I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 23

After the drawing of lots concluded, the club members, now organized into pairs, gathered in front of the Glacial Sphere’s portal station.

A portal operator, a stern-faced individual in uniform, stood by the entrance. "Cadet Remillia Lockhart. Confirmed," they announced, their voice echoing slightly.

"Let’s go!" The club president, still radiating his gentle aura, stepped into the liquid-like blue portal first. The surface shimmered, swallowing him whole.

Next went Cypher, Angela, Whitney, then came Christian, giving a polite nod to me before he stepped through.

Finally, it was my turn. I took a deep breath and stepped into the shimmering blue expanse. A strange feeling enveloped my body, a disorienting sensation of being pulled and stretched, followed by a brief bout of dizziness. But it was fleeting.

In the blink of an eye, the surrounding scenery changed drastically. The academy portal station was replaced by the warm, bustling atmosphere of another portal hub. We were already at Aeonia.

"It’s 1 P.M. right now, so we’ll meet back here at 7 PM sharp," the club president announced, checking his watch.

Before us stood two portals. One, the shimmering blue gate we had just emerged from, leading back to the Glacial Sphere. The other, a different color – perhaps a soft green or gold, I didn’t pay close enough attention – was the portal that would take us from Aeonia to Monfort.

"Follow me." Following the club president, we proceeded to the next portal. The portal operators stationed there checked our ID’s again as we entered the portal one by one.

Stepping outside, I immediately saw the words ’Carran Station’ adorned on a sign. The air was different here, warmer and carrying the scents of a different city.

"You can go wherever you want as a pair using the public transportation," Zachary explained, gesturing to the various forms of transport available outside the station. "For today, we won’t require you to write a report, but make sure you’re back by 7. If you’re late, you’ll be penalized."

With that warning, the students dispersed, melting into the flow of people as pairs.

Christian didn’t say anything to me immediately. He simply began walking, and for now, I followed behind him.

I was mentally brainstorming ways to politely, or perhaps not so politely, get Christian off my back when he suddenly came to a stop. He turned to face me, and to my surprise, his usual charming smile was replaced by an apologetic expression.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little hesitant. "I know this is our first time meeting, but can we split up? I have to go somewhere else."

My internal reaction was a resounding ’YES!’ But I kept my outward demeanor calm and understanding. "That’s okay," I said, waving a dismissive hand. "No need to explain. I also had something else to do anyway. Let’s meet up again at 7. Bye!" I gave him a bright, perhaps overly enthusiastic, wave.

Perfect timing. This was exactly what I needed. Christian likely wanted to check in on their family’s business interests in Monfort, a detail I remembered from the novel.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I immediately ran away from him, not looking back. My new plan was to catch up with Cypher and Angela, to somehow weave myself back into their orbit. Christian only stared at my back for a moment before he, too, went on his way.

Freedom! Now, I just needed to find the main characters before the incident kicked off. The clock was ticking.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Thank goodness," I said.

I didn’t keep track of which buses I took. My focus was solely on getting to the National Weapons Gallery as quickly as possible.

I jumped on and off different bus lines, relying on fragmented memories of Monfort’s public transportation system from the novel. After riding what felt like five different buses, I finally arrived at my destination: National Weapons Gallery.

This was the place. The archive of Aeonia’s most significant weapon discoveries, or at least, replicas of them. The real artifacts were, of course, kept under tighter security. But even the replicas here were said to be incredibly close to the originals, perfect for study and appreciation.

As I stepped inside, I was immediately struck by the sheer volume of people. Perhaps because it was a weekend, the Gallery was bustling with activity. Parents guided wide-eyed children through the exhibits, their voices filled with a mix of awe and hopeful ambition.

But amidst the size of the crowd, there were always those who stood out. And today, my mission was to find two specific individuals who fit that description perfectly: Cypher and Angela. My primary focus, however, was Cypher. He was the key to being in the right place at the right time for the upcoming incident.

I scanned the vast exhibition hall, my eyes darting through the throngs of people. It didn’t take long. The main character’s tall frame and striking features were hard to miss, even in this sea of humanity. He stood in front of an exhibit, his gaze fixed on a particular weapon.

I slowly approached him, careful not to be suspicious. As I drew closer, I scanned the weapon he was looking at, my mind instantly accessing the vast database of weapon knowledge I had acquired from writing the novel. Thankfully, I was a complete nerd when it came to recognizing weapons that I created.

The sword he was admiring was unmistakable. Its intricate design, the subtle hint of a serpentine motif, and the chilling aura it seemed to emanate even as a replica...

