The Extra is a Genius!? - Chapter 472

Chapter 472: Chapter 472: The Right to Pass
The sea went still.

Around the Gatekeeper’s core, the water ceased to behave like water at all. No swells rolled through the funnel anymore. No crosscurrents scraped at the hull. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, sails hanging in a tense, unnatural equilibrium as if the world itself had been told to wait.

At the center of it all, the pressure condensed.

The Gatekeeper gathered itself.

Noel felt the shift immediately. The pattern beneath the surface tightened, layers of mass folding inward with methodical precision. Where before the creature had denied space, tested reactions, recalibrated boundaries—now it was drawing everything back to a single point.

“It’s done judging,” Noel said quietly.

Lightning crawled along Revenant Fang, not wild this time, but restrained—compressed until it hummed with sharp, dangerous focus. Shadow clung to the blade’s edge like a second outline, heavier than before.

Marcus stood a few steps away, molten light pulsing beneath his skin as earth responded sluggishly to his call, resisting the sheer pressure saturating the sea. He didn’t look at Noel for long.

Their eyes met for barely a heartbeat.

Now.

Selene moved first.

“Gravity hold!”

Gravity twisted outward from her position in a wide, stabilizing arc—not crushing, not binding, but denying fixation. The invisible anchors the Gatekeeper had been weaving into the space ahead shuddered and loosened, their alignment slipping just enough to matter.

“Don’t let it lock the field!” Selene called, teeth clenched as frost crept up her arm. “I can hold it unstable—but not forever!”

Roberto was already in motion along the edge of the deck.

He struck where the eye couldn’t follow—short, precise interventions aimed at seams that shouldn’t exist. Every time the Gatekeeper’s mass tried to reconnect, to redistribute pressure along its armor-like structures, something snapped. Not violently. Cleanly.

“No territory,” Roberto muttered under his breath. “No ground. No reset.”

The water trembled.

For the first time, the Gatekeeper’s containment faltered.

Noel inhaled slowly.

Shadow thickened around his arm. Lightning condensed inward, threading through the darkness instead of fighting it.

“We need to fuck him up,” Noel murmured.

He stepped forward.

The sea reacted.

The Gatekeeper shifted its entire mass toward him—not attacking the ship, not the crew, but him. Space compressed violently around Noel’s position, pressure spiking with surgical intent.

Judgment passed.

Noel didn’t retreat.

He surged.

Lightning and shadow fused in a single, blinding discharge—not a spell with a name, not a technique meant for display. Just raw intent given form, forced into a narrow vector that punched straight through the compressed space ahead of him.

The impact cracked reality’s surface.

Water split without sound. Pressure screamed. The Gatekeeper’s armor buckled inward as something fundamental—something structural—failed.

Marcus roared.

The ground answered.

He dropped into a rooted stance, feet locking into an impossible foundation as molten energy spiraled up his arms. The spell he was shaping dwarfed anything he’d cast before, heat distorting the air violently as blue fire and magma fused into something dense, unstable, and lethal.

“Cover me!” Marcus barked.

Noel did.

He stepped into the Gatekeeper’s counterpressure, shadow flaring wide as lightning carved a path through collapsing space, holding the creature’s attention—forcing it to respond to him.

That was the mistake.

Marcus finished the cast.

The Molten Lance formed slowly, painfully, its surface cracking with contained power as if it might detonate before ever being thrown. He gritted his teeth, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he took aim.

“For the record,” Marcus growled, “I hate things that think they’re laws.”

He hurled it.

The lance didn’t pierce.

It collapsed into the Gatekeeper’s core and detonated from within.

The sea broke.

The Gatekeeper screamed,

as its contained mass unraveled violently, structure collapsing faster than it could compensate.

And in that instant, with space tearing itself apart around the dying rule, the Gatekeeper turned fully toward Noel—

And struck.

The strike didn’t look like an attack.

There was no surge of water, no blast of force, no visible magic arcing through the air. The space between Noel and the Gatekeeper simply… failed.

Reality folded inward. A segment of the world ahead of him lost definition, as if someone had erased the concept of forward. Where the Gatekeeper’s will pressed, movement ceased to be valid.

Noel felt it immediately.

His thoughts didn’t scatter. His memories weren’t touched. There was no illusion to fight or voice to silence. Instead, a crushing certainty settled into his chest, cold and absolute:

You do not belong here.

His body faltered mid-step, muscles locking as if the air itself had decided he had gone far enough. Lightning sputtered along Revenant Fang, arcs snapping uselessly into nothing where space refused to accept them.

Noir reacted instantly.

Shadow surged up around Noel, thick and suffocating in the best way possible, wrapping around his legs, his torso, his arms—anchoring him to himself, to the deck, to now.

‘No,’ her voice growled inside his head, sharp and unwavering. ‘You exist. You stand. You move.’

The pressure intensified.

Noel’s vision blurred at the edges, not from dizziness, but from something deeper—like the world was trying to overwrite him with absence. His breath came heavy, every inhale feeling like it had to justify itself.

Behind him, Marcus roared in frustration as backlash tore through his body. One knee hit the deck hard, stone cracking beneath it as blood splattered across the planks. The overcharged casting had burned him deep—arms trembling, veins lit with unstable azure heat.

He didn’t stop.

“Not—done—yet!” Marcus snarled, forcing himself upright, molten energy still boiling under his skin.

Roberto moved like a ghost along the edge of the formation, striking where the Gatekeeper’s collapsing structure tried to reconnect. Each precise blow disrupted another thread of coherence, preventing the thing from stabilizing its own failure.

“This thing isn’t fighting anymore,” Selene shouted, frost spiraling wildly as gravity warped around her. “It’s enforcing its purpose!”

