Unwanted attention[2]

Galandrath.

A legendary figure known throughout the world due to his prophecies of the great cataclysms. His works—ballads, arts, literature, poems—are revered even now for their ahead-of-its-time brilliance.

It is said that Galandrath gained his power of clairvoyance from the Gate of Rebirth.

According to the lore of First Human-Demon war, the Gate of Rebirth was an ancient dungeon. People who went there either ended up forged into weapons or died.

Although this 'Gate of Rebirth' has never been found by anyone, the lore itself remains.

But seeing the cataclysmic prophecies of Galandrath, a little doubt rose in my mind.

'Synchronicity' — it was an old term coined by a man named Carl Jung, it tried to explain occurrence of meaningful coincidences that have no apparent causal connection.

Studies on synchronicity showed how seemingly unrelated events can be meaningfully connected...which might explain the phenomenon of writing something that later becomes real?

Sigh.... That doesn't even sounds logical.

The point is, is my writing the cause of this world's creation, or was it the other way around?'

"Already tired?" asked Miss Yilin, looking down at me with a disappointed gaze while I was panting heavily, laying on the black rubber flooring, my gaze absentmindedly fixed on the recessed lightings of the training wing.

My gaze refocused on Miss Yilin's face, and I couldn't help but silently curse inside, 'What are you even upset about, woman? I'm doing my best. How about you shut up for a bit and let me rest?'

I kept my inner complaints to myself and replied in a sarcastic tone, "No mam. You can clearly see I am far from being tired."

Yilin Cai was the short-sword instructor whom I was assigned to learn from.

She barely got any mention in the novel because she's the literal equivalent of a glorified cameo. She showed up once during the Genova incident to drop some half-baked wisdom and then vanished forever, joining the elite club of one-off characters who exist solely to make the main cast look better while never getting any backstory or relevance.

Soon, my gaze fell upon the necklace draped around her neck. Three delicate strands of white gold rested on her décolleté, complementing each other. Set at the base, just above her cleavage, was a well crafted phoenix pendant which seemed to be made of brass. Its wings as if fluttering in the soft light. The phoenix had a sky-blue gemstone at its chest. The teardrop-shaped gem captured the recessed lightings of the ceiling, creating a hyperboloid light pattern in it.

The pendant was a sign of her faith.

'The Temple of Light?' I mused silently.

The ornament Yilin wore was generally called the Phoenix Emblem.

Religious faith and belief systems were nearly extinct on Earth after the Third World War. It was just rare for me to see such things.

But in this world, there were three major belief systems. Miss Yilin Cai seemed to follow one of them, known as Leohtism—a faith centered around the worship of light.

Leohtism's prominent figure was the goddess of light, Rebecca. However, one should not confuse these gods and goddesses with a small 'g' with the singular, ultimate God with capital 'G'. Goddesses like Rebecca were considered deities beneath the one true essence of creation, according to the lore of creation. But I was hardly a theologian; my knowledge of the belief systems in this world came from fragmented memories of the original Noah Grey.

Meanwhile, Yilin's frown made me quickly look away from her pendant—and, incidentally, her cleavage.

Not my intention, I swear! I prefer my melons on the larger side.

Miss Yilin slowly approached and motioned for me to get up. "I'd appreciate it if you kept your focus where it belong," she said with a wry smile.

I frowned as I surveyed the other trainees under Yilin. On the expansive mat-covered floor, some were diligently repeating their katas and forms. Their movements, reflected in the wall-to-wall mirrors, were precise—footwork and blade cuts synchronized to perfection, each motion honed to a fine point.

Nearby, others were lounging in the Amenities corner, sprawled on cushioned benches and sipping water. Their idle chatter punctuated the otherwise focused atmosphere. They appeared relaxed, taking breaks and observing the training with a detached curiosity.

And then there was me, stuck sparring directly with Miss Yilin. I couldn't shake the frustration gnawing at me. "Why are they learning footwork and blade techniques while I'm stuck sparring with you? Why can't I practice like them?"

Feels like you're just beating me up under the guise of training.

Miss Yilin almost chuckled as my gaze inadvertently drifted past her. Behind her, I noticed the guys in the amenities section ogling... Emily? They were gawking at Emily Reed? Eh?

Ah...

Sudden realization hit me, and I recalled a snippet from my novel. 'The Emily fan club! Of course! The bunch of useless, good-for-nothings!'

"Mastering any blade usually has five stages," Miss Yilin began her excuse for beating me.

Her smooth voice was calming but also slurring.

"The first stage is physical conditioning, where strength training, endurance training, and flexibility are the main focus. The second stage is basic machete handling, focused on grip techniques, stance, footwork, blade cuts, and slashes. But...," She stopped talking for a moment, eyeing me up and down.

Then she added, "For whatever reason, your physical constitution is top-notch as if you have trained your entire life, but somehow your basics of using the blade are so bad that it feels like you've never picked up any weapon in your whole life."

She walked past me, gracefully removing her Phoenix Emblem and tapping it to her forehead, then her chin, and finally her chest, while whispering a brief invocation before putting it into her dimensional bracelet.

