I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 31

In reality, I was also nervous to know whether the Hendera Rentem’s stats and weaknesses were untouched. If everything changed, then I would have a tough time ahead of me.

{Yes,} Whitney replied.

I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Thank god, it seemed things hadn’t shifted that drastically.

’Okay, I can still salvage this and maybe even help the main characters... somehow,’ I thought, a sliver of hope returning.

{How’d you figure that out? Are you part of some company, an info broker, or what?} Whitney messaged back, her curiosity practically jumping off the screen.

"And why would you think I would tell you?" I shot back, enjoying the slight power dynamic shift.

I could almost see Whitney’s shoulder twitching. ’Oh yeah, she’s definitely annoyed,’ I thought, a small smirk forming.

Immediately afterwards, she returned a short reply: {Nevermind my question.}

Just as I was about to wrap things up, something important hit me.

Brand New... Weapon... Dagger...

I had almost forgotten about it. The reason I gave the information to her in the first place was for times like this. It was simply a give and take relationship.

I quickly searched for a website for factory manufactured weapons. There it was, the top one on the list was Treasure Link. It was an armory operated by Royal Dominion. Coincidentally, Treasure Link was operated by Whitney’s guild.

{I know that you benefited from the information I gave you. And you know that kind of information is worth at least a million Glacium or more, so I’d like to ask for a favor.} I texted, getting straight to the point.

Across the room, Whitney suddenly turned around. Her eyes seemed to lock onto my seat. It was as if she’d been keeping tabs on me the entire time.

I was now seeing her in a different light... How should I put it... Right, she looked like a huge piggy bank. A potential source of future transactions. Maybe I’d sell her information she needs in the future.

{What do you want?} Whitney texted, her fingers flying across the screen.

As expected, Whitney’s reply was swift and devoid of any hesitation. She was exactly the type to dislike the feeling of being indebted, even for something as abstract as information.

A grin stretched across my face. ’Hehe, this will be the start of earning money, but I couldn’t simply ask for money from her from the start, so I’ll start from the bottom.’

"It’s not much. I just need a weapon," I sent her the link to their Treasure Link website.

Whitney looked at the link I sent her and then looked back up at me. She didn’t seem to have any animosity, just a healthy dose of curiosity.

{Okay. Find whatever you like and send me the link. Now.} she texted.

Yes! A surge of excitement coursed through me. I eagerly began browsing their armory. Treasure Link was a goldmine for factory-manufactured weapons, the go-to site since weapons above the legendary grade were typically reserved for auctions and the black market.

The weapon grades were:

Common → Rare → Legendary → Mythical → Ultimate

As expected of the most popular weapons dealer website, it was well-designed. Their homepage showed off new items, while the top bar had categories for famous weapon types such as sword, spear, bow, whip, and dagger.

’The dagger section is also famous probably because most assassin’s use them often,’ I mused, clicking on the category.

I clicked on the category – dagger.

There were different types of daggers such as Jambiya, Bacelard, Acinaces... Each with its own distinct shape and history.

I scrolled through, searching for something small yet potent, a weapon that packed a punch despite its size. My options dwindled, a growing sense of disappointment settling in, when my finger accidentally brushed against another category – miscellaneous.

And there it was. An item that made me pause, a question forming on my lips. ’What’s this doing here?’

Arcanum is a weapon in the form of a necklace that transforms into a sword for battle. Whenever it cuts its enemy that has dark mana and tastes blood, Arcanum will consume it and transform it to light mana making the swings more stronger the longer you wield it.

’If I remember correctly,’ a jolt went through me. ’I created this weapon but in a different name, its original name was Nebula Blade. I made this for the MC for his first dungeon exploration but I removed it later in my novel since it’s too OP.’

The author. Was he behind this again? But how did they know? How did they get this weapon, this concept I had discarded?

I looked at the item description:

————————————

Arcanum

Description:

Silver sword pendant with amethyst stone in the center. The material is made up of Spharmontite, one of the hardest minerals found in the deep dungeons of Feylorn Peaks.

