The Extra Wants Control

The man's knuckles whitened as he gripped the communicator, his voice a low growl. "Where am I supposed to find this woman?"

A voice crackled back, devoid of any human warmth. "Siegfried. She's on a test from the Academy."

"What...?" The man recoiled, his outrage bubbling over. "You want me to kill a student... They are basically children."

"It doesn't matter," the voice replied, flat and unyielding. "It's her or your own."

The man's face hardened with a fierce resolve. He wouldn't let anything happen to his daughter, even if it meant taking the life of a stranger. "I will do it," he said, his voice thick with a chilling determination.

"Good," the voice rasped. "Don't worry, I won't make things difficult for you. Use that compass when you get to Siegfried. You'll use the artifact there to create a distraction – a tomb opening for an initiate. That will give you ample cover to find and eliminate the elf."

A flicker of suspicion crossed the man's eyes. "You are using a valuable opportunity to kill an elf?"

The voice scoffed. "Stop getting greedy ideas. That thing is useless for those like you, seven star and above. It's worthless. Just focus on your task. I shouldn't remind you again, worm."

The man swallowed his retort. He knew his place in this twisted arrangement. "Why me? Surely you have others who…"

"I don't answer to you," the voice cut him off, finality dripping from each word. "Do the job."

The man bristled at the insult, but before he could retort, the communicator went dead. He was left alone in the sterile silence of the room, the only sound the steady rhythm of his daughter's breathing from the nearby bed. He clenched the picture of the silver-haired elf, his knuckles turning white. The image of the compass dug into his palm.

Anger burned hot in his gut at being used, but it was eclipsed by a cold, steely resolve.

"This... this is the last one," he muttered, more to himself than anything.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on his daughter's forehead, the gesture a silent promise. Then, with a heavy heart, he summoned a nurse, his mind already whirling with the logistics of his grim mission. He would do what he had to do, but this would be the last life he would take for them.

The weight of that vow settled on his shoulders like a leaden cloak as he stepped out of the room, the image of the elf and the promise of a "distraction" swirling in his thoughts.

*******************

Pete grunted with each swing of his machete, hacking at the thick undergrowth of Siegfried Forest. Sweat beaded on his bald head, mixing with the ever-present dampness of the woods. "Forest," he muttered between gritted teeth. "Everything's wet, there are bugs, and worst of all, no signal."

Pete swiped at his phone screen in a futile attempt to refresh his social media app. "Aaliyah's live stream today! And she's trying out… ugh, never mind. Why am I stuck here with you?"

Keith, walking a respectable distance behind Pete and impeccably dressed in a suit and vest despite the environment, sighed. "Focus, Pete. We have a job to do."

"Rescue the rich kid and steal from some wannabe bandits, you mean." Pete scoffed. "It's not exactly saving the world."

"It's retrieve," Keith corrected with a sniff. "And yes, it's important. We're getting paid a fortune if we pull this off. Six months of paid vacation!" He glanced down at his wrist, where a luxurious Babel brand watch gleamed.

"Important because if we fail, we get whacked, right?" Pete pointed out sarcastically.

"Well, that too," Keith conceded, straightening his tie, which had somehow managed to stay pristine despite the jungle trek. "But high-profile clients like this… they have their reasons. Besides, most people wouldn't even know the target is his son."

Pete chuckled, a rough sound that echoed through the trees. "Kidnapped by a bunch of wannabe seven-star bandits? That's some weak sauce for a rich kid. If he were mine…" he trailed off, his eyes hardening. "He'd be learning how to survive, not get himself snatched."

"This client values family, apparently," Keith said. "Wouldn't leave his kid to rot. Now, come on, we need to reach their base before nightfall."

"Yeah, well, it'd be a lot faster if you weren't so busy keeping your suit clean," Pete grumbled, continuing to hack away at the foliage.

Keith sighed again. "Just… move ahead. I'll manage."

