara gasped, looking down at the spear tip protruding from her chest. The guard behind her—her own second-in-command—twisted the blade.

​"For the Benefactor," the corrupted guard whispered.

​"Kill them all!" Valen roared, levitating into the air on a platform of wind and shadow. "Purge the unbelievers!"

​The Target Rich Environment

​Pandemonium erupted.

​The crowd of nobles and commoners panicked, stampeding toward the exits. But the corrupted guards blocked the doors, cutting down anyone trying to flee. The loyalist guards, confused and betrayed, were slaughtered in the opening seconds.

​"Leon! Shield!" I ordered.

​Leon didn’t need telling. He slammed his [Breaker’s Hammer] into the ground.

​"Lionheart Art: Golden Dome!"

​A semi-translucent barrier of holy fire sprang up around us, deflecting a volley of arrows fired from the upper stands.

​"We’re surrounded," Leon gritted out, the barrier trembling under the assault. "There are hundreds of them!"

​"Good," Maria said.

​She stepped outside the barrier.

​"Maria, wait!" Leon yelled.

​Maria didn’t wait. She raised her staff. The temperature in the amphitheater plummeted. The panicked sweat on the crowd’s faces froze.

​"Blizzard Call: Hailstorm Variant."

​She slammed her staff down.

​Above the open-air amphitheater, dark clouds coalesced in seconds. But it didn’t rain water. It rained jagged spears of ice, each the size of a forearm.

​THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

​The ice spears hammered the stands. They shattered against Leon’s barrier but tore through the light armor of the corrupted guards.

​"Clear a path!" I shouted. "We need to get to the Spire! The King is unguarded!"

​"On it," Selena said.

​She moved like a blur. Her scythe was a whirlwind of black steel. She didn’t fight the guards; she fought their geometry. She severed hamstrings, smashed knees, and disarmed opponents with surgical efficiency.

​"Vector clear," Selena reported, standing over a pile of groaning elves. "North Exit is viable."

​We pushed toward the North Exit, Leon carrying the weakened Professor Lysandra, Maria suppressing the archers with ice volleys, and Selena cutting a path through the infantry.

​I stayed in the center, my [Quantum Analysis Mind] tracking the flow of battle.

​This wasn’t just a skirmish. The city was fracturing in real-time.

​I saw a group of Wood Elf rangers in green cloaks drawing their bows against the High Elf knights. I saw commoners picking up rocks to throw at the corrupted soldiers.

​"The lie is broken," I realized. "Valen wanted a unified front. Instead, he got a civil war."

​"Stop them!" Valen screamed from his floating platform. He began to chant a high-tier spell, a massive sphere of wind forming above his head. "Aeromancer’s Judgment!"

​"He’s going to level the section!" Leon warned.

​"No, he’s not," I said.

​I pulled a Flash Bang (Alchemical) from my inventory. It wasn’t magic. It was chemistry. Magnesium and mana-dust.

​I threw it at Valen.

​BANG.

​A blinding white light exploded in Valen’s face. The Elder screamed, losing his concentration. The massive sphere of wind destabilized and imploded, knocking him out of the air. He crashed into the VIP box, buried under rubble.

​"Move! Now!" I signaled.

​We burst through the North Exit, leaving the carnage of the Hall of Verdicts behind us.

_______________________________________

​The streets of Sylvaren were no longer peaceful. The sound of the Iron-Root Drums echoed from every watchtower. Smoke rose from the Merchant District.

​"We need to get to the Guest Spire," I panted as we sprinted across the Bridge of Reflection. "If Valen controls the King, he controls the Root Gate."

​"The Spire is under siege," Maria noted, pointing upward.

​The Guest Spire was surrounded by three Siege Golems—massive constructs of stone and iron, pounding on the magical wards.

​"They’re trying to kill him," Leon realized. "Valen isn’t trying to capture Elandor anymore. He’s tying up loose ends."

​"We can’t fight three Golems," I said, checking my mana. I was still recovering from the Domain usage. "We need to be smart."

​"Or," a voice called out from the shadows of an alley, "you need a ride."

​We spun around, weapons raised.

​Stepping out of the gloom was Elara Moonshade. She was flanked by a dozen Wood Elf rangers, all grim-faced and heavily armed.

​"Elara!" Leon lowered his sword. "You’re safe!"

​"Safe is a relative term," Elara grimaced. "The High Council just declared martial law. They’re rounding up anyone with ’impure’ blood. That includes Wood Elves."

​She gestured to a covered mana-wagon behind her.

​"We saw the signal at the Hall," Elara said. "We knew you’d need an exit. The King is already secured."

​"What?" I blinked.

​The back of the wagon opened. Inside, wrapped in blankets and looking deathly pale, was King Elandor. Sitting beside him, administering potions, was Aurelia Miller.

​"We got him out while the guards were distracted by the explosion at the banquet," Aurelia explained, wiping sweat from her brow. "Though I had to set fire to the royal drapes to cover our tracks."

​"Good work," I said, genuinely impressed. "You’re learning."

​"We need to go," Elara urged. "The Upper Districts are locked down. The only safe place is the Lower Districts—the Roots."

​"The Roots?" Leon asked. "Isn’t that where the infection is worst?"

​"It is," Elara nodded. "But it’s also where the High Elves refuse to go. It’s a maze. We can hide there."

----------

​We piled into the mana-wagon. Elara took the reins, and the Wood Elf rangers acted as a rearguard.

​"Hold on!" Elara shouted.

​The wagon lurched forward, speeding down the spiraling ramps of the World Tree.

​Behind us, the chaos of the Upper City grew distant, but the fires burned brighter. We saw Silver Guard detachments clashing with pockets of resistance. We saw the beautiful crystalline bridges shattering under Golem fists.

​"The city is falling," Lysandra whispered, leaning against the side of the wagon. Her wrists were still blooming with flowers, a stark contrast to the destruction.

​"No," I said, watching the smoke rise. "The city is just waking up."

​I looked at my team. We were battered, exhausted, and outnumbered. We were fugitives in a hostile kingdom.

​But we had the King. We had the Truth. And we had the strongest party in the game.

​"We’re going to the Lower Districts," I planned aloud. "We regroup. We gather the loyalists. And then..."

​I looked at the massive trunk of the World Tree towering above us.

​"Then we launch the counter-attack."

​[System Notification: Main Quest Updated]

[Quest: The Civil War]

[Objective: Establish a Base of Operations in the Lower Districts.]

[Ally Acquired: The Wood Elf Resistance.]

​The wagon plunged into the shadows of the lower canopy, leaving the light of the High Elves behind.

​The resistance had begun.

(To be Continued)