Weight:

38 grams

Length:

Chain: 24 inches (unlocked)

Pendant: 5 inches

Quantity: 1 (rare item, only one of its kind)

*Personal information and contract is required before purchasing.*

CONTACT | ADD TO CART | BUY NOW

————————————

’Why is this so cheap?’ I thought, a frown creasing my brow. ’It’s only a million Glacium while the cheapest weapons cost about three million Glacium.’

The description only mentioned a necklace. Maybe they didn’t know its true potential, that it could transform into a sword. That had to be it. Their ignorance was my opportunity.

I immediately sent the link to Whitney. I needed to secure this before anyone else stumbled upon its hidden power.

"I want this. I think it’s pretty cheap," I texted, trying to sound casual.

"{I thought you’re looking for a weapon?}" Whitney’s reply was almost immediate.

"I changed my mind, I want this one," I texted back. This was far more valuable than any of the weapons they were selling combined.

"{Okay then but we have a no refund policy so you better not regret it,}" Whitney texted.

Great, she agreed. The Arcanum was within my grasp.

"Is it possible to get it by tomorrow?" I texted, my fingers hovering over the keys.

The quicker I got it, the sooner I could start utilizing its power and, more importantly, start making money. Even if tomorrow was a stretch, I hoped to have it by the end of the week at the latest.

"{Sure, I’ll take care of it,}" Whitney texted back, her efficiency impressive.

"Thanks. Pleasure doing business with you," I texted, a genuine smile on my face.

"{Don’t forget to leave a rating on our website and make sure to rate it five stars,}" Whitney texted, a touch of the shrewd businesswoman coming through.

I rolled my eyes, but a small chuckle escaped my lips. "Fine," I texted back.

"Class, get back to your seats," a voice boomed across the lecture hall.

I raised my head as our break ended at just the right time. The professor, a stern-looking man with a stack of books in his arms, had re-entered the room and was resuming class.

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

3 PM, Combat Training Class

A moment later, we are all gathered in a training field which is the size of a football field. Students paired up, finding the partners they’d arranged to spar with. Meanwhile, I waited for the instructor who would, once again, be my sparring partner.

This would be the second time in a while that I’d be meeting with the instructor again. I still needed to apologize to Evelyn for my attitude the last time we sparred.

"You," I heard a harsh voice from behind me. I initially ignored it, thinking it was directed at someone else.

"Remillia Lockhart!"

This time, I turned around and instantly froze. Angela was glaring at me, her eyes radiating a terrifying intensity.

She asked, or rather, ordered me, "Spar with me."

I could sense her killing intent. It’s as if she was a tiger, already revealing her claws.

As much as possible, I didn’t want to create enemies, especially not one of the main characters.

Like the phrase, ’whatever you do comes back on you,’ my mouth always seemed to get me in trouble. And in the end, I’d made a dangerous enemy with just a single sentence. Angela was too dangerous to have as an enemy, or rather, anyone from the Owen family. In order to live a peaceful life, I needed to mend our relationship fast, even if it meant kneeling and begging.

But looking at Angela, who was still fuming with anger, I fell deep in thought. Would she just forgive me for my rash insult simply because I apologized? Even though it was already too late?

Watching me stay silent, Angela pointed at the daggers hanging on my belt and spoke again. "Your weapon. Take it out."

I looked down at my sheath, then back up at Angela. "I’m sorry but I don’t want to waste my energy on you."

Nearby students gasped at my reply. Fuck. That sounded completely wrong.

I could practically see fire burning all around her. "What did you say?" Angela gritted her teeth, her voice low and dangerous.

"I mean, what I’m saying is that I’m not in the mood," I tried to explain, backtracking quickly.

"Don’t want to waste your energy on me? You’re bored? So what you’re saying is that I’m not worth sparring with? Am I that weak to you?" Angela’s voice rose, each word dripping with accusation.

