Finally, I Got Transmigrated Into Another World!

The audience erupted into a furious uproar.

"You brat! Get down here and face me!"

"Who do you think you are, calling us cowards, you disrespectful kid!"

Tristan, unfazed, simply glanced at the towering man and spoke calmly. "See? They're just a bunch of losers who only dare to bark from the sidelines. Not a single one of them has the guts to step down here."

The crowd grew even more enraged, shouting and cursing, until the large man suddenly burst into loud, hearty laughter.

"Hahaha!" His voice echoed throughout the arena, silencing the angry spectators. He looked around at the crowd before turning back to Tristan.

"You're not wrong, kid. They are all cowards. But together, with their sheer numbers, we gather every scrap of information in this city, from the surface to its deepest underbelly. Now tell me, does that pique your interest?"

Tristan smirked and stepped back into the arena. "You already know what I want, old man." His tone was cold but confident, and he flashed a faint, chilling smile. "So, when do we start this duel, old man?"

The man grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He raised his voice, shouting to the crowd. "Alright, you fools! Open the bets!"

A thunderous cheer erupted from the spectators. "Yeahhhh!"

Moments later, glowing text appeared above the arena, displaying the bet placements:

300 bets on 'The Boss'

1 bet on 'The Reckless Kid'

The man laughed heartily again. "Hahaha! Looks like only your bodyguard placed his faith in you. Is he afraid that you think he'll betray you if he bet on me?"

Tristan chuckled in return. "Haha, it's not betrayal he's worried about. He's confident I'll win this fight."

"Such unwavering trust," the man mused with a grin. "Alright, kid, get ready."

Tristan's smirk widened as he retorted, "I'm ready, old man. Just make sure you prepare everything Lord Lucien requested... Thoran."

The man froze, his expression betraying shock at the mention of his name. "W-what? How do you..."

Before he could finish, Tristan cut him off. "Don't ask too many questions, old man, or this duel will end quicker than you expect."

The man threw his head back and laughed, his deep voice booming with amusement. "This is going to be fun!"

The man shouted with a thunderous voice, "Alright, you fools! Count and ring the gong!"

The audience roared in excitement, even Rowen joined in enthusiastically, "Yeahhh!"

The man grinned and said, "When the gong rings, that's your signal, kid."

"Understood," replied Tristan, his voice calm but charged with intensity.

The crowd began counting down, their voices echoing through the arena. "Three... Two..."

Suddenly, before they reached "One," the gong resounded, its sharp clang reverberating.

Without wasting a moment, Tristan dashed forward with lightning speed, summoning his sword from his storage room and aiming directly for the man's neck.

The man sidestepped gracefully, dodging Tristan's attack, and countered with a swing of his massive axe. Despite its enormous size, the axe moved with alarming speed, arcing toward Tristan's torso.

Tristan deflected the strike downward, using the flat of his blade, then spun and aimed for the man's wrist. The man released his axe and countered with a powerful left hook.

Seeing the incoming punch, Tristan muttered to himself, "Damn it, I haven't regained my footing yet!"

He raised his arms to shield his head, absorbing the impact as the punch hurled him several steps back. Tristan landed on one knee, grimacing as pain throbbed through his arms.

"I am Careless," he muttered under his breath. "That strength... No wonder his power is rated A Rank."

Rising to his feet, Tristan exhaled sharply and addressed the man. "No objections if I go all out, right?"

The man grinned, a spark of anticipation in his eyes. "Of course not, kid. It wouldn't be fun if you held back."

"Good," Tristan replied, sliding his sword back into its sheath and lowering into a combat stance.

The man raised an eyebrow, curious. "What is this kid planning?" he thought.

Suddenly, an intense wave of pressure enveloped the arena. The man's instincts screamed at him to evade it at all costs. His skin tingled with an almost primal fear. "What the hell is this feeling?"

Tristan unsheathed his sword in a flash, unleashing a blade of mana that shot across the arena with terrifying speed.

The man, caught off guard, dived into a roll to avoid the attack. The mana slash streaked past him and slammed into the wall behind the spectators, leaving a massive hole in it.

The crowd fell silent, stunned by the display of power.

The man scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell? This kid's already mastered Sword Aura at his age?"

Seizing the moment, Tristan closed the distance, his sword aiming once more for the man's neck.

A voice from the crowd suddenly shouted, "Boss, watch out!"

Alerted, the man turned just in time to see the glint of Tristan's blade mere inches from his throat. Acting on instinct, his skin hardened, transforming into a dense black armor to absorb the blow.

