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Transmigrated and Where Are the Skills?

A young otaku, frustrated with the density of protagonists in his favorite novels, suddenly finds himself transported to the world of the book he criticized. Now, with the mission to survive and change history, he must face unexpected challenges in a magical academy located on floating islands. Will he be able to adapt and survive in this world that previously only existed in his imagination?

Tyche_wise · ファンタジー
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13 Chs

Combat Lessons

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as I arrived at the gym. The cool morning breeze helped clear my mind as I prepared for my first day of training with Lysandra. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but I was determined to give it my all.

Entering, I found Lysandra already waiting, warming up her muscles with a series of exercises that made her movements seem like a fluid and precise dance. Her skill was evident even in the simplest of motions. Upon seeing me, a teasing smile spread across her face.

"Well, looks like you took 'no late arrivals' seriously, spaghetti legs," she quipped, not pausing her warm-up.

"Good morning to you too, Lysandra," I replied, trying to sound confident though my nervousness was palpable.

"Alright, let's start with the basics," she said, heading towards a clear area of the gym. "First, you need to learn how to stand and move correctly. Without a good foundation, any technique you attempt will be useless."

Lysandra showed me the basic combat stance, correcting my posture with precision. At first, each correction felt like a personal critique, but soon I understood their necessity. With each adjustment, I could feel my center of gravity stabilize and my balance improve.

"Remember, balance is key. Lose your balance, you lose the fight," she asserted firmly.

We spent the next hour focusing on basic movements: how to advance, retreat, and move laterally without losing balance. Though it seemed straightforward, maintaining the right posture and moving fluidly took more effort than I had imagined.

"Faster! Don't put so much weight on your back foot!" Lysandra shouted, her voice echoing in the empty gym.

My lack of experience was evident. I stumbled constantly, lost balance, and my movements were clumsy. Every time I tried to follow her instructions, it seemed like my body didn't respond as it should. My leg muscles burned, and sweat trickled down my forehead.

"Seriously? Can't even stand properly?" Lysandra taunted. Her tone was severe, but I knew she was right.

As the training session progressed, my body began to feel the strain. Every movement was a reminder of how far I was from being a true fighter. But each time I felt I couldn't go on, Lysandra's determined gaze pushed me forward.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Lysandra signaled for me to stop.

"Alright, that's enough for today," she said, though her tone betrayed no hint of compassion. "You've got a lot to learn, but at least you're not a complete lost cause."

I dropped to the floor, panting from the exertion. "Thanks... for the lessons," I managed to say between breaths.

Arms crossed, Lysandra looked at me with a mix of approval and challenge. "Don't thank me yet. This is just the beginning. If you really want to improve, you'll have to work harder than you ever imagined."

I nodded, feeling a new determination welling up inside me. I knew the road ahead would be tough, but I was willing to face every challenge. With Lysandra as my teacher, I had no choice but to give my best.

"See you tomorrow, same time," she finally said, turning away and heading for the exit. "And remember, no late arrivals, spaghetti legs."

As I watched her leave, a tired smile spread across my face. I knew I was in good hands. Lysandra was strict and demanding, but she was also the best at what she did. With her guidance, I was confident I could improve and be ready for the challenges ahead.

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After leaving the gym, I began walking back to my room. Each step reminded me of the intensity of the training session. My legs trembled, and my arms were so sore that I had to lean on an improvised cane I found along the way. I must have looked like an old man who had just escaped from a retirement home.

"Maybe I should start looking for wheelchair deals," I muttered to myself, trying to laugh off my own misery.

It was then that I encountered Elara right outside the dormitories. She looked at me with surprise and concern.

"Cassian, are you alright?" she asked, her tone gentle yet alarmed.

"Yeah, yeah, just had a hellish training... session," I joked, trying not to sound too worn out.

"Training? I thought you were in the engineering department," Elara said, tilting her head.

"I am, but I want to learn to fight and be strong," I replied, trying not to sound too exhausted.

Elara studied me for a moment and then nodded. "I see you've gained some muscle. Not bad for someone who was just starting out."

"Thanks for the compliment," I said with a slight smile.

"Cassian, I see you've been putting in a lot of effort. Come here, let me help with those sore muscles," Elara offered.

"Thanks, Elara. I'm really beat," I replied, with no intention of turning down her help; my muscles were killing me, and considering how skilled Elara was, she would probably heal me almost entirely.

Tired and sore after a grueling day, I felt Elara's gentle hands on my shoulders. A warm sense of relief spread from where she touched me. I closed my eyes and let her healing magic flow through me, slowly dissipating the tension and pain in my fatigued muscles.

"Oh, that feels amazing," I whispered, as every fiber of my being seemed to rejuvenate under the comforting effect of her healing ability.

After a moment, the tension in my muscles completely melted away, leaving me with a renewed and light feeling. I opened my eyes to meet Elara's serene gaze, grateful for her help as I straightened up slowly.

"Thank you, Elara," I said with a sincere smile. "You're incredible at this."

She nodded with a gentle smile, withdrawing her hands delicately. "You're alright now, Cassian. But remember not to push yourself too hard next time."

"Well, no promises," I joked, wondering if Elara was kind to everyone. It was interesting how kindly she healed me, given that we had only spoken once, and it was a short conversation at that.

It would be great if Elara were always around to heal me. Oh, sure! But I guess this only happens once every thousand years.

"Cassian, I'm sorry I have to leave like this, but I have a few things to take care of," Elara said apologetically.

"Don't worry about it; I really appreciate you healing me," I replied sincerely.

"It's nothing. Well, good night, Cassian," Elara said with a soft smile as she walked away.

"Good night, Elara," I replied, watching her go. Then I headed to my room to shower, grab a bite to eat, and finally sleep. I'm sure I'll sleep like a rock tonight.

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Lysandra's POV

It had been five days since I started training Cassian. I was impressed by his progress, which was unusually rapid. Every time I taught him something, the first two or three times he would do it wrong, but by the fourth or fifth time, he would improve noticeably. He adapted to techniques with surprising speed.

One of the things that struck me the most was his reaction when he made mistakes or couldn't defend himself properly. Cassian would freeze momentarily, touching his chin and murmuring something to himself before trying again with renewed determination.

That afternoon, as we practiced a series of blocks and counterattacks, I noticed his peculiar learning pattern again. Cassian incorrectly blocked a simulated strike and momentarily froze, with a distant look in his eyes. He muttered a few inaudible words and then composed himself, correcting his stance and executing the block correctly on the next try.

I observed this several times throughout the week and began to wonder what it might signify. Was he reflecting on his mistakes? Or perhaps invoking some kind of internal focus that helped him learn faster?

I decided to address the matter after our training session. "Cassian, may I ask what you do when you stop and touch your chin after making a mistake?" I inquired as we packed up our gear.

Cassian paused thoughtfully for a moment before responding. "Ah, it's just an old habit of mine," he admitted with a slight smile. "It helps me focus better on what I need to improve, almost like visualizing how to do it right next time."

I nodded, intrigued by his method. Cassian not only welcomed corrections but also had a personal technique to enhance his learning. That night, as I reflected on our training, I realized I had underestimated Cassian. Not only was he talented, but he also possessed a discipline and mindset that constantly propelled him forward.

"Perhaps I've found someone interesting here," I murmured to myself, smiling faintly as I watched Cassian with renewed interest.