The Cursed Extra

Chapter 169: [3.42] Someone Their Own Size

"A true predator doesn’t play with its food. It simply eats."

***

But the pain never came.

Instead, he heard a soft clink-clatter from somewhere behind the transformed shaman.

A small, dark sphere rolled to a stop between the creature’s feet. Barely visible in the dying torchlight. An innocuous thing. The kind of object you might overlook entirely if you weren’t expecting it.

A marble, perhaps.

Or a child’s toy that had somehow found its way into these ancient depths.

The creature looked down.

Its burning eyes narrowed in confusion. Its head tilted, almost dog-like, as it tried to process this interruption to its meal. The claws that had been descending toward Rhys’s flesh paused mid-stroke.

The sphere erupted.

Thick, acrid smoke instantly filled the chamber. Billowed upward in choking clouds that blinded and stung. The smoke was black as pitch and moved with unnatural purpose. Spread too fast. Clung too long. Found every corner of the tunnel and filled it with impenetrable darkness.

The creature roared in confusion and rage.

Its grip on Rhys loosened as it clawed at its own eyes.

Rhys dropped to the stone floor.

Gasped and coughed as the smoke burned his throat and made his eyes stream tears. His shoulder screamed at the impact. But the pain was distant now. Less important than the simple miracle of being alive.

The stone was cold and wet beneath his palms as he pushed himself up. Trying to get his bearings in the sudden darkness.

Through the swirling grey haze, he heard something that didn’t belong in this nightmare.

Something that made no sense at all in this moment of blood and terror and ancient evil.

The slow, deliberate, almost mocking sound of someone clapping.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Each impact of palm against palm was perfectly timed. Theatrical in its leisure. Like someone applauding a mediocre performance at a local theater. Like someone who had seen better entertainment and was being polite about their disappointment.

The sound came from everywhere and nowhere. Echoed off the tunnel walls in a way that made it impossible to pinpoint the source. It bounced and multiplied until it seemed like an audience of phantoms was offering their sarcastic appreciation.

A silhouette emerged from the smoke.

Not walking. Seeming to materialize from the darkness itself.

The figure was indistinct. More suggestion than substance. But its posture radiated an unnerving calm that made the creature’s earlier confidence look like nervous bluster.

Whoever this was, they weren’t afraid.

They weren’t even particularly concerned.

They stood in the presence of something that had just promised to turn a student into an art project of suffering.

And they were applauding.

The transformed shaman spun toward the newcomer. Its claws extended and ready to tear apart this new threat. Smoke parted around its massive form as it turned. But more smoke seemed to flow in to replace what had been pushed aside.

The creature’s burning eyes swept the darkness. Searched for a target to destroy.

But something in the figure’s bearing made it hesitate.

This wasn’t another terrified student stumbling through the tunnels. This wasn’t a lost academy guard or a confused monster hunter who had wandered too deep.

This was something else entirely.

Something that didn’t fit the creature’s understanding of how prey was supposed to behave.

The clapping stopped.

"You know," the figure said, its voice carrying clearly through the smoke, "I’ve always found it fascinating how bullies react when someone their own size shows up to the party."

The voice was young. Barely more than a teenager’s.

But it held an edge that made Rhys’s skin crawl even as relief flooded through him at the possibility of rescue.

There was amusement there, yes. But it was the kind of humor you might hear from someone pulling the wings off insects. Cold. Detached. Curious about suffering in an academic sort of way.

The creature snarled. Its head swiveled as it tried to track the speaker through the haze.

The smoke seemed to move with purpose. Always thickening wherever the creature looked. Always thinning elsewhere.

"Who dares—"

"Oh, pay me no mind," the voice interrupted. Dripping with placid amusement that somehow made the darkness feel colder. "I’m merely a critic that got lost on the road of life. And your performance..."

The figure shifted in the smoke. Still impossible to pin down. Still maddeningly casual.

"It lacks finesse."

Rhys couldn’t see the speaker’s face. But he could hear the smile in those words.

"Too much monologuing. Not enough follow-through. A true predator doesn’t play with its food. It simply eats. You’ve wasted twelve seconds on theatrics. An eternity."

The smoke began to clear.

Revealed more of the newcomer’s form.

Average height. Slender build. Wearing the simple grey robes of a House Onyx student.

Nothing about him should have been threatening.

He was unremarkable in every physical way. The kind of person you would pass in a corridor and forget five seconds later.

But the transformed shaman took a step backward nonetheless.

Its claws lowered slightly.

Its burning eyes narrowed with something that might have been the first stirrings of caution.

Rhys had seen that look before.

On the faces of borderland wolves when they realized the sheep they’d been stalking was actually a trap.

On the faces of goblin raiders when they discovered the village they’d thought defenseless had been warned of their approach.

On the faces of predators who suddenly understood they weren’t the only hunters in the room.

The stranger tilted his head.

Like a curious bird examining a particularly interesting worm.

"You want to know what real power looks like?"

His voice was soft now. Almost gentle.

But Rhys felt the temperature in the tunnel drop by several degrees.

The smoke around the stranger began to move differently. Not random anymore. Not chaotic. It swirled with purpose. Formed patterns that hurt to look at directly.

The creature’s red eyes widened.

For the first time since its transformation, it looked uncertain.

The stranger smiled.

Rhys couldn’t see it. But he could feel it.

The way you could feel a thunderstorm approaching before you saw the clouds.

"Let me show you."