An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge-Chapter 270: Aftermath

Chapter 270: Aftermath
Smoke hung thick in the forest, the stench of burnt blood and mana choking the air.
The once-lively trees were blackened and broken, their roots torn apart by magic and force.
Arthur stood at the center of the ruined clearing, sword in hand, breathing heavily. His body ached from every movement. The fight had drained him completely. His shirt was soaked in sweat and blood, most of it not his own.
Around him, Alan was sitting against a boulder, half-conscious, his fingers still twitching from mana exhaustion. Alex leaned on his sword for support, his knees shaking but his eyes still alert.
Oliver’s group wasn’t in much better shape. Emily was bandaging Noah’s arm while Amara and Oliver scouted the surroundings, making sure no more of the Black Hand members were lurking nearby.
For the first time in hours, the forest was silent again.
Arthur sheathed his sword slowly. "...It’s done."
No one spoke. The sound of wind brushing through the broken leaves filled the gap.
Alex finally broke the silence, his voice dry. "That... wasn’t supposed to happen in a student field test, right?"
Oliver gave a short, humorless laugh. "You think?"
Alan managed a weak smile. "At least we’re alive. Barely."
Arthur looked around at the others, his sharp eyes softening just slightly. "Good work, everyone. You did well."
Emily sighed, dropping beside her brother. "You scared me half to death."
Arthur smirked faintly. "I scare myself sometimes."
Noah shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "That thing was a demon. A real demon. How the hell are we supposed to explain that?"
Before anyone could answer, a low rumble echoed from the distance — followed by a flash of light in the sky.
Alan frowned. "What now?"
Arthur’s expression darkened. "Not another one. That’s... teleportation magic."
A moment later, a massive surge of mana filled the air — stable, refined, and powerful.
Multiple figures appeared around the edges of the clearing in flashes of light — men and women in robes bearing the crest of the Academy. Professors.
At their center stood a tall man with gray hair tied back, eyes sharp behind a monocle. Professor Darius, head of the Combat Department. His gaze scanned the devastation in silence, lingering on the melted earth, the lingering traces of demonic aura, and the students covered in blood.
"What... happened here?" His voice was calm, but heavy.
Oliver stepped forward first, bowing slightly despite his exhaustion. "Sir. The island was infiltrated by members of an organization calling themselves the Black Hand. One of their members... transformed. It wasn’t human anymore. A demon."
A ripple of shock passed through the professors.
Darius’s expression turned grim. He crouched down, running his hand over a blackened piece of ground where the demon’s body had dissolved. Even the dirt sizzled faintly at his touch.
"This residue... It’s real," he said quietly. "A corrupted being. And here, of all places..."
Arthur stood still, arms crossed. His eyes met Darius’s for a moment, calm but steady. He didn’t bother to explain his part in it.
Professor Lyra, a mid-thirties mage with short auburn hair, stepped closer to Alan and Alex, inspecting their injuries. "You students are lucky to be alive. This aura... it’s on par with a Count-class demon."
Alan gave a tired laugh. "Half-formed, actually. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be standing."
Lyra’s eyes widened slightly. "You fought it?"
Arthur spoke up flatly. "We didn’t have a choice."
The professors exchanged looks — shock, disbelief, and, deep down, a trace of admiration.
Darius finally stood, brushing off his coat. "There will be time for questions later. Right now, we focus on securing the area. Lyra, send word to the headmaster. The rest of you — sweep the forest for any surviving Black Hand operatives. Don’t let a single one leave this island alive."
"Yes, sir!"
The professors dispersed immediately, casting high-tier detection and barrier spells as they spread out. The air shimmered as magic webs formed across the forest to lock it down.
Arthur exhaled quietly, his body finally starting to relax. The tension in his muscles felt like it might tear him apart if he stayed standing any longer.
Darius turned to him one last time. "You’re Arthur Ludwig, correct?"
Arthur nodded.
"I’ll want a full once we return to the academy. You and your team just fought something that even trained knights struggle against. For now, get medical treatment. You’ve done enough."
Arthur nodded again, expression unreadable. "Understood."
As Darius turned away, Emily looked at her brother with concern. "You okay?"
Arthur gave a half-smile. "I’ll live."
Noah dropped to the ground beside Alex. "Man, if this is what first-year exams look like, I’m transferring."
Alan let out a weak chuckle. "Same."
Amara shook her head. "You’re both idiots."
Despite the exhaustion, a faint sense of relief washed through the group. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by the dull ache of survival.
In the distance, flashes of light and faint explosions marked the professors’ ongoing sweep through the forest — the sound of the remaining cultists being hunted down.
Arthur sat down finally, leaning against a fallen tree. His mind was already moving, despite his fatigue.
Soon more staff arrived and started to teleport out the students from here.
Bright light flashed around the surviving students as the professors activated the return sigil. The runes etched across the ground pulsed once, and in an instant, everyone was pulled into a stream of light.
The ruined forest, the broken battlefield, the remnants of corruption — all vanished from sight.
When Arthur’s vision cleared, he was standing on the Academy’s teleportation platform. The cold marble floor beneath his boots was the first stable ground he had felt in hours. Around him, dozens of students appeared one after another — bloodied, injured, pale.
Cries and groans echoed across the platform as healers rushed in. Some students collapsed immediately, their bodies giving out now that the fight was over. Others clutched their arms, ribs, or faces, too shocked to speak.
Arthur looked around silently. The scale of casualties was worse than he imagined.
Alan was already being lifted onto a stretcher. Alex sat slumped on the edge of the platform, his clothes torn, face streaked with blood but smiling faintly when he caught Arthur’s eye.
Arthur gave him a short nod before feeling a hand tug at his sleeve.
Emily stood there, frowning, her eyes red from worry. "You’re coming with me. Now."
Arthur sighed. "Emily, I’m fine. Just scratches."
She glared at him. "You’re bleeding and exhausted. Don’t argue."
He looked down at the faint cut on his arm — already sealing itself thanks to his passive regeneration. Still, her expression told him there was no point resisting.
"Fine," he muttered, following her toward the infirmary.