Path of the Extra

Great Divine Star Spirit Emperor, Pollux, Last Crown of the Starbloods.

Those words echoed relentlessly inside Azriel’s mind. He had never once heard of such a title, not even among the divine spirit kings. Not merely a king, but an emperor—Pollux claimed himself as the very last ruler of the Starbloods. Either this spirit before him was extraordinarily arrogant or…

Or it truly was the real thing.

It was those heavy eyes—eyes only a king could have—that reminded Azriel of Joaquin, convincing him to lean towards the latter conclusion.

Azriel pursed his lips slightly. From the very instant the guardian had stepped into the cabin, Azriel had been silently scheming, contemplating countless ways to escape his dire situation. He had stalled for time, and now, in this third loop, he had remained alive longer than ever before. No Void creature had yet come for him.

But he still couldn’t use mana.

It was manageable—barely manageable, he corrected himself. There were some painfully desperate methods he’d considered as a last resort, though he remained deeply reluctant to test them. But now Azriel found himself trapped between decisions once again.

Pollux, the Great Divine Star Spirit Emperor…

Azriel hesitated for less than a heartbeat before speaking calmly, evenly:

“With such a grandiose title, and claiming to be the last king of the Starbloods, you must have been unlike any other divine spirit king.”

“Obviously.”

The guardian—no, Pollux—snorted disdainfully, still wearing Jasmine’s face. Then it spoke again, uttering words that caused Azriel’s remaining eye to widen in shock.

“I was the strongest divine spirit in existence.”

“…You were the strongest…?”

“Naturally,” Pollux replied with cold arrogance.

“No one could ever compare to me. Closest to the gods, the strongest divine spirit ever known, undefeated in combat—who else could rightfully bear the title ‘Great Divine Star Spirit Emperor’?”

Azriel narrowed his eye suspiciously.

“If you truly were as powerful as you claim, how could you have allowed your entire race to be wiped out?”

As Azriel voiced that simple question, empty of any emotion, something flickered in Pollux’s crimson eyes. It lasted no longer than a heartbeat, but Azriel saw clearly: sorrow.

Yet just as swiftly, those eyes regained their arrogant pride, and the haughty smirk returned.

“Precisely because I was the strongest, because the Starbloods were recognized as the most powerful divine spirit race and closest to the gods. It was exactly because of that power that they feared me. They feared my kind’s continuously growing strength and boundless potential. Thus, one day, they destroyed my world, annihilated my kin, and erased our very existence from history.”

“….”

“Now, after millennia, I am the last remaining Starblood. Those traitors naturally failed to kill me outright, but they wounded me deeply enough to force me into hiding. Ever since, I’ve lingered in the shadows of forsaken worlds, much like yourself. We both are the last survivors of our fallen worlds.”

‘…The last survivors of our worlds.’

Azriel remained silent, eyes lowered as he absently drummed his fingers on the table, his other hand hidden deep in his pocket. Eventually, he raised his gaze, confusion flickering faintly in his remaining eye as he spoke.

“What about Lady Mio? Who—or rather, was she even real? What exactly was the point of all this? Making her spout nonsense about me being someone kind… Why wait until today to release those Void creatures? Are you really this bored?”

Pollux watched Azriel’s outburst with amused eyes.

“There’s a certain story I particularly like from your world,” Pollux said softly, a peculiar glint in those crimson eyes.

At those words, reality itself suddenly fractured. Around them, the world splintered violently like glass, the deafening sound of shattering echoing endlessly. Startled, Azriel jumped to his feet, sending the wooden chair screeching backward across the floor. His heart hammered in his chest as he glared warily at Pollux, whose expression remained infuriatingly calm.

It was as though existence itself had cracked open, the fragments collapsing, revealing only a boundless, endless abyss beneath. Azriel’s vision darkened briefly before, just as abruptly, reality began knitting itself back together—only this time, it formed somewhere entirely different.

Azriel found himself standing in a place far from the cabin, far from the Forest of Eternity.

‘…Huh?’

It was a familiar room—painfully familiar.

Dimly lit, surrounded on all sides by towering walls filled with countless books stacked haphazardly on shelves, tables, and the floor. Azriel’s heartbeat quickened as he recognized exactly where he stood.

Pollux, still wearing Jasmine’s form, silently appeared beside him, expression unreadable, gaze fixed on something else entirely. Before Azriel could question the sudden change, something else entirely captured his attention.

“There lived a brilliant inventor and craftsman named Daedalus…”

Azriel’s single eye widened in shock at the sound of that achingly familiar voice. In the gentle, flickering glow of candlelight sat two children, their youthful faces illuminated in warm gold.

They were twelve years old—yes, exactly twelve. Azriel knew this moment perfectly.

Leo and Nathan, caught in Leo’s father’s study—a forbidden room they’d secretly entered together, drawn by curiosity and adventure.

Slowly, Azriel approached them. Crouching quietly, he gazed into their innocent faces, illuminated softly by the candle’s gentle flame. A faint, sorrowful smile crept onto his lips as he observed them closely.

