Extra Pages: The Author's Odyssey

Alaric was strong at least little bit stronger then Nero.

Lucas exchange few blows but to his disappointment he was the same as rest of them.

So Lucas quickly finish the match and was standing on the colusime ground.

Meanwhile, Lucas felt something strange was going on Spector area.

The same went for the Battleground Challenger, they were staring at Lucas with strange expression on their faces.

the human spectators in the amphitheater. Many had changed seats to get closer to him.

'What's the matter with all these people? Did I go overboard and move too fast?'

But no, he had measured his dash to not appear too powerful. Maybe they just liked the spectacle? Lucas was, indeed, giving them a good show. Not that doing so was his intention...

'Anyway… why is no one challenging me? Stop wasting my time, people! I'm on a tight schedule!'

Indeed, no one in the small crowd of Awakened that had been waiting for their turn to fight him seemed willing to step forward now. Lucas stared at them in boredom for a few minutes, trying to understand what was going on. They had been very eager just a few moments ago, no?

Then, someone finally walked toward him, unsheathing a formidable-looking sword.

The guy was wearing plate armor, with an intricate engraving of a castle and four dragons decorating its polished surface. He looked strong, noble, and experienced.

'You. Must. Be. Kidding me!'

The same style… he was obviously practicing the same damn style!

As Luckas eyes narrowed, the voice of the Ai announced:

"Daoist Lexer has challenged Darkheart!"

Before the guy in plate armor could even attack, Lucas unceremoniously bashed him in the face with the pommel of the Sin Of Sword , swiped his foot, and then viciously thrust the tip of the great sword into the narrow crack of his visor.

As blood flowed from the steel helmet, the voice of the Battelground thundered once again:

"Darkheart has won!"

The faces in the crowd grew a bit pale.

''What the hell is wrong with these people?! Is there no one here who can give me a proper fight?'

Lucas stood amidst the bloodied sand of the coliseum, frustration gnawing at him. He had come to test his skills, to find worthy opponents, and instead, he was met with a parade of mediocrity.

His latest challenger, Daoist Laxer, had barely put up a fight. The crowd's reaction, a mix of awe and fear, was beginning to make him uneasy. They were looking at him as if he were some kind of monster.

He cleaned the Sin Of Sword with a swift flourish and sheathed it. The spectators in the stands had moved closer, whispering and pointing. The other duelists, too, were hesitant, their eagerness replaced by a wary caution.

'Maybe I've overdone it. But they keep coming at me with the same style... it's boring.'

As Lucas scanned the arena, he noticed a few familiar faces among the crowd—Nero's friends, Daoist Laxer and the Looser. They were both watching him intently, their expressions unreadable.

'Great, more of the same. Just what I needed.'

Just as he was about to leave the arena in search of a more challenging opponent elsewhere, a voice echoed through the coliseum.

"Impressive. Very impressive."

Lucas turned to see a figure stepping forward. It was the Looser, his grey silken robe fluttering slightly in the wind. Unlike the others, his eyes held a calm, analytical gaze, as if he were assessing Lucas, measuring his worth.

The crowd hushed, sensing the tension in the air.

The Looser drew out his duel saber, and took a stance. "I am not here to challenge you out of pride or ego. I simply wish to see your true potential."

Lucas raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You think you can do better than the others?"

The Looser's expression didn't change. "I believe we both seek the same thing—a worthy opponent."

The voice of the Battleground announced, "The Looser has challenged Darkheart!"

* * *

Lucas let out a low growl and dashed forward.

The Looser turned out to be more nimble and aware than the last two fighters. He managed to sidestep the attack… sadly, it had turned out to be just a feint. Before he could correct his footing, the Sin Of Sword pierced his chest and exited from his back.

Lucas tore the great sword out of the enemy's body and stepped back in frustration.

The man in the grey silken robe swayed and stared at the growing red patch on his silk garment. Looking up at Lucas, he silently gave him a thumbs up, then collapsed to the sand in a rain of sparks.

"Darkheart has won!"

'Curse it all! Do I need to go to a professional arena to find a proper opponent?!'

These people were not, exactly, bad fighters… the three last ones especially… but why on earth were all of them so similar to each other?

Lucas looked around and noticed that the Colosseum was deathly silent. Everyone was staring at him with strange expressions.

