Reincarnated into Another World With Chat GTP-Chapter 28: Fate

Chapter 28: Fate

The duels progressed like clockwork.

Veldena Asteris, the queen of ice herself, walked into the arena with elegance and cold fury.

Her opponent barely got to blink before the entire field was sealed in crystalized frost—frozen mid-step.

She turned around without a word. Win.

Mira danced across her battlefield.

Dagger in hand, boots light on the stone, she dismantled her opponent with a flurry of well-timed counters.

One takedown, one pin—clean and precise. Win.

Noel?

She didn't even pull her sword out all the way.

Three movements. Her opponent fainted before they even understood what happened.

Win.

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"Everyone's doing pretty well, huh?"

And then—

[Next match: Sam Avencroft vs. Serenia Elmarelle.]

I blinked.

"...You're kidding me."

I let out a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck.

Of course.

I stepped into the center of the arena.

Across from me stood Serenia, poised and calm—her crimson cloak fluttering slightly behind her.

When our eyes met, she smiled faintly.

"Interesting meeting you here," she said, voice just loud enough for me to hear. "It's almost like we're connected by fate."

I smirked.

"You say that like it's a good thing."

She looked away just for a second—was that a blush?

The headmaster, Caerwyn Eloria, raised her staff from the balcony.

"Begin."

GTP.

[Motor Control Sync: 30%. Pushing beyond this may damage your body.]

Yeah yeah. I'm not going full beast-mode again. Not unless I want my bones turned into soup.

Serenia lunged forward—rapier flashing like silver lightning.

I ducked to the side, spun my scythe with a reverse grip, and parried.

The blades clanged—a ripple of energy spreading from the impact.

She was faster than last time.

Her strikes came in sharp bursts, elegant and clean. She moved like a dancer, each thrust aimed to exploit an opening.

But I had openings no more.

With GTP's support, my movements flowed like water—evading, parrying, retaliating.

My scythe cut wide arcs. She dodged each one, dancing just at the edge of danger.

"You've improved," I muttered between strikes.

"So have you," she replied, panting slightly. "That scythe suits you."

"I know. Looks cool, doesn't it?"

She tried to circle around—I blocked with the polearm and twisted, catching her blade under the hook of my scythe.

With a spin, I disarmed her and pressed the bladed edge against her collarbone.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

Her rapier clattered to the ground.

She looked up at me.

"...Well played."

The crowd exploded in cheers.

"Sam Avencroft—pass," Caerwyn announced. "Serenia Elmarelle—pass. You have demonstrated sufficient skill and combat control."

I lowered my scythe and extended a hand.

Serenia hesitated... then smiled and took it.

Her hand was warm.

"...Fate, huh?" I said quietly.

She chuckled.

"Maybe."

* * *

he remaining stages were... honestly?Pretty chill.

Stage 3 was a raw mana capacity check.Pass the threshold—you move on. I had GTP in my brain and a whole temple's worth of mana in my veins. Easy.

Stage 4 was a maze.Complex for anyone else. But I had a literal hyperintelligent satellite in my head. GTP had us out in five minutes.

Stage 5? Monster subjugation.It was supposed to test combat ability and coordination, but compared to surviving the jungle war? This was nothing.

And the rest?

Endurance test. Magic formation analysis. Barrier decoding.All handled smoothly with a mix of GTP-assisted intuition and dumb luck (okay, maybe 90% GTP, 10% me).

And now...

Only 200 applicants remained.

From the thousands who had taken the written exam...From the tens of thousands who dreamed of entering the most prestigious magic academy in the empire...

We were all that was left.

We stood on a massive circular platform suspended above the clouds.

The wind was calm. The sky shimmered with golden light.

There was no ground. No walls. Only magic.

Then—

A soft hum filled the air.

FWOOM.

From above descended a radiant portal of ancient magic.

And through it, she arrived.

Headmaster Caerwyn Eloria.

Her long white cloak fluttered like light itself, and the air around her shimmered with power.

She landed at the center of the arena, her voice projecting effortlessly across the entire skyborne platform.

"Congratulations."

Her golden eyes passed over all of us—sharp, serene, and commanding.

"You have proven your strength, your will, and your talent."

"But one final trial remains."

The arena glowed beneath our feet—runes ancient and unfamiliar forming a massive circle.

Her next words chilled the air itself.

"Stage Ten: Dreamscape of Truth."

The crowd of applicants fell silent.

"You will each be transported into a personal dreamscape."