As the blade connected, a sharp spray of blood erupted, not from his neck, but from his right side.

The man's eyes widened in shock. "What just happened?"

The man glanced to his right and saw his arm severed cleanly from his body. "So, he was targeting my arm, not my neck," he muttered, realization dawning. "No wonder Captain Brady from Team 1 refused to face this kid. His talent for analyzing during combat and his decisiveness are beyond comprehension. Even I, with thousands of duels under my belt, was fooled by his intentions."

The crowd fell into stunned silence, their disbelief palpable, except for one voice.

"Yeahhh! My money's going to double!" Rowen cheered enthusiastically, saliva nearly dripping as he imagined his winnings.

The other spectators shot him glares of resentment, but Rowen simply smirked and taunted, "What? Jealous, huh?"

The man on the arena floor turned to Tristan, his voice calm but respectful. "The match is yours, kid."

Tristan responded coolly, sheathing his sword. "Of course. Though I'll admit, countering your strength wasn't easy."

The man laughed heartily. "Hahaha! Your arrogance matches your skills, I like that."

With surprising composure, the man stood up, grabbed his severed arm, and reattached it as if it were a mere inconvenience.

Tristan's eyes widened in shock. "What the hell is that ability?" he asked aloud before silently thinking, "I didn't see any skill in his status that would let him reattach a limb like that. What's going on here?"

The man chuckled at Tristan's bewildered expression. "Hahaha! I enjoy seeing you this surprised." He explained, "This is a perk of my occupation."

"Ah, I see," Tristan replied, nodding as if in understanding, though his mind raced. "So, an individual's occupation might come with innate abilities that don't appear as registered skills. Interesting...'

His thoughts wandered to the status he'd observed earlier:

Name: Thoran

Level: 80

Occupation: Chimera Body

Attributes:

Strength: A

Vitality: A

Speed: B

Luck: C

Skills:

Regeneration-Level 20

Body Reinforcement-Level 20

Axeplay-Level 10

Martial Arts-Level 20

Swordplay-Level 10

Spearplay-Level 10

Dual-Axeplay-Level 10

Dual-Swordplay-Level 10

Aura User-Level 20

Passive Skill:

Poison Immunity-Level Max

Overall Score: S

Tristan narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. "From now on, I'll need to tread carefully and account for any hidden abilities tied to someone's occupation. Thoran's case proves that there's more to this system than meets the eye."

With a newfound sense of caution, Tristan reminded himself to consider all possibilities in future battles.

The man suddenly bellowed, "I, Brutus, declare the winner of this match: the Reckless Kid! As promised, from now on, this kid will be the leader of this place, and I'll serve as his second-in-command!"

The arena erupted in cheers.

"Long live the Reckless Kid! Long live Brutus's second-in-command!"

Thoran turned to Tristan and said, "Come with me, kid."

Tristan nodded silently and followed him. As they passed Rowen, The man added, "Grab your winnings and follow us."

With a beaming smile, Rowen replied, "Hehehe, gladly!"

A short while later, the three of them arrived at Thoran's office. They settled onto the guest sofas, and The man broke the silence.

"Alright, let me properly introduce myself. My name is Thoran, a former S-rank adventurer."

Tristan replied, "I'm Tristan, and this is uncle Rowen."

Rowen offered a small, polite smile.

Thoran paused, staring at Rowen, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. 'That name and face… Where have I heard them before?"

Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization. "Wait! Are you Rowen Emberlain, the Knight Commander of House Roussanne?"

Rowen replied with confused face, "Yes, that's me. Do you know me, Sir Thoran?"

"Of course! I' was worked on missions alongside your brother, Brady, and Lucien's right-hand man, Albert. Hahaha! What's the Knight Commander doing here of all places?"

Rowen scratched his head sheepishly. "Lord Lucien assigned me to assist Tristan here."

Thoran smirked and chuckled. "Assist? This kid? Has Lucien underestimated him that much?"

Rowen shot back with a sly grin, "Actually, my job is to make sure Tristan doesn't raze the entire Brighthold city to the ground."

Thoran's laughter gradually faded into a more contemplative tone. "You're right. Even in our duel, I'm sure he wasn't showing everything he's got."

Tristan that listening their conversation laugh awkwardly and said to himself, "What do they think about me?"

A deep sigh escaped Thoran as he leaned back, his expression a mix of amazement and disappointment "Well, it is Alright, finally I can find someone to follow, I believe following Trsistan is the best choice to find more strongest enemies."