She was just making this worse! My attempt to soften the blow had backfired spectacularly, only fueling her anger further.

"I did not mean it like that. I just don’t want to spar with you, with the Instructor, or even anyone else," I said calmly, trying to inject some reason into the escalating situation.

"Pussy," she spat out, intentionally speaking loud enough for several students on the training field to turn and look at us. "Pull your weapon and spar with me."

Me? A pussy? Sure, I have one, but I clearly didn’t want to die this early.

What should I say?

For sure, the ’incident’ I was clueless about was well known among all the students. The original Remillia should have known about it too. So if I said sorry to her now, it might seem like an even greater insult, a mockery of whatever she was upset about.

"No," I said, my voice firm despite the knot forming in my stomach.

Furthermore, it might be better for me to remain the "bad guy" according to Angela’s view. After all, the reason why I trained so hard, to the point of collapsing, wasn’t just to learn how to fight and protect myself and the main characters, or even to support them. It was, ultimately, to kill her brother within a limited amount of time.

Besides, even if I managed to fix the rift between me and Angela, perhaps even to the point of becoming friends, my future actions would only leave her with a cruel sense of betrayal and hatred. It was a future I was resigned to.

"I’m sorry. I just don’t want to hurt you," I continued, my gaze steady.

I was saying sorry, but not because I didn’t want to spar with her. I was saying sorry for what I would be doing to her brother in the near future. It was a heavy apology, one she couldn’t possibly understand, but it was the only one that felt truly relevant in this moment.

The atmosphere changed drastically. Angela’s killing intent intensified, becoming a palpable pressure in the air as she clenched her bow. I could see the sheer force she was exerting through the veins popping out on her hand.

Angela tried with all her might to suppress her anger, countering with a harsh sneer. "I don’t think your daggers will hurt me... And maybe with that skill of yours, you can’t even land a hit on me."

I decided not to hold back my tongue anymore. My earlier attempts at de-escalation had failed miserably. "What you said is true. You won’t get hurt, but you’ll die instead."

That seemed to piss her off even more. The students, drawn by the tension, were now surrounding us, forming a tight circle. I could hear them murmuring, some even saying I was crazy for fighting head-on with the sole heiress of Aamon Forbes.

Call me crazy all they want. I’d also be killing the comatose heir of Aamon Forbes soon enough.

Now all the students had turned to watch us, their attention solely focused on the brewing conflict. A series of gasps could be heard as our fellow cadets began to murmur amongst themselves, some even starting to shout.

"Fight!"

"Fight!"

"Fight!"

"...Ha, say that again, you witch," Angela said, her voice dripping with venom.

"You keep repeating ’say that again’. Why won’t you just approach me already?" I mocked, pushing her buttons deliberately. I needed her to make the first move, to make the threat more obvious.

"Okay! That’s it!" She finally exploded, her control snapping as she raised her bow and aimed it directly at me.

"Ms. Evelyn! Look! Angela is picking a fight with me!" I loudly shouted, my voice cutting through the rising clamor, aiming to catch the attention of the instructor who had just entered the field.

"Wha— I’m just asking for a spar!" Angela shouted back at me, her face a mask of shock and anger.

"Miss Angela Owen! What are you doing?" Evelyn finally stepped in, her voice stern and authoritative, cutting through the tension.

I breathed a sigh of relief, just in time to be saved from this sticky situation. My plan, risky as it was, had worked.

"Ms. Owen, I advise you to stand down," Evelyn said, her gaze fixed on Angela.

Angela glared at the instructor, her anger still simmering. "Why should I?"

"Your weapon is different from hers. It’s disadvantageous for Ms. Lockhart. Besides, there’s no one besides her who’s proficient at handling a dagger, so no one can spar with her," Evelyn explained, her voice even.

"I don’t care, we can just spar using our hands," Angela insisted, unwilling to back down.

"I care," Evelyn said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Why—" Angela started, her frustration evident, but she was cut off.

