Online In Another World

In this world, there are those that are fortunate and those who are not. Ethan Bellrose is neither; he is cursed. At nineteen, he has lived his entire life sheltered in his home as his fragile body blisters under sunlight, breaks under the slightest impact, and falls to any sickness. However, the arrival of a world-changing digital service catches the hopeless young man’s eye: “Reincarnation Online”--a virtual reality experience that gives a new fantastical life to those who are unfulfilled with their current path. For Ethan Bellrose, the choice is simple. Without hesitation, he orders the virtual reality headgear, choosing to abandon his current life and live forevermore in the world of fantasy, magic, and endless adventure–”Arcadius.” Though what he finds is a world not full of leisure and trivial triumph, but a world just as alive and full of darkness, glory, and grandeur as Earth–if not greater. Starting from square one as an infant, given a new name and family, this is the eventful life, full of dreadful lows and exhilarating highs, of “Emilio Dragonheart.” [...Booting System…] [Welcome to Reincarnation Online.] [You will henceforth by the recipient of the Dragonheart System.] [Please, enjoy your stay.]

DelzGB · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
485 Chs

VERSUS: Veldalla!

"Pick up your sword. Let's try this again," Veldalla instructed.

Though the last thing he wanted to do was go for another round with the woman who certainly didn't treat him as though he were a child, he begrudgingly lifted the training weapon, knowing it was his one line of defense.

Again and again, he felt it impossible to keep up with Veldalla, who had the speed of a bullet and the aggression of a bull.

Even defending against her strikes by holding the sword up still caused him to feel the strength of the blow echo through his bones.

"Come on. Move your feet! Footwork is just as important as knowing how to swing that sword!" Veldalla instructed.

Cling. Klang. Cling.

Sparks flew as the two steel-forged weapons clashed; he was forced to press his boots into the soil below just to stay somewhat steady, even as Veldalla opted to strike casually with only one hand wielding her sword.

…I can't do anything! She's too strong…! He thought.


He breathed heavily, falling to a knee as he was left exhausted from the first batch of lessons from the red-haired woman.

It went exactly the same way over the course of the first week of instruction.

Each day, he was battered by the dull sword, experiencing the first fits of pain in this new life as he slept with welts.

For better or worse, he also shared his room with her.

"Ow, ow, ow…!" He winced.

"Hold still, silly," Treyna smiled after touching one of the welts on his stomach.

He quieted down, nodding as he watched his mother place her palm against his forehead with a verdant light gently manifesting.

"Hear me spirit of healing. Gentle is your way, and through all of time, your blessings have graced us with utmost kindness; grace us once more: Healing."

The warm light settled the bruises and welts on his body, bringing him back to one-hundred-percent.

Before he went outside for his daily lessons with Veldalla, Treyna stopped him with a slight hold on his shirt.


"I know you prefer studying magic, but please, try and give it your all here, too. Julius…really has high hopes for you, and I do, too. You don't have to be as good with the sword as with spells, but both can certainly be helpful," Treyna told him with a smile.

He stopped for a moment before smiling and nodding softly, "I will."

As he met Veldalla outside, who was staying with him over the course of the six month course, he held a resolved smile, pointing right at the red-haired woman.

["Veldalla is higher renowned than Father. Though Father just tells me they used to be in the same adventurer party, I learned the truth: it was Veldalla that thought him proper swordplay. Apparently...she was the same age as she is now when Father learned from her. I guess that's a perk of being part demon."]

"Let's make a bet," he said.

"Oh? Name it," Veldalla smirked.

"If I land a direct hit on you, you have to stop snoring at night!" He proclaimed out loud with utmost vigor.

Even for the toned, battle-hardened woman who had a scar stretching from over her left eye down to her cheek, she looked surprised by the nature of the bet before laughing straight from her gut.

"--Is that a no?" He mumbled.

"Sure, kid! I accept your challenge!" Veldalla grinned.

The deal was set.

For the man who had undergone reincarnation into his new, young self, this bet was the perfect motivation for himself.

It was certainly a non-standard prize waiting on the other side if he accomplished his end of the bet. Half the reason he wound up being hit was that he was left too tired from a lack of sleep, kept up at night by the woman's boorish snoring.

Waiting beyond this blade…is paradise! He thought.

Pointing his blade forward, his sight was aimed on Veldalla, as if making his declaration of war to reclaim his own sleep.

But, that would be a mistake.

As they begun their sparring again, this time he put to practice what he had been theorizing about the previous night–

"--!" Veldalla looked forward in surprise.

