The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He? - Chapter 260

Chapter 260: Chapter 260 – Did My Ability Kick In Again??
There was nothing.

No sound, no light, no warmth — not even the faintest whisper of existence. Just darkness, endless and absolute.

Luca drifted through it, though even “drifting” felt meaningless here. There was no sense of direction, no ground beneath him, no air around him. He couldn’t feel his body — couldn’t see, hear, or smell anything. Only his thoughts remained, faint and fragile, echoing into a void that refused to answer.

W–where am I?

The moment the question crossed his mind, something stirred.

A faint shimmer broke through the dark — thin as a thread, trembling as if afraid to exist. Then it widened, spilling soft light that reached him like the first dawn after an eternity of night.

And from within that light came a voice.

“H–hey? Are you okay?”

It was gentle, unsure, yet strangely soothing. The kind of voice that shouldn’t belong in a place like this.

“Where are we?” the same voice asked again, this time closer.

The darkness began to fade, slowly peeling away. The silence cracked, replaced by a distant hum — leaves rustling, wind sighing, the soft call of birds. Then came warmth. The faint scent of grass. The tickle of sunlight across his skin.

And just like that, the world returned.

Luca gasped, sitting up sharply. He blinked several times as his vision adjusted. Around him stretched a forest — tall green trees rising into a sky the color of pale sapphire. The morning light streamed through the canopy, scattering golden flecks across the ground. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of dew and wildflowers.

He stared blankly for a few seconds. His mind struggled to piece together what he was seeing.

Wait… the fire… the war…

He remembered flames devouring the forest, screams echoing through the night, the stench of blood and burning roots. The World Tree had been dying — the sky had been nothing but ash and red lightning. But this…

This forest was peaceful. Beautiful. Alive.

“Hey, are you awake now?”

The voice again.

Luca turned to the side — and froze.

Kneeling beside him was Sylthara, the dark elf he had fought so fiercely only moments ago. Her silver hair caught the morning light, shining softly, and her golden eyes were filled not with hatred, but confusion. She looked around just as lost as he was.

“This isn’t… possible,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “The forest was burning. The roots were blackened. How…?”

Luca glanced around again. The difference between what he remembered and what lay before him was staggering. Before, the night had reeked of smoke and iron. The air had been heavy, every breath thick with ash. Now, sunlight filtered gently through green leaves, and a soft breeze brushed against his skin. It smelled of pine, moss, and clean water — pure and untouched.

His heartbeat quickened. He reached down, pressing his palm against the earth. It felt real. The ground was solid, warm beneath the sunlight.

A single thought struck him like lightning.

No way…

He swallowed hard and whispered under his breath, “D–did my ability kick in again?”

Sylthara looked at him in surprise. “Your… ability?” she asked, but Luca didn’t respond.

His thoughts were spinning too fast. If this really was his ability — then where had it brought him this time?

Because this forest didn’t just feel like a different place.

It felt like a different time.

Luca stood in silence for a long moment, his mind caught between disbelief and calculation.

At which point in time have I landed this time…?

He looked down at his hands — solid, steady, real. Are we in spirit form? Or did our actual bodies get dragged here again? His brow furrowed. None of it made sense. Not the sudden light. Not the change in the air. Not even the strange feeling that lingered in his chest — as if this place was breathing differently than the world he knew.

His gaze shifted toward her.

And why… is she here with me?

Sylthara, still scanning the forest with wary eyes, turned to him. “Hey,” she said finally, breaking the silence, “can you explain where we are? And what ability are you talking about?”

Luca didn’t answer. He met her gaze for half a second — those golden eyes still carrying the sharpness of battle — then looked away, brushing dirt off his coat as he pushed himself to his feet.

Her brows furrowed. “Hey, I asked you something!”

He ignored her again, turning toward the deeper forest and starting to walk. His boots brushed against the wet leaves, the sound too calm for what she was feeling.

“Answer me!” Sylthara snapped, following behind him, her voice rising with each step. “Where did you bring me? My people are dying out there, do you understand? The Mother Tree—” her voice cracked, “—she’s being corrupted! I have to return! Tell me where we are!”