"

"Failure to comply with an instructor’s order will be met with disciplinary action," Evelyn said, her voice firm and absolute.

"..." Angela fell silent, the weight of the instructor’s words pressing down on her.

An instructor’s words were absolute. Angela clenched her teeth with a wronged look, her anger still blazing in her eyes.

In the end, she gave me one final, burning glare. "Snitch!" she said before turning on her heel and leaving the training field.

The spectators, disappointed that no fight had happened, grumbled amongst themselves before slowly dispersing and returning to their training.

Everything returned to normal, the lingering tension slowly dissipating like smoke.

"Thank goodness it’s done," I muttered under my breath, watching Angela storm off.

"Take your dagger out," Evelyn’s voice cut through my thoughts as she meticulously wrapped her hands in bandages.

"Umm... Miss Evelyn? I know it’s late, but I just want to apologize for my attitude the first time we sparred," I said, feeling a sudden urge to clear the air.

"Pfft!" She stifled a laugh, a surprising sound coming from her usually stoic demeanor.

"..." Why is she laughing? I felt a blush creep up my neck. Had I said something stupid?

She looked at me, her eyes holding a hint of amusement. "There’s no need to apologize, Remillia, and to be honest, I quite like your attitude."

"So we’re okay now?" I said informally, the words slipping out before I could stop them. Damn it. I keep forgetting that I’m younger than her. Damn this teenager body. It felt so unnatural to be so... formal with someone younger than me.

"Of course," Evelyn said, her smile widening slightly.

Crack!

Crack!

The instructor cracked her knuckles and neck in front of me, the sharp sounds echoing in the now quieter training field.

But why did it look like she was ready to kill me? Her smile, while friendly, held a predatory glint. The cracking of her joints felt less like preparation and more like a threat.

"Make the first move," Then, with a grin that did little to ease my sudden apprehension, she gestured with her finger, beckoning me forward.

I immediately changed my stance into close combat, holding my dagger close to my body, ready to defend myself.

’This person... Is she planning to torture me?’ I thought, a chill running down my spine despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. The earlier relief I’d felt vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp fear. This was going to be more than just a spar.

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

Thursday

I checked my schedule on my smartwatch. It was Field Sports Club orientation today. Luckily, I don’t have any class today, so I decided to skip the orientation. I have two reasons why: one is basically because of Angela, and the most important reason is to check out the weapon I will receive as quickly as possible.

"Ahh! I’m so excited! I can’t wait to hold it!" I shrieked internally, doing a little happy dance in my seat.

I was currently at StellarBucks Cafe near Monfort. This place was perfect for a discreet meeting. I was waiting for someone here.

The time excruciatingly passed by. Every tick of the clock felt like an eternity.

’Why is the time ticking so slow?’ I thought, staring intently at my smartwatch.

3:58 PM

...

3:59 PM

...

4:00 PM fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

At exactly 4 PM, the door opened and revealed a person I was dying to meet.

A tall man in a crisp black suit and dark sunglasses walked in with a sleek, black suitcase. After scanning the whole cafe for a moment, his eyes, hidden behind the lenses, met mine.

I stood up and excitedly waved my hand at him. The man’s expression didn’t change, remaining impassive. Striding with his long legs, he walked directly up to my table.

"Are you Miss Remillia Lockhart?" the man said, his voice deep and formal.

"Yep, that’s me," I said, trying to keep my excitement in check.

I felt like I knew who this man was. Only one person popped up in my head when I thought about Whitney’s butler – Sebastian.

There’s only one way to know who he is. Sebastian has a mole on his right eye.

"Ummm... Excuse me, but can you please remove your –?" I said, pointing tentatively at his sunglasses.

"Sorry, Miss, can’t do that. It concerns my privacy," the man said, his tone polite but firm.

"Is that so? Okay then," I said, accepting his refusal. If it was Sebastian, his need for discretion made sense.

The man I assumed to be Sebastian placed the suitcase on the table without sitting down. "Here’s the item. Please take a look."