Trapped like an extra in a blatant cliche

"With every step on that unknown ground, his will burned like a beacon in the storm, defying the mystery and grandeur of a world where even the impossible seemed to bow before his presence." —Excerpt from Volume 1 of The Reborn Hero.

Brian Morningstar's Perspective

How exactly should he feel? Well, it was complicated to explain; the right words wouldn't come out. Before him stood a magnificent entrance, a double door wide open, adorned with brilliant engravings gleaming in the sunlight streaming through narrow windows. It was, yes, a simple entrance in a simple hallway that, ironically, he had already passed by twice before.

His expression dimmed as he realized his mistake. He had been walking in circles, lost, searching for a classroom, something called "Magical Arts," not some damn door labeled "Magical Reception." Damn it... frustration now felt too small a word for what he was feeling. He pushed his hair away from his face and let out a sigh, almost unconsciously. Just then, he noticed how the demon girl entered the place, confirming that this was indeed the right spot. And that only made him feel more stupid.

But… something didn't add up. Why was the girl just standing there without moving? Wasn't she taking too long? It had been almost two minutes, he thought. If this kept up, he would be late. Suddenly, with a mix of resignation and resolve, he decided to step into the personal domain of the devil in the shape of a girl.

The result? Well, he got caught like unsuspecting prey. He had barely taken a couple of steps when suddenly he felt a hand grasp his before he could react. He thought he heard the girl say something, but the next moment erased it from his mind, as she pulled him so violently it nearly wrenched his arm off, forcing him to walk behind her to avoid losing it. Yes, what a great idea he had had; and what on earth was going on with this place and its absurdly strong women?

But… something began to unsettle him. What was this feeling? What were these emotions that didn't feel like his own? His wrist itched, and his palate sensed an unknown taste, sour and sad. Soon, his eyes widened in surprise. His surroundings faded into the background; everything was reduced to a single figure, and his feet moved as if on autopilot.

Emma... Wasn't that the name of that girl? Suddenly, he understood; those feelings weren't his. It was she who was transmitting them, that deep pain, that corrosive guilt, and a horrifying self-hatred directed at herself. Somehow, supernaturally, he knew without a doubt he wasn't mistaken.

His confusion deepened when a sharp pain invaded his hand. He felt the demon girl's grip nearly crush his bones. Seriously…? She wouldn't break it, would she? He wondered, concerned. Fortunately, the pain disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and he felt immensely relieved. He raised his hand to soothe his aching limb, grateful it hadn't been broken.

"Sit," he heard the girl with chestnut hair say, her voice sharp and commanding, causing a brief tension in his back. Not wanting to start an unnecessary conflict, he obeyed immediately, seeking to calm his mind.

When he finally took in his surroundings, he found himself in a room that, to his surprise, was titanic, something that couldn't be perceived from the outside. The walls seemed to expand beyond what logic dictated, and on the ceiling, small blue stones floated as if trying to imitate Hogwarts' floating candles.

The arrangement of the place reminded him of a boxing ring surrounded by spectators, or perhaps a soccer stadium. Confusion swept over him again; how was it possible he hadn't heard the noise from outside? Not even when he'd been at the entrance just moments before. And how had they gotten front-row seats? The place was already packed with lively students, so how? Questions piled up in his head, but he decided to stifle them with a long sigh.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that girl, Emma. It seemed she was looking at him with what he thought were blank eyes, though he couldn't be sure, as her expressions were as flat as a wall. That girl with wavy chestnut hair was somehow important to this body. He knew it, he felt it every time she was near. His palms grew sweaty, his stomach churned, and the discomfort of looking directly into her eyes for too long was evident.

But there was something more. Something he had noticed in her when their hands intertwined, something that made him see her in a new light. He reflected on it, meditative, thinking long and hard, though he could only come to a hasty conclusion that made him give a small, wry smile; after all, she was human too, wasn't she?

Yes, everyone was messed up in their own way. He had made the mistake of judging a book by its cover, but admitting that mistake was difficult, especially when the other person was so... well, so unique in her way.

At least he no longer felt bold enough to call her a demon girl; that kid already had enough with her internal suffering, a pain she didn't let show on the outside, but which he could read like an open book thanks to that brief moment he had felt it.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted when something worthy of attention began. In true Beyoncé style, many things happened in a short time. Pink smoke, stellar fluorescence, and black roses appeared out of nowhere, as if by magic. He felt a bit foolish at that slip-up, of course… that existed here; it was just that the awe he experienced made him forget it for just a second.

