webnovel

Why Did I Write So Many Tropes?!

The author has found himself within his own work of fiction. A tale as old as web novels. Transmigrated into the body of an unknown side character, Mav is forced to come to terms with the world he created and the characters within. Flying cars, magical technology, and Gates leading to corrupted worlds? Mav only has one goal: survive. In order to accomplish this goal, he must grow, or he will die in the onslaught of the incoming Apocalypse-- according to the original plot, millions of Gates will open up across the world in four years and the demonic corruption will spread beyond the Gates. Many people will die and Mav’s existence indicates an unstoppable butterfly effect that may end with the main characters’ deaths. But he can’t help but start getting attached to the main cast. The stakes are rising as the people he has come to love are threatened. And Mav might be the only one who knows about the mysterious organization that is determined to tear everything down.

ATLS · Urban
Not enough ratings
26 Chs

Why Is The Female Lead Here?!

I stared curiously at the girl with dark brown hair and blonde highlights. Her hair was long and reached her hips, framing her tanned face.

Piercing gold eyes looked back at me with similar curiosity. She was beautiful in an elegant and natural way, giving off a down-to-earth feeling unlike the alien perfection of supermodels.

She was just as I'd imagined her. Still, no romantic thoughts stirred in me-- after all, mentally, I was in my twenties, while she was only fifteen.

I already knew who she was, of course. Lucia was one of Gauss' friends, a key character in several pivotal events, and one of the many potential female leads. Even so, seeing her here caught me off guard.

When she struggled to respond, I decided to break the awkward silence.

"Sorry, I should introduce myself first," I said, offering a friendly smile. "My name's Mav. I'm an incoming freshman."

"A-ah, yes. I'm Lucia," she replied, her voice steadying as a flicker of her usual spirit returned. "I'm also a freshman."

"Nice to meet you, Lucia," I replied diplomatically. "Are you here to train too?"

She nodded without a word and walked off toward the weightlifting area. She didn't even say goodbye.

I coughed, brushing off her dismissive behavior. She was like this in the beginning…

Lucia was always motivated to be the best. Even though I didn't write about what she was doing during summer break, it is in-character for her to train at the Academy. She probably got a visitor's pass like me.

That moment made things clear to me. This wasn't System Overload. This was an independent world, and the characters here were real people with choices and actions beyond the confines of the story.

The reality sank in as I watched Lucia effortlessly lift over 45 kilograms. The amount of work she must have put into training was respectable.

I mulled over my thoughts for a moment before walking over to the golden-eyed girl.

"Do you need something?"

She looked up at me, her expression a mix of confusion and mild embarrassment. 

Maybe she feels bad for being rude earlier? That would be in line with her character-- she often tries to avoid others due to anxiety and then feels bad for coming across as rude.

Pushing my inner analysis aside, I cleared my throat. "Y-yeah. Can you t-teach me h-how to lift weights?"

My face heated up immediately. Something about asking a girl to teach me about lifting weights bruised my fragile masculinity. But what other choice did I have? I'd never lifted weights in either my past or current life.

Lucia blinked, looking slightly flustered herself. Despite that, she got up from the bench and began explaining the basics.

"Alright, so this is weightlifting in a nutshell," she said, gesturing toward the stack of plates. "These are the plates-- basically, the weights you're going to lift. They come in different sizes and materials, like rubber-coated ones for quieter drops." 

She moved to the long metal bar. "This is the bar, usually a standard or Olympic barbell, where you'll load those plates. It's what actually lets you lift them."

Next, Lucia pointed to the bench nearby. "This is the bench. You'll use it for exercises like bench presses. It's there to support you so you can focus on the lift." 

Stepping over to the platform, Lucia continued, "And here's the weightlifting platform. It's a sturdy, padded surface designed to handle heavy lifts like deadlifts, without wrecking the floor-- or your weights."

Finally, she turned back with a serious expression. "The most important thing is proper technique. Keep your posture solid, use slow and controlled movements, and engage your core to protect yourself from injury."

Lucia used lighter weights, demonstrating each move with care so she could focus on teaching. Her patient tone made it easy to follow along. She didn't seem embarrassed anymore, looking like she was in her element.

She really is nice, I thought, like an older sister. 

Even though I'm technically older than her...

As she finished her explanation, she set the weights down and said, "I'm here every afternoon. If you ever have questions or need help, just ask me."

I nodded, starting with some simple lifts while she watched. Every now and then, Lucia would step in to correct my form or spot me, offering quiet encouragement.

***

Over the next few days, a routine naturally formed. Every morning, I joined Lucia for her jog.

By noon, we sparred with our weapons. In the afternoon, we returned to the Academy's training facilities, where I split my time between sparring with the simulation and lifting weights.

"Sparring," though, felt like a generous term for what was happening-- more often than not, I was just getting beaten up by the simulation.

After blocking one of the simulation's strikes, I skidded backward several feet but managed to stay upright. I kept pumping mana into my eyes, enhancing my dynamic vision to track the simulation's movements.

Despite seeing its next attack coming, my body couldn't keep up. The blade slammed into my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs. I collapsed in a heap.

"Nice one," Lucia snorted, sipping from her water bottle as she spectated from the sidelines.

"Shut up," I muttered, more resigned than angry. This scene had repeated itself plenty of times by now.

Lucia seemed more at ease with me after almost a week of training together. Tomorrow, I'd need to absorb the second demonic core, but for now, I was focused on surviving her company.

After a moment of hesitation, she asked, "Why do you train so hard, anyway?"

She had probably noticed something.

I glanced at my bruised arms and legs, the purplish marks on my chest and back hidden under my shirt. It wasn't exactly subtle-- I had been pushing myself pretty hard.

I tried to laugh it off. "I'm weak. I have to work harder to stand out at the Academy."

"I see," she said, though her tone suggested she didn't fully believe me. Still, she didn't press further.

What was I supposed to tell her? That the world would end in four years?

I sighed.

"What's with that face?" Lucia smirked and slapped my back hard enough to make me cough. "It doesn't suit you. Come on, you've still got another set of squats to finish."

At that moment, I realized that Lucia could be very scary.

"Nooooooo! I don't want to!" I scrambled to escape.

Her sharp eyes gleamed with amusement as she grabbed the back of my shirt. "Too bad, so sad."

"Noooooooooooooooooo!"

Another mistake has been made... a line of dialogue is missing and i shall fix it!

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