Transmigrating as an Extra, But the Heroine Has Regressed?!-Chapter 14: Even Warm Water Is a Luxury

Elysia had spent most of her first day since the regression observing Kael Ashford, trying to be as subtle as possible.

She didn't need to pay much attention in class—she had already learned all the material before and remained one of the top students.

Her academic excellence wasn't something she needed to worry about.

Time and again, she found herself impressed by Kael Ashford and his acting skill.

Then came lunchtime, when Kael acted like he was lost before casually following the other students to the cafeteria.

He ate alone. Without any friends.

(No wonder I don't remember much about Kael Ashford's first year at Arcadia Academy.)

It was the way he blended into the background—friendless, quiet, always by himself.

The day ended without Elysia uncovering anything useful.

After classes, Elysia didn't return home like most students.

Instead, she made her way to the Training Center—a sleek stone-and-marble facility separate from the open-air Training Grounds.

Unlike the field-based group drills or instructor-led sessions, the center offered personal space: quiet, focused, and fully equipped for individual growth.

Inside, it was dimly lit by glowing mana-lamps embedded in the walls, casting long shadows across rows of reinforced dummies, weight racks, and high-quality equipment designed to withstand advanced magic and weapons training.

Elysia selected an empty chamber—Unit 12—and stepped inside. The door sealed shut behind her with a quiet hiss of mana-locks.

She exhaled slowly, rolled her shoulders, and drew her sword.

For the next two hours, the chamber echoed with the sharp swish of steel cutting through air, the thud of precise footwork, and the occasional clang of blade meeting reinforced targets.

Sweat beaded on her brow, soaked into her shirt, and dripped onto the padded floor.

She kept pushing—drilling forms, refining transitions between slashes, and tuning her footwork with calculated precision.

Strike. Step. Parry. Twist. Slash.

Repeat!

Faster!

Sharper!

Finally, her sword wavered mid-swing, stopping inches from the dummy's neck.

Her breathing was ragged. Her body coated in sweat. Her arms trembled slightly under the weight of fatigue.

"Tsk!"

She clicked her tongue and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist.

"My stamina's pathetic," she muttered, sheathing her blade. "Two hours, and I'm already this drained?"

Any more and her body would be too exhausted—counterproductive for long-term development.

Her previous life body had been battle-hardened, able to endure whatever she threw at it. This one, however, wasn't the same.

Maybe this was the first time it had ever been pushed so hard.

She doesn't remember training very seriously before enrolling to Arcadia Academy where she always scored high in whatever test they did.

In any case, she had to build herself back up slowly.

Strength came with hard work, yes—but also with moderation, especially when the foundation was still weak.

She exited the chamber, her steps slow but steady.

As she stepped into the corridor that led to the showers, she paused—because through the transparent wall of Unit 7, she saw him.

Edwin Leonhart!

He was drenched in sweat, his white shirt clinging to his frame. Every movement he made was precise and powerful.

His sword slashed forward in a smooth arc, the air rippling with force as the dummy shuddered from the blow.

He was still going.

Still training.

Still pushing.

Unlike most students, Edwin continued to train hard from the day one of the school.

Elysia stood in silence, watching.

(He's still at it...)

Her fingers curled slightly.

In her previous life, just the sight of Edwin used to fill her with frustration.

He had always been brilliant. Strong. Smart. Charming. Talented beyond belief.

And he made it all look so easy.

She had envied him.

Deeply!

Not just her—probably everyone who met him probably felt the same. Especially those in the same class who constantly had to compete with him.

No matter how hard anyone trained or how much they studied, Edwin always seemed a step ahead.

The prodigy everyone looked up to. The benchmark no one could reach.

But as the years passed by knowing each other at Arcadia—and beyond—her view of him had changed.

Because while everyone saw the talent, she started noticing what they didn't.

The long hours he trained when no one was watching.

The fact that he never missed a single session.

The bruises on his hands, always hidden beneath gloves.

The fatigue in his eyes after sleepless nights mastering a spell that didn't come naturally.

Yes, he was talented.

But his real strength was that he never relied on it.

He worked as if he had none.

And in that, Elysia found a new kind of respect—not as an enemy to surpass, but as a rival to grow with.

(Not just a genius... but a relentless one.)

But even that genius, that tireless warrior, had fallen to the blade of humanity's betrayer.

She exhaled slowly and turned away.

She still had a long road ahead.

If she wanted to protect what mattered this time, she had to grow—not just in talent, but in stamina, endurance, and will.

She headed for the showers, sweat-soaked and sore.

The steam curled around her as she stepped into the bath chamber, the scent of heated stone and faint floral oils drifting in the air.

The academy's baths weren't extravagant, but to Elysia, they were nothing short of heaven.

She submerged herself slowly into the warm water, a soft exhale slipping from her lips as the heat seeped into her aching muscles.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

(This... this is what I missed the most.)

A hot bath after a long day of sweat and strain.

When she'd been traveling constantly, fighting one battle after another, there had been no time for luxuries like this.

Often, she would go weeks without a proper wash, wiping off blood and grime with cold stream water—if she was lucky.

And after the Demon Invasion, even cold water became rare. Cities were razed. Infrastructure collapsed.

People lived in ruins, surviving day by day. Even the memory of warmth became distant—like a dream.

Just a bath... something so simple.

She leaned her head back against the smooth stone rim of the tub, letting the warmth soak into every inch of her battered body.

How long had it been since she could just breathe?

Since she could relax without the weight of death pressing against her spine?

This world, this second chance—it was far from perfect. But in moments like these, she could feel it.

The difference.

The peace.

And though she knew it wouldn't last—though she knew war was coming again—she could still savor it now.

If only for a while.

A small smile touched her lips as the water lapped gently against her skin.

Warmth.

Still here.

Still hers.

For now!