The Extra Who Shouldn't Exist novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193: Chapter 193 : A villain (2)

Kyle stood at the edge of the battlefield, the black winds of abyssal mana curling faintly around him. His dark eyes reflected the torch-lit horizon where banners of Etheria’s coalition armies fluttered in defiance. His voice carried calmly, as if he were speaking of something mundane instead of the bloodbath about to begin.

"Yeah... System. Much easier on the tongue than Abyssal Codex."

He tapped his temple lightly, smirking. "And I have to say, Sabrina—it really is the most powerful tool in existence. The quests it assigns, the skills I can buy, the way it tracks every scrap of progress... it’s broken, laughably so."

Her voice echoed within his mind, sharp and elegant.

[ Of course it is. The Abyss itself chose you as the wielder of the Codex. You are its instrument, Kyle. Its weapon. ]

Kyle spread his arms wide, savoring the screams of horns and drums on the distant walls. "In addition, I have the blessings of two Primordial Gods. Tell me, who in this world could even dream of matching me?"

[ Hmph. Don’t overestimate yourself, boy. Pride is the first chain the Abyss strangles its champions with. Your downfall won’t be from weakness—it will be from arrogance. ]

Kyle tilted his head, chuckling darkly. "Don’t worry, I’m not a fool. These powers—this strength—they’re not just gifts. They’re the fruits of my own suffering, my own blood and clawing effort. Nothing was free."

[ Good. At least you haven’t forgotten that. ]

Kyle’s eyes sharpened. His grin widened. "Now then... let’s start my first war."

From atop Etheria’s walls, King Calem van Boris smirked coldly. Below, his army thundered into formation he first sent—three battalions, ninety thousand men strong. Three generals rode at the front, their armor glistening with enchantments, their auras sharp with killing intent.

"General Darven of the Flame," Calem called, his voice echoing across the walls.

"General Lysandra of the Storm."

"General Borik of the Stone."

All three were Grandmasters of the lowest rank, veterans who had bled the soil red in countless battles. With them marched tens of thousands of Expert-rank soldiers, the pride of Etheria’s military.

"Crush that boy," Calem declared with arrogant certainty. "Three battalions are more than enough to wipe him out."

The generals bowed their heads, then spurred their troops forward. Ninety thousand soldiers charged, their combined aura shaking the ground like thunder. To them, Kyle’s thirty thousand soldiers looked like ants about to be squashed.

Melina and Arya, standing behind Kyle, instinctively stepped forward. But Kyle raised his hand. His voice was calm, but absolute.

"I will do this my way."

Then he closed his eyes. A thread of abyssal energy rippled outward, and suddenly, ten thousand of his marionnet soldiers jolted alive as if a single will had entered their minds. Their helmets glowed faintly with abyssal runes, and Kyle’s voice whispered directly into their thoughts.

’Forward. Tear them apart. Follow my orders to the letter.’

In perfect unison, the ten thousand broke formation and surged forward, moving with terrifying speed and precision. Their footsteps hit the earth like a single heartbeat, disciplined and monstrous.

The enemy Grandmasters smirked. Darven raised his flaming spear, fire roaring to life and spiraling into a massive inferno.

Lysandra lifted her staff, summoning bolts of lightning that split the clouds. Borik stomped his foot, and the ground erupted into jagged stone spears racing toward Kyle’s men.

The battlefield roared with elemental destruction—firestorms, thunder, and stone collapsing like an avalanche.

But Kyle’s soldiers didn’t falter.

At his mental command, a frontline of shield-bearers braced and overlapped their barriers, glowing with abyssal mana reinforcement.

Fire splashed harmlessly. Above, wings of summoned shadow spread as archers rained arrows infused with corruption, striking down the mages hiding behind the battalions.

Then Kyle gave his next command.

’Split left. Encircle the flames. Use the ravine to your advantage. Cut off their retreat.’

As if guided by a single mind, the marionnets shifted. Small squads of abyssal knights darted into the terrain, disappearing into rocky trenches. Others pulled the enemy into narrow choke points, where their numbers meant nothing.

Spearmen extended cursed pikes that ignored steel armor, piercing through like butter.

