The Transmigrated Author

Chapter 11: Weekend (1)

[Pinnacle Academy Training Grounds]

{Alice's POV}

The vast training field stretched out before me, and I gripped my sabre tightly, contemplating the recent matches with him. The memories played in my mind, puzzling and challenging the usual clarity I had in combat.

Initially, frustration and a tinge of anger fueled my every move. How could someone seemingly experienced in combat be so unpredictable? His attacks lacked the precision I expected, yet an undeniable effectiveness lingered, I felt so irritated.

However, as the battles unfolded, I only felt more confused. Rel's movements were getting more unpredictable, and his tactics were unorthodox. It was as if he danced on the edge of chaos, weaving through my attacks with a strange grace-defying explanation.

But it was the final bout that left me bewildered. I had underestimated Rel, assuming victory was assured, but he outsmarted me. The deceptive stumble, the improvised snare—it was a calculated move that caught me off guard. Even as I fell to the ground, the confusion persisted.

Our eyes met, and in his gaze, I saw a mixture of surprise and respect. It mirrored my own sentiments. Was this a loss or a draw? The lines between victory and defeat had blurred, leaving me in uncharted territory.

This was the first time I felt this way—questions swirling in my mind. Who was he? Where did he come from?

"Hey. I don't know if it's just me, but personally, I think you have a talent for magic instead of using a sword."

He didn't even look at me, scratching the back of his head and gazing in the opposite direction. I pondered how to respond, but his words triggered a moment of misery, a memory replaying through my mind.

I couldn't save them that time. If only I had been better back then. My magic power wasn't enough, so I thought it best to wield the sword. I had given up on being the mage I initially dreamed of to become stronger, to avenge my family.

"But you don't have to, because after all, you're strong, and I believe in you."

Budump!

I stared in awe at the words he uttered, 'I believe in you'—words I hadn't heard since the calls of my mother and father. What was he even saying?

I tried to respond, but the words didn't escape my lips. Somehow, he seemed to understand the expression on my face and extended his hand.

"You won anyway, so there's no need to be mad at me."

Taking his hand, I wondered if he thought I was angry. I couldn't deny the hint of frustration, even if it was just a quiz. I had never felt the sting of being second to first place.

Kolek's words echoed, leaving me standing in contemplation. The battles were a revelation, an unexpected challenge. I found myself wondering who this person truly was.

As students dispersed, my gaze lingered on Rel. He walked away, swaying slightly from side to side. I wondered if that was just his fighting style or if he didn't know how to fight at all. Still, I had to acknowledge that he had defied expectations in a way I hadn't thought possible.

With a sigh, I moved on from the initial frustration. Losing, let alone drawing, wasn't something I was accustomed to, but this experience humbled me. Perhaps joining this academy was worth the trouble after all.

***

[Rel's POV]

[Alice has acknowledged you! 55 ppp has been rewarded.]

After concluding the exhausting 10-game stretch against Alice, my body succumbed to fatigue, rendering me too tired to string coherent thoughts together. Although the rewards from the battle were ample, what I needed most was rest. My body wobbled side to side, and I pondered whether I could sleep through the remaining classes for the day without inviting trouble.

My thoughts were scattered, contemplating whether to attend class, skip it, or even work out. The decision to skip class gradually crystallized in my mind, as the allure of much-needed sleep overshadowed my initial intention to balance rest and responsibilities. The weariness clinging to my every step made seeking solace in the dormitory an increasingly appealing prospect.

My path diverted from the academic buildings, leading me back towards the dormitory. The weight of recent battles lingered, and the promise of a brief respite beckoned me towards the sanctuary of my dorm room.

The moment my body sank into the comfort of the bed, exhaustion claimed me swiftly. Sleep enveloped me in its soothing embrace, and the outside world faded into a serene oblivion. Unbeknownst to me, hours slipped away in the realm of dreams.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

AHHHHHHHHH

[Saturday 5:32 am]

[K-1 Classroom GC]

<Ly4ra: 5:36 am> Guys are we ready for next week's assignment :3

<BadAzz: 5:37 am> Lyra it's 5 in the morning go back to sleep

<Val.Freya: 5:37 am> Bazz that's not a nice thing to say be more polite.

