Chapter 2: Two people from earth
There are warriors, mages, and paragons.
Warriors are those who dedicate themselves to weapon mastery and body refinement. They unlock meridians, channels of energy that strengthen the body, progressing from one star to seven. Each star represents a new meridian unlocked, granting greater strength and aura. The higher the star, the more monstrous the body becomes. A seven-star warrior can split mountains; a six-star, like Lawrence's father, Leonard Von Aenir, moves three times faster than the fastest train and can endure a nuclear explosion with nothing more than scratches. To Lawrence, his father wasn't just a man, he was a monster.
Mages, on the other hand, are born with elemental or mystical affinities, fire, water, summoning, necromancy, and so on. They cultivate by transforming their heart into a mana heart, growing stronger as they learn and master spells. Like warriors, they range from one to seven stars. Mages are usually stronger than warriors of the same level, though combat ability always depends on actual experience. Without battle sense, neither meridians nor mana hearts matter. The greatest mage in history, the Sage of Wisdom, had reached seven stars and was said to possess enough power to annihilate modern Earth's military without effort.
And then there are paragons, the rarest and most feared of all. Heroes in every nation, paragons wield both aura and mana. Their path is the most difficult: they must both unlock meridians and strengthen their mana heart, forging a body capable of channeling both forces. Focusing too much on one side risks crippling the other, sometimes permanently. A failed paragon can lose everything and become weaker than the average knight.
Lawrence let out a long sigh. Being a paragon sounded glorious, but living as one was suffocating. He was sixteen, with the body of a grown man, yet had unlocked only two meridians and strengthened his mana heart twice. A mere two-star paragon. Far from genius, and much far from real prodigy, to put it bluntly, he was just average.
When he reached the training grounds, the midday sun glared down on pale sand, irritating under his boots.
Knights drilled their sword forms, while others barked corrections at wide-eyed squires. None dared to approach him as their heads bowed and eyes subconsciously move away, every man and boy remembering the arrogant young master's temper who hate commoners like them.
Lawrence ignored their sneaky stares as he walked to the rack, and picked up a spear. It felt light and familiar. His arms moved before his mind caught up. Slash, stab, sweep, the weapon sang through the air, and the memories of Lawrence's spear arts flowed back into his muscles.
"So. This body specialized in speed." Lawrence thought inwardly.
Testing his magic, he raised a hand and a white beam of light burst from his fingertip, piercing a training dummy's forehead. The hole was clean, instantaneous and nearly impossible to dodge for people of same level. The spell triggered in half a second. Lawrence nodded to himself. That one had been trained to mastery.
Weapon arts and spells were ranked: beginner, adept, mastered, perfected. Beyond perfection was the mythical apex, a level so rare that most never saw it. Lawrence had far to climb. He tested another spell: Light Spear. A glowing spear of pure radiance hovered in the air at his command. He thrust it forward and watched it cut through the air… and sighed. It was slow. Too easy to dodge. Beginner level, nothing more. Plus it doesn't even seems to have any function except being fancy and glowing.
His so-called genius status felt like a cruel joke. A true prodigy, he thought, would already have multiple master-level spells and near-perfect arts by the time they reached two stars. His bride-to-be, Catalinna, was such a prodigy. If she fought him now, she could crush five of him without effort. His parents probably knew he was only average, but blinded themselves, clinging to his paragon status as some kind of saving grace.
Frustration burned as his fists subconsciously clenched until pain stabbed through his knuckles. He glared at the dummy, forcing the anger down. He needed a plan. A new path.
Memories from the novel rose in his mind. Somewhere in the middle arcs, Cain had discovered a legendary spear art: Luminosity of the Multitude. It wove light into spear swings so that each thrust created multiple illusory copies. A single stab looked like five spears. A single slash struck at light-speed. Near unstoppable. Cain had adapted it into sword art, but it had been a spear art originally, guarded by the spirit of its creator. Too strong for Lawrence to face now, but with his father's help? Stealing it might be possible. A grin tugged at his lips.
With this plan in mind, Lawrence was prepared to go meet his father only to turn and see someone walking towards him.
An ethereal beauty with snow-pale skin, cherry-red lips, and silken white hair cascading down her back. One eye hidden behind her bangs, the other glinting with cold disdain. Catalinna. She radiated the grace of a queen, yet her gaze burned with anger when it landed on him.
What did I do to her already? Lawrence racked his memory. In the novel, Catalinna was stubborn and battle-hungry, a woman who abandoned nobility to fight monsters in the frozen north. She despised weakness. She once declared she'd never marry a man weaker than herself, a statement that had humiliated Lawrence in front of Cain. Later, she'd fallen to Cain's strength and joined his harem.
It had been convenient for the old Lawrence to agree to the engagement, he assumed she'd leave anyway. But now, standing before her, Lawrence felt a shiver crawl down his spine.
Until he saw her eyes fell to the pendant at his neck.
'Damn it. I forgot to hide it.' He cursed inwardly.
"Where did you get that?" Her voice was cold, sharp. "It isn't supposed to be with you."
Anger flickered in his chest, but his face remained unreadable. "I bought it at the market yesterday. I liked the design."
"Impossible," she whispered, almost too quiet to hear.
What the hell? Don't tell me she's a transmigrator too… she wasn't in the novel.
Lawrence straightened. "I have business to attend to, Miss Catalinna. We can continue this later." He turned to leave, but her hand shot out, gripping his wrist.
"Let me see it first."
Not a chance. He forced a polite smile. "Please, I'm busy. We can speak later this afternoon, perhaps about our marriage. For now, why don't you take a stroll around our home?"
Catalinna's lips curved faintly. "I'm unfamiliar with this place. I'll come with you."
His throat tightened upon hearing her, 'Damn persistent woman. She's after the pendant.'
"Very well. Follow me," he said, voice steady.
They entered the mansion. The halls were strangely empty, not a single maid in sight. Maybe this was his father arrangements to give him and her chance to talk alone.
Just when Lawrence wanted to strike a conversation using those he felt an aura swelling behind him making his instinct flared and without hesitation, he activated the pendant. His body vanished just as a blazing hand of fire slashed where he had been standing.
Catalinna's voice rang out. "Don't run, or I'll burn your face off!"
He was already sprinting down the hall. She's insane! Attacking the heir of the Aenir family in his own house?
****
Behind him, Catalinna seethed. "That wastrel… to think he got the pendant. It was meant for Cain, not for that extra!" Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding.
And indeed, just as Lawrence expected she was riginally from Earth and not only that but is the author of this book, maybe it was due to her obsession with Cain, how she made sure his life in the novel barely faces any pain, how she provided him with everything, she was so attached to him that even in real life she always dream of him and due to cancer, she died but when she thought that was the end of her life, she woke up and realised she has transmigrated into her novel.
"To think my story came alive…" she murmured. Just imagining following Cain's adventures set her heart racing. Bedridden no longer, she was free. Alive. And she knew what she had to do, seize the pendant and hand it to Cain, its rightful owner, to her, no one is important as Cain in this novel.
Meanwhile, Lawrence fumed in his chambers. So she's a transmigrator too. Figures. But why obsess over the pendant? Cain will beat the Demon King and Chaotic One with or without it. Why fight me for something that barely matters in the grand scheme?
This wasn't how the plot was supposed to unfold.