The Author Reincarnated As An Extra-Chapter 32: • Elora Cassiel (1)

The soft but very audible pulsing sound of an odd, neon light was the only noise of the night. It pulsed like a heartbeat, with the glowing shapes dulling and glowing each time.

Deremiah glanced at the light source for a moment. It was one of the translucent plants, sprouting beside him, but apparently weaker than the rest. He watched it struggle to glow, before flickering like a dying bulb and then turning off completely.

A silent expression was on his face as he watched the outer layer peel off and the plant begin to die.

Everywhere was silent again, the rest of the plants still offering them colorful lights, making the forest look like a cyberpunk city.

Without much in his mind, he turned his gaze to the girl sitting some distance away from him, they were split by the now dead translucent plant.

She had picked up a whetstone and started sharpening her sword, paying Deremiah no attention. Even after that difficult battle with the NeonSquid, her posture was relaxed, like every shrrrk that came with that whetstone on her sword helped her calm down.

Deremiah couldn’t see her face. Her brilliant dark hair had fallen over her shoulders, obscuring most of it. But he could tell that she was silently curious of him, whilst he already knew everything about her.

"The Paragon beast is feeding itself," she said abruptly, still focused on sharpening her blade. "It’s sucking the energy that illuminates the plants. Strengthening itself. As it prepares for dawn."

She then turned around, but only to look at the dead plant, its body now withering to gray dust. "That is why this plant died."

Deremiah looked down at the withering plant as well, then at the girl, who had returned to sharpening her blade.

"Is it Aether?" he asked.

She stopped. "What did you say?"

Deremiah considered letting it go, but decided to continue the small talk. "The energy illuminating the plants. Is it Aether?"

She shrugged slightly, continuing with the whetstone on her blade. "Who knows? The beast feeds on the energy regardless. And it will need it when the dawn comes. The beast is more vulnerable at dawn."

Deremiah was silent for a moment before saying, "Okay."

She was right. The NeonSquid was a night creature that fed off the energy powering the plants as it too was made and empowered by the same energy. And because of the presence of light at dawn, its neon light energy would be weaker, not glowing as bright as it would at night.

Unable to stop himself, Deremiah just kept on looking at her. At the intricacies of her armor, and even the astonishing greatsword that she was sharpening.

Fitting his description of it in the novel, it was a blackstone sword. The blade was as obsidian as her armor, and the hilt looked as though it had been carved from the stem of a living plant, textured and lined with natural grooves.

It had small thorns jagging out of it that would certainly pierce the skin of anyone who grabbed it. However, it did not harm her, its wielder.

How could it? She was Elora Cassiel of the Dawn Clan. If anyone could tame a weapon like that, it was her.

Even as he sat there, Deremiah still couldn’t fully believe that they were here — together — in the same Corridor. Of all the countless participants, of all the possible combinations of entrants in the Trials, fate had placed him alongside her.

For a moment, a flicker of gratitude crossed his mind. He silently thanked the god of fate — or whatever cosmic force had orchestrated this meeting.

Undeniably, this was his chance. All that remained was to find a way to kill her, to take what she had and ascend beyond the limitations of his single Mark.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, Deremiah couldn’t deny the magnitude of the task. He’d done so many things that he would deem impossible on any rational day, but this was Elora of Dawn.

Killing her would be no easy feat.

Deremiah had tactically led his readers astray with his introduction of Elora in the story. When she had stepped into the Gates first, he described her as the chosen descendant of the Dawn Clan.

Throughout her childhood, Elora’s family, Cassiel, swore to build her into the next High Mancer for their Clan leaders. After rigorous training, Elora grew unparalleled combat skills, a vast knowledge of the world’s power system, the Trials of the Gates and the way of war.

When her Mark came, bearing eight numbers, the Dawn Clan leaders instantly placed her on a pedestal so high that failure was not an option.

She became amongst the top three most promising participants in the Trials, and her duty was clear; to secure glory for her Clan by securing power in the Gates.

This served the endless goal of the main Clans, which was ensuring their names remained strong and untarnished in the annals of history.

Deremiah cursed in his thoughts. ’All of that, just to sacrifice herself for someone else.’

It was bitter in his tongue as he made that remark, knowing he was the one that had killed her off, tricking his readers into believing she was going to be a major character.

But now, that act felt like not just a complete waste of an intriguing character, but a complete waste of those Marks.

This was how he justified killing her. She was eventually going to sacrifice her life to save Zenith if he didn’t. So, killing her right now and taking the Marks that would’ve otherwise wasted was a much greater use of a rather unnecessary death.

"You’ve drawn an ill-fated fortune, fellow participant," Elora said suddenly, breaking the silence without looking up from her sword. "Sharing a Corridor with me."

Deremiah lifted his gaze from her legs to her face, wondering why he’d been staring. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Finally, she turned to face him. Her hair moved out of the way and her almost crimson eyes locked onto his. "You bear a single Mark" she pointed out with a matter-of-fact tone. "This Trial will be incredibly difficult for you."

Suddenly feeling self aware, Deremiah reached up and adjusted his collar, pulling it higher to obscure the single Mark etched onto his neck. He then tried to remain confident under the stare of her bright eyes, which was difficult.

"But... wouldn’t it then be easier for you?" he countered, insinuating that it was odd for a person to complain about being paired with a low-Marked participant.

Elora didn’t respond immediately. She continued to stare at him, her expression unreadable, her crimson eyes seeming to search for something in his face.

Finally, she spoke. "I don’t care about the difficulty of my challenge," she said, steady and resolute. "All I care about is defeating them."

And with that, she turned her attention back to her greatsword, the rhythmic shrrk of the whetstone filling the clearing once more.

Completely intimidated by those words, Deremiah kept on watching her until she finished with her sword. She inspected it for a while, feeling the blade before sighing and resting it on her lap.

"My name is Elora," she said, looking down. "What is yours?"

His brows raised, then he answered. "Deremiah."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Deremiah. Very well." Her gaze returned to her sword. "You are my burden now. At least for this singular Trial."

Deremiah appeared confused, watching as she turned fully to face him, embedding her greatsword into the moist earth. "Do you know anything of what you are to do in this Trial?"

His confusion heightened. Burden? Was she saying that she’s taking responsibility over his protection and advancement into the next Trial?

The source of this c𝓸ntent is fr𝒆e(w)𝒆bnovel