<BadAzz: 5:38 am> Apologies Valencia. Lyra can you please. go to sleep.

<NoahTheArk 5:38 am> So everyone's a morning person now huh?

Are these people clinically insane? It's too early for this kind of commotion. Glancing at the time and date, I blinked in shock, realizing I had been asleep for two days.

But it was clear that I was asleep for two days due to Exhaustion Overload. The system confirmed my body's shutdown as a response to the phenomenon.

"System, do you know why I was asleep for so long?"

[Of course! Your body has gone through a phenomenon called Exhaustion Overload, which is why your body has shut down.]

"Okay, thank you."

Disoriented and groggy, I rubbed my eyes, attempting to shake off the lingering effects of deep slumber. Dragging myself out of bed, hunger overpowered my worries, propelling me towards the 24-hour haven of fast food—McDonald's. Clad in dishevelled clothes, I stumbled through the academy's hallways and, now at the IDS platform, scanned my student ID onto the portal, setting my destination for the closest McDonald's.

Zzzzpt!

Suddenly, I found myself in Australia. The IDS station worked its mysterious magic, transporting me to Sydney. Surprised but seemingly unfazed, I continued on my quest for fast food.

On my way out of the IDS station, a guard checked my ID, allowing me to pass through without issue. Setting my sights on the city streets, memories of past visits to Sydney flooded back.

"Map."

Fwang.

Squinting at the tiny dot on the systems map, I realized the nearest McDonald's was practically within walking distance – sweet! The golden arches practically glowed, and my stomach rumbled in anticipation of that classic greasy goodness.

After a way-too-long debate with myself over the menu, I went with the cheapest (and most delicious) option: pancakes and a bacon egg muffin. Forget fancy kiosks, I basically shouted my order at the counter and tapped my watch to pay. I ended up devouring the whole meal down like a starving cartoon character.

Concerns about the longevity of my money lingered, but for now, I relished the satisfaction of a good meal. As I finished, I headed back to the IDS station,

WHOSSSSH!

A gust of wind blew past and suddenly thrust an A4 sheet of paper against my face.

Ouch!

As I took the paper off my face, I read the words: "Arena Duels! Hide the anonymity of your identity and fight for special prizes! T's and C's Apply."

Arena duels, a challenging opportunity nudging me to figure out the rest. Aware of the stringent regulations overseen by the Dawnblade Org, I knew this could be a chance to win prizes.

The last lingering taste of a McMuffin clinging to my grin, my thoughts raced ahead to the Arena Duels. A place where all heroes, villains, adventurers and mercenaries fight, and with a weekend event coming up, it felt like the universe was giving me a sign.

Walking back to the IDS station, every step felt a little surreal – like I was navigating a world I'd only dreamed of as a writer. The guard checked my ID again, the routine already seeming less foreign, and then appointed me back towards the academy. The system whooshed around me, and suddenly I was standing beneath the familiar arches of the courtyard.

Sunlight washed over the campus, painting everything in that warm morning glow. I made my way towards my room, the place a weird blend of reality and fiction, like a setting from one of my stories had come to life.

"System, guide me to the latest Arena Duels Event."

***

[11:35 am Central Australia, Dawnblade's Arena]

I stepped out of the IDS station, greeted by the sight of a sizable arena that loomed in the centre of the Australian outback. The structure, while not colossal, possessed an impressive stature reminiscent of a football Champions League stadium.

The area surrounding the arena was transformed into a bustling marketplace, a carnival of colours and sounds. Stalls lined the periphery, showcasing a diverse array of goods and services. Merchants peddled their wares, hawking everything from weapons adorned with enchantments to armour that promised protection in the arena.

The air resonated with the chatter of mercenaries clad in various armours, exchanging stories of past battles and discussing strategies for the duels ahead. Heroes, recognizable by the glint of legendary weapons and distinctive attire, moved through the crowd with an air of confidence, their reputation preceding them.