He glanced at Emma again, who now seemed to have seen a ghost or a corpse, something that unsettled him. He had gotten used to her indifference or subtly disguised expressions of hatred, not to what he saw now.

Well, whatever… Maybe he shouldn't try to avoid her? Troubled, he thought about it, as noticing those corrosive feelings made it impossible for him to ignore the elephant in the room. He couldn't ignore it anymore; at least, he felt he owed it to the original inhabitant of this body, whom he had so blatantly taken over by some cosmic method.

Plans formed in his head, plans that disappeared as quickly as they appeared when something from his most foolish dreams came into view. His eyes opened in disbelief, cold sweat broke out, and his body tensed to the point of collapse. What was this nonsense before him? He thought as he blinked repeatedly, trying to shake off the fatigue. No, seriously, what was this nonsense he was seeing?

Right, someone had better explain it to him. What kind of ridiculous joke was this? He asked himself, his mind practically on fire. Reality... what exactly was it? What was possible and what wasn't? No, he was sure this couldn't be, it couldn't, it shouldn't, and it wasn't.

In front of him, in the middle of that hexagon, a beautiful, recognizable woman appeared. And don't ask him how he knew her; if you did, he'd just say the internet was to blame for tempting him. Carmele Vermi something... His mind quickly retrieved the memory. No, seriously, what the hell was going on?

He ran a hand over his face, trying to contain his disbelief. That woman wasn't supposed to exist, at least not in flesh and blood. She was merely a fictional character, a creation of some author whose name he didn't know and whom he'd only seen a few times while browsing... well, better skip that part.

Subtly, his mind took him back to those last days of high school, where the tedious routine pushed him to look for anything that could distract him. It was during one of those days of extreme boredom that he came across something he initially found appealing to read. "Maybe this will be interesting," he'd said to himself at such an eye-catching title, convinced that reading could be his escape from indifference toward school monotony. But the reality was different.

What promised to be a stimulating work turned out to be a pile of garbage. He couldn't get past the first chapters. Every page felt like a crude copy of other works, repeating worn-out formulas, simple narratives, and forced dialogues. "What the hell is this nonsense?" he wondered in frustration, closing the page immediately, disappointed by the poor experience. That story, which had promised so much with its unique cover, was nothing more than a poorly crafted collage of clichés.

Years passed, and what he had tossed aside as a bad memory reappeared in his life, this time in a new format; a shonen manga called Leplace. At the time, it was just a name he recognized upon seeing the same titles, one that made him think, "Look, that trash is still alive," and carry on with his life.

However, curiosity, that treacherous companion, pushed him to read the first few chapters of the manga, perhaps hoping the story had improved over time. But the result was even worse than the first time. Not only did it continue as a piece stretched to the ridiculous, but now the plagiarism of other works was so blatant it almost insulted the reader.

He wondered why on earth he had decided to give a second chance to something he had already dismissed as trash. Perhaps it was due to the constant praise it received online, hailed as "the new shonen of the generation." But no, to him, it remained a disaster in disguise, overshadowed by its success.

That had been his experience with Leplace. Later on, the internet did what it does best; flooded the networks with that manga, especially... with the new game based on its story. One day, while browsing out of boredom, he came across a certain character, a woman who… well, that could be left aside, it wasn't important. What mattered was that, for him, that story had been forgotten, buried in the deepest recesses of his memory. He didn't remember the characters, the plots, not even the narrative context.

So, who would have thought...? No, he shook his head; he wasn't going to finish that sentence. He wasn't going to become one of those crazies who believe in such absurd theories, in utterly unrealistic possibilities. And seriously, where were the cameras? Because this joke was no longer funny.

Something settled onto his lap, something that somehow connected to his being and took a piece of his energy, but honestly, he didn't care in the slightest. In his critical state, his mind had collapsed as a defense mechanism, a way to shield himself from the madness threatening to take over him.

"Calm down," he thought. The woman he had seen could just be a cosplayer, right? Yes, that was far more plausible than the madness his mind was beginning to weave. But... in front of a giant crystal ball announcing the full name of that figure, his logic no longer felt so solid.

Minutes passed, and his condition did not improve. He remained motionless, trapped in his own mental abyss, while the voices and cries of excitement heard in the room failed to penetrate his ears. Everything stayed this way until a calloused hand touched his own. "Are you okay?" a recognizable voice asked, though lacking its usual sharpness. Her brown eyes looked at him, not with anger this time, but with a sort of genuine concern.

