I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 35

8 AM, Saturday

Yesterday, a knot of worry had tightened in my stomach when class ended and I couldn’t find Macaron outside. He was nowhere in his usual spots, and a cold dread began to creep in. I hurried back to my room, my heart pounding with a frantic rhythm. Luckily, he was there, sprawled on my bed. He must have sensed something was seriously wrong with himself and returned home.

I found him lying still, unnervingly so. It was almost as if he were dead. Panic flared as I quickly checked his pulse, pressing my fingers against his neck. Thankfully, I could still feel the faint, steady beat of his heart. ’It’s probably because of the update,’ I reasoned, trying to quell the rising fear.

I sat in front of him, carefully checking if he’s still breathing while looking at the hologram infront of me.

I sat in front of him, my gaze fixed on his unmoving form, carefully checking for the shallow rise and fall of his chest to confirm he was still breathing.

At the same time, I was staring at the holographic screen hovering in front of me, displaying the maddeningly slow progress of his system update.

[Updating...77%]

I couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and anxiousness. Curious because of what the new features this supposedly "amazing" update would bring and anxious because up until now, after hours of waiting, it was still stuck on the 77% mark and Macaron was still not awake.

My mind was in a whirlwind of possibilities and concerns when my smartwatch suddenly buzzed to life which jolted me from my thoughts. I checked the screen, a notification having just appeared.

[An investment account for Remillia Lockhart has been approved.]

A part of me felt a flicker of satisfaction but that feeling was quickly overshadowed by the persistent, gnawing worry about Macaron.

"Macaron, wait for me okay? I’ll just finish this first and get back to you," I murmured directed at his still form.

I knew Macaron couldn’t hear me in his current state, but my fondness for him had grown exponentially. The longer I stayed here, the more I relied on his bubbly and annoying personality. Speaking to him, even when he was unresponsive, felt like a natural extension of our bond.

I went to my desk and opened my laptop then I transferred the money from my previous monster hunt and added it to my newly approved brokerage account.

The total amount displayed on the screen was 1,090,000 Glacium. The 1,000,000 Glacium was in the bank account of the past Remillia, a surprising inheritance I had discovered shortly after arriving, while the 90,000 was from my previous hunt.

It seemed like a big fortune to me but I knew that it was just a drop in the bucket compared to what many of the other traders in this world likely had at their disposal.

Despite my initial reservations about diving into something as complex as the stock market, I opened the stock trading program and began to explore the options available. The guild stock market operated on weekends and I was eager to learn more about it, to understand this aspect of the world’s economy.

I pushed aside my lingering doubts about my lack of experience and focused on the task at hand. With the money I have, I was determined to make the most of it, to use this opportunity to build a more secure future.

I scrolled through the list of guilds, my eyes landing on one that was familiar: the Sapphire Blood guild. It was listed on the exchange, and a single stock was worth 136 Glacium.

Since I wasn’t knowledgeable about complicated things like arbitrage, going long, going short, diversification – and many more terms that I couldn’t even begin to understand – I decided to keep it simple. I would just buy as many stocks of the Sapphire Blood Guild as I could afford with the available funds. It was a straightforward approach, perhaps naive, but it felt like the most sensible option given my limited understanding of the market’s intricacies.

I entered the amount, confirmed the purchase, and watched as the transaction processed. A notification popped up on the screen:

[8,015 stocks of Sapphire Blood Guild purchased successfully!]

In this world, information was a currency as valuable as Glacium itself. Access to knowledge wasn’t freely available; it was bought and sold. Even the existence of a certain website, had to be found out through financial transactions. Thus, skilled investors, those who truly understood the power of knowledge, did not even spare a glance at free-to-use online forums, recognizing them as breeding grounds for misinformation or, at best, delayed and diluted insights.

Information guilds were the true powerhouses in this world. They had their own private networks, encrypted and exclusive, where one could buy information – market trends, guild secrets, weaknesses of monsters, even personal histories. And for those who wished to make their identity completely anonymous in order to find information, they would use something like the ’Scarlet Phantom,’ a service or network designed for untraceable transactions and encrypted website.

Speaking of hiding in secret, there was this one association lurking in the dark, a group whose very existence was shrouded in mystery.

They were called the Nightjars.

Just like I had described them in my novel, the name was literally inspired by the Nightjars – those remarkable birds known for their extraordinary ability to blend into their surroundings. This mirrored the group’s uncanny ability to conceal their identities, their movements, and their true intentions.

The members of the Nightjars were skilled mercenaries, each with their unique skills and expertise, honed through years of operating in the shadows. They operated in complete secrecy, a network of individuals bound by a common purpose, using their abilities to manipulate and control situations from behind the scenes, pulling strings and influencing events without ever revealing their faces.

