The Extra Who Shouldn't Exist novel Chapter 385

Chapter 385: Chapter 385 : Final day as the king (2)

Lucas came toward Alex and whispered in his ear, "Alex, the monarchs of the other countries have also shown up.

Right now, I’m keeping them away in the meeting room. Let’s go—they’re all waiting just for you."

Alex waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry. Let them wait a little."

Lucas pleaded, "I’m begging you, please let’s go. After all, I’ll have to deal with them in the fire afterward."

Alex clicked his tongue. "Alright, alright."

Looking toward his friends, he said, "Enjoy yourselves. I’ll come back later."

They all nodded toward him.

Alex and Lucas moved toward the meeting room.

The rest of the monarchs who ruled the world had also shown up.

Alex opened the door to the meeting room.

Every monarch from the other countries came into view.

Six monarchs from six different nations had already taken their seats around a circular table of polished obsidian, its surface reflecting their faces like a dark mirror.

On one chair sat Sylphoria Sylven Everglade, Queen of the Faerie Domain. Her beauty was almost unreal—dark-blue hair cascaded in smooth, silken waves all the way down to her waist, catching the light like a night river under the moon. She wore a flowing gown of iridescent green silk embroidered with silver leaves.

Beside her sat Eleanor Aqualis, Queen of the Merfolk. Her sky-blue hair fell around her shoulders like flowing water, each strand seeming to move with a current of its own. She was dressed in a shimmering aqua dress with pearl accents and a seashell crown.

The Elven King, Thalion, also took his place, his emerald eyes landing on Alex—long silver hair, elegant robes of forest green and gold.

Damon Noctis Bloodrose—King of Vampires—sat with predatory grace, crimson eyes glowing faintly, dressed in a black velvet suit with a blood-red cape.

The fifth monarch was Cian Aurelias of the Holy Empire. He sat with his arms crossed, maroon hair slightly tousled as if he’d run his hand through it one too many times. His brown eyes were sharp but filled with irritation. His holy robes—white and gold, embroidered with intricate patterns—couldn’t hide the tension in his posture.

The sixth was the Dwarven King, Selvic Storm Everforge. Broad and stout, with a magnificent braided beard streaked with silver, he was clad in heavy steel-plated ceremonial armor gleaming with runic engravings, an axe at his side—he’d come for the banquet too.

Seeing Alex, everyone smiled except for Cian, who clicked his tongue.

Except for Cian, each of them stood up as Alex entered and bowed deeply toward him.

Sylphoria spoke first, her voice like wind chimes. "King Alex Dragonheart, you saved our Faerie Domain from annihilation. The eternal forests sing your name, and we will never forget what you have done for us."

Eleanor bowed gracefully. "Merfolkkind thanks you for saving our race and will aid you whenever you ask for our help."

Thalion’s voice rang clear. "Elvenkind remembers forever. You turned back the darkness that threatened our people."

Damon smirked, showing his fangs. "Even the night bows to you. Vampires honor and respect you for what you did for us."

Selvic boomed heartily. "Ye saved me forges and halls! Dwarves’ll drink ta ye for a thousand years!"

Alex nodded. "Yes, you all should be grateful."

But the next second, his eyes sharpened.

"But I don’t want to know how grateful you all are to me."

Suddenly, in front of each monarch, a mana contract materialized—glowing blue parchments hovering in the air, words shimmering with binding magic.

"Sign it," Alex commanded.

Confused expressions appeared on their faces.

Thalion asked cautiously, "King Alex, what is this for?"

Cian scoffed loudly. "I’m never going to sign something you give me ever again."

Alex smirked. "We’ll see."

He flicked his fingers.

Suddenly, a portal opened behind him—crackling with dark energy, its edges rippling like molten lava.

From inside the portal, the Dragon King Zarkov himself appeared.

Towering and majestic, Zarkov had shimmering obsidian scales covering his massive humanoid form, molten-gold eyes burning like furnaces, curved horns sweeping back from his regal head, and black-and-gold armor etched with draconic runes.

His wings were folded elegantly behind him. Despite his defeat, he looked powerful and handsome—primal, commanding, every inch a king.

Every monarch became cautious, hands twitching toward their weapons, eyes narrowing.

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