The Extra is a Genius!? Chapter 609: Against the Horde [III]

Marcus held his position at the vanguard, his blade stained dark, his breathing maintained in rhythm despite the chaotic carnage surrounding him. To his right stood Garron, a man as immovable and massive as a fortress wall, while Laziel anchored the other side with a intense, focused demeanor that belied his delicate appearance. They had naturally gravitated toward this spot; it wasn't a matter of orders, but rather that the battlefield demanded individuals capable of standing firm when the intensity grew overwhelming.

Marcus was now one of those individuals. Such a thought would have struck his younger self as arrogant, yet today, it felt simple and undeniably true. He had progressed significantly over the past few months. While Noel had immersed himself in extreme training within the mountains, Marcus had pursued a similar path with greater intensity. He had pushed his physical form, his mana, and his spellcasting reach until refinement changed from a hobby into a vital necessity.

Noel surged ahead with the drive of someone destined to shatter all constraints in his path. Competing with that pace was at times impossibly difficult, yet Marcus had never once entertained the notion of quitting.

To Marcus, Noel was simply extraordinary. Whenever Marcus felt he had closed the gap, Noel found a way to reach even higher, like someone desperately trying to grasp the heavens. Marcus remained ignorant of the secret behind that progress—the System or the hidden advantages Noel held from the start. He only witnessed a friend performing the impossible, then acting as if it were a mundane occurrence.

A shrill cry erupted to his left. Steel clashed against bone. A surge of magic illuminated the vicinity in a flash of orange and blue before the cacophony swallowed it whole. Marcus kept his focus dead ahead.

This battle felt different. He could sense it in his marrow. Should they survive, this was the type of day that would be retold for generations. Strangely, beneath the lingering tension and the stain of blood, Marcus felt a wave of gratitude. Noel had requested their aid for a second time. Perhaps that mattered more than it should, but Marcus was undeterred. Noel had deemed them worthy of trust, allowing his comrades to share the burden for once.

For a fleeting moment, his thoughts drifted. Clara was engaged in combat elsewhere. Their child stood safely shielded behind the lines, far from the blood-drenched earth. The realization anchored itself within him. It was no longer merely Noel’s cause he fought for; it was for Clara, their child, and the defenders positioned behind their line. It had all become tangible.

Marcus gripped his sword more firmly.

Before the thought could settle, the subsequent wave descended upon them.

By then, the trio had adapted to the battlefield's cadence. That did not equate to ease; rather, it meant they understood the pattern. Monsters arrived in singular bursts, then gathered into clusters, or bizarre combinations when the formation buckled and shifted. It was a messy affair, but Marcus, Garron, and Laziel no longer viewed each incoming tide as a surprising threat.

A goblin lunged forward, displaying the desperate, jagged speed inherent to such weak creatures. Marcus shifted slightly and sliced its throat with one clean, arcing strike.

"Watch yourself against the shadow wolves," Marcus remarked, glancing toward Laziel. "Especially you. Garron and I can handle the close-quarters better. I have the steel, and he has..." He paused, casting a look at his comrade. "Whatever that is."

Garron let out a booming laugh as another goblin charged him. He seized the creature’s face with one hand, his fingers crushing its skull so completely that it barely twitched before the head crumpled. He shook his hand away as if discarding refuse. "Do not worry. These muscles are protection enough."

Laziel chuckled, a tight yet genuine sound. His focus remained razor-sharp, even as his eyes scanned the perimeter with practiced vigilance. That was the distinction: Laziel could feel fear and still perform his duty. "I know. That is precisely why I am standing here beside both of you."

Before they could continue, a pair of beasts charged the front. Marcus skewered the first with his blade and obliterated the second with a rapid discharge of earth magic. Garron slammed a boot into a creature, collapsing its ribs and hurling it back into the throng.

For some time, the rhythm remained unbroken.

Slay. Relocate. Deflect. Cast. Breathe. Repeat.

The pattern persisted, but time functioned strangely during a conflict. Initially, momentum made everything manageable, but gradually, the weight shifted. The corpses piled up. The gaps between waves shrunk. The atmosphere turned thick with mana, smoke, and blood.

After two hours, the battle no longer seemed like a struggle that could be concluded quickly.

The tempo would not slacken. The issue was that it continued relentlessly, wave after wave, as if the landscape itself sought to wear them down piece by piece. The initial adrenaline had faded, replaced by something heavier—a grueling war of attrition.

Marcus felt the impact everywhere. In the ragged, labored breathing of the soldiers. In the lethargic spellcasting of the mages, their hands trembling and their timing failing. The knights dragged shields that had become agonizingly heavy. Even their formation had begun to buckle under the strain, recovering with increasing difficulty.

Then, the catalyst became apparent.

The monsters now arriving were vastly more powerful.

At first, it was only a few: creatures with thicker hides, denser mana, and immense force behind every blow. Adept-rank, Marcus deduced instantly. They resisted longer and struck harder, compelling more men to unite just to bring one down.

Then, the true threats emerged.

Ascendant-rank behemoths battered their way into the horde, and the impact was instant; it felt as though the very heavens had grown heavier. A massive horned beast with armored bone plating tore through the barricades, launching two knights aside with a casual swipe. Another charged through a barrage of magic that would have decimated lesser foes, barely slowing its pace.

Marcus’s resolve stiffened. Not everyone in their ranks had attained the Ascendant level. That harsh reality was unavoidable. He saw it in the faces around him—the hesitation, the slight recoil when those titans entered their reach.

Immediately, shouts erupted across the field. Different voices, identical command.

"Ascendants, move forward!"

"Shift the line! Ascendant-rank fighters to the front!"

The formation responded. Marcus surged ahead without pausing. Garron rotated his shoulders, clearly anticipating this moment. Laziel followed, his expression fraught with tension but possessing no hint of retreat. All along the line, warriors moved in unison. One step, then another.

Marcus gripped his sword handle and stared at the encroaching monsters. He, too, had striven for excellence. Perhaps Noel remained ahead, perhaps by an absurd margin, but Marcus refused to believe that the gap was permanently insurmountable.

Someday, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with him as an equal.