The scent of exotic spices wafted through the air, emanating from food stalls that offered a culinary journey around the world. As I navigated the lively scene, my senses were inundated with the sights and sounds of a world alive with anticipation.

In the midst of this vibrant marketplace, a billboard displayed the upcoming duels and featured the names of renowned participants.

The stakes were high, and the promise of special prizes beckoned both seasoned. In my novel, the adventurers who believe not in being a hero but rather freelancers walk the earth freely without restriction, whereas mercenaries are the ones paid for taking on the stronger and high-risk difficulties in missions and those seeking to make a name for themselves.

As I ventured deeper into the lively marketplace, the clamour of merchants seeking potential customers grew more pronounced. Each stall seemed to beckon with promises of power and extraordinary items. I couldn't help but attract attention, my presence drawing the interest of eager merchants eager to make a sale.

A charismatic merchant with a flowing robe approached me, a glint in his eyes as he showcased an assortment of sparkling gemstones. "Ah, the discerning customer! Behold these rare crystals, said to enhance your magical prowess. A must-have for any aspiring duelist like yourself!"

I regarded the gemstones with a scrutinizing gaze, easily recognizing them as decorations

[Coloured Stone: Red Enchantment: Shining Glow]

"Interesting," I remarked, feigning intrigue. "But I'm more interested in practical enhancements. Do you have anything that can boost agility or resilience?"

Undeterred, the merchant flashed a knowing smile. "Of course, my discerning friend! Feast your eyes upon these enchanted boots, crafted from the feathers of mythical birds. Wear them, and you'll dance through the arena with unmatched grace!"

I inspected the boots, acknowledging the intricate craftsmanship but recognizing the exaggerations for what they were.

[Grade 9 Eagle Boots - Condition: Extremely Poor - Enchantments: Shining Glow]

"Impressive workmanship," I commented sarcastically. "However, I'm seeking something more... substantial. Perhaps a weapon that can truly turn the tide of battle?"

As I engaged in these interactions, I couldn't help but maintain a sly smile. I relished wasting the merchant's time. Their persuasive pitches and carefully crafted narratives painted vivid pictures of the supposed benefits of their wares, but I was not someone easily fooled.

Some merchants tried to play on my perceived inexperience, while others sought to impress with grandiose tales of the origins of their items.

A burly blacksmith, muscles bulging beneath his apron, approached me with a hearty grin. "Looking for a weapon, eh? Feast your eyes on this blade, forged in the heart of an otherworldly forge. It's said to cut through defenses like a hot knife through butter!"

I humoured the blacksmith, examining the blade with a critical eye.

[Grade 10: Steel Blade - Condition: Okay - [Enchantments: Guard Block I]

"Ah, this is, uhm, good craftsmanship," I said, trying not to contort my face. "But I'm not really interested in the blade since I'm an archer."

The blacksmith's confident demeanor faltered for a moment, and he quickly recovered with a hearty laugh. "An archer joining the arena, how foolish could you be? Have you not seen the probability of an archer winning a battle in this arena? It's pretty low. So, it's best if you go home and not waste anyone's time, little boy."

I stared at him with a blank look, acknowledging the truth in his words. It was indeed a challenging path for an archer, but It's worth giving it try.

"You're probably right, but I'm still going to go anyway," I said, walking away from the stand. "Oh, and your sword is absolute garbage, by the way. I don't think anyone would be willing to spend money on such a low-grade item."

"Tch, bastard."

I couldn't see his face, but I knew I had pushed a button.

Throughout these interactions, I maintained a balance between scepticism and courtesy. The merchants, though persistent, eventually recognized that their usual tactics wouldn't easily sway me.

Travelling through the bustling marketplace, hidden away from the more conspicuous stalls, I stumbled upon a discreet and somewhat run-down setup that seemed to defy its surroundings. The wooden shelves, though worn and weathered, showcased an assortment of items for sale.

The mysterious merchant behind the unassuming stall exuded no trace of mana as if conducting business from the shadows was second nature. A tattered robe obscured their features, adding an extra layer of mystique to the entire scene. With a casual flick of the wrist, the merchant beckoned me closer.