The Extra Who Shouldn't Exist novel Chapter 206

Chapter 206: Chapter 206 : Survival of the fittest (1)

Alex watched the enormous countdown blaze across the grey dome of sky above the field:

49 minutes 45 seconds.

Had been passed.

The numbers ticking down like a pulse.

Around him, every face mirrored the same uneasy attention; the whole plain had fallen silent, waiting.

Annoying message windows kept popping up, though—petty, snide little bubbles that wormed at his nerves.

{ ’The Revered One’ is confused as to why you participated alone. }

{ ’The Ruler of the Skies’ laughs: this fellow looks like an idiot to come alone. }

A vein throbbed at Alex’s temple. ’Useless can’t you do something about these idiots?’ he thought, jaw tight.

[Of course I can,] the system answered in his head.

[But you didn’t say the magic word.]

’Please. Do something about this, partner.’ Alex muttered inwardly.

[That’s what I was waiting for. Done.] The system’s voice sounded mildly smug.

The onscreen taunts blinked out and were gone. Alex let out a half-laugh. ’Thanks, partner.’

The system added, in a tone that made his amethyst eyes flick toward the crowd, [You’re not the only one getting messages. The others are seeing these types of messages too from different gods .]

Alex scowled. ’Of course those fuckers are here for the show.’

The countdown kept sliding down.

When only 10 minutes remained the sky fractured with a crack like a bell.

Light folded inward and a figure materialized, descending through the air as if stepping out of a theatrical spotlight.

At first Alex didn’t process what he saw.

A wolf—tall, upright, wearing a long coat and pants, spectacles perched on a narrow snout—hung in the sky like a judge about to give a verdict.

The absurdity of a well-dressed wolf in a courtroom blazer almost made Alex snort, but the creature’s voice cut through the clearing with smooth, practiced resonance.

"Greetings," the wolf said, tipping an invisible hat. "My name is Raon Levin. I will be your guide for this trial."

The assembled masses shifted the whisper swept like wind. A wolf announcer—this was a new level of theatrical.

Raon’s eyes glittered behind his glasses as he began. "Without further delay, let us begin. This trial is simple in premise:

Survival of the fittest.

When the clock hits zero, the First Floor Trial commences.

You must fight.

You must eliminate others standing here.

The first 100 Survivors pass.

That is all."

A hand shot up in the back—an elf , voice tremulous with a mix of disbelief and outrage. "So when you say ’eliminate,’ you mean... killing, right?"

Raon gave a soft, wicked laugh that sent a collective chill across the field. "Of course." He spread his hands as if presenting a prize.

"Do not hesitate now. You came here of your own volition. Once you entered, the road back is a single one: clear the trials or perish trying."

Silence slammed back into place. Some clenched fists. Some faces went pale. Others had already gone distant, eyes hardening with resolve—this was what they’d signed up for. The field of aspirants tightened like a drawn bow.

Alex watched casually, but his mind was a fast machine. ’So it’s a free-for-all spectacle for the gods. Perfect. They’ll laugh while we bleed.’

Raon continued, voice slick with showmanship.

"One more thing: the candidate who ranks 1st will have the privilege to choose any reward they desire."

He paused to let the implication sink in. "You may request almost anything — even a boon from a god. So long as the request is reasonable, it will be granted."

The cavernous hush broke into a ripple of greedy, stunned murmurs. A dozen faces brightened with savage calculation.

An anxious demihuman with a small feline face piped up, "And how are the rankings decided?"

Raon’s mouth widened into a grin that showed too many teeth. "Glad you asked. Rankings are measured by eliminations. In short—how many people you kill today." His grin sharpened. "Or, if you prefer the blunt version: how many bodies you leave behind."

The words landed like a stone. Eyes searched the field, measuring, weighing friends against threats. Groups tightened into wary gangs; alliances would now be bargains written in blood.

Around alex, others were already forming plans: murmured unions, nervous pacts, frightened prayers. The smell of fear and strategy was thick as smoke.

Raon’s tone sharpened, finalizing the decree. "Prepare yourselves. When the clock hits zero, no more divine calls. No more safety nets. Fight, or be consumed. Begin at will."

The countdown resumed its merciless tick. Alex watched the numbers fall and, beneath the adrenaline, a single thought burned cool and clear.

’Survive no matter what.’

Everyone swallowed hard in unison. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by Raon’s smug chuckle as he adjusted his glasses.

"I don’t think anyone here truly has the potential to ascend but as they say we can’t judge a book by its cover," his sharp grin betraying how much he was enjoying the dread painted across thousands of faces.

A voice cut through the hush. "Excuse me."

Raon’s ears twitched, his molten eyes shifting toward the speaker—a figure wearing a bone-white skeleton mask. His aura was faintly human.

’Lower plane human? Interesting,’ Raon thought. ’And yet, humans these days... they’re the ones clearing floors more than anyone else. Amusing.’

The masked figure—Alex—spoke clearly. "After clearing this floor, can we return home?"

Raon let the question dangle a moment before replying smoothly. "Yes, lad. Survive this trial, and you’ll be granted a return ticket. You may use it to go back to your world."

Alex tilted his head. "And what if I want to come back here again?"

That drew a faint laugh from Raon. "You seem confident you’ll survive."

"That’s not the answer to my question, Mr. Raon," Alex said flatly.

He typed: Lucifer Morningstar.

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