That simple question was what he needed, an anchor that brought him back to reality. The sensation of human contact, the certainty that he wasn't dreaming, pulled him out of his trance. He looked at the demon girl... no, at Emma, and could only nod. His lips were sealed, unable to form words. To avoid more questions, he diverted his gaze to his lap, where a dull piece of paper rested.

The paper's content was simple, almost childlike in its presentation. He saw names, yes, two names... his and that of this body, along with their ages, attributes, and finally, his Trait. It almost seemed like something from a poorly designed RPG.

"As you may have noticed, there's a section on your papers related to your mana affinity," a melodious, almost flirtatious voice expressed, and for the first time, it reached his ears. "Oh... and you may keep them; after all, they'll be very useful as didactic material for your upcoming classes," explained Carmele, the Sun Mage, with her beautiful smile that enchanted many.

"Now, since time is gold, let's proceed with the remaining students, the top 102 scorers," added the woman with beautiful eyes as she snapped her fingers. Before her, a hat he hadn't noticed, one very similar to those seen in certain movies about a bespectacled wizard, began to speak. The folds in its fabric formed the attempt of a face, no, in fact, it was a face, he noticed almost at the last moment.

"Alright, brats, I want this to be quick and without complications," the hat shouted, with an audacity that shook everyone. It floated through the air, approaching the students' faces closely with an authoritative attitude. "Got it?" it added, raising a nonexistent eyebrow with an expression of disdain.

The students stared at it in astonishment, including him, watching a rather audacious piece of attire. Coming from a logical world, he found it hard to process what was happening before his eyes. Suddenly, the hat shouted a name with such force that some students jumped from their seats in surprise. "Merelin Bones, come up to the stage!" it commanded, floating above the enormous crystal sphere as if it owned it.

Its wrinkles, resembling eyes, scanned the crowd. Seeing the girl delay, it decided to speed things up. The mana fluctuated, the environment reverberated for a second, and a current of air swept through the room, the same current that grabbed the named student, who wore a dumbfounded expression as she sat among her friends.

"Much better," declared the audacious hat, while Carmele positioned herself strategically near where she knew the girl would land. Her hand rose elegantly, attempting to hide the smile tugging at her lips, entertained by the eccentricities of that old enchanted hat, possessed by an ancient wind spirit.

Young Merelin was dragged forward with a speed that left her stunned. In mere seconds, the hat tossed her to the edge of the hexagon where Carmele awaited her. The student rolled on the floor, pushed mercilessly by the playful gusts of air. Laughter, though soft, began to echo in the stands, mingling with some spectators' surprised murmurs.

Merelin stood up as best as she could, her head spinning, but it was the Sun Mage's steady hand that helped her regain balance. Carmele's smile, a mix of indulgence and amusement, remained firm as she said, "Apologies for that, he sometimes likes to play with the newcomers." The words, despite their gentle tone, carried a weight of authority. With a quick gesture, Carmele helped the young girl onto the hexagon.

"Now, if you can," said the Sun Mage, taking a step back to allow Merelin to take center stage. The girl moved forward timidly, her movements uncertain and her guard up in an attempt to protect herself. That hesitation didn't go unnoticed by the hat, whose mischievous spirit formed a grin of pure mischief.

Without warning, the hat let out a powerful shout that startled the girl, like a frightened cat. That made the old spirit laugh heartily and drew a sigh of resignation from the Red Mage.

"Please forgive him," she said with a slight ironic smile. "He's senile and doesn't know what he's doing." Merelin, with cheeks flushed with embarrassment, nodded slightly and carefully extended her hand toward the crystal sphere resting at the hexagon's center.

The sphere, an alchemical artifact of great complexity crafted by the Sun Mage, began to glow faintly as she touched it, revealing magical symbols dancing on its surface. However, the glow wasn't as intense as when Carmele had touched it moments before, but it was stronger than the bits of paper presented.

"Merelin Bones, prana affinity: 37%," announced a metallic, emotionless voice that emerged from the sphere.

Murmurs of amazement arose, surprise spread through the room. The chatter in the stands grew louder, speculations slipped in low voices as some students who had previously mocked Merelin now displayed a mix of awe and newfound respect.

Afterwards, the hat somehow spat out a piece of paper from its mouth, formed from the wrinkles in the old, weathered leather. This paper, identical to that of the other students, hit the young girl's face, and then that same magical breeze from before gently carried her back to her seat, to the amazement of all the spectators.