‘They both look much smaller than I remember.’

Leo, carefully holding an old, heavy book on his lap, continued reading softly as Nathan listened attentively:

“He was known throughout Greece for his genius—an architect, sculptor, and engineer without equal. However, his story took a dark turn on the island of Crete, where he was commissioned by King Minos to construct the infamous Labyrinth—a vast, twisted maze designed to imprison the Minotaur, a monstrous beast born from a cursed union.”

Azriel glanced at Pollux briefly; the Starblood Emperor remained silent, unreadable, and still. Azriel returned his gaze to Leo, smiling faintly again as his younger self continued reading aloud.

“But after the Labyrinth was completed, Daedalus and his son, Icarus, were imprisoned by King Minos to ensure the Labyrinth’s secrets would never escape Crete. Determined to regain their freedom, Daedalus conceived a daring plan. The sea was heavily guarded, and the land teemed with soldiers—but the skies… the skies were open.”

“Using feathers gathered from countless birds and wax carefully melted and shaped, Daedalus crafted two pairs of wings—one for himself, and one for his beloved son. Before taking flight, Daedalus warned Icarus sternly: ‘Do not fly too high, or the sun’s heat will melt the wax. Do not fly too low, or the sea’s spray will weigh your feathers down. Follow the middle path, and we shall be free.'”

“They took flight from their prison tower, becoming the first humans ever to soar through the skies, gliding gracefully above the endless ocean. Icarus, young and exhilarated, laughed joyfully as he experienced the intoxicating freedom of flight. Yet, in his euphoria, he forgot his father’s warnings. Thrilled, he soared higher and higher, climbing dangerously close to the blazing sun.”

Azriel watched intently, warmth mixing with sadness in his gaze as Leo reached the story’s inevitable tragedy.

“The wax in his wings began to soften beneath the scorching heat, and one by one, feathers loosened, scattering helplessly in the wind. Panicking, Icarus flailed, desperately trying to remain airborne—but it was too late. His wings fell apart, sending him spiraling downwards into the ocean below.”

“Daedalus watched helplessly, devastated as his son disappeared beneath the waves. From that day onward, the sea where Icarus drowned became known as the Icarian Sea, and a nearby island was named Icaria in memory of his tragic fall.”

Azriel looked at Pollux, who finally met his gaze. At that exact moment, the flickering candlelight froze, as did the two children.

Time itself stood still.

“Why show me this?” Azriel asked coldly.

“If you think this affected me in any way, you’re mistaken.”

Instead of answering immediately, Pollux stared thoughtfully at the frozen figures of the two children, his expression enigmatic. After a brief silence, he spoke quietly.

“What do you think about the story of Icarus?”

Azriel frowned deeply, hesitating, his expression darkening as he finally answered in a quiet voice.

“He was blinded by curiosity, and it cost him his life. He… shouldn’t have flown so close to the sun. He was reckless, foolish. If only he’d listened to his father, if only he didn’t… desire…”

For some reason, Azriel couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. His eye shifted to the old, worn book in Leo’s lap, and he fell into silence.

Pollux spoke gently, completing Azriel’s thoughts.

“If only he didn’t sacrifice himself for a fleeting taste of freedom.”

Azriel’s single eye widened slightly, turning toward the Starblood Emperor.

“You say Icarus flew too close to the sun,” Pollux continued calmly. “That his path was reckless—dangerous, even. Indeed, Icarus fell. But you seem to forget one crucial thing: before falling, he flew. He broke free from imprisonment and touched the heavens, if only briefly. He dared to chase something far beyond what his kind was meant to reach.”

Pollux smiled mysteriously at Azriel.

“Doesn’t he seem painfully familiar to both of us?”

“…”

“We both desired greatly to fulfill our ambitions. More than once, we soared too close to the sun, and more than once we burned and fell.”

“…”

Pollux’s voice softened, gaining an almost wistful tone.

“I do not fear the sun or its flames. I fear only regret—regret for a life spent crawling when I was born with the ambition to ascend. If my wings must burn, so be it. At least I crafted them myself. Only those willing to risk falling will ever learn to fly.”

He glanced downward at his open palms, expression distant.

“I never wished to become a god. My only desire was strength, to test myself against worthy opponents. That ambition—and the collective ambition of my people—became our downfall. The Starbloods flew too close to the sun. It feared us, and in its fear, it burned us down.”

Azriel scowled bitterly.

“You might have seen my memories, but don’t speak as if you know or understand me.”

Pollux simply kept smiling enigmatically, arrogance slipping back into his gaze as he looked once more at Azriel.

“Leo Karumi wished to make everyone around him happy. He willingly flew towards the sun, while seeking acceptance and freedom—but he burned, lost his wings, and fell. In the end, his fall disappointed everyone he loved. And eventually, his family perished anyway. Then there was Azriel Crimson, who wanted nothing more than to forge his own wings, his own path—yet he never even got a chance to fly, disappointing everyone around him right from the beginning. In the end, Azriel Crimson died before he ever took flight. Quite the parallel, isn’t it? And now, there’s you…”

Azriel clenched his fists tightly, heart pounding, as Pollux continued.