'Wait… don't tell me…'

He scowled behind the mask, a terrible suspicion entering his mind.

''Is… is this whole arena meant for amateurs practicing the same style?'

Lucas's scowl deepened behind his mask as he tried to make sense of the situation. He had hoped to find a variety of fighting styles, to test himself against diverse opponents. But it seemed that everyone here was following the same predictable patterns.

He looked around the Colosseum, the silent crowd, the hesitant challengers. The anticipation he had felt at the start of the day had long since turned into frustration.

'If this place is just for amateurs and basic practitioners, no wonder I haven't been challenged. I need to find a more advanced arena.'

Before he could turn to leave, a new voice echoed through the coliseum, breaking the uneasy silence.

"Impressive display, Darkheart."

Lucas turned to see a figure emerging from the shadows at the edge of the arena. It was none other than Nero himself.

Slowly, Nero walked towards Lucas and stood in front of him.

"Darkheart, my friend... if you don't mind me asking… what are you even doing here, in this amateur arena?"

Lucas rolled his eyes behind the mask. The answer was really simple: he was here to test his strength. But he couldn't say that, of course. He was also too frustrated to come up with a creative lie.

Staring at the young man, he allowed the Sin Of Sword to disappear and placed it in his AI bracelet, then said somberly:

"I am here to see how weak people are here."

Nero blinked a couple of times, then shifted his weight slightly, clearly intending to unsheath his sword.

'Enough of this!'

With an irritated huff, Lucas commanded the Battleground to eject him from the arena and disappeared from the Colosseum in a shower of white sparks.

---

Back in the real world, Lucas pulled off his VR headset and rubbed his eyes, the frustration of the day lingering. He had expected more from the Battleground, but it seemed he had chosen the wrong arena.

'I need to find a place where the real fighters are,' he thought, determined to seek out a true challenge next time. 'Somewhere with opponents who won't disappoint me.'

As he stretched and prepared to start his day, a notification pinged on his AI bracelet. Curious, he glanced at the message. It was from Yato, his master.

'Looks like I shouldn't think of stronger opponent.'

Lucas thought with bitter smile on his face.

After all who is stronger than Yato?

Lucas another beating session was about began.

The message was brief, but it sent a chill down his spine.

"Training. Now."

Lucas sighed and got to his feet. There was no avoiding it; when Yato summoned him, it meant there was no room for hesitation or delay. His master's training sessions were brutal, designed to break and rebuild him stronger every time.

As he made his way to the training grounds, Lucas couldn't help but reflect on the contrast between the virtual arena and the real-life training under Yato.

In the Battleground, he had been a dominant force, cutting down opponent after opponent with ease. But under Yato's watchful eye, he was constantly reminded of how much he still had to learn, how much stronger he could become.

He arrived at the secluded training grounds, where Yato was already waiting. The older man stood with his arms crossed, his gaze piercing and unforgiving.

"You're late," Yato said flatly.

Lucas bowed slightly, a gesture of respect. "Apologies, Master."

Yato uncrossed his arms and motioned for Lucas to step forward. "Show me what you've learned."

Lucas took a deep breath and drew his practice sword, mentally preparing himself for what was to come.

Training with Yato was nothing like the battles in the VR arena. It was a relentless, grueling experience that pushed him to his limits and beyond.

For the next few hours, Lucas endured a series of intense drills and sparring sessions, each one designed to test his skill, endurance, and mental fortitude.

Yato's movements were swift and precise, each strike and counter delivered with lethal efficiency.

Despite the exhaustion, Lucas felt a sense of purpose and clarity.

This was what he had been searching for—a true challenge, a test of his abilities against an opponent who could push him to his limits.

As the training session drew to a close, Yato finally stepped back, nodding in approval. "You've improved, but there's still much to learn."

Lucas, drenched in sweat and panting for breath, managed a nod. "Thank you, Master."

Yato's expression softened slightly, a rare sign of acknowledgment. "Rest for now. We'll continue tomorrow."

Lucas sheathed his practice sword and bowed deeply. "Yes, Master."

As he walked away from the training grounds, he felt a renewed sense of determination. The frustration of the Battleground had faded, replaced by the knowledge that true strength came from real challenges and relentless training.

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