The Extra is a Genius!? Chapter 621: Return

"Spatial Shift."

Behind those final words, the twisted space shattered apart. Moments afterward, Thorne Territory's battlefield endured under skies clogged with smoke, ash, and lingering mana traces. Monsters continued shoving at fractured defenses through habit, instinct, or sheer defiance against quiet death. Soldiers battled on with weary limbs and sluggish reflexes. Mages remained ghostly pale and quivering behind splintered barriers, wringing one last spell from forms that had already sacrificed everything.

Not a soul knew Noel and Roberto's fate. They had merely sensed the duel fade away, then the world resumed its bloody demands.

Suddenly, the air over the battlefield warped.

It happened without a sound. That silence made it all the more terrifying. Space twisted high above the chaos of war, and Noel materialized there abruptly, hovering over it all, diminishing the entire field below him. His garments hung in shreds. Blood streamed from multiple wounds across his frame. One arm dangled unnaturally low, and his expression held the exhausted calm of a man transformed beyond recognition from mere minutes ago.

Yet nothing diminished the aura radiating from him. If possible, it intensified the dread. He resembled not a mere survivor, but the embodiment of the horror that emerges after slaying the ultimate terror.

Roberto was missing entirely.

That void hit the battlefield before any realization dawned. Humans spotted it first, puzzlement turning to incredulity. Elves raised their gazes. Dwarves halted mid-blow. Marcus paused for a split second, sword dripping blood. Garron, Laziel, Daemar, Redna, the royal troops, the noble houses—all eyes lifted simultaneously.

Selene spotted him. Then Noir. Followed by Charlotte, Elena, and Elyra.

The response rippled through Noel’s allies like flames devouring tinder. Relief struck some so fiercely it bordered on agony.

Monsters grasped it quicker. They sensed it primordially, as creatures do when their leader vanishes and a greater menace assumes command. Some fled instantly. Others froze in place, terror piercing their rage for the first time. Even the massive beasts wavered, pivoting from assault toward retreat.

Far overhead, Noel surveyed the battlefield wordlessly.

Next, his eyes fixed on the escaping monsters, and any lingering compassion within him stayed buried.

The monsters bolted. Panic surged through their ranks like a foul tide once the initial few turned tail. A dragon bearing scorched wings veered through the sky seeking distance over height. Groups that had hammered the ruptured lines moments before scattered chaotically, crashing into each other as survival instinct obliterated discipline. Even the colossal beasts, which had bulldozed through blaze and blade all battle long, now appeared frail as all life does when preservation dominates the mind.

Noel observed from his vantage and lifted a single hand.

Darkness amassed above the battlefield once more, yet this occasion it splintered into lesser orbs rather than one colossal star to obliterate forces wholesale. Multiple black spheres coalesced high along the monsters' flight paths. One loomed over the fractured eastern incline. Another hovered above the trampled earth by withdrawing drakes. A third dangled over the wrecked forest fringe where swift creatures sought cover amid haze and shattered wood.

The battlefield sensed it immediately. Marcus glanced skyward and halted briefly. Garron uttered a mix of chuckle and oath. Laziel gaped momentarily before resuming action. Daemar’s face stayed stoic, but his gaze honed with full comprehension of Noel’s intent. Redna and Alveron IV’s imperial ranks shifted quickest, redirecting their assault to funnel survivors into the uncovered zones and herd them under those ebony suns.

Then the spheres descended.

The initial one plunged through the heavens with eerie serenity, erupting into shadowy inferno over a cluster of routed beasts. Forms crumpled inward prior to detonation, and the obsidian blaze swept the area clean in merciless fashion. The next struck a duo of injured drakes attempting escape, engulfing them in implosion before their wings completed a final flap. The third slammed distant, slicing through a fleeing herd so utterly that remnants lurched back toward allies rather than onward.

Noel persisted in summoning. Tremors now racked his frame. Crimson stains marred his attire. The damaged arm quivered more violently with each lift, and his concentration flickered repeatedly before willpower yanked it firm. He retained mastery, but it was the dominion of one expending his final reserves wide awake.

Beneath, the women sprang into motion. Selene led. Noir followed. Elyra, Elena, Charlotte trailed, all intuiting the crisis sans speech. Noel was concluding the fight, yet his form neared collapse too.

Yet another dark sun plummeted. Then one more.

When the final pockets of defiance crumbled, leaving monsters as mere stragglers or simple prey for ground forces, Noel lingered suspended over the field.

His descent began subtly—a minor dip in elevation, a falter in his suspension, like the power upholding him finally leaked away. Then true failure struck. Noel’s silhouette pitched ahead, one shoulder sagging below the other, and those below grasped the peril at once.

Noir lunged first. In shadow wolf guise, she bounded over devastated terrain with Selene close behind, their speed defying belief after such ordeal. Elyra pursued. Elena and Charlotte next, all forging through muddied soil, discarded arms, gore, and fading battle remnants yet to embrace truce.

By their arrival under him, Noel tumbled. Not plummeting like a hurled corpse. Merely powerless. The drop of utter bodily exhaustion.

Noir arrived beneath first, but Elyra extended at the crucial moment, bearing most of his burden on landing. The jolt pushed her back slightly, Selene instantly bracing his shoulder beside her as Elena and Charlotte encircled from opposite sides. Examined closely, his state exceeded their worst fears. Blood profuse. Rags for clothes. Ragged breaths. Eyes ajar, yet scarcely seeing.

For a fleeting instant, Noel regarded them mutely, verifying their reality.

Elyra gripped him tighter, cupping his cheek gently. "You worked hard, Noel." Her tone flowed soft, firm, extraordinarily tender amid the surrounding havoc. "You can rest now."

Those words shattered his final restraint. His frame surrendered completely. Tension fled his shoulders. His head drooped into them. Eyelids shut, staying closed this time.

The battlefield beyond held no full silence. Distant, Marcus and comrades felled lingering monsters too near. Troops yelled. Spells sparked in isolated flares. Reality lagged behind.

Yet within that embrace, war had ceased.

Noel returned victorious. As final skirmishes cleared around them, he slumbered peacefully in their hold at last.