They are a criminal organization, but they’re not just any ordinary gang. They also loathe Rogues, which are depicted as the ultimate evil in this world. My desire to become friends with the leader of the Nightjars is slowly increasing as I need them to be my supporter. It’s an unrealistic goal, but I’m willing to take a chance.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, something unexpected and alarming happened.

"Aaahhck!" A sharp, agonizing pain ripped through my chest, centered on my sternum.

I immediately knelt down, gasping for breath, my hands instinctively clutching the source of the agony. It felt like a sudden, violent blow from within.

I tried to stand up, to reach the bed where Macaron lay, my body trembling with the intensity of the pain. My vision was starting to get blurry, the edges of the room darkening, but through the haze, I noticed something else, something that sent a jolt of fear and confusion through me: Macaron’s body was shining brightly, an intense, ethereal glow emanating from him.

"Macaron?" I muttered, my voice weak and strained, reaching out a trembling hand towards the luminous figure.

Before I could touch him, the pain intensified, and the world around me dissolved into darkness. I blacked out.

When I woke up, it was already midnight. I passed out for fifteen freaking hours!

I immediately jolted up, my mind racing. Macaron. I scrambled to the other side of the bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Empty. The room was silent, except for the frantic thump of my own pulse. I started to sweat, the cold beads clinging to my skin.

"Macaron? Macaron! You fat owl! Don’t make me nervous like this! Show yourself!" I yelled, my voice echoing in the now-empty room. My hands flew across the room, searching every corner, every shadow. He was gone.

A cold gust of wind whipped through the room, tugging at my hair. Then I noticed it: the balcony door, wide open. Macaron likes to wander deep in the night. He liked the night maybe because he was also an owl.

I rushed to the balcony, my breath catching in my throat. The cool night air hit me like a physical blow. I whistled into the night sky, hoping Macaron, if he was out there, would hear. I waited, listening intently, the silence growing heavier with each passing moment.

Nothing.

Just the distant sounds of crickets and the cold wind. I was about to turn back inside, defeat already tasting bitter on my tongue, when I heard it.

In the distance, I saw a moving shape against the night sky. It wasn’t a bird, not with that size and speed. My heart leaped into my throat.

"Macaron?! Is that you?!" I shouted, my voice hoarse, waving my hand frantically.

In a blur of motion, a large, fluffy white creature came hurtling towards me. Before I could brace myself, it crashed into me sending us both tumbling to the ground. A wave of warmth and soft feathers enveloped me, followed by a significant amount of weight.

"Waahh! Master! I’m glad you’re awake now! I just did a flight test since my body became different! I promise I wasn’t leaving you!" A familiar voice, higher-pitched and more excited than usual, chirped from somewhere in the fluffy pile on top of me.

I chuckled, a little breathless, trying to calm him down, but it was hard to do so when I was effectively pinned to the balcony floor.

"Wait! You’re... Too... Heavy!" I gasped, struggling to get the words out between breaths.

"Oh sorry! Hehe. I was just happy to see you awake now! Wait, can you see this? I evolved!" Macaron said, a rumbling purr vibrating through his massive body. He lifted his head, his large, golden eyes sparkling with excitement.

I managed to shift slightly, getting a better look at him. "Hmmm. You’re right. You indeed transformed," My eyes widened as I took in his new appearance. "Aside from the fact that your color has become white, not to mention the outline of your wings is glowing light golden, you also became bigger... You’re half the size of me now! Where should I find the food to feed you now, huh?" I said, a mix of awe and amusement in my voice.

"Master, don’t be like that! Also, I can hunt by myself now! I also need to train so I can help you when you’re in danger!" Macaron said, nudging my cheek with his soft, feathery head.

"That’s so sweet of you!" I said, genuinely touched. "But why is there a yellowish glowing mark in between your eyebrows? It’s shaped like a dagger..." I noticed a faint, luminous symbol etched onto his forehead, pulsing with a soft yellow light.

"Oh this? It appears that the creator of this world gave it to us," Macaron said casually, as if discussing the weather.

My brow furrowed. "What do you mean... us?"

"Look in the mirror, it’s also glowing," Macaron said, finally rolling off me, allowing me to sit up and catch my breath.

Still a little disoriented, I pushed myself up and stumbled towards the bathroom. The mirror reflected a faint, yellowish glow emanating from my chest, right on my sternum, precisely where I had experienced that excruciating pain earlier.

Through the thin fabric of my shirt, I could make out the distinct shape of the glowing mark. It was identical to Macaron’s – a small, stylized dagger, pulsing with the same ethereal yellowish light.

"What is this?" I breathed, my voice barely a whisper, my fingers tracing the outline of the glowing mark on my chest. It felt warm, almost humming with a contained energy.

"Hmmm... let me just show you the system," Macaron said, his voice still full of excitement.