"The third stage is advanced training, concentrating on combination strikes, defensive maneuvers, and disarmament techniques. I can't afford to teach you the second stage separately while your peers are already mastering these skills and advancing. Therefore," she said, her hand closing into a fist as if grasping an unseen force. In a flash of light, a machete materialized in her grip. It was a dummy weapon, almost like a feder. Although non-lethal, it was more dangerous than wooden blades. She then signaled for me to come at her.

"You will be learning how to disarm an opponent. The basics will be your warm-up, and constant sparring will be your training."

'F*ck me side ways!' I gritted my teeth and charged at her, machete gripped tightly in my hand.

Leaping forward, I swung the blade with all my force, aiming for her midsection. But she moved with an almost supernatural agility, sidestepping the attack. Before I could react, she seized my arm with lightning speed, using my own momentum to slam me into the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

The air was knocked out of my lungs, my grip on the machete faltering. "No!" I gasped.

Desperate, I tried to kick the back of her head, but she blocked the strike with the blunt end of the machete, sending a jolt of pain through my foot.

"Fuck it!" I groaned.

Without a moment's hesitation, she slapped me across the face with a resounding smack, leaving a stinging red mark. "No cursing," she said coldly.

Rage boiled within me, but I could only grit my teeth and mutter, "Sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again."

She nodded, unperturbed, and straightened her stance. "Again!"

I sprang to my feet, this time resolving to be strategic rather than impulsive.

I locked my gaze on her, focusing intently.

She exhaled sharply, saying, "Don't focus on my face. It's not going to hit you. Watch my shoulders. That's where you'll see the attack coming. Stay calm and read the muscle shifts."

I nodded, preparing myself for any signs of an incoming attack.

She shifted her weight, rotating her heels before leaping toward me from a distance of four meters.

This time, I managed to react in time and dodged her initial strike.

However, she landed on all fours behind me and immediately launched a low spinning sweep kick aimed at my ankles.

My world tilted as I crashed face-first into the ground with a painful thud.

She stood over me with a resigned sigh, "Where's your footwork, Noah? Focus!"

Through gritted teeth, I glared at the floor, fuming silently, but I knew better than to argue.

.

.

.

Pant! Pant! Pant!

Sprawled on the sparring arena, foam gathering at the corners of my mouth, my gaze hollow.

Fifteen agonizing minutes.

For fifteen, disturbing, minutes, I've endured relentless assault after assault.

It wasn't even like I had to defeat Miss Yilin in hand-to-hand. All I need is to disarm her, but if she disarms me, she wins.

Except for this brief two-minute rest interval, she's given me no quarter.

Two minutes to rest? Is that supposed to be a break, or is she trying to break me?

I'm at my limit.

I calmed my breath as I collected my thoughts.

"Nano... is there any way for me to win?" I whisper desperately.

[You can't beat her hand-to-hand.]

"I know..." I muttered, wiping blood from my split lip. "Just show me how to disarm her. Analyze her fighting patterns."

[Affirmative. Scanning...]

Suddenly, in my retina, a flurry of videos and augmented reality overlays was projected as Nano began to dissect Miss Yilin's techniques.

[Counter-measures ready.] It finally announced, projecting definitive ways on how to disarm Miss Yilin.

I felt a surge of electricity run through my body as Nano injected data directly into my neurons.

Slowly a smirk established on my lips.

"Let's kick her ass."

***

Instructor Yilin Cai returned after inspecting the top trainees like Aurora, Takahashi, and Aeravat, her eyes scanning the training ground with pride.

When she re-entered the short-sword training wing, she ascended the sparring arena with a measured grace.

Soon her eyes fell on Noah who was slumped on the floor, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.

She sighed inwardly with despondency. 'Why him?'

"Alright, Noah, time for round two. Stand up," she commanded, grasping her machete.

Noah struggled to his feet, his body trembling with exhaustion.

Without a word, he seized his machete and nodded to Yilin.

After a pause, he launched himself at her with a desperate roar.

Yilin's eyes twitched in frustration. The same mistake again—charging headfirst.

She braced herself, ready to counter his predictable strike.

Noah swung his arm back, telegraphing a slash. Yilin moved to intercept it but...his strike never came.

Instead, he dropped to his knees, shifting his stance, and thrust his machete at her foot!

This lad!

Yilin dodged, the machete embedding itself in the ground with a light thud.

Wrong move! She thought, launching a slash at his arm.

To her shock, he didn't dodge. He lunged, taking the blow to his left arm with a groan but locking her dominant arm in a Kimura lock.

'Is he out of his mind?' Yilin wondered, pain flashing through her arm.

He'd sacrificed his own safety for this grip!

Yilin kneed him, breaking his grip slightly.

But Noah, undeterred, grabbed her hair and yanked!

"Stop, Noah! What are you doing?!" Yilin screamed, drawing the attention of bystanders.

Locked in a deadlock, both unable to move their limbs.

Humans always rely on their limbs in combat. Hands and feet are predictable. But what if...

Using Nano's data, Noah improvised as inspiration hit him.

Yilin never expected what came next.

Noah leaned in and bit his teeth at the blade of her machete.

The sight was almost surreal—using a method so primal and strange that it defied normal combat logic.

With a powerful, determined tug, he wrenched the machete from her grasp dislocating his own jaw in the process. The sheer unexpectedness of the move left Yilin stunned for a second.

Noah spat the machete to the ground, his chest heaving from exertion.

***