"A realm constructed by your own subconscious—shaped by your fears, your desires, your regrets, and your truths."

"There, you will face the truest version of yourself."

"If you break... you fail."

"If you run... you fail."

"Only those who face themselves and rise again... will be chosen."

I stared at the glyphs under my boots.

Dreamscape?

...So it ends not with a sword swing or a fireball...

But a mirror.

The headmaster raised her hand.

"Let it begin."

And the world—

Shattered into light.

* * *

Light swallowed everything.

Then silence.

No ground. No sky.

Just... nothing.

"...GTP?" I called out into the void.

Nothing.

"...Oi. GTP? Are you there?"

No response.

The silence pressed on me like an ocean. Not a sound, not a flicker of thought.

I turned slowly, tension creeping up my spine.

There—standing with arms crossed, hood up, and an annoyed frown—

Was me.

Not the me now.

The old one.

Part-time worker. Burnt out student. The guy who spent nights binging anime and waking up with nothing to show for it.

He scoffed. "You look ridiculous."

"...What?"

"That outfit. That scythe. That smug look you always have now."

He stepped closer.

"You think you're some kind of chosen one now?"

I said nothing.

"Let me guess," he mocked, "you think just because some AI is feeding you magic and swordplay that you're special?"

I opened my mouth.

"Don't bother," a voice interrupted.

I turned.

Noel stood a few feet away. Not the real Noel—this one's face was blank. Empty eyes. Cold.

"Everything you've done," she said, "it's all because of someone else. You call the shots, but you don't take the hits."

Another voice.

"Where were you when the jungle temple was attacked?" Serenia said, stepping through the fog.

"You slept. While we fought."

"I nearly died."

"I held our people together."

"You?"

"You just showed up afterward and claimed the credit."

I clenched my fists. "I didn't ask—"

"You never ask," said another voice.

Mira now. Her smile gone. Expression flat.

"You just expect us to follow."

"You talk big. You play genius. But we're the ones risking everything out there while you 'calculate the next move.'"

And behind her—Veldena.

Arms behind her back. Voice icy.

"You act like you understand strategy and strength. But your foundation is fake."

"You rely on knowledge from another world. Power that doesn't belong to you."

"You've built a kingdom on borrowed thoughts."

I looked around.

All of them now surrounded me.

Even Lord Haven stepped forward, face grim.

"I supported you because I believed in your vision," he said. "But now I wonder..."

"Are you leading us to something greater?"

"Or are you just a liar with a silver tongue?"

They were everywhere now.

Echoes of the people I'd met. Followed me. Trusted me.

All looking at me like I was nothing.

And worst of all?

They sounded like the voices already in my head.

"You're just faking it."

"You got lucky."

"You're not strong."

"You don't deserve this."

"YOU'RE NOT HIM."

I lowered my head.

The air felt heavy.

My legs... weak.

My heart thudded in my chest like a war drum.

I wanted to scream. To deny it.

But I couldn't.

Because...

A part of me—

A deep, ugly part—

Believed every word.

The words crushed me.

Every voice. Every accusation.

They echoed in my chest like hammers against glass.

You're nothing.

You're fake.

You're just pretending.

The me I used to be stepped forward.

"No one would follow you if they knew what you really were."

Noel's gaze was hollow.

"You saved me? Please. You used me."

Serenia's voice rang sharp.

"You're not a leader. You're just scared."

Mira, Veldena, Lord Haven—every voice a dagger.

Every face a judgment.

My fists trembled.

My throat tightened.

Was it true?

Was I really just a coward behind a mask?

Just a lucky fool with a voice in his head?

Just a...

"No."

The voices stopped.

Just like that.

I looked up.

And repeated it.

"No."

The fog rippled.

"I'm not the strongest," I said, breathing heavy. "I'm not perfect. Hell, I'm barely even qualified."

My gaze cut through the illusions.

"But I survived. I fought. I chose."

"And even if all of this started because I got lucky—everything after that? That was me."

"I made it real."

"I made it mine."

The fake Noel stared at me.

"You think that's enough?"

I took a breath.

"No," I said.

"But I'll keep going anyway."

The world cracked.

Light surged beneath my feet.

The dreamscape shattered—

And I opened my eyes.

Gasp—!

I shot upright.

Chest heaving. Face damp with sweat.

Back in the real world.

The arena.

The final stage.

The clouds above.

People were still waking up. Some crying. Some pale. Some trembling.

I wasn't.

I just sat there, steady.

"...Heh."

I looked up at the sky.

"Nice try."