Reborn As An Extra : I'm gonna mess up everything

Micheal Winters

But fate was cruel. 

One dark, unforgiving night, their peace was shattered. A group of demons invaded their home, their monstrous presence tearing through the walls like paper. The sound of destruction was deafening, and their arrival was swift. 

Michael's parents were the first to fall, their screams cut short by claws and fangs. His wife tried to shield their infant daughter, her cries for mercy echoing in the chaos, but the demons showed no compassion. She, too, was slain before his eyes. 

Michael was powerless to stop it. He had no abilities, no weapons, no way to fight back. As the house collapsed around him, a heavy piece of the wall struck his head, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness. 

But before he blacked out, he saw her—the mastermind behind it all. 

A woman stepped forward, her long brown hair wild like tangled roots, her sharp nose and elongated face resembling that of a grotesque horse. Her presence was suffocating, her cold gaze filled with malice. She bent down, scooping up his crying daughter in her arms. 

Before Michael could even reach out or scream, the ground erupted in a swirling cloud of black bats. The woman disappeared into the darkness, taking his daughter with her. 

Why? Why would she take his child? 

Michael's family had no wealth, no magic, no precious resources. They were ordinary people, simple and content. What could she possibly want from him or his family? 

He had no answers—only pain. 

When he woke up, the demons were gone, having left him alive by mistake. They hadn't bothered to check; after all, what threat could a powerless, broken human pose to them? 

But Michael was alive, and his survival felt like a curse. His home was in ruins. His family was gone. Days passed as he sat in the rubble of what was once his life, his mind consumed by grief. He had no reason to go on. 

Should he end his life? Or try to move on, pretending that any of this could be forgotten? 

No. He couldn't move on. He couldn't forget. 

The image of that horse-faced woman haunted him. The sound of his wife's screams echoed in his ears. The thought of his daughter in the hands of monsters burned like fire in his chest. 

Grief turned to rage. Anguish became a thirst for revenge. 

He wasn't Awakened. He didn't have the power to challenge demons. But none of that mattered anymore. 

Michael made his choice. 

He chose chaos. 

Michael grabbed a shovel, the only thing he could find, and stormed out of his broken home. His vision was blurred with rage and grief, his heart pounding like a war drum. He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care. His legs carried him toward the forest, driven by nothing but the need to act, to do something—anything. 

The trees loomed ahead, their shadows stretching out like claws, but Michael pressed on. He knew the forest was dangerous, filled with beasts and creatures he couldn't hope to fight, but fear had no place in his heart anymore. He was ready to face whatever waited for him, even if it meant his death. 

But just as he was about to step into the dense forest, a voice echoed in his mind, stopping him in his tracks. 

"You'll die if you go there." 

Michael froze, gripping the shovel tightly. His head whipped around, but there was no one there. His breath came in ragged gasps as he shouted, "Who's there? Who's speaking to me?" 

"I am Indra, the God of Rain and Thunder," the voice boomed, calm yet commanding. 

Michael blinked, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion. "Indra?" he muttered, his voice trembling. He looked around again, his eyes scanning the trees and the sky, but he saw nothing. 

"There's no need to look for me," the voice continued, gentle yet firm. "I am with you, Michael Winters. I've seen your pain. I know your loss. A poor soul like you, lost and directionless, deserves guidance. Allow me to help you." 

Michael's heart raced. "Help me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desperation. 

"Yes," Indra said. "I will give you the power you need. I will grant you the knowledge to find your daughter and the strength to exact vengeance on those who destroyed your family." 

For a moment, hope flickered in Michael's chest, but it was quickly doused by suspicion. He narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on the shovel. "And what do you want in return?" 

Indra's reply was swift. "Nothing." 

Michael's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together. He stomped his foot on the ground, the sound echoing in the stillness around him. "Don't lie to me!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "Nothing is free in this world. Even I know that much!" 

Indra's voice remained calm, almost soothing. "I want nothing for myself, Michael. All I ask is that if you succeed—if you save your daughter and avenge your family—you let the world know who helped you. Tell them about me. Spread my name. Let people remember Indra, the God of Rain and Thunder." 

Michael's breath hitched. He stared at the ground, his mind racing. It wasn't a bad deal—not at all. He had nothing left to lose, and if spreading Indra's name could bring him the power he needed, then so be it. 

He tightened his grip on the shovel, his resolve hardening. "Fine," he said, his voice steady now. "If you help me save my daughter and destroy those demons, I'll do as you ask. I'll tell the world about you." 

The air around him seemed to hum with energy, and Indra's voice echoed in his mind once more. "Good. Then I choose you as my incarnation! "

As Michael stood there, still gripping the shovel and trying to process Indra's words, a sudden crack echoed through the air. The sound wasn't natural—it was as if the very fabric of reality was tearing apart. He spun around, eyes wide, as a jagged fissure appeared in the space before him, glowing with a pulsating crimson light. 

From the crack, something emerged—a red lotus, radiant and mesmerizing. It floated gracefully, no larger than the size of a hand, but its presence was overwhelming. The petals glowed a vivid red, each one etched with intricate, otherworldly patterns that shimmered like liquid fire. The sight of it stole Michael's breath, its beauty both terrifying and captivating. 

But this was no ordinary flower. 

That was a Rank A essence stone, "Forceful awakening".

The lotus began to unfurl, its petals peeling back slowly to reveal a glowing orb of golden-yellow light at its core. The light pulsed like a heartbeat, growing brighter with every moment, until it suddenly shot forward at blinding speed, slamming into Michael's chest. 

Michael staggered back, his breath hitching as the searing light surged through him. He dropped the shovel, his hands clawing at the ground as his body convulsed. The energy raced through every inch of him, igniting a fiery pain that felt like his very blood was being rewritten. 

"Endure it!" Indra's voice urged, firm and commanding.

Michael's vision blurred as the raw energy coursed through him, forcing his dormant potential to awaken. His veins glowed faintly, like rivers of molten gold beneath his skin, as the mana circuits carved themselves into existence. He screamed, the sound torn from the depths of his soul, but he refused to give in. 

Moments that felt like an eternity passed before the pain began to subside. Michael collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his body trembling but alive. He looked at his hands—they glowed faintly with an aura of newfound power. 

He was no longer just a broken man. 

He was awakened.