"Fine, fine. Just remember, if we die, it's your fault for bringing your fancy suit to a jungle fight." Pete muttered, pushing deeper into the humid, tangled undergrowth. With a final exasperated glance at Keith, he disappeared ahead, muttering about the absurdity of their situation. Keith, left alone for a moment, adjusted his tie one last time and muttered under his breath, "It's hot.

I also hate forests. Damn." He hurried after Pete, hoping they could reach the bandit's base before things got truly messy.

***************

The flickering light of a dying campfire cast dancing shadows across the haggard man's face. Hours spent navigating the treacherous Siegfried forest had etched fatigue onto his features - an unkempt beard, long oily hair matted against his shoulders, and dirt staining his dark clothing. He clutched a compass, its needle spinning wildly. Frustration gnawed at him.

"Follow this compass they say," he muttered, his voice hoarse. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He glanced down at a worn picture held tight in his calloused hand. "Young girl," he murmured, his voice tinged with guilt. "But it's you or my kid. And I choose him.

Don't forgive me."

He tucked the picture back into his pocket, his movements rough, but the gesture lacked conviction. As he rose and lurched forward, the picture slipped free, fluttering to the forest floor. Unnoticed, it lay forgotten amongst the damp undergrowth, the morning dew leaving a glistening sheen across its surface.

Dawn's soft light filtered through the dense canopy, dappling the forest floor. Lara, her silver hair shimmering, she moved with the practiced grace of a huntress. With a keen eye, she spotted a small object nestled amongst the damp leaves. Curiosity piqued, she picked it up, wiping away the dew with a thumb.

The image that emerged sent a jolt of icy amusement coursing through her veins. It was a picture of herself, a slightly younger version, yet unmistakable. Scrawled beneath it in bold red letters was a single word: "Target." Below that, a symbol – two crossed daggers, one black, the other blue.

Lara's gaze turned icy. "Well, well, well," she murmured, her voice laced with a dangerous calm. "What do we have here? Seems someone's got a death wish for little old me. And this symbol… so it's you, Father. You finally decided to show up, you rat."

*****************

A man, sweat dripping from his brow, chanted under his breath. His hands moved in a practiced blur, carving runes into the forest floor, arranging glowing crystals in a complex pattern.

"So, how do I do this?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Circle here, triangle there, some sigils… place the mana crystals….and there!"

With a dramatic flourish, he slammed the final crystal into place. A blinding light erupted, lancing upwards through the trees like a celestial spear. A towering silhouette began to materialize within the light, its form shifting and coalescing from swirling energy.

A commotion arose within the forest as students, drawn by the spectacular display, rushed towards the source of the light. Eager anticipation glowed in their eyes, visions of ancient artifacts and forgotten magic dancing in their heads.

Among the instructors, whispers fluttered. They, however, remained cautiously at a distance. Their trained senses detected something…off. The energy signature emanating from the forming entity was underwhelming, barely reaching pseudo-seven star levels. It was nothing compared to the legendary tombs that promised untold power. So they lost all interest.

A figure emerged from the shadows, their face obscured by a dark hood. "What was that...?" they asked, their voice tight with concern.

Another hooded figure, their voice laced with frustration, barked from across the makeshift ritual circle. "I don't know! Just hurry up and finish setting up the formation! It's already been a day!"

Grunts and muttered curses filled the air as more hooded figures joined the frantic activity. The formation layout was intricate, each placement crucial, and their haste only added to their fumbling.

"Tsk! This thing is huge!" one complained, struggling with a particularly complex glyph.

"We need to finish this quickly," a tense voice hissed. "I don't want to be here when all hell breaks loose."

A new voice cut through the tension. "And what about that Neveah brat Aqua's been fussing about? How do we get him?"

A response came, tinged with a hint of smugness. "Apparently, she placed a tracker on him when she touched him. It's supposed to make the big guy we're summoning even more crazy, and an upper seven-star should easily kill a five-star brat so the situation handled itself."

A woman dressed in vibrant blue, her eyes blazing with the same color, finally stepped forward. "That's enough chatter! Get this thing up and working!" she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.

"Yes, ma'am!" the hooded figures chorused, scrambling to obey.