"The next," announced the old spirit loudly, startling several of those present. Thus, the evaluation process continued smoothly, and in less than an hour, the freshman class was nearing the completion of their tests, with only the high ranks left to evaluate.

"Emma Tarkard," shouted the hat, its voice resonating with a note of insolence.

The name triggered a wave of speculative whispers among the students, and quite a few turned to look at the mentioned young girl. Emma remained impassive, her face unchanging amid the rumors surrounding her. "Let's see how the Ice Queen does," some whispered with a mix of curiosity and malice.

She resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at the nickname. She didn't understand why they called her that; she wasn't even able to manipulate ice. "What nonsense," she thought as she stood up, determined. And before the surge of magical energy could reach her, Emma made a decision. Without thinking, she leapt over the railing that protected her from a fall.

Her hand gripped the metal, and her body swung over it with impeccable precision, moving with supernatural agility. Her feet touched the cold stone tiles with calculated softness, bending her knees slightly to cushion the impact—unnecessary, but something she used to her advantage to brace herself. In a quick sprint, she vanished from sight, reappearing near the hexagon in the blink of an eye.

For many present, that display of skill was incredible, for to most, she was a blur who had appeared in the center of the room. For a few, that small group of talented students, it was an impressive show of pure speed.

The young girl with chestnut hair inclined her head slightly toward the Sun Mage, who responded with a mischievous smile and gestured for her to continue. "I already like you, don't disappoint me," said the wind spirit, letting out a laugh that echoed like a distant storm.

And amid the collective shock, amid gasps of amazement, Emma, without hesitation, placed her hand on the crystal sphere.

"Emma Tarkard, prana affinity: 72%," the sphere announced. And the affinity level echoed through the hall like thunder. The murmurs turned into hushed cries of astonishment. "What the hell? That's 10 points higher than the last one!" The whispers multiplied, and even the proudest nobles displayed surprise on their faces as they looked upon her, someone they had deemed inferior.

The hat laughed audaciously, while Carmele's smile widened. Her amber eyes sparkled, full of a mix of happiness and a disturbing suspicion. Something big was coming; fate was in motion, preparing something grand for the near future. So much talent, gathered in a single generation, did not bode well. Yes, talent, always balanced with chaos, never came alone—that was an unbreakable law since ancient times.

The old hat, with audacity, spat out another one of those papers. It flew faster than any of the others, but that didn't bother Emma, who effortlessly caught it in her hand. Although... that wasn't all the crafty spirit had planned, because immediately afterward, a pressure concentrated within that hexagon.

That intense pressure was air—Emma noticed. Her eyes widened slightly as she sensed the fluctuation of dense mana, and before she could react, she was struck by that very pressure, powerful enough to have crushed a normal person, leaving them as nothing more than a smudge somewhere.

She couldn't react to the initial attack; that's why she was sent flying at an impressive speed, and if she didn't stop, she would crash into the wall. That much was obvious with such a forceful attack. So, when her senses caught up, Emma employed her Trait, using her threads to maneuver in the air.

Nearly invisible threads emerged, adjusting her trajectory. With elegance, she moved through the air, and with inhuman dexterity, she landed on the metal railing in a crouched position, ready for the next assault. Her cold, fierce gaze scanned her surroundings, which was all most students could process, as everything had happened so fast that it was hard to discern exactly what had occurred.

The hat burst into laughter. "Yes, kid, you've got my approval," it said with a brazenness that hardened the girl's gaze even further. With that, the unusual display ended, and hearing the commotion it had caused, Emma could only sigh and calmly returned to her seat, paper in hand.

She wasted no time reading it, but first, she cast a quick glance at Thalion, who had watched it all from the beginning, looking somewhat impressed. His curiosity was evident, and Emma couldn't help but feel a slight satisfaction.

Her eyes settled on the paper, on the information it contained, and to her surprise, she quickly noticed how different it was from that fool's who was seated beside her.

Name: Emma Tarkard

Age: 12 years

Attributes:

♜ Vitality: 61.5

♜ Physical Resistance: 42.9

♜ Prana Resistance: 2.2

♜ Strength: 36.4

♜ Speed: 24.7

♜ Agility: 19.2

♜ Prana Production: 8.4

♜ Prana Affinity: 72%

Traits:

♜ Thread Manifestation

Type: Active

Trait Strength: 82.2

It was more... simple, she thought, intrigued. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at that fool with the unique hair, who had an expression of having reached some conclusion, as if he'd had a divine revelation.

Why was it so different? she wondered with curiosity. After all, Brián's paper showed far more than hers, which gave her a slight mental tickle.