The Transmigrator Doesn’t Dream of Being the Protagonist – Chapter 6

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The Necklace of Seclusion.

An artifact that allowed me to avoid wild animals, purchased from the academy shop.

It was single-use, of course.

While it couldn’t fool the eyes of monsters like goblins or trolls, it was effective against ordinary animals.

It lasted for about a week.

Without it, I wouldn’t have dared to attempt this climb.

I conjured a small flame in my hand, marveling at the ease with which I could manipulate the elements.

I knew instinctively what I was capable of.

Basic elemental magic.

Swordsmanship, spearmanship, horsemanship, hand-to-hand combat.

That was about it.

It was a miracle I had even passed the Neydia Academy entrance exam.

Maybe the academy was facing financial difficulties?

Perhaps they were accepting anyone who could pay the tuition fee?

Or maybe Ethan had gotten in through some obscure special admissions program?

My mind was filled with rational doubts.

After all, I hadn’t personally verified the acceptance rate.

It was Ethan who had applied, back when I was still living in my own world. How was I supposed to know the details?

Arthur, in the novel, had a handy skill window that displayed his progress in real-time.

Of course, that damn author had claimed the novel was based on a game.

And in games, once you acquired a skill, you could use it freely.

As long as you had the mana for it, of course.

I settled down on a nearby rock, taking a break from my arduous climb. I pulled out some dried meat from my bag and chewed on it thoughtfully.

“Ugh…”

Two days of nothing but dried meat was starting to get old.

My throat felt dry. I retrieved my canteen and took a long swig.

The cold water revived me.

“Empty again.”

My canteen was dry. The trees around me had transitioned from broadleaf to conifer, a sign that I was gaining altitude.

The well-trodden path had long since disappeared. All I could see was snow, stretching as far as the eye could see.

I packed my canteen with snow, intending to melt it with my fire magic.

With a flick of my wrist, a small flame danced in my palm.

I was thankful for my steel canteen. It wouldn’t melt under the heat of my magic.

I added a splash of mana potion to the melting snow.

Mana potions were expensive, but using them this way allowed me to rehydrate and replenish my mana reserves at the same time.

It was a trick I had learned from the adventurers in the novel.

“Is it really up here?”

Being alone made me prone to talking to myself.

And after two days of nonstop hiking, I looked like a mess.

My hair was tangled and greasy.

I hadn’t washed my face in days.

I probably looked like a hermit who had spent years meditating in a mountain cave.

“Ugh…”

I sighed, feeling the effects of the thinner air.

Why was I putting myself through this?

Was this even considered a survival story?

Maybe it was a mountain climbing documentary?

The seemingly endless path stretched before me, a daunting sight.

Giving up now would be a waste of all the effort I had already put in.

There was no turning back.

This mountain was the highest peak in the entire range.

Why did that damn author have to hide the treasure at the very top?

Coming to this world had only increased my vocabulary of curse words.

And significantly decreased my lifespan.

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Ten days remained until the start of the semester.

Sepia sat listlessly on her dormitory bed.

Ethan had been acting strange lately.

He had never been the most attentive servant.

“He never went out of his way to please me,” she thought.

Unlike the other servants, he didn’t try to anticipate her every whim.

But he had always known his place.

That’s why she found him somewhat tolerable.

But lately… could he have forgotten? No, that was impossible.

Yet he was acting like a rebellious teenager.

As if he had forgotten his station in life.

Did he truly believe he had earned his place at the academy through his own merit?

Truth be told, Sepia had expected him to fail the entrance exam.

He had overestimated his abilities.

She had been so confident.

She had even made a bet with him, claiming he would fail. And if, by some miracle, he passed, she would pay his tuition.

And then he had returned, triumphant.

He had passed the exam.

He must have gotten lucky.

Even barely passing was a stroke of luck.

Neydia Academy was the most prestigious institution in the empire.

“He’s been acting strange ever since he passed the exam,” she mused, sighing softly.

She fiddled with a communication crystal, a sense of restlessness washing over her.

There was still so much time until the semester began.

Should she call for Ethan?

What would she even do with him?

Go for a walk? Engage in idle chatter? Spar with him? None of the options appealed to her.

He was a servant, nothing more than a means to alleviate her boredom.

That’s how it should be.

Sepia hated it when others touched what she considered hers.

She had felt the same way when Anya had attempted to sit in the driver’s seat of the carriage.

She would rather share the carriage with Anya than risk having her and Ethan form some kind of bond.

That’s why she had invited Anya to ride with her.

Sepia stood up, pacing around her room, her thoughts racing.

“If he continues to displease me, I can always dismiss him.”