Without turning back, Luca muttered, “Why should I?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the calm sharpness in his tone.

He stopped just long enough for his next words to hit harder.

“You don’t trust me anyway.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before. Her footsteps slowed, the leaves crunching softly beneath her. The anger on her face wavered — replaced by something that looked almost… guilty.

For a moment, neither spoke. The forest around them whispered softly, a thousand unseen leaves swaying in the wind.

Then, quietly, she asked, “Can you… can you at least tell me if my clan and the Mother Tree are fine or not?”

Luca stopped walking. His shoulders rose and fell with a faint sigh.

“They’re fine,” he said finally, his tone softer. “For the time being.”

Sylthara lowered her gaze, relief flashing briefly across her face before fading into confusion again.

They walked for a while longer, the silence between them only broken by the forest’s breath. Eventually, the trees began to thin — the ground turning harder, the scent of moss fading into dry soil.

Luca slowed his pace as something caught his eye up ahead.

“Hm?” he muttered, stepping closer. “A tent?”

He approached it cautiously — a small, worn structure half-hidden by tall grass. The fabric was patched, faded, but intact. He crouched beside it, tracing a hand over the cold metal stake anchoring it into the earth.

“It looks like… we travelled in the opposite direction,” he murmured, scanning the sparse line of trees ahead. “This must be the outer perimeter. The greenery’s thinner… fewer roots.”

The wind shifted — carrying a faint, unfamiliar scent.

Sylthara stood a few steps behind him, her golden eyes watching the tent with unease. “Who… who would live out here?” she asked quietly.

Luca’s gaze hardened. “That’s what I’m about to find out.”

Luca’s eyes lingered on the tent, the worn fabric fluttering slightly in the soft breeze. The best option is to go straight to it, he thought, weighing each step carefully. But… if we’re in our actual bodies and someone sees us… it’ll get complicated.

He hesitated, calculating, scanning the outer perimeter for movement. The forest was quiet, almost too quiet, each leaf trembling under the gentle wind as though it were aware of their presence.

Before he could take another step, Sylthara’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and surprised. “Hey!! Where are your injuries? Where’s the wound from the spike?”

Luca jolted, blinking as realization struck. He looked down at himself — no blood, no torn armor, no searing pain radiating from his back. His body was whole.

“That’s right,” he murmured, a small, almost wry smile forming on his lips. “No wounds… no injuries. It seems we’re here in our spirit form.”

Sylthara’s golden eyes widened. “Spirit form? What are you saying?”

He didn’t answer. He just turned, stepping carefully down from the cliff, the ground soft under his boots.

Sylthara followed, her steps quick but measured, keeping pace with him as he approached the tent.

Luca’s gaze returned to the fabric structure, frowning slightly. Why would such a tent exist on the outer perimeter of the Elven Forest? The smell of dried grass and the faint scent of something ancient clung to it. Something familiar.

Just then, a figure emerged from the flap of the tent — movements slow, deliberate, and impossibly familiar. Luca froze mid-step, his mind catching on a thread of impossible truth.

He muttered under his breath, voice barely audible over the wind.

“Have I… returned 7,000 years ago, again?!”

The figure stepped fully into the soft light of the forest clearing, golden hair catching the sun like spun fire, eyes glinting with the same brilliance. His body was perfectly poised, every movement fluid, as if no burden had ever touched him, yet Luca’s gaze caught something different in his eyes— something heavier.

They… seem more exhausted than before, Luca muttered under his breath, his mind struggling to reconcile what he saw. Just… What’s going on here, Sir Rolph Dragonair?

Before he could gather his thoughts, another presence emerged from the tent, a shadow following the golden figure. Luca’s chest tightened, his breath catching mid-air. The silver hair was unmistakable, flowing and glinting under the filtered sunlight, paired with the same icy silver eyes that he encountered when he first came into this world. The aura, cold and unwavering, pressed on him like a tide of frost.

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t stop himself. Words tumbled out before thought could reign them in.

“Brother… Vincent?!!!”