As if on cue, a translucent screen shimmered in front of me. It was different from the basic system interface I’d seen before.

————————————

Spectral Seal

A powerful artifact, imbued by the Author itself. This powerful seal contains a significant amount of your aura. As your strength grows, the longer you can use Spectral Seal.

The seal will also regenerate its aura over time, even if it’s depleted, which means you won’t have to worry about running out of magic power.

————————————

’So that’s what this is,’ I thought, reading the description. I’m a bit grateful that the author didn’t abandon me. I was beginning to get worried that I was the only one who haven’t had any aura.

The only problem now was Macaron. My room, which had felt perfectly large before, now looked incredibly small as he stood there, his massive owl form taking up a significant portion of the space, his chest puffed out pridefully. How could he possibly fit in here? Where would he even sleep?

"Macaron," I said, turning to him, "can you still turn back to your original form?"

His large, golden eyes blinked. "Of course, I can! Do you want me to turn back?" he said, his voice still resonating with his new, deeper tone.

"Yup," I said, a hopeful smile forming on my face. The thought of him returning to his familiar, manageable size was a relief.

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

Sunday

The sky outside my window was a brilliant, cloudless blue, a stark contrast to the slight chill in the air. It was a perfectly lazy Sunday morning, the kind that practically begged for staying in bed and skip the rigorous training regime I was slowly starting to get used to.

However, thanks to some official-looking invitation that had arrived yesterday, I was requested, or rather, summoned, to Monfort’s ’Hero Alliance’. And based on the formal tone and the crest on the envelope, it wasn’t an invitation I could afford to ignore.

It seemed that I was to be awarded a recognition for my role in subduing the Rogue during the recent incident.

I couldn’t help but think, ’Really, couldn’t they just deliver it to us?’ It felt like an unnecessary hassle. Why did I have to go all the way to this grand party, surrounded by who-knows-how-many people, just to receive a simple recognition? Couldn’t they just mail the certificate?

"Macaron, do you want to come with me? I’m going to Monfort to receive some certificate," I said, turning to where he was perched on the edge of my bed, now back in his smaller, owl form.

He ruffled his feathers. "No. I need to practice hunting," Macaron said, his voice a soft hoot.

"Oh, okay," I replied, a little disappointed but understanding. "Be careful then. Be back before 7," I added, a maternal instinct I hadn’t realized I possessed kicking in.

We both headed out on our ways. Me towards the door, sighing internally, while Macaron launched himself gracefully from the balcony.

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

Silverleaf Hotel

The elevator chimed, announcing my arrival at the Silverleaf Hotel’s rooftop. As the doors slid open, affluent people had already gathered, their conversations a low murmur that mingled with the gentle breeze. The sun was shining down on us, casting a warm, almost celebratory glow over the whole area.

I spotted Cypher and Angela almost immediately, standing slightly apart from the main crowd, looking just as out of place as I felt. They were engaged in a quiet conversation. The three of us were all summoned to attend this ceremony, presumably for our part in the Rogue incident, but it seemed that we were going to be stuck here for some time.

The reason? The VIP, the person who was supposed to be giving out our certificates, was late. It was annoying, to say the least. The whole "couldn’t they just mail it" sentiment returned with a vengeance.

To add to my growing frustration, Angela was seated beside me during the brief rehearsal we were forced to endure. She seemed to take pleasure in picking a fight whenever I did the slightest, most insignificant thing.

Just a while ago, all I did was let out a quiet yawn, a natural reaction to the waiting and the early morning start. And instantly, she was on me like a hawk. "You bored already?" she’d sniped, her voice laced with disdain. "Is this your first time receiving a certificate? Why are you dressed like that?" The questions came in a rapid-fire assault, each one designed to provoke me.

Many more similar remarks followed. Soon enough, it started to annoy the hell out of me. But then I remembered the old saying, the one I’d adopted as my personal mantra when dealing with people like Angela: ’staying silent is the best way to annoy them.’ So, I took a deep breath, turned my gaze towards the horizon, and let her words wash over me, refusing to give her the reaction she so clearly craved.

But as I sat there, hearing Angela’s ill-rotten words, her voice a constant, irritating drone in my ear, something suddenly clicked in my mind. A spark of mischief ignited, fueled by her relentless remarks. I smiled slyly as I remembered something that would really, truly annoy her.

"Are you forgetting something?" I asked, my voice deliberately casual, my smile slowly turning into an annoying grin that I knew would grate on her nerves.

Her response was immediate, each word dripping with venom. "Forget what?" she sneered, her eyes narrowing.

A mysterious grin was plastered on my face, the kind that promised a hidden jab. "Oh, you know~ That thing..." I trailed off, letting the anticipation build.

Her face slowly contorting with annoyance, her patience clearly wearing thin. "WHAT. THING?" she practically growled, her voice muffled with suppressed fury.

