My Skills Have No Limits : Transmigirated In A Novel as An Extra Chapter 14: Visit Our Home

As their nas were recited once again, both of them hesitantly walked toward the stage, shoulders brushing against candidates as they pushed their way through the crowded line.

They stood at the center now, the stage lights bearing down on them, trying to perceive every face in the audience.

Then the host suddenly announced the arrival of soone nad Victoriad.

Aziel braced himself for so hulky, bulked-up senior to make a dramatic entrance, soone dripping with arrogance and experience.

Instead, what rolled in was an old woman.

Crippled.

In a wheelchair that squeaked faintly as it glided across the wooden boards.

’What the hell? Out of everyone here, why the heck are we eting this old hag?’

Aziel’s thoughts nearly slipped out, but he clenched his jaw and stood still.

Her gaze locked with his.

She flashed a warm, trustworthy smile as if she had been waiting for this exact mont.

Extending her hand, she spoke simply, her tone carrying quiet authority.

"Victoriad."

The na lingered in the hall, soft yet commanding.

She shook hands with both Aziel and Oliver.

Oliver glanced briefly at Aziel, raising a brow as though to ask, what is happening right now?

They began introducing themselves too, but before they could finish, the old woman cut in, completing their sentences with a knowing nod.

Oliver shifted his weight forward, his hands tucked in his pockets, and leaned closer.

"What’s an old lady like you doing here with the young ones?"

Her lips curved upward. "What do you think? Any guesses? Well, I’d say I’m here for the sa reason the others are."

Aziel’s brows furrowed. He crossed his arms, then pressed further.

"By any chance, are you staff from the Academy? Because as far as I know, there aren’t any professors around your age... and not to ntion your special condition."

Victoriad’s smile only brightened, as if the jab rolled right off her.

She ignored the question altogether.

Then she clapped.

Twice.

The sound echoed through the hall. A man in a black suit erged from behind the curtains, his polished shoes clicking against the floor.

He handed her a letter with a bow and vanished back into the shadows.

Her eyes glead as she spoke.

"Both of you boys... you are to my liking. I’ve co to like you, and that’s why I would like you to visit our ho soday."

’O--ur ho? That too from a mysterious lady?’

"But ma’am, we haven’t even done anything worthy since we arrived. So how co we’re to your liking?"

The woman’s smile softened, but her eyes sharpened, steady and piercing.

"I’ve been watching you. Circling the hall, speaking to strangers, trying to spark connections even when no one wanted to listen. Yet you didn’t break character. You didn’t lose yourselves. You kept trying."

She leaned back slightly in her chair, fingers drumming against the armrest as her words settled.

"That, to , is enough. Confidence that doesn’t crumble in silence is rarer than you think."

Before either of them could speak, she continued further, sweeping her frail hand across the crowd.

"The real reason no one gave a frick about you two is because of . My skill."

"Your skill!And why would you even try to pull sothing that ridiculous?" Oliver stamred, caught off guard.

The old lady’s smile widened, stretching so far it almost threatened to split her face.

"Since you crashed the party long before the comncent ti, the seniors preparing things decided to play a trick on you. That’s when they approached for help. All the while you were downstairs, wandering around cluelessly."

Aziel clicked his tongue, his expression twisting into a dry smirk.

"Noted. Seniors also need to learn a lesson or two."

"Anyways, what’s your skill, precisely? I want to know."

I cut in, shoving Oliver a little forward with my arm.

"Look—he’s practically desperate to know. Tell us, or he might just die of desperation."

The old lady flicked her finger with a lazy snap.

"I can intimidate objects. Organic or inorganic, it doesn’t matter. Basically, I can turn anything into a dummy, but those things, if created in large numbers, lack personality. That’s all my skill does. I doubt you’d be interested in the fancy na anyway."

Oliver’s eyes went wide, his jaw slackening for a mont. Aziel, however, only gave a quiet nod, his expression unreadable.

"So you an these people aren’t the real deal? No one actually ignored ? I’m still as entertaining as before, right?!"

Oliver blurted out, his voice almost desperate as he leaned heavily against Aziel’s shoulder.

Aziel staggered a bit under his weight, gritting his teeth.

The old lady chuckled softly, then nodded her head in confirmation.

Suddenly, the entrance gate to the hall slamd open, and a barrage of bustling candidates stord in, their footsteps echoing like thunder.

They looked as if they had just accomplished the greatest mission of their lives.

Pranking two random guys.

"Woah, now I see plenty of recognizable faces. These are the real deal for sure, aren’t they?" Oliver muttered, his lips curling into a half-grin.

The ones standing before the stage, the dummies, suddenly dissipated into thin air, scattering like dust motes under the chandelier light.

And with them, so did Warren.

The old lady extended her arm once more, the letter still in her hands, her wrinkled fingers trembling ever so slightly as she insisted they co visit her.

’Why the heck is she so desperate for a visit from us?’ Aziel thought, his brows knitting together as hesitation tugged at him.

He turned toward Oliver, silently seeking advice from the boy who had been standing right beside him...

...until now.

Oliver lunged forward and tried to snatch the letter from her hand, his movent awkward and rushed, almost childish.

Aziel didn’t interfere.

He only watched as the letter slipped from the old woman’s frail grasp, landing firmly in Oliver’s.

And it was then...

The entire building shook.

A deep, guttural rumble spread through the hall, rattling the glass chandeliers and sending shivers up down my spine.