“You should be proud of yourself, Son of Death.”

“Huh?”

Azriel had not expected such words from Pollux. The Starblood’s gaze—his sister’s familiar eyes—was filled with genuine admiration. The voice, using his sister’s lips, carried no deceit.

Azriel blinked in confusion.

“For a human… No, not just a human—for any being in all existence—you’ve perhaps flown the closest anyone ever has to the sun. You’ve done remarkably. The sun itself has touched you, only you. It scorched everyone else, yet you willingly gave your life just so she would embrace you.”

“What… Just what are you saying?”

Azriel’s voice shook faintly, unable to hide his inner turmoil. He simply couldn’t understand this being—its intentions, its thoughts.

Pollux’s voice lowered reverently, his eyes gleaming with something approaching awe.

“The Goddess of Death.”

Azriel froze.

“…!”

“Only one divine spirit has ever glimpsed her. Among the gods, perhaps fewer than five have ever laid eyes on her. None know her true name, her whereabouts, her thoughts, or her desires. The only certainty is that even the gods fear her presence, her mere existence. And yet… you—a mere human—have gained her attention, her gaze, her embrace. You’ve made Death herself love you so fiercely that she does not dare approach out of sheer fear.”

“…”

“A love so profoundly heavy that only you, O Son of Death, could ever bear its weight.”

Pursing his lips into a dark scowl, Azriel prepared to speak, but Pollux cut him off.

“I am the guardian of the Forest of Eternity,” Pollux said.

“But understand clearly, Son of Death: I do not guard the forest from this world. Rather, I guard this fragile world from the forest.”

Azriel paused, struggling to suppress his turbulent emotions before finally managing to ask, “What do you mean by that?”

“The skinwalker and the void worms—they are both very real, imprisoned within the Forest of Eternity by my power. This world is too weak to survive these two calamities,” Pollux continued.

“Yet I care nothing for this world. I’m merely keeping a promise to someone that I would protect it from them.”

Azriel’s mouth nearly fell open.

‘They were real…?’

Hesitating, Azriel asked in a subdued voice, “…Don’t tell me… that promise… was it to Lady Mio?”

“Correct,” Pollux answered calmly.

“She was one of the few tolerable humans I encountered on this pitiful planet.”

His face quickly twisted back into a haughty smirk, arrogance returning in full measure.

“But even for the Son of Death, I will not lift the spell from this forest. You could have spared me the trouble and the substantial mana drain by simply breaking—but your resistance has grown irritating. You’re even starting to recover, slowly fighting off the spell. I won’t allow that to continue. Well, at the very least, your burning questions should be satisfied now, no?”

Azriel gritted his teeth in frustration.

“I don’t care about your promises, or about how similar we might be. You won’t undo your spell? Fine. I’ll force you.”

Pollux laughed sharply, mockingly.

“Force me? You can’t even access your mana core! I’ve even made certain the barrier around your core is thick enough to prevent even a drop of mana from entering your soul veins. You cannot perform a mana contract, nor can you use any skills. Tell me, how exactly do you plan to accomplish this feat?”

Pollux narrowed his crimson eyes dangerously.

“And even if you could… as I’ve already said, you’re far too kind to do what needs to be done.”

Azriel froze mid-step as he approached.

“Kind? Again with this nonsense? Has the last King of the Starbloods truly lost his mind?”

“Has the Son of Death truly become this blind, or are you still playing one of your elaborate roles to deceive me?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“…Love.”

Azriel faltered, confusion flickering in his single eye.

“Love?”

“Yes—love!” Pollux snapped.

“The very fact you’re still here, desperately fighting to escape this forest to find those humans—especially that little girl, Jasmine Crimson! Why!?”

Pollux’s voice rose sharply, his gaze burning fiercely.

“Why do you still love your family? Why are you still kind to them? What have they ever done to deserve such devotion from you? The Karumis, the Crimsons—both! What have they given you besides pain, expectations, and disappointment? They treated you warmly or coldly on a whim, never truly caring how you felt! Even now, what awaits you if you leave this forest? More suffering? More misery? Will you really fight for people who only bring you pain, all while pretending you’re fine with it? How much more of yourself do you intend to sacrifice for them?”

Azriel stumbled backward, visibly shaken. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, desperately trying to form coherent words.

“I…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how unfair they’ve been to you. You’ve already done enough, Son of Death. You’ve accomplished more than most beings could ever dream of. You’ve gained the Goddess of Death’s love itself—so, just rest. You’ve already lived a life beyond anyone’s wildest imaginings.”

Azriel continued to stammer helplessly before finally managing to find his voice.

“…I can’t. Even if I wanted to… eventually, [Redo] will activate. I have no choice—I have to defeat you and leave, or…”

Pollux’s expression turned utterly calm, cutting Azriel off sharply.

“And what if I told you I could destroy your [Unique Skill]?”