Extra's Path To No Harem

The sun that had once hung high overhead was now sinking toward the horizon, staining the sky a deep, burning red.

Ever since the terrorist incident at the imperial palace, the atmosphere in the city had been tense—uneasy in a way that lingered in the air. It wouldn’t be safe for her to stay out after dark.

"Time really flew by," Elena said, glancing toward the window before pushing herself up from the chair. "I should head back now."

Only then did I fully realize how late it had gotten.

"Get well soon and come back to the Academy," she added with a light laugh. "It’s really boring with the seat next to me empty."

As she reached the door of the hospital room, Elena turned back toward me. Her face was bright, unclouded by worry, and she smiled as if to reassure me.

The red light of the sunset poured in through the window, catching in her hair and tinting it gold and crimson as it swayed gently. For a moment, the sight stole my breath.

"Be careful on your way back," I said, returning her smile. "I’ll be back soon too."

She nodded once, satisfied, and then quietly slipped out of the room, heading back to the Academy.

The door closed.

"..."

Silence followed.

A deep, unfamiliar quiet settled over the hospital room once everyone was gone. No footsteps. No voices. Just the faint hum of the building and the distant sounds of the city outside.

Alone at last.

I stared up at the ceiling, feeling an odd sensation tighten in my chest.

I’d always been someone who preferred solitude. Crowded places exhausted me, and I’d never minded being by myself. If anything, I used to find comfort in it.

And yet...

Now that I truly was alone, the room felt hollow. Too spacious. Too still.

I let out a slow breath, closing my eyes.

"Guess I got used to the noise," I muttered to myself.

Elena’s laughter, the conversations, the constant interruptions—they’d filled the space more than I realized. Their absence left behind something like an echo, one that refused to fade.

Maybe...

Maybe I’d changed more than I thought.

Ah... right.

Now that I thought about it—

As I stared absentmindedly at the sunset beyond the hospital window, the sky dyed in soft shades of orange and crimson, a forgotten thought suddenly surfaced.

Lumine.

The warning she’d given me before everything spiraled out of control.

Danger.

At the time, there hadn’t been any room to think about it properly. Too much had happened too fast. But now, lying here with nothing but time and a restless mind, the unease crept back in.

I should ask the bookmark.

If anyone—or anything—could clarify what Lumine meant, it would be the Sage’s Bookmark.

Carefully, I reached into my coat and took it out. Even now, it felt warm in my palm, as if it were quietly aware of my intent.

In the corner of the hospital room, I pulled out a random book I hadn’t read before and slid the bookmark between its pages. Then, slowly, I infused it with mana.

The familiar reaction followed.

A soft blue glow spread from the bookmark, gentle but unmistakable.

Good. It’s working.

Once I confirmed that, I didn’t hesitate.

"Please tell me what danger Lumine was talking about."

Woooong.

The air hummed as if something deep within the room had resonated with my mana. Letters began to rise, floating lazily into the air before arranging themselves into a single line.

[Response: Impossible]

"..."

I stared at the words.

Then I blinked.

"...What?"

Impossible?

That was it?

The answer was so short, so absolute, that it took me a moment to even process it. My chest tightened slightly as confusion set in.

What does that even mean?

Does it mean the bookmark can’t answer? That the information doesn’t exist? Or that the danger itself is something beyond its scope?

This was the first time something like this had happened.

Every other time I’d used the bookmark, no matter how vague or inconvenient the answer was, it had always given something. Cryptic, brief, indirect—but never outright refusal.

Yet now...

I frowned and checked again. The bookmark was still glowing faintly. The mana flow felt stable. Nothing seemed wrong.

I asked again.

The letters reformed.

[Response: Impossible]

"...You’ve got to be kidding me."

No matter how many times I checked, no matter how carefully I phrased it in my head, the result didn’t change. The same word hung in the air, cold and unyielding.

Impossible.

I leaned back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the letters slowly faded away.

If the Sage’s Bookmark—an artifact that could draw from all knowledge past and present—couldn’t answer this... then what exactly had Lumine seen?

Or worse—

What if the danger she warned me about wasn’t something that existed yet?

A faint chill ran down my spine.

"...This just keeps getting better," I muttered quietly.

Whatever was coming, it wasn’t something I could simply prepare for with knowledge alone. And that realization unsettled me more than any clear warning ever could.

*****

A dark underground passage, where barely any light managed to seep through the cracks above.

"Grrk...! Ngh...!"

