My Free Will System: Transmigrating Into My Favorite Immersion Game

Elias rode through the gates of the second district, the air filled with the familiar scent of iron, dust, and sweat as he approached Lord Varric's stronghold. The training grounds were as busy as ever, soldiers running drills and sparring in pairs.

Elias hadn't seen Lord Varric in some time, and he was curious to catch up with the man, especially after hearing rumors that Varric had been more active in the district's military affairs as of late.

As he entered the training yard, Elias immediately spotted Lord Varric, standing tall with his arms crossed, overseeing a group of soldiers who were sparring intensely. The clang of steel rang out across the yard, punctuated by the occasional grunt of exertion or the dull thud of a shield absorbing a blow.

"Lord Varric!" Elias called, approaching the towering man.

Varric turned, his face lighting up with recognition and a grin. "Elias Ashdown! It's been too long, my friend." He stepped forward and clasped Elias' arm in a firm greeting.

"Indeed it has," Elias replied. "I see you're keeping busy with your soldiers."

Varric nodded, casting a glance over at the men sparring in front of him. "Just making sure they stay sharp. Eldoria's been peaceful for a while now, and peace breeds complacency. Can't afford to let these men go soft, not with the constant threat of demons still lurking in the shadows."

Elias watched the soldiers closely, noting their movements and how they adjusted to each other's attacks. "That makes sense. Keeping them on their toes, I see."

Varric chuckled. "Exactly. You never know when things might take a turn. Better to be prepared than caught unawares."

As they continued to observe, one soldier in particular caught Elias' attention. He stood out not just for his skill but for his arrogance. He bested opponent after opponent with ease, his swordsmanship clearly beyond that of the others. Each time he won, he laughed in their faces, mocking them openly.

"Who's that?" Elias asked, raising an eyebrow.

Varric followed his gaze and sighed. "That's Morder. Annoying as he may be, the man's got skill. Sometimes it's better to let him mock the others. It'll harden them, teach them not to take things so personally. On the battlefield, getting mocked by your enemy is the least of your worries."

Elias frowned. "I get that it builds character, but there's a line, Varric. You don't want someone like him creating resentment among your ranks."

Varric smirked as if reading Elias' mind. "If you're so concerned about Morder, maybe you should teach him a lesson yourself."

Elias grinned but shook his head. "That wouldn't be fair to him."

Before either of them could say anything else, a soldier came flying toward them, his body flung by the force of a strike. Elias and Varric quickly shifted, dodging the flailing body as it landed in the dirt behind them with a grunt.

Morder, still standing in the sparring ring, had clearly overheard Elias' comment. His eyes locked onto Elias, and he pointed his sword at him, a cocky smile on his face. "You think you can do better, chosen child? I challenge you to a sparring match—just weapons, no magic, no mage craft."

Elias raised a brow and glanced at Varric. The lord simply shrugged. "It's a challenge, Elias. You can accept or decline. Your call."

Elias looked back at Morder, who stood in the center of the ring, his chest puffed out, exuding arrogance. He smiled softly, shaking his head. "What kind of man would I be if I turned down a challenge like that?"

Varric's hearty laugh echoed through the training yard. "That's the spirit!"

Elias stepped into the sparring area, the sound of his boots crunching against the packed dirt drawing the attention of the other soldiers. As he got closer, he realized just how imposing Morder was. The man was tall, well-built, with muscles that looked like they had been forged in the fires of countless battles.

He wasn't bulky, but he had the kind of strength that came from practical experience, not just brute force.

Morder held a longsword in one hand, its edge dulled for practice, and a small shield in the other. His stance was confident, even relaxed, as if he was certain of the outcome.

"I saw your matches with the mages," Morder said, his voice carrying across the training yard. "You're strong, I'll admit and if this wasn't limited to weapons and if my life weren't at risk, I'd have never accepted the match."

Elias tilted his head, a playful gleam in his eye. "Who says your life isn't at risk?"

Morder visibly shivered at the weight of Elias' words. There was an intensity in Elias' gaze, a presence that suggested he was much more than what he seemed. For a moment, the cocky soldier faltered, but he quickly regained his composure and raised his sword.

"Enough talk. Let's fight," Morder said, assuming his fighting stance with full concentration. "Bring out your weapon."

Elias looked down at his empty hands and then back at Morder. "As I said earlier, it wouldn't be fair to use a weapon against you."

A murmur spread through the crowd of soldiers who had gathered to watch. The idea that Elias, unarmed, would take on Morder, who was considered one of the best swordsmen in the district, was met with skepticism.

Varric folded his arms and smirked. "This is getting interesting."

Morder's confidence flared up again at Elias' words. "Your arrogance will be your downfall, child of light."

Elias' eyes narrowed, and his voice became sharper, though still calm. "You're one to talk about arrogance. The fact that you challenged me in the first place shows how much you overestimate yourself."

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Morder's face twisted in anger, and with a roar, he charged at Elias, his sword slicing through the air in a blur. Elias didn't flinch, his eyes calmly tracking Morder's movements. As Morder's blade came down toward his head, Elias shifted to the side with incredible speed, narrowly avoiding the strike.

Morder pressed on, swinging his sword with a flurry of powerful strikes. Each time, Elias dodged with an effortless grace, his movements were fluid and precise. It became clear to the spectators that Elias wasn't merely avoiding Morder—he was studying him, reading his patterns, understanding the rhythm of his attacks.

Frustration mounted in Morder as he continued to swing wildly, each strike grew more aggressive and less controlled. "Stop dodging and fight me!" he bellowed.

Elias gave a small, almost bored smile. "If you can't even touch me, what makes you think you can win?"

With a grunt of frustration, Morder lunged forward, aiming to land a decisive blow. But Elias, faster than the eye could follow, sidestepped the attack and delivered a sharp blow with his palm to Morder's chest. The force of the impact sent Morder stumbling backward, gasping for breath.

"You rely too much on brute strength," Elias said calmly. "In a real fight, you'd be dead by now."

Morder growled and charged again, but this time Elias stepped into his attack, catching Morder's sword arm with his bare hand. With a twist of his wrist, Elias disarmed Morder, sending the dulled blade clattering to the ground.

The yard went silent. Morder stared in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape.

"You're skilled," Elias said, his voice calm and measured. "But you lack discipline. You let your arrogance blind you."

Morder fell to his knees, his hands trembling. "I… I yield."

Elias stepped back, giving the man space, and turned to Varric. "I think that's enough for today."

Varric nodded, impressed. "Seems like someone learned a valuable lesson today."

Elias gave a slight smile, turning his gaze back to Morder, who still knelt on the ground. "Let this be a lesson not just to him, but to all of you," he said, addressing the watching soldiers. "Strength without control is just chaos."

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