Path of the Extra

Today was October 28, 2148, which meant yesterday was October 27, 2148...

The day of Azriel's birthday.

"You haven't checked your status in a while, have you?" Ragnar asked, noticing the confusion on Azriel's face.

Azriel shook his head.

"No... not really."

"Well, congrats, you're 16 now. Sixteen sounds so much better than fifteen anyway, right?" Solomon said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table, prompting an annoyed glare from Ragnar, which he ignored.

"Ha! Imagine if you had returned to the Crimson Estate on your birthday. It would have been the ultimate gift!"

Ignoring Solomon's words, Ragnar spoke again. "We were already planning to visit today with the heads of the Nebula and Dusk Clans."

Just like the Frost and Crimson clans, the Nebula and Dusk clans were the remaining two great clans that ruled over Asia.

The Dusk clan ruled over the west parts of Asia while the Nebula clan ruled over the south parts.

"But now it would be best for us to go to East Asia a little bit later since we don't want to cause a commotion, and I mean not just with the great clans visiting. Your death isn't even official; only us four great clans and the higher officials of the government know about it."

Azriel nodded, understanding what Ragnar was saying, though a sigh escaped his lips at the thought of staying in this country for a few hours longer.

'Can't help it, I suppose...'

"Huh? Why should we be subtle about this?" Solomon suddenly raised his voice.

"If he's going to get attention, then why would that really matter? You know what they used to call you, don't you, Azriel?"

Azriel tilted his head in confusion.

"...I don't. Why, what did they call me?"

He didn't have any memory of such a thing.

'It probably isn't anything good, seeing how annoyed he looks.'

"He doesn't need to know if he doesn't already," Ragnar said, trying to stop him, but Solomon sighed irritably.

"The unworthy prince," Solomon said, looking Azriel straight in the eye, ignoring Ragnar's scowl.

His smile was gone, replaced with an unexpectedly serious expression.

"That's what they called you. Someone not fit to be the prince of the Crimson clan. A waste. A stain on the four great clans. Not just the public; I can bet that a lot of people in the four clans are relieved and happy with your death. Isn't that so, Ragnar?"

Ragnar closed his eyes, refusing to speak, but that told both Solomon and Azriel enough.

"The prince who never trains, has no talent, no motivation, no determination. One who has no dreams. Unworthy!"

His words resounded throughout the room.

'Why is he so angry...?'

For some reason, Azriel's heart felt heavy...

Glancing at Ragnar, he saw he wasn't the only one shocked by Solomon's sudden shift in tone.

Ragnar's eyes were wide open, staring at Solomon.

Neither expected him to react so strongly. Solomon took a deep breath, calming himself before he continued.

"...Even now, I still don't understand why you tried to hide how talented you are from everyone—"

"That was simply because there was no need to reveal myself," Azriel suddenly interrupted, his voice...

cold.

"I mean, why should I? Jasmine was already the center of attention, and Mom and Dad were proud of her. She enjoyed it and was happy. Why would I want to compete with her and the others of our age?"

Words escaped his mouth without him even understanding why.

"Wanting to become a hero, protecting the weak, slaying all the void creatures, and saving humanity, or becoming the strongest hero even. Is one of those things supposed to be my dream? Or all of them?"

His words cut through the air. This time it was his turn to be looked at in surprise.

"Just because one of those things isn't my dream doesn't mean I have none at all. Unworthy? I get called that for what? Because I don't dream so big? I mean, why should I? What is so wrong with not wanting to be a hero?"

"What if all I want is to live a peaceful life surrounded by the people I care about, huh?"

"Opening perhaps a small coffee shop, falling in love with a simple woman, and creating a nice small family together."

Perhaps deep down, he always knew about the words said about him behind his back.

He didn't know if it was the previous Azriel talking or if it was actually Leo talking.

Perhaps it was both...

Nevertheless, words kept flowing out of his mouth without stop.

"It was you guys that expected me to have such dreams, determination, and motivation. Not me. To train with the others, to show off what I am capable of, to be talented. ...To be worthy."

"And look where all of this has brought you in the end,"

Ragnar, who was quiet this entire time, suddenly spoke.

"This dream of yours will only be that... a dream. You are the son of Joaquin and Aeliana. You have the Crimson blood in your veins. Your fate was sealed the moment you had Crimson in your name. Instead, those big dreams you speak of are the only path you can take."

"I mean, look at yourself. You tried, didn't you? Tried to live peacefully, and what happened in the end? Got ambushed by multiple void rifts only to get sucked into one and spend two whole years of your life in the void realm surviving on your own. Just for finally clawing your way out of that hell, you ended up in another called Europe."

'...That is not true,'

Azriel wanted to tell him that it was a lie. He didn't really spend two years in the void realm.

But...

would it really change anything that Ragnar had just said?

"A coffee shop? Do you really think such a thing was in store for you? You barely received any training in your entire life except that of Joaquin personally when he had time, and you still managed to survive all on your own at such a young age."

"Tell me, do you still think of such dreams? You already have a level 2 mana core, perhaps being the strongest of your age. Imagine what you would have achieved if you trained like the others."

'It was the god of death... His blessing is the only reason that I am a grade 3 intermediate...'

Yet again, he couldn't tell him anything.

Not that it mattered.

In the end, Ragnar spoke only the truth.

"It's not just that. This world simply won't allow you to live a peaceful life. We protect the weak simply because they are destined to be crushed. All we are doing is preventing the inevitable. Being weak is a sin in this world, and for those who try to stay weak, they might as well be slowly killing themselves."

Ragnar's cold blue eyes locked onto Azriel's blood-red eyes.

"You are meant to be a king, Azriel, not a coffee shop owner."

"For once, I agree with this old man," Solomon finally spoke again, his usual smile and carefree attitude returned.

"For the last time, I am not old."

"Sure, sure..."

Ignoring Ragnar's complaints, Solomon looked at Azriel with a fire in his eyes.

"Show them, Azriel. Show everyone who gave you the title of the unworthy prince what you are really capable of! Show those pathetic bastards who between you and them truly is unworthy. Show them that you are Azriel fucking Crimson! The one who challenged the void realm and Europe as a kid and survived!"