The Gatekeeper convulsed.

Pressure spiked again—not outward, but inward, collapsing layers of space into denial fields that swallowed spells whole. Fire fizzled out mid-formation. Ice shattered before existing. Lightning vanished into null seams as if it had never been cast.

Selene’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp with realization.

“It’s collapsing its own function!” she yelled. “It can’t retreat—if it fails here, it stops being!”

Noel heard her.

He understood.

This wasn’t a creature choosing to fight. It was a rule refusing to bend. A function that had reached the moment where success or erasure were the only remaining outcomes.

And rules didn’t compromise.

The pressure surged again, targeting Noel directly—denial layered over denial, the world insisting harder and harder that he should not be allowed to take another step.

Noel clenched his teeth.

He stopped trying to push back.

Stopped trying to block.

Stopped trying to resist.

Instead, he leaned forward.

Lightning flared—not wildly, but tight and controlled. Shadow wrapped closer, Noir’s presence firm and absolute at his back.

“Then that’s fine,” Noel muttered, blood trailing down his chin as his eyes burned with intent. “I don’t need permission.”

He took a step.

Into the denial.

Into the pressure.

Into the place the Gatekeeper said could not be crossed.

And he kept moving.

Noel didn’t slow.

The pressure howled around him, space folding and refusing his presence with absolute certainty—but he was already past the point of negotiation.

“Stormpiercer.”

Lightning detonated.

The world snapped into a line of blinding white as Noel vanished forward, his body propelled through the denial itself. Electricity wrapped him completely, arcs screaming as he tore through the compressed field head-on. For a split instant, resistance peaked—space screaming as it tried to reject him.

Then it broke.

Noel reappeared directly before the Gatekeeper’s collapsing core, boots skidding across water that no longer behaved like liquid. Revenant Fang was already raised.

Behind him, Marcus roared through blood-clogged breath.

“Molten Lance.”

The overcharged spear launched.

The timing was perfect.

Stormpiercer tore a fault through the negation—an open wound in the Gatekeeper’s function—and the Molten Lance plunged straight through it, magma and azure fire drilling deep into the exposed core. The impact didn’t explode outward.

It imploded inward.

The Gatekeeper’s structure shuddered. Armor-like segments lost alignment, seams flickering erratically as internal rules failed to reconcile the damage.

And then Noel spoke again.

“Dark Sun.”

The spell was already there.

A sphere of hyper-compressed fire, black as a starless void, had been forming behind him for long seconds—fed quietly, relentlessly, while Marcus cast and Selene and Roberto held the line. It hovered now at his back, warping light, devouring heat, pulling everything toward its impossible density.

Noel drove it forward.

The black sphere sank into the ruptured core, swallowed by the Gatekeeper’s unraveling function—and then released.

The sea didn’t explode.

Rules did.

Space collapsed inward as the implosion ignited, fire folding in on itself with annihilating force. Water vanished where it touched the effect, converted instantly into screaming steam and pressure before being erased outright. The Gatekeeper didn’t thrash or cry out.

It simply failed to remain coherent.

Layered structures unraveled into nothing. Boundaries dissolved. The immense presence that had denied passage lost the ability to define itself at all.

The sea convulsed, as the condition holding it together ceased to exist.

Noel was thrown backward, shadows snapping tight around him as Noir anchored him hard. Marcus slammed to one knee, coughing smoke and blood as the last echoes of his spell burned out.

Ahead of them, the Gatekeeper disintegrated—not dying like a beast, but collapsing like a law that had been proven wrong.

The water rushed in to fill the absence.

And nothing rose back up.

The mass that had once defined the boundary fragmented into drifting nothingness, its remaining structures losing alignment as the concept holding them together unraveled. Water rushed inward where resistance vanished, space snapping back into place like a stretched cord finally released.

For half a heartbeat, everything felt weightless.

Then the system surfaced.

A translucent blue window opened before Noel’s vision.

[Mission Complete]

Survive and defeat the local apex threat.

Status: Completed.

[Claim Reward: ???]

Noel didn’t move.

Something was wrong.

The sea beneath them wasn’t calming—it was coming apart, currents folding inward and outward at once, as if space itself had lost agreement on where anything belonged. The deck lurched violently, not from impact, but from displacement.

Elyra shouted something—Noel didn’t hear what.

Charlotte cried out as the mast twisted sideways, light flaring instinctively as she grabbed for someone nearby. Marcus reached for the railing just as it tore free from the deck, metal screaming as it vanished into nothing.

Not fell.

Vanished.

The horizon shattered.

The ship didn’t explode.

It was unmade.

Wood, steel, mana, bodies—everything was pulled apart along invisible fault lines, stretched into streaks of motion and shadow. The air itself folded, light smearing into impossible angles as the world lost its frame.

Noel felt Noir slam into him from behind, shadows wrapping tight as iron.

‘Hold on—!’ she snarled.

Too late.

There was no direction anymore.

Up and down lost meaning. Distance collapsed. The sensation of falling arrived without gravity, a sickening plunge through silence as the world blinked out.

The system window flickered once—

Then darkness swallowed everything.

No sound.

No weight.

No sense of time.

Just the endless sensation of separation.

Noel’s thoughts spiraled for a fraction of a second before he forced them down hard. ‘Shit.’

What just happened?

Where was everyone?

Were they—

Noir’s presence pressed against him, fierce and steady, her shadow coiling tight as if she could anchor reality itself if she had to.

‘Breathe,’ she growled, low and sharp. ‘You’re not gone. I’ve got you.’

The void around them shuddered.

Something shifted.

And then—

The darkness dropped away.

Noel had just enough time to think. ‘What the hell just happened!?’