Tuition at Neydia Academy was exorbitant.

With his meager servant’s salary, Ethan would never be able to afford it.

Even those who entered with the Hero Candidate’s Mark were charged tuition if they failed their courses. Two failed courses, and they were expelled.

Ethan, with his limited skills, stood no chance of earning a scholarship.

He needed her financial support. Without it, he wouldn’t even be able to pay for his second semester.

“He’s been testing my patience lately. It’s time to put him in his place.”

The thought appealed to her.

Sepia pictured Ethan kneeling before her, begging for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, Lady Sepia! I must have lost my mind! I have nowhere else to go, please don’t cast me out!”

And she, relishing his groveling, would demand an explanation for his insolence.

She smiled, picturing his humiliation.

He would never dare defy her again.

She would make sure of it.

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“Ah, the joys of fresh air and no Sepia!”

I stretched my arms, taking a deep breath of crisp mountain air.

The temperature-regulating enchantments woven into my uniform were surprisingly effective.

The higher I climbed, the colder it got.

But it still felt like autumn.

Early autumn, to be precise.

There were no signs of animal life anymore, no tracks, no droppings.

This area wasn’t even marked on my map.

I must be nearing the summit.

I hiked for what felt like hours.

Doubt crept into my mind.

“What if it’s not even here?”

I chewed on a piece of dried meat, my thoughts spiraling.

What if the author had decided to rewrite the story, erasing the Heart of Winter from existence?

What would I do then?

Would I even be able to cope with the crushing disappointment?

I’d probably just end it all.

If a nuke was headed for your city, you might as well run towards it. Why prolong the inevitable? A quick, painless death was better than a slow, agonizing one.

Thankfully, the world of the novel seemed to be adhering to the original plot.

I hadn’t wasted my time during those first three days after my arrival.

I had diligently researched the history and geography of this world, poring over maps and historical records.

I continued my climb, my breath forming white plumes in the frigid air.

Time seemed to lose all meaning.

And then, finally!

I reached the summit.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

“I did it! I made it to the top!”

A surge of energy coursed through me as I gazed at the breathtaking panorama.

I was probably the first person to ever reach this peak.

It was only in the 20th century that humanity had conquered Mount Everest.

Even in this world, teeming with adventurers and heroes, no one would bother with the pointless endeavor of climbing this mountain.

They had better things to do, like slaying monsters and saving damsels in distress.

I made my way towards the center of the summit.

And there it was.

A white crystalline object, resting on a stone altar.

It pulsed with a soft, ethereal light, emanating an aura of quiet power.

The Heart of Winter.

It looked exactly as it had been described in the novel.

A white, shimmering ice crystal, shaped like a sugar cube.

Consuming it would grant immense magical power and bestow resistance to both fire and ice.

That’s why Elzak, despite being bombarded with Arthur’s fire magic, had emerged unscathed.

And, as befitting his role as a talkative villain, he had boasted about his newfound powers.

“Mwahahaha! I am now immune to both fire and ice!”

Why did villains always announce their powers?

Perhaps consuming the Heart of Winter had also diminished his intelligence?

As expected from “Dragon-strongest,” a novel with a plot riddled with inconsistencies and nonsensical events.

I carefully placed the Heart of Winter in my bag.

I wanted to consume it immediately, to feel its power coursing through my veins.

But what would happen if I did that here?

The perennial snow of the Winter Mountains would melt, unleashing an avalanche of epic proportions.

And I would be buried alive.

Game over.

I couldn’t risk it.

I had to wait.

That’s why Elzak’s party had fought over the Heart of Winter. The party’s mage had warned them that consuming it at the summit would trigger an avalanche, forcing them to descend the mountain with the treasure in tow.

And that’s how the bloody battle for its possession had begun.

I began my descent, retracing my steps back towards Herbeiravan.

It took another two days to reach the bottom.

I rested whenever I found a suitable rock and slept in any cave I could find.

Finally, I was back on solid ground.

I decided to consume the Heart of Winter in front of the village temple.

Thankfully, there were several priests milling around.

Why would I choose a place with so many priests?

Well, protagonists in web novels always seemed to experience excruciating pain after consuming powerful artifacts or rare treasures. Their bodies, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of magical energy, would tremble uncontrollably. They would sweat profusely, writhing in agony, before collapsing unconscious.

It was practically a mandatory event in these stories.

I had already endured a three-day mountain climb.

I wasn’t interested in experiencing a dramatic fainting episode.

But if, for some reason, I did lose consciousness?

Those priests would be there to heal me.

I was ready.

I retrieved the Heart of Winter from my pocket and swallowed it whole.

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