Shadowcasters formed fields of darkness where lightning fizzled out. And when Borik raised walls of stone, Kyle’s order rang clear—

’Collapse the right flank. Bury them in their own barricades.’

The marionnets detonated abyssal charges beneath the ground, flipping entire formations of soldiers into chaos.

In less than an hour, ninety thousand soldiers crumbled before ten thousand. Corpses carpeted the soil, the screams of generals echoing in disbelief.

Calem’s face darkened on the wall. "Impossible..."

In a fit of rage, he ordered another ninety thousand forward.

Kyle smirked as his abyssal eyes narrowed. "Fool."

He raised his hand again, and another ten thousand marionnets stirred, their battle cry a horrific laugh as they charged.

Again, with surgical precision, Kyle directed them like chess pieces—flanking, ambushing, surrounding.

Calem watched in horror as his second battalion was annihilated just as swiftly.

"Strategic warfare," Kyle mused aloud as he watched from afar. "These men have no clue what it even means. They rely on numbers. On brute force. That’s why they lose."

Soon, two hundred thousand had been reduced to less than one hundred thousand, while Kyle’s twenty thousand marionnets stood untouched. They fought like monsters incarnate, unfeeling, relentless, killing machines who never tired, never hesitated.

Kyle finally exhaled, boredom slipping into his tone. "This is boring. I thought it would be challenging, but these idiots don’t even understand the basics."

He turned his head toward Melina and Arya, his smile cruel. "They’ve already lost. Finish them off arya , Melina."

Both women smirked.

The last two hours became hell itself.

------

The once majestic capital of Etheria, pride of the smaller kingdoms, was engulfed in chaos and fire. Flames rose to the heavens, black smoke choking the skies. The acrid stench of burning flesh carried on the wind.

Screams filled the streets.

"H–Help us!!"

"My child!"

"Run away, dear!"

"P–Please! Don’t—ughh!"

Women and children ran frantically, terror twisting their faces. Fathers and husbands fought with makeshift weapons, trying to protect their families.

They were cut down mercilessly, bodies strewn like broken dolls across blood-stained cobblestones.

Homes were reduced to ash. Anything tied to the royal family of Calem was burned to the ground.

And finally, within an hour, Kyle’s forces breached the imperial palace itself. The grand marble halls, once thought impregnable, now rang with death.

Knights fought valiantly but were hopelessly outnumbered, their corpses falling across pristine floors now painted crimson.

The Abyss had arrived in Etheria. And its harbinger was a boy who smiled as the world burned.

-----

The grand entrance of the palace, once polished with pride and red carpets to welcome nobles, foreign dignitaries, and honored guests, was now a grotesque graveyard.

The marble floor was drowned in blood. Shattered banners hung limply from the walls, their royal sigils torn apart. The corpses of knights, ministers, and servants alike were piled up, their glassy eyes staring lifelessly into the void.

And amidst this silence of death, soft footsteps echoed.

A lone figure walked through the haze of smoke and fire. Kyle.

His jet-black hair danced lightly with every step, swept back by the embers carried through the ruined halls. His pale face was strikingly handsome, but there was nothing gentle in it.

The pitch-black eyes that stared ahead held a coldness—chaotic, dangerous, bottomless. He wore a black suit reinforced with abyssal light armor that clung to his lean, toned frame, the faint glow of runes pulsing beneath the fabric.

He looked young, but in that youth was a sense of ageless cruelty, as though he had lived through countless deaths.

[ You should be more careful now, ] Sabrina’s voice whispered inside his head.

[ The whole world will soon know what happened here. They will come for you. ]

Kyle smirked faintly, his voice calm and fearless. "Let them come. I’m just getting started."

He pushed open the heavy doors of the throne room.

The grand throne of Etheria stood before him, towering and adorned with gold and jewels.

Once it had symbolized stability and authority. Now, it stood as nothing more than a relic for him to claim.

Kyle’s boots tapped across the blood-stained marble. Slowly, purposefully, he ascended the dais. His stride was measured, regal, as though he had rehearsed this moment countless times in his dreams.

When he finally sat upon the throne, leaning back with one leg casually folded over the other, it was as if the seat itself had always belonged to him.

Moments later, Arya and Melina entered the throne room, their cloaks torn, blades stained with blood. They bowed deeply.

