The Extra's Rise

Chapter 192 - 192: Cecilia's Sweet Sixteen (9)

Lucifer walked out of the room, leaving Seraphim's Embrace behind with Arthur.

His father's words echoed in his mind.

"Don't worry, Lucifer. You will surpass him soon enough. After all, you unlocked even a second Gift. You are sure to be the destined Second Hero."

Lucifer hadn't said anything to his father at the time. What was there to say?

But now, standing in the quiet corridor, looking back at where Arthur had been—at what Arthur had become—Lucifer looked down at his own hands.

'Second Hero?'

He clenched his fists.

'I am not worthy.'

Not because he lacked strength. Not because he lacked talent. No, he had both in abundance. But a hero wasn't someone who wielded power simply because they could. And he—he had spent so long demanding, expecting, assuming his place at the top.

Arthur had done the impossible. He held both White Star and Black Star, a feat that defied everything Lucifer had believed about power. He had created a Lich as a mere White-ranker. He stood at the center of something far greater than destiny.

Lucifer exhaled.

He wasn't going to lose this easily.

He wouldn't allow himself to.

As he stepped into the grand hall, the shift in atmosphere was immediate. Four sets of eyes turned in his direction.

Seraphina Zenith. Cecilia Slatemark. Rose Springshaper. Rachel Creighton.

They were all looking for Arthur, scanning the room with quiet urgency. They thought he had walked in.

He hadn't. But Lucifer had.

He set his sights on Rachel and moved toward her. She saw him approach, and for the briefest moment—so quick it might have been missed—her expression twisted. A flicker of something raw and unpleasant crossed her face before she smoothed it over into neutrality.

But Lucifer had seen it.

And it twisted something inside of him.

How foolish I was.

He remembered the things he had said to her. No—demanded of her.

He had told her she was his Saintess, that she would stand beside him because he was the Second Hero.

What arrogance.

"Rachel," he said, his voice quieter than usual.

Rachel turned to him, her gaze sharp as a blade. "What is it?"

No warmth. No kindness. Not for him.

Lucifer remembered everything—his own words, his own mistakes. How he had once believed killing Arthur was the answer. How Rachel had warned him that he couldn't, not because she feared for Arthur, but because she knew the truth:

That Lucifer would lose.

And he had.

Even unlocking his second Gift, it wasn't enough.

Arthur had beaten him.

Lucifer inhaled deeply and bowed.

"I'm sorry."

Rachel blinked.

"I am sorry, Rachel," he repeated, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "I know this apology isn't enough. I don't deserve your forgiveness. But… I hope you won't burden yourself with hatred over someone like me."

He smiled—an actual, genuine smile. The kind that didn't hide behind bravado or arrogance. Then he turned to leave.

He had taken two steps when—

"Wait."

He stopped. Turned.

Rachel looked at him, eyes

I clamped a hand over her mouth before she could finish that sentence.

'Do NOT try to change the goddamn genre!' I groaned internally.

Aria mumbled something indignantly into my palm before I sighed and let her go. "He gave me an Ancient-grade artifact. I won a bet against the Dark King."

That, apparently, was enough to stun my parents. My mother gasped. My father actually turned in his seat to look at me properly.

"You won a bet against King Arden Windward?" he repeated, as if he had misheard me.

I nodded.

"He bet that I couldn't beat Lucifer," I said simply. "And I did."

Aria crossed her arms, still pouting from being silenced. "You could have let me finish, you know."

I ignored her. Some things were simply not worth entertaining.