Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!! Chapter 33. An illusion

The world jolted.

My eyes snapped open.

I wasn't in the training arena anymore. The vast stone coliseum, the blood-slicked walls, the howls of beasts, the roar of the crowd—all gone.

No. I was sowhere else.

Soft silk sheets brushed against my fingers. A faint scent of lavender drifted through the air. Familiar warmth wrapped around . I blinked slowly, trying to process the contrast.

Sunlight filtered gently through my window curtains, casting golden streaks across the marble floorboards. My ceiling—the sa ceiling I had woken up to for weeks—lood above .

I was in my room.

Just... my room.

My breath caught. Then the realization struck like a steel gauntlet to the chest.

Everything—the entire trial—was an illusion.

A carefully constructed illusion. A test, orchestrated to the finest detail.

I rembered lying in bed after training with Mia, my body sore and my mind drained. I'd fallen asleep, nothing unusual.

All of it... had been Isolde's doing.

That was the reason why there was no reward. No system notifications. No experience points. No leveling up.

Just... a fabricated trial. Crafted and inflicted without warning.

For a few monts, I simply sat up in bed, stunned. Then, as the pieces aligned in my head, I chuckled.

And then I laughed—half-wry, half-genuine.

At first, I'd been furious at Isolde. Angry she would throw into sothing that insane. But now that the truth settled in, I had to admit...

I'd enjoyed it.

The carnage, the desperation, the way my instincts were pushed to their edge... It was intoxicating. Like peeling back the mask and basking in raw truth.

So in the end... she was forgiven.

I swung my legs off the bed, wincing as phantom pain flared across my ribs and shoulder. My body knew it wasn't real, but my mind still rembered.

Dragging myself into the bathroom, I stripped and let the hot shower wash over . The warmth soaked into my skin, easing the tension. I stared at the tiled wall for a few minutes, simply existing, letting the events replay in my mind.

The Hellshade Lupus. The Arena of Death. The labyrinth.

None of it real. And yet, sohow, it had left an impression deeper than reality.

Once I was clean and dressed, I made my way out into the hall, hands tucked lazily into my pockets. The mansion was quiet, save for the faint rustle of pages and occasional clink of porcelain.

I followed the sounds and entered the main sitting room.

There she was—Isolde.

Casually reclined on one side of the ornate velvet sofa, long athyst hair cascading down her shoulders. A cup of steaming tea rested in her hand. Across from her sat Mia, my dear older sister, surrounded by a chaotic fortress of books stacked in an uneven tower.

Thick grimoires, magic theory manuals, even handwritten notes—she was drowning in study material.

I tilted my head, amused.

'Ah, our little genius hard at work. How adorable.'

Suppressing the grin tugging at my lips, I tiptoed forward with the grace of a seasoned assassin.

Didn't work.

"You're up early," Isolde said, without even turning her head.

I paused mid-step, sighing in defeat. "You've got eyes in the back of your head or sothing?"

Her lips curled. "More like a sixth sense for troubleso students."

Mia turned next, her gaze locking with mine. And in an instant, everything changed.

Her dark eyes widened in disbelief. Her lips quivered. Her hands trembled. I could already see the tears threatening to form at the corners.

She looked like she was about to cry.

So naturally... I made a face.

A dumb, ridiculous, overly exaggerated mocking face.

Mia's sadness vanished like smoke, replaced by raw, visceral hatred.

She didn't even hesitate. One of the thicker books—a massive 2000-page to on elental theory—whistled through the air toward my head like a missile. I ducked, narrowly avoiding decapitation.

"Oi!" I shouted. "That could've killed !"

She stood, fists clenched. "It should've killed you! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"

Heaving a dramatic sigh, I rubbed the back of my neck. "Why were you about to cry anyway?"

Before she could respond, Isolde cut in smoothly, still sipping her tea. "Because you've been asleep for two weeks."

I blinked.

Then again.

"Wait... what?"

Isolde gave a lazy shrug. "I guess the illusion took a little more out of you than expected."

I gawked. "T-Two weeks?! You're telling I slept through an entire fortnight and no one thought to wake ?"

She chuckled. "To be fair, I thought you'd be stuck in there longer. I had backup trials ready. But you... adapted quite well."

I scratched my cheek, a sheepish smile playing on my lips. "So, uh... I did good?"