A figure lay sprawled across the cold stone floor, writhing as if his body were being torn apart from the inside. His limbs twitched uncontrollably, fingers clawing at the ground.

The man—once human—was Leonard.

His body was coated in a viscous, black substance that clung to his skin like tar, pulsing faintly as if alive. Veins bulged unnaturally beneath it, and every breath he took came out ragged and broken.

This was the price of ambition.

After dreaming of a plan to blow up the imperial palace, Leonard had fled into the shadows. But escape hadn’t saved him. It had only brought him here—reduced to nothing more than a specimen, groaning in agony at the feet of another.

"Hm... almost complete," the old man murmured.

He stood calmly before Leonard, hands clasped behind his back, his long beard swaying slightly as he leaned closer. His eyes gleamed with quiet fascination, like a craftsman admiring a nearly finished masterpiece.

"Perhaps it’s because the material is exceptional," he continued thoughtfully. "Yes... I can already tell. This one will be extraordinary."

Leonard’s body convulsed violently in response, a hoarse scream tearing from his throat.

The old man paid it no mind.

Originally, this wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

His first target had been a female student—Viola. A fragile mind, a gentle disposition. Perfect for corruption. He had carefully woven nightmares into her dreams, dredging up fear and trauma, pressing again and again until her heart should have broken.

The conditions were perfect.

Sufficient trauma.

A clear trigger.

An inevitable descent.

At least, that’s what he had believed.

And yet—

"...She resisted," the old man muttered, a rare hint of displeasure crossing his face.

Viola had endured the nightmare. Faced it. Overcame it. Instead of falling into darkness, she had woken stronger, untouched by corruption.

Why?

It shouldn’t have been possible. Not with the scars she carried. Not with the seed he had planted.

For the first time in years, his expectations had been betrayed.

But that irritation quickly faded, replaced by a thin, satisfied smile.

"Still... perhaps this outcome is even better."

He looked down at Leonard once more.

"After all, I obtained far superior material."

Leonard had come to him of his own accord. Desperate. Burning with obsession. Willing to sacrifice everything for power.

And above all—

"The Sword Master," the old man whispered, eyes shining.

The strongest in the Empire.

A man who had stood at the peak of swordsmanship, admired by all... now reduced to this state.

How ironic. How beautiful.

Black tendrils surged once more across Leonard’s body, and his scream echoed through the underground chamber, swallowed by the darkness.

"Yes," the old man said softly. "This will do nicely."

If Viola had been a failed experiment, then Leonard—

Leonard would be his masterpiece.

A twist of fate—or perhaps mockery—had granted him the finest material imaginable, a body praised with countless accolades and whispered legends.

In exchange for fulfilling Leonard’s final wish, his own body was discarded like a worn-out shell, replaced entirely by that of the old man.

Time passed.

Slowly, inevitably, two more horns pushed their way out from Leonard’s head, splitting skin and bone alike. Blood trickled down his temples, but he didn’t scream—not anymore.

The doctor observed the transformation with unconcealed delight, lips stretching into a satisfied smile.

"Good," he murmured. "Perfect."

Then his voice sharpened.

"Now," he commanded, eyes gleaming, "unleash your anger."

"K—KAAAARGH!!"

Leonard’s roar shook the chamber, raw hatred flooding the air like poison. The restraints groaned as dark mana surged outward, distorting the space around him.

Recently, during the raid on the underground prison where Clarisse had been held, the doctor had finally uncovered the truth.

The one he had been searching for all along—the vessel that carried the true power of the devil—was not hidden in some forgotten ruin or sealed abyss.

She was at the Academy.

A pink-haired woman.

Lisa... yes, that was her name.

The irony made him chuckle. To think the final piece had been sitting so openly in the heart of the Empire, protected by rules, tradition, and naïve children playing at nobility.

All preparations were complete. The experiments. The sacrifices. The failures piled atop failures.

Everything had led to this moment.

"It’s time," the doctor whispered, spreading his arms.

"Rise, my children."

In response, countless eyes opened within the darkness—inhuman, glowing, filled with hunger. Shapes twisted and writhed, their forms incomplete yet unmistakably monstrous.

"Come," he continued, his voice trembling with ecstasy, "let us devour this resentful world together."

Deep beneath the Empire, a colossal shadow stirred.

And far above, unaware of the impending doom, the Academy continued on in fragile peace—

unaware that something vast and merciless had begun to crawl toward the light.