"Woah!" I exclaimed, making sure my voice carried a genuine tone of awe and recognition. "Is this the infamous Frostbite Serpentfang Sword?"

The Frostbite Serpentfang Sword was forged during the Era of Deep Winter by a reclusive Cryomancer named Silas the Serpent’s Whisper. Silas, obsessed with channeling the destructive power of cold, is said to have used rare metals and the fangs of a mythical ice serpent to create a weapon that could instantly freeze and poison opponents.

Its first notable appearance was during the Great Thaw, where Silas tested its power. The sword proved terrifyingly effective but was said to drain the life of its wielder. Silas himself eventually disappeared, succumbing to its icy grip.

Throughout history, the sword was wielded by various figures, leaving a path of destruction. It was notably used during the War of the Frozen Peaks before it was stored safely away.

"Ah? Oh Yes—?"

Cypher was caught off guard, staring at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed my words.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself to you. My name’s Remillia... Remillia Lockhart," I said with a friendly, warm smile, trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Ahh, Remillia. Sorry, I didn’t expect to meet you here. My name’s Cypher Knoxx," Cypher replied, his tone a bit sheepish.

"Haha, that’s okay. I’m used to it already," I responded, keeping my tone light and casual.

He then pointed toward another section of the museum. "I seemed to pass by the Starglade Dagger. Have you seen it?"

"...Starglade Dagger?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup. It was a reward from a Dungeon in Maglobia," he explained, his gaze still fixed on the display.

In my novel, I noted, weapons used by legendary or historical figures could become artifacts—powerful relics of the past. But what was strange was that I didn’t mention this detail explicitly before. Perhaps I overlooked it, or it was an unspoken detail I assumed readers would infer.

I wasn’t interested in replicas—my focus was on the real or truly legendary weapons.

"No thanks, I don’t have the time," I said, glancing at my smartwatch. The feeling was growing urgent. The moment was near.

It felt strange talking to the main character I had created. Cypher was handsome, talented in combat, intelligent, and had an incredible personality—almost too perfect, inhuman even. That was part of why some readers rooted for Edge instead, because Cypher seemed untouchable.

I looked at my watch again. The seconds were ticking down.

A few more seconds passed, then—

BOOM!

A thunderous sound, like a clap of thunder right overhead, echoed throughout the gallery. In an instant, the bustling crowd fell silent. All eyes were wide, fixed on the source of the noise.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound was heavy, rhythmic, and it vibrated through the deathly silence of the hall. It resembled the footsteps of some colossal creature.

CRASH!

The sound of something breaking – glass, stone, it was hard to tell – shattered the tense quiet and sent a ripple of fear through the museum.

"Eeeeeeek!"

"What is that?! How did they enter here?!"

Non-awakeners, those without the ability to wield mana and fight monsters, screamed in terror. Panic erupted. They began to run, a chaotic surge towards the exits. It was a natural instinct, born of fear, but I knew, from the novel, that only death awaited them outside. The safest place, ironically, was inside the gallery itself.

"There are too many monsters outside! Stay here!" Cypher’s voice, clear and commanding, cut through the panic.

He was already moving, guiding the bewildered and terrified crowd towards a safer, more central area of the museum, away from the shattered entrance. His leadership, even in the face of chaos, was exactly as I had written him.

Currently, the outside of the gallery was under attack by a standard rank 4 monster and its minions. A single standard rank 4 monster, while not an apocalyptic threat, still posed a medium level of danger to the general public. Heroes, the specialized individuals trained to combat these creatures, would arrive in less than a minute. With their arrival, the situation outside would be handled within, at most, thirty minutes or even five minutes if they send out an Apex ranked hero.

But that wasn’t the only problem.

They would soon face a Rogue. Rogues were individuals who practiced dark magic, a stark contrast to the light magic wielded by Heroes. And this particular Rogue was a Razorthorn type.

Its body was a disturbing purplish hue, and its arms were covered in menacing thorns that could extend up to ten feet. Not only that, but it possessed the horrifying ability to transform its arms into any shape it desired.

Crash!

Turning sharply towards the direction of the new sound, Cypher shouted, his voice laced with alarm.

"Angela!"

Angela, her face set with determination, had just broken the display case holding a bow and was in the process of taking it out. freewёbnoνel.com

"Are you crazy!?" Cypher yelled, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Nope. I’m perfectly sane," Angela replied coolly, though her actions suggested otherwise.

Though it was only a replica, it was still an item on display within the gallery. As a result of her action, the gallery’s siren began to wail, a piercing shriek that added to the already chaotic atmosphere. The gallery’s automated defense mechanism, triggered by the violation of the display case, also activated.