Isolde's expression softened into a small, rare smile. "Yeah. You did."

I couldn't help the smug grin that followed. Puffing out my chest slightly, I turned toward Mia, looking for validation—or maybe just to gloat.

"So, what about you?" I asked, lifting a brow. "Can you feel mana yet, older sister?"

She arched a brow in return. "Of course. I started sensing it on the second day."

My world collapsed.

I blinked at her in slow motion. "Wait... what?"

She smirked.

I turned toward Isolde for confirmation, but she just sipped her tea, face unreadable.

'Wait—no. That's not possible. She wasn't supposed to be a genius! That was just a figure of speech!'

Mia shrugged, that smug smirk never leaving her face.

I dropped to my knees in silent despair. "Betrayed... by my own blood..."

Isolde giggled behind her cup.

Mia rolled her eyes at my theatrics, but I could see the faintest upward twitch of her lips. She was trying very hard not to smile.

"You should've let youself stay asleep for another two weeks," she muttered, shuffling her books into a neat pile. "Peace and quiet was nice while it lasted."

I clutched my chest like I'd been mortally wounded. "That hurts, dear sister. After all we've been through?"

"All you've been through was a glorified fever dream," she replied coolly.

"Correction—intense simulated combat environnt with potential death scenarios." I pointed a finger in mock-seriousness. "A proper educational experience."

She snorted. "You sound like one of those old court tutors. Next you'll be quoting ancient philosophy."

"Only if it gets out of mana theory howork."

She glared. "Don't push your luck."

Isolde, clearly enjoying our bickering, set her cup down with a soft clink. "Now that you're awake, Cassius, we'll be resuming formal training tomorrow."

"Already?" I groaned, leaning back onto the armrest beside her. "Don't I get, like, a welco-back cake or sothing??"

"You get to live." Her athyst eyes glinted mischievously. "That's your reward."

"I feel so honored," I deadpanned.

She tilted her head. "But if you're that eager to jump back in... I can prepare another illusion trial. Maybe one that lasts a month this ti."

"No, no. I'm good. Completely, utterly fine with basic training."

"Thought so."

Mia chuckled, flipping open one of her books again. "You know," she said without looking up, "I think you're starting to like this. The training, I an. You're not whining nearly as much as before."

I gave her a look. "I never whined."

She raised a brow.

"Okay, maybe a little," I muttered. "But only when necessary."

She humd in mock agreent, turning a page.

I sank onto the sofa between them, letting the silence settle. Not awkward. Not forced. Just... comfortable.

It was strange, in a way.

After everything—the brutal illusions, the fights, the blood and chaos—I was here, in the quiet, surrounded by people I cared about. It felt almost unreal.

And yet... this peace made the struggle worth it.

"Hey, Isolde," I said after a mont.

"Hm?"

"That monster at the end... the Hellshade Lupus. Was it real? Or did you make that up too?"

Her gaze lingered on for a second longer than expected. Then, she leaned back, fingers steepled thoughtfully.

"It was real," she said softly. "Though heavily suppressed. That creature exists deep within the rift zones beyond the Northern Hollow."

My spine stiffened slightly. "So you just... threw it in for fun?"

"To test your instincts," she replied. "You're not ready for sothing like that."

My jaw tightened. "...hmmm."

Isolde nodded. "Then the trial served its purpose."

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "Why not just train the normal way?"

Isolde's smile faded, just a little. "Because the world you've fallen into doesn't reward normal. And the path ahead... will be far crueler than anything I could simulate."

Her words hung in the air like a shadow.

Mia looked up, concern flickering across her features.

I t Isolde's eyes. "So you're saying I'm not strong enough yet?"

"I'm saying," she said slowly, "you're growing. But not fast enough."

The weight of her words sank into like cold iron.

My fists clenched. The mories of Leon's dood fate, of Zyon's betrayal, of the coming storms—they all swirled behind my eyes.

"Then I'll get stronger."

Isolde blinked. "Just like that?"

I nodded. "No more gas. No more hesitation. Just pure relentless training."

There was a mont of silence.

Then Isolde smiled—not the teasing one she always wore, but sothing more... proud.

"I'll hold you to that, Cassius Lancaster."

"I'm counting on it, Instructor Isolde."

Mia chid in. "He is lying, he will lose his motivation in like a week at most."

I retorted imdiately. