The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He? - Chapter 252

Chapter 252: Chapter 252 – Those fated… together.
The tension was so thick it could be felt in the air—two figures poised to collide again beneath the silver cascade, water scattering light into countless shards. The dark elf’s golden eyes glowed faintly, dagger raised, her body tense like a coiled shadow ready to strike.

But then—

“Lucaaaaaaa!”

A clear voice, loud and urgent, rippled through the forest.

Both of them froze.

The waterfall continued to thunder behind them, but time seemed to stutter. Luca’s chest rose and fell sharply as his head turned toward the voice echoing between the trees.

That voice… Aurelia?

His mind spun for an instant before snapping back to the dark elf before him—

but she was gone.

No splash, no step, no whisper of her presence. Just the faint shimmer of disturbed mist and a single droplet sliding down where her shadow had once been.

Luca’s grip tightened on his sabers. His gaze swept the treeline, every sense honed. The forest’s sounds returned one by one—the soft rustle of leaves, the call of distant birds—but his instincts screamed she was still near.

He stayed motionless, muscles taut, waiting.

Then—footsteps. Light and quick. The rustling of leaves pushed aside.

“Luca!”

He turned just as Aurelia broke through the foliage. Her crimson hair gleamed in the morning light, strands clinging slightly to her temples from the run. Her eyes immediately found him—bare-chested, skin glistening with sweat, faint streaks of dirt and blood marking his arms. Her brows furrowed as she hurried forward, concern written across her face.

“What happened?” she demanded, stepping close. Her hand rose instinctively, brushing the edge of one of his cuts, then paused midair, hesitant.

Luca exhaled softly, lowering his sabers and shaking his head. “Nothing… just training. After a while, I guess I got a little too into it. Thought I’d rinse off in the spring afterward.”

Aurelia’s eyes narrowed slightly, the sunlight reflecting off their crimson hue. Her expression wasn’t convinced. She took a half-step closer, gaze tracing the scratches along his shoulders, then flicked toward his sabers lying at his side.

“Training?” she echoed, voice tinged with disbelief. “You look like you just fought someone.”

He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “What can I say? The forest’s energy is… intense. It gets the blood moving.”

But inside, his thoughts were spiraling.

Forget about that dark elf. If Aurelia finds out I saw her naked, I’m doomed. I still remember what happened when I mentioned her about ‘My Lake friend’… and don’t even get me started on how she reacted to ‘Her Majesty’.

He coughed lightly, forcing a smile to steer the topic away. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

Aurelia blinked, crossing her arms, her tone softening just a little. “We were with the elves—Senior Elowen was showing us their rituals. She mentioned you’d woken up and might be near the lake by our lodging, so I came to find you. But when you weren’t there, I started looking deeper in.”

Luca tilted his head. “Wait, there’s a lake near where we stayed?”

She nodded slowly, her expression turning curious. “You didn’t notice it? It’s small, but beautiful. Just west of the grove.”

“Apparently not,” Luca murmured, half under his breath.

Aurelia turned to take in the waterfall behind him, her lips parting slightly as the sight hit her—the silver cascade crashing down into a crystal pool, sunlight painting the mist in faint rainbows. “This place is breathtaking,” she whispered. “I can see why you came here. The water, the air… everything feels alive.”

Luca followed her gaze for a moment, but what he saw wasn’t the scenery—it was the image still imprinted in his mind:

that dark skin glimmering with droplets, silver hair gleaming like moonlight, eyes sharp as gold blades.

He blinked hard, forcing the memory away. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s too far from our camp. Let’s just use the smaller one nearby.”

Aurelia arched a brow, amused. “Too far? You sound like you’re running from something.”

“Just… trying to be efficient,” he replied quickly.

She tilted her head, watching him with that faint, knowing smile that always made him uneasy.

Before she could say more, he stepped forward and took her hand. Her fingers stiffened in surprise, the warmth of his palm catching her off guard. “Come on,” he said lightly, forcing a grin. “Show me the other one.”

For a heartbeat, she stared at their joined hands, eyes softening slightly before she allowed him to pull her along.

The two walked through the forest, sunlight weaving golden threads between the branches. The sound of the waterfall faded behind them, replaced by the soft crunch of moss beneath their steps and the rustle of wind through leaves.

But even as the distance grew, Luca couldn’t shake the lingering feeling—the ghost of her presence behind him. The image of the dark elf, the elegance in her movements, the power beneath her silence. The dark elf’s beauty, the grace of her movements, and the silent, wordless intensity that had burned between them in that brief, surreal encounter.

Every step away from that place felt like walking away from something he shouldn’t have seen—but couldn’t forget.

**********

Hidden deep within the shadows, the dark elf’s amethyst eyes glimmered faintly beneath the canopy’s silver light. She watched in silence as Luca and Aurelia disappeared into the distance, their figures swallowed by the dense woodland mist.

“Another human?” she murmured softly, her voice calm yet laced with disdain. The words rolled off her tongue like a quiet ripple through still water. “Just what are those greedy bitches planning… bringing humans into our forest?”

Her gaze darkened as she tilted her head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. “And that guy…”

Images flickered unbidden in her mind — flashes of that brief encounter with Luca, the strange warmth that lingered, the faint scent of blood and mana. Her eyes lowered to the towel draped loosely around her body, tracing the edge with her fingertips.

Her fingers tightened around the towel that still clung to her form, damp and soft, its edges trembling in the faint breeze. His touch had not been impure, yet it had reached me—through motion, through rhythm, through that fleeting moment of perfect stillness.

“Hmph,” she exhaled softly, composure returning to her tone. “Anyway… I’ll see him tonight.”

Her eyes lifted to the sky where the faint outline of the moon glowed behind drifting clouds. Its light reflected in her irises — sharp, cold, and resolute. She reached for the clothes folded neatly beside her, her movements graceful, deliberate. As the fabric slipped over her skin, the towel fell away, and with it, the last trace of hesitation.

A whisper of dark energy stirred the air. Shadows coiled around her feet, wrapping her in a swirling veil — and then she was gone.

When she reappeared, it was before an obsidian throne beneath a withered, ancient tree whose roots clawed into the blackened earth. The air was heavy with the scent of iron and nightshade. Around her, rows of dark elves stood, armored and silent, their silver-lined eyes awaiting her word.

She strode forward with regal poise, her long, silver hair cascading like liquid silk, her presence commanding yet eerily tranquil. When she spoke, her voice carried through the glade — smooth and melodic, but filled with conviction.

“Tonight marks the night of the full moon,” she declared, her tone rising like a storm’s edge. “The night when our strength peaks — when we, the children of the shadowed moon, are at our fullest power.”

Her gaze swept over them, fierce and proud. “And tonight… we take what’s rightfully ours!”

The ground trembled with the collective roar of her warriors as they knelt in unison, their fists pounding against the soil.

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Their voices echoed through the forest — a dark hymn beneath the dying moon.

********

Under the veil of moonlight, the forest stood in tranquil reverence.

Ancient leaves shimmered with faint, golden veins of mana, and the air itself seemed to breathe — slow and solemn. At the heart of the sacred grove stood the World Tree, its roots sprawling like veins of creation, its colossal trunk pulsing with life older than time itself.

Kneeling before it was the Elf Queen, her white cloak spread across the grass, her pale fingers pressed against the luminous bark. Her emerald hair fell forward like a curtain of light, and her voice trembled with quiet conflict.

“Is it really necessary… Mother?” she whispered, eyes lifted to the shimmering runes flowing across the bark. “A union… between that human and one of my kin? Has it truly come to this?”

The World Tree gave no answer. Only the soft sigh of wind passed through its branches, scattering motes of green light that drifted like tiny stars.

The Queen’s voice softened, carrying a note of sadness beneath its calm. “I cannot force something as sacred as fate… and yet… if this is truly what must be done…”

She lowered her head, fingers tightening against the trunk. “He is but a human… and still, there’s something different about him. Something that unsettles even the flow of mana.”

The silence deepened, ancient and vast. The forest around her seemed to listen, holding its breath.

Finally, she exhaled sharply, frustration flickering in her tone.

“Okay, fine, Mother! If—if needed… I will do it myself!”

Her words echoed, fragile yet defiant, carried away by the wind. She stood slowly, brushing the grass from her knees, her expression torn between duty and doubt. The moonlight painted her features with ethereal silver — a queen weighed down by prophecy.

Then — the world stirred.

A gentle breeze rose, swirling around her like a living thing.

The wind itself seemed to carry the chant — soft, layered, echoing in forgotten tongues. Each word resonated within the Queen’s chest rather than her ears, as though the World Tree spoke through the pulse of life itself.

“Child of the boughs… bearer of dawn’s last hope…Hear now the whisper woven before stars awoke.

Fate was carved in the cradle of creation,Yet one has strayed beyond its narration.

The thread once bound to ruin’s design,Rewoven now by mortal hand and spine.

When moon mirrors sea, and stars align in grief,Two souls shall meet — the world’s reprieve.

Not by will, nor mortal desire,But by the world’s own silent choir.

For if destiny still yearns to survive,The earth itself shall draw the chosen… alive.”