Using a burst of wind magic at his heels, he propelled himself forward with a swift dash, immediately clashing blades with her.

The confidence he now had with the bet on the table had dulled his fear of being hit, and not only that, experiencing the pain from being smacked by it so many times had made things easier for him now.

Cling. Klang. Cling.

Veldalla clashed blades with him, still handicapping herself by using one hand and hardly looking to be exerting herself, but it was still an arduous task ahead of him that he gave his all to.

…This kid. He's seamlessly combining his magic with his swordplay? Veldalla thought.

He honed in, holding the sword with two hands as Veldalla seemed to take notice of the stance he used. Meeting him in a clash, he watched as the elite swordsman reared her blade back with one hand.

She'll fall for it. This entire time, I've only used magic when guiding it with my hand. But, that's not necessary! He thought.

As he focused only on swinging the dull blade forward with all of his might, he stomped his boot down into the soil while the natural winds of the luscious valley spectated the bout.

Just as Veldalla swung her weapon downward–


A blast of wind came in, directly knocking against the red-haired woman's weapon and knocking it back.

"--?!" Veldalla looked in on surprise with her amber eyes.

Normally, nothing short of a tornado can stop her. But, when you don't expect an attack, anything can take you! He thought.

With his instructor left completely open, there was nothing left but to tie the knot on his strategic victory:

The dull end of his sword finally did it; it smacked against Veldalla's abdomen.

I did it! He thought.

It was much more anticlimactic than he had imagined; Veldalla didn't even budge from the strike, but she did come to a full-stop.

Well, can't expect much from the body of an eleven-year-old, he thought with a sigh.

The scarred, but beautiful, rowdy woman looked at him for a moment.

In place of surprise, Veldalla's expression instead turned to a fierce smile as she slapped the spot where she was hit, laughing out to the azure skies above.

"Nicely done, kid!" Veldalla smiled wide, smacking her stomach again, which didn't even show any signs of being hit.

"Ehe," he bashfully ruffled his own mix-colored locks.

"Julius wasn't kidding with that letter he sent. You're a natural. While your skill with the sword itself is still lacking in some areas…You definitely have a mind for combat," Veldalla told him.

It was something he didn't expect, but the rough, battle-loving woman properly gave him an evaluation.

"You were able to make use of your surroundings, and even lure me into a trap you set throughout our training. How exciting…" Veldalla looked at him as if a moment from drooling, "Hey, kid, have you ever thought about becoming an adventurer?"

"Huh? I haven't really thought about anything like that…Why?" He asked.

Veldalla slapped him on the back a few times with her usual, boisterous laughter, "It'd fit you well! You'd shoot up the ranks, especially with me by your side!"

"Oh, really?..." He laughed, not really knowing what to say.

"Anyway, we can leave that for another time–If I snore at night, just give me a whack."

"Wha--?!" Emilio blurted out.

Veldalla chuckled, "Don't worry, your hits don't even hurt--it'll just remind me to keep up my end of the bargain!"

Though he wasn't exactly the biggest advocate for violence, he knew that his sleepy frustration wouldn't go against that offer in the future.

"Hey, Emilio, Veldalla! How's the training coming today?" Julius stepped out, carrying a sack over his shoulder.

Veldalla smiled, "He just landed his first hit. It was a spectacular one, I'd say."

Julius looked surprised before a proud smile came over his lips as he looked down at his son, "Really?"

He nodded bashfully, scratching his cheek, "…Yeah."

His father hoisted the sack up in front of him, "Anyway, Emilio, can you do me a favor and turn this in at the Guild Center?"

He looked at the item for a moment, nodding as he took hold of it, instantly dropping it to the ground as he hoisted it back up with a struggle.

"...It's heavy, what is it?" He asked, holding it over his shoulder.

Julius cheekily smiled, folding his arms over his chest, "Just proof of the orcs I took care of around the outskirts. The Guild Center needs proof like that so they can confirm that I handled my end of the quest."

"...I see," he said with a disgusted expression.

As he moved the sack the slightest bit, the squishy sounds now made his stomach churn as he realized it was filled with heads of orcs.

"I can go with him," Veldalla offered.

"That'd be–" He began to say before being interrupted by his father.

Julius ruffled his hair, "That's alright. Emilio needs to learn some independence, right?"

"Right…" He sighed.

"You're not going to be a kid forever. This is good for you!" Julius told him with a smile.

To him, it seemed more like his father lightening his own load by having him handle the grunt work.

A small victory!

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