"We have done as you commanded, my lord,"

Arya said with a calm tone.

"The kingdom belongs to you," Melina added firmly.

Kyle exhaled and spoke in a voice that was neither hurried nor hesitant. "Good work."

Then his tone shifted—sharp, commanding. "Both of you. Come here."

The two women obeyed, stepping close to the throne. For a moment, they expected praise. Instead—

Pah!

Pah!

The sound of two sharp slaps echoed, the force enough to sting even their hardened faces.

"You should have told me," Kyle said coldly, "if you were also planning to kill the women and children."

A bead of sweat rolled down Arya’s forehead as she bowed lower. Melina followed, her voice trembling slightly despite her strength.

"We apologize, my lord," Arya said.

"If you find it unpleasant..." Melina added softly.

Kyle leaned forward, his shadow stretching across them. Then, to their shock, a wicked grin curved his lips.

"Unpleasant? Are you kidding? If they don’t submit... then kill them. That way, those who remain will submit completely. And they will believe in us without hesitation."

The women exchanged brief glances.

Then Kyle added, his tone cold as ice, "Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Order them to kill all of them. I don’t like the sound of their screams anymore."

Both Arya and Melina straightened immediately, their voices in unison.

"As you command."

They raised their hands, flicking abyssal signals. The marionnet soldiers outside received their command and moved to carry out the last wave of extermination.

With another flick of Melina’s finger, space shimmered. The battered and bloodied figure of King Calem appeared, dragged into the throne room like a prisoner.

"You bastard!" Calem roared the moment he could speak. His voice cracked with rage and despair. "Demon! You should’ve at least spared the women and children!"

Kyle looked at him with quiet contempt. "Oh, don’t act righteous now. Weren’t you planning to sacrifice them to the cult yourself? Don’t play the saint in front of me."

Calem froze, his body trembling.

Kyle rose from the throne, his eyes narrowing, a storm of black aura leaking from his form. "You don’t remember me, do you?"

"Who the hell are you?" Calem spat, though his voice faltered. "What did I do to you?"

Kyle laughed lowly, the sound echoing like something monstrous. "Of course you don’t. Why would you remember the child of a pawn?"

He stepped forward, eyes glowing with abyssal darkness. "Let me remind you long story short as I am not much of a story teller.

When I was three years old, I was adopted into a family. I lived happily for a short time. My father worked for you. His name was Stannis Miller."

Recognition dawned on Calem’s face, his lips parting. "...Commander Stannis.

Yes i know him.

He was... loyal."

"Loyal?" Kyle barked a laugh, his voice rising into madness. "Is that what you call it? Was it loyalty when you got him drunk and tried to force yourself on his wife—my mother?"

Calem’s eyes widened in horror.

Kyle’s voice cracked with venom. "When he defended her, you accused her of being Abyss-borne. You burned her alive in front of the people. And then... you took my fathers head."

Black energy surged violently around Kyle, shaking the very walls of the throne room.

"If not for the cult’s leader—my so-called teacher—I would’ve died that day too. But I didn’t. I survived."

Calem stumbled backward, his bravado gone. His knees buckled under the crushing weight of Kyle’s aura.

"I... I..." Calem’s lips quivered. His voice broke, pleading desperately. "I’m sorry! I did wrong! I was blinded! Please, forgive me! Please!"

He fell to his knees, slamming his forehead against the blood-soaked marble, his cries echoing.

Kyle looked down at him, his smile stretching into something inhuman. "Beg harder."

Calem sobbed, tears streaking his blood-stained face. "I–I beg you! Spare me! Spare my kingdom! Spare—"

"Enough," Kyle’s voice cut like a blade. He raised his hand, his aura coiling tighter around Calem like a noose. His grin widened. "You think I’ll kill you here and now? No. That would be merciful."

He leaned closer, whispering like a devil. "Don’t kill him. Torture him. For days. Break him, piece by piece. And as for his family..."

Kyle’s eyes glowed with cruel satisfaction. "Behead every single one of them. Mount their heads on pikes where he can see them every day. Let him watch, just as I watched my mother burn."

Calem’s scream tore through the palace, raw and pitiful. But no one came to save him.

Kyle only leaned back, eyes filled with abyssal madness. "Now... let him feel despair."

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