The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He? - Chapter 319

Chapter 319: Chapter 319 – “Rise With You!”
The dwarven lands slept beneath a sky caught between night and morning.

The sun had not yet risen, but it was close—so close that the horizon wore a faint, fragile line of pale silver, as if dawn were testing the world’s patience before committing. The air was cold here, sharper than in human cities, carrying the distant scent of stone, ash, and smoldering forges that never truly went out. A thin mist clung to the lower terraces, drifting lazily between pillars and bridges carved into the mountain’s spine.

Luca stood alone on the open balcony of the corridor.

Stone railings, worn smooth by centuries of hands, pressed cool against his palms as he leaned forward slightly, crimson eyes fixed on the far edge of the world. The wind tugged at his cloak, whispering softly past his ears, but he barely felt it.

In his mind, only one thought spiraled—tight, relentless, inescapable.

Today is the day of my trial.

He closed his eyes.

Not to sleep. Not to rest.

To focus.

But the moment darkness filled his vision, it betrayed him.

The first image struck without warning—

Kyle.

Exhausted. Broken. Laughing even as his body failed him. The weight of Kyle collapsing against him after his trial replayed vividly—bloodied, grinning, stubbornly alive. Luca could still feel it: the sudden heaviness, the heat of strained muscles, the way Kyle’s bravado barely hid how close he had come to the edge.

The scene shifted.

Aurelia.

Fire.

Not destruction—but rebirth.

The memory of her standing amid flames, reduced to nothing but a single spark, only to return stronger, purer, burned into his mind like a brand. The impossible moment when loss had turned into something radiant, something terrifyingly beautiful.

Then—

Selena.

Cold.

Violent.

Mana spiraling out of control as ice and thunder tore through the air, her mind fractured, her power lashing out indiscriminately. Luca remembered the pain—how the storm had harmed him as much as it had endangered her, how helpless he had felt watching her slip into mana disassociation.

His chest tightened.

And then—

Sylthara.

Standing atop molten stone.

Golden eyes locked with Elder Thrain’s.

Unyielding. Unafraid.

The way she had stared into the heart of fire itself and refused to bow. The way she had won—not by overpowering, but by enduring, by existing where she was not meant to.

A victory carved from will.

And finally—

The image he didn’t want.

The one that crept in regardless.

Lilliane.

Lying on that bed.

Eyes open—but not there.

Unfocused. Hollow. Broken in a way screaming could never convey. Her voice from last night echoed faintly in his mind, stripped of emotion, heavier than any sob.

“What if that’s the truth as well?”

Without realizing it, Luca’s breathing grew uneven.

Despite the cold, a single drop of sweat formed on his forehead, sliding slowly down his temple. His chest felt tight, constricted, as if something unseen had wrapped itself around his ribs and begun to squeeze.

Enough.

His eyes snapped open.

He sucked in a sharp breath, the cold air biting into his lungs, grounding him—here, now, real. The horizon was brighter than before, dawn creeping closer, indifferent to his thoughts.

And then—

A voice.

Calm. Serene. Too close.

“Can’t sleep because of too much excitement,” the voice said softly, “or stress?”

Luca startled and turned sharply.

Standing just behind him was the Tower Master.

Her white hair fell like fresh snow over her shoulders, unmoving despite the wind. The veil obscured her face as always, but her presence alone seemed to still the air around her. She stepped forward and came to stand beside him, her gaze directed toward the same horizon he had been watching.

“Master?” Luca said, surprise slipping into his voice before he could stop it.

She didn’t look at him immediately.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said lightly. “Though it seems I already have my answer.”

She tilted her head just slightly in his direction.

“It’s the second one, isn’t it?”

Luca’s shoulders lowered a fraction.

He looked down, fingers curling against the stone railing, and nodded.

The Tower Master let out a soft hum—almost amused.

“I didn’t expect my disciple to be the type who gets stressed before a trial,” she said, her tone teasing, gentle in a way few ever heard from her.

Luca shook his head slowly.

“It’s not about that, Master.”

That made her turn.

Though her lips were hidden, Luca could feel her attention sharpen, the subtle shift in her posture urging him—silently—to continue.

He hesitated.

The words lodged in his throat, heavier than he expected.

Then, finally—

“I… met Lilliane yesterday.”

The wind rolled softly across the balcony, carrying with it the scent of stone and distant embers. The horizon had grown brighter now—a thin blade of gold cutting through the deep blue of night—but the sun itself had not yet risen.

Luca remained leaning against the railing, head slightly bowed.

For a moment after his words, neither of them spoke.

The Tower Master did not interrupt him. Did not rush him. Did not soften the silence.

She simply stood there beside him, hands folded within her sleeves, gaze fixed on the distant edge of the world—listening.

Luca drew in a breath.

“When I saw her,” he began quietly, his voice rougher than he intended, “she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t angry.”

His fingers tightened against the stone.