"...That I saved you," I said slowly, letting the words hang in the air.

The air was thick with tension as she paused, her anger momentarily faltering, replaced by a flicker of something I couldn’t quite decipher. She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to respond, her silence a clear indication of her rage.

’Thank goodness, that finally shut her up,’ I thought, a wave of relief washing over me. Angela’s silence was a victory in itself.

Cypher stepped in, his voice interrupting the silence. "Stop it. Especially you, Remillia."

I looked at him wide-eyed, genuinely taken aback. "Really, me?!" I muttered angrily under my breath, not wanting to cause a full-blown commotion, but unable to completely suppress my resentment. "Unbelievable! She’s the one that started it first!" I punctuated my protest with a pointed, though subtle, gesture towards Angela.

Of course, Angela didn’t back down either. Her eyes were still blazing with anger, and her jaw was set, clearly ready to unleash another torrent of verbal abuse.

She was about to speak when Cypher issued his sudden command. "Angela, switch seats with me."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering what in the world was going on. Our seats were already fixed, Angela in the middle and Cypher and me on either end. What was Cypher trying to accomplish by making this sudden, out-of-the-blue request?

Angela’s face twisted in a mask of pure defiance, her anger escalating at the simple command. "NO!" she spat.

Cypher’s voice remained firm but calm, a stark contrast to Angela’s outburst. "Angela." It wasn’t a question, but a quiet, unwavering expectation.

The air was thick with tension as we all waited, the silence stretching taut. Would she defy him? Would this escalate further? But then, something shifted. She seemed to deflate slightly, her initial burst of anger momentarily spent, replaced by a weary resentment.

"Why?" she muttered, her voice losing some of its earlier venom, though still laced with bitterness. "Do you have something to say to that witch? No..." Her voice trailed off, the question left hanging unanswered.

I couldn’t help but scoff, a small, involuntary sound of derision.

’Me? A witch?’ I thought, the label both ridiculous and slightly insulting. ’I just don’t like getting dolled up. Not unlike princess here...’

Wait, why is this scene hurting my eyes? It’s like seeing a couple bickering with each other, a familiar, uncomfortable dynamic. And seeing them getting all lovey-dovey, even in this tense way, didn’t feel too good.

’Of course it doesn’t feel good!’ I quickly rationalized, pushing away any confusing emotions. ’Cypher is for Annabelle only! He’s not meant for Angela. Yes, that’s it! I’m not feeling sad or whatever... just protective of Annabelle’s happiness.’ I clung to that thought, using Annabelle as a shield against the unsettling feelings bubbling up.

Thankfully, their bickering quickly ended, diffused by Cypher’s quiet insistence. And with a final, almost unnoticeable sigh, Cypher replaced the seat next to me. I turned my attention to the side, admiring the decorations.

"Ehem," Cypher coughed, a deliberate sound designed to break through my silent treatment.

"..." I didn’t look at him. I was still upset at him. He had sided with Angela, had defended her when she was clearly in the wrong, when she had started it.

He coughed again, louder this time, a more insistent "Ehem!"

I ignored him again, focusing intently on the drone of adult voices, pretending to be deeply engrossed in their conversation.

Suddenly, a soft gust of air tickled my ear. The unexpected sensation sent a shiver down my spine. Instantly, I turned my head, a surprised question forming on my lips.

I caught him in the act, his lips slightly pursed. "What?" I demanded, the word a little sharper than I intended.

"Uhm... Sorry for what I did just now," he said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "That’s the only way to get your attention."

"What are you gonna say anyway?" I asked, still a little prickly.

"I just wanna thank you for what you did," he said, his gaze steady.

"You’re welcome but... I did what exactly?" I said, genuinely confused. What had I done that warranted thanks?

"Back at the National Weapons Gallery," he explained, "if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have lived to see another day."

"Even if I’m not there," I countered, dismissing his words. "You both would have killed that Rogue, I just got the finishing kill."

It felt more like I had just been in the right place at the right time, a minor assist at best. Besides, in my internal narrative, my intervention had potentially hindered his growth. If I hadn’t helped them, Cypher might have been pushed to his limits, might have reached his highest state and even reached a higher power.

Just like any other cliché stories, the main character always become strong enough by enduring obstacles and training hard. My involvement felt like a shortcut, a disruption to the natural progression of his potential power.

If I didn’t help them, Cypher might have reached his Awakened state and even reached a higher power. Just like any other cliche stories, the main character always become strong enough by enduring obstacles and training hard.

".... You’re wrong," Cypher murmured, his voice low, his expression unreadable.

I wanted to ask him what he meant but before I could formulate a question, a ripple went through the room. All the people stood up, their chairs scraping back, and began clapping in unison.

It seems that the VIP has finally arrived. I soon forgot to question him as the three of us stood up and clapped.