The Extra is a Genius!? - Chapter 383

Chapter 383: Chapter 383: The Duty of the Thornes
The forest was quiet.

Each step Noel took echoed softly against the damp earth, the crunch of twigs and leaves swallowed by the heavy stillness that hung over the trail. Ahead of him, Albrecht walked with his usual composure, not sparing a glance back.

“Where exactly are we going?” Noel finally asked.

His father didn’t slow down. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Typical.

Noel’s eyes flicked to the sides of the path. The deeper they went, the older everything seemed—massive oaks with bark blackened by age, roots twisting through cracked stone, the faint hum of mana leaking from beneath the soil. The air was thick with it, almost oppressive.

‘This place… it isn’t in the novel,’ Noel thought, frowning. ‘Not even mentioned.’

They passed under a crooked archway half-swallowed by vines. Strange glyphs were carved along the stone—eroded, unreadable, yet faintly glowing under the filtered sunlight. The further they went, the more they looked like graves rather than markings.

After nearly an hour of walking, the forest opened up. A wall of stone rose before them, hidden behind tangled ivy and moss, with a single arch-shaped entrance carved into the cliff face. It wasn’t grand, but it carried an unsettling weight—like something that shouldn’t exist anymore but refused to fade.

Noel exhaled quietly. “A ruin?”

Albrecht nodded once. “Older than our family.”

Noel glanced at him. “And you’re only telling me about it now?”

“Because now,” his father said, finally stopping in front of the entrance, “you’re strong enough to see it.”

Noel’s eyes narrowed as he followed his father into the shadows beyond the stone gate, the air immediately cooling as if the ruin itself had been holding its breath for centuries.

The sound changed the moment they stepped inside—no wind, no forest, only the soft drip of water echoing from somewhere deep within.

Noel’s boots scuffed against smooth stone, and faint motes of red light shimmered from the walls, caught in patterns that looked almost deliberate.

The place wasn’t a natural cave. Pillars lined the corridor, carved from the same black stone as the walls. Ancient runes ran down their sides, faded yet still pulsing faintly with mana.

“This doesn’t look like any Thorne architecture I’ve seen,” Noel muttered.

“That’s because it isn’t,” Albrecht replied, his voice low but steady. “We didn’t build this place. We inherited it.”

They kept walking until the passage widened into a chamber—a perfect circle, its center dominated by something that made Noel stop in his tracks.

Embedded in the floor was a massive crystal, dark and jagged, half-buried in the stone. Its surface pulsed with a slow, rhythmic glow, deep red like blood illuminated from within. Veins of the same color spread through the ground around it, webbing across the chamber like arteries.

Noel’s brow furrowed. “What the hell…” He took a cautious step closer, feeling the mana surge against his skin. It wasn’t chaotic—it was ancient, layered, dense. A kind of pressure he’d only ever felt once before.

Albrecht’s gaze lingered on the crystal. “This is what every Thorne patriarch and matriarch has protected for generations. No one knows what it is. No one has ever been able to move it.”

Noel circled around it slowly, his reflection bending across the glossy surface. “So you don’t know what it does either?”

“Not even remotely,” Albrecht said. “Our records call it the Core of Shadows. It predates the founding of Valor itself. Every attempt to study it ended in failure.”

Noel crouched beside it, extending his hand just close enough to feel the hum of power beneath his palm.

‘Core of Shadows…’ he thought, eyes narrowing. ‘That kind of name doesn’t belong to something ordinary.’

The glow inside the crystal pulsed once—faint, but sharp enough to make his heartbeat hitch.

He turned to Albrecht. “You said we protect this. From what exactly?”

His father’s gaze stayed fixed on the Core. “Monsters. They come every month—like clockwork. Always drawn here.”

Noel frowned. “How many?”

“Hundreds. Sometimes more.”

That number made his stomach tighten. “And what rank are we talking about?”

Albrecht’s tone didn’t change. “The weakest are Ascendant. The strongest… I’ve seen one reach Archmage level once. Nearly killed me.”

Noel’s eyes widened slightly. He’d expected something serious—but not that. “You’re telling me this thing lures creatures that strong? For what reason?”

“We don’t know.” Albrecht’s hands were clasped behind his back, his voice distant, almost reverent. “We’ve tried to destroy it. Nothing works. We’ve tried to move it—it doesn’t budge. The only thing we can do is keep them from reaching it.”

Noel paced around the Core again, mind racing. ‘A relic no one can move. Monsters drawn to it every month. That’s not natural—it’s purposeful.’

His instincts prickled. The mana leaking from it wasn’t chaotic; it was structured, alive.

“Does anyone outside our house know?” he asked.

“No, only each Imperial King in this case Alveron,” Albrecht said firmly. “The Thorne line was entrusted with it centuries ago. Every patriarch before me fought to keep it safe. And until now, I’ve done it alone.”

Noel’s hand rested on Revenant Fang’s hilt. He didn’t draw it—just felt the cold metal against his palm. “So it’s basically an endless siege you fight once a month.”

“Exactly.”

Noel looked up, the crimson light reflecting in his eyes. ‘Something this strong… and unknown…’ he thought. ‘If it really is tied to Elarin somehow, I can’t let it fall.’

He exhaled slowly, gaze firming. “And when’s the next attack?”

Albrecht finally turned to face him, eyes dark. “Seven days.”

They walked back through the tunnel in silence. The glow of the Core faded behind them, swallowed by the dark, until only the faint echo of their footsteps remained. The forest air hit them like a breath of life when they finally stepped outside again—cool, damp, and heavy with mana.

Noel adjusted Revenant Fang against his shoulder. “So every month, without fail?”

Albrecht gave a single nod. “For as long as the Thornes have existed. And now that you’ve seen it, you’ll understand why I can’t protect it alone anymore.”

Noel arched a brow. “You want my help?”

“I need your help.” Albrecht’s tone carried no pride this time—just certainty. “In seven days, they’ll come again. If you’re truly the strength of our bloodline, prove it by standing beside me.”

Noel studied him for a long moment. The man who once dismissed him now spoke as if they shared the same purpose. He didn’t know if it was pride, duty, or something darker that drove his father—but there was no mistaking the gravity in his words.

Finally, Noel sighed. “Fine. I’ll help.”

Albrecht gave a curt nod and turned toward the estate. “Good. Then prepare yourself. I’ll send word when it’s time.”

As his father’s footsteps faded into the distance, Noel remained by the treeline, watching the faint shimmer of mana that still hung in the air.

‘A relic that lures monsters… a secret guarded for centuries… and now I’m part of it,’ he thought, eyes narrowing. The mission window flickered to life before him, faint and translucent:

He exhaled through his nose. “So this is it,” he muttered under his breath.

‘The fall of House Thorne… I’m guessing it starts right there.’