“She was just… empty. Awake, but not really there. Like something essential had been scooped out of her and never put back.”

His throat worked as he swallowed.

“She knew it was an illusion. She kept saying that. But she couldn’t stop asking herself what if it wasn’t.”

He shook his head slowly.

“That kind of doubt… it doesn’t shout. It just eats away at you.”

The Tower Master’s posture didn’t change, but her veil stirred faintly with the breeze.

Luca continued, words coming more freely now—as if once the seal broke, everything followed.

“And Selena… she still hasn’t fully recovered. Mana dissociation isn’t something you just walk away from. Her control is unstable, and no one can tell me when—or if—she’ll be able to use her powers the same way again.”

His jaw clenched.

“Kyle only woke up today. He laughed, like always, but I could see it. His body remembered things his mouth refused to admit.”

A brief, bitter breath left him.

“And Aurelia…”

His voice dropped.

“She still hasn’t woken up.”

The words hung there—heavy, final.

Luca straightened slightly, turning his face away from the horizon, eyes dark with doubt.

“I keep telling myself this is making them stronger,” he said. “That these trials, these battles, this path… it’s all necessary.”

His hands trembled—just barely.

“But what if I’m wrong?”

He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and the uncertainty in his eyes was raw.

“What if instead of empowering them, I’m just dragging them along? Pulling them into dangers they were never meant to face? What if all I’m doing is hurting them?”

The words spilled faster now, emotion bleeding through restraint.

“They trust me. They follow me. And every time something like this happens, I can’t help thinking—is this really good for them? Or am I just breaking them one by one?”

For the first time since he’d started speaking, his voice wavered.

“I….. don’t know anymore.”

Silence returned.

Not cold. Not heavy.

Just… present.

The Tower Master let it sit for a few heartbeats.

Then—

She chuckled.

Softly. Amused. Almost fond.

“Has anyone ever told you,” she said, turning her veiled face toward him at last, “that you think far too much?”

Luca blinked.

“What…?”

She let out another quiet laugh.

“You carry responsibility like a curse,” she continued calmly. “As if every choice you make must be perfect—or else it is unforgivable.”

Luca frowned slightly, caught off guard.

“But—”

“It’s not a game Luca, where you must do everything right ,otherwise everything will break…..its Life.”

“Kyle,” she interrupted gently, lifting one finger. “That boy was pushed to his limit. And what did he do?”

Her gaze sharpened, perceptive.

“He endured. He laughed. He stood back up. His body suffered—but his will hardened. Grit like that cannot be taught. It must be forged.”

Luca hesitated.

“And Aurelia,” the Tower Master went on, her voice warm now, steady. “She didn’t merely survive. She found a master. She unlocked a potential that has never existed in that form before.”

She tilted her head.

“That spark you saw? That was not loss. That was transformation.”

Luca’s breathing slowed, just a little.

“And Selena…”

Her voice softened—but only briefly.

Her eyes drifted toward the horizon again.

“What happened to her was painful. Dangerous. But sometimes,” she said quietly, “a collapse is necessary for something stagnant to move forward.”

She paused.

“For her… and for us. It is important for us to face what we have been running away from.”

Luca absorbed that in silence.

Then—

“And Lilliane,” the Tower Master said, turning fully to him now.

Her presence felt suddenly closer—not physically, but emotionally.

“Ask yourself this,” she said calmly. “Would it have been better for her to encounter her demons later?”

Luca’s eyes widened slightly.

“When she is alone,” the Tower Master continued.

“When she has no one to anchor her.

When the damage has had time to root itself so deeply it cannot be undone.”

She shook her head once.

“She faced it now. When she still has time. When she still has friends who care for her. When she still has you.”

Her voice grew firmer.

“This pain did not come to destroy her. It came early—so it could be confronted.”

Luca’s breath caught.

“That means,” she said, meeting his gaze, “it is not too late.”

Something shifted in him.

His thoughts raced—but this time, they didn’t spiral downward.

That’s true…

If Lilliane had time. If she had support. If she wasn’t alone—probably

A spark ignited behind Luca’s eyes.

His shoulders straightened. His jaw set.

No. Not probably.

I will make it happen.

He lifted his head.

At that exact moment—

The sun rose.

Golden light spilled over the horizon, pouring across the dwarven mountains, washing over the balcony in warm brilliance. The shadows fled. The stone beneath their feet glowed faintly, alive with morning.

The Tower Master raised her hand and pointed toward it.

“Look,” she said softly.

Luca followed her gesture.

“The sun does not rise because the night allows it,” she continued. “It rises because it must.”

She turned to him, her smile visible even through the veil—quiet, proud, unwavering.

“And you,” she said, voice steady as dawn itself,

“are not walking this path to watch your companions fall.”

Her finger lowered.

“You are walking it to make sure they rise with you.”

The sunlight bathed Luca fully now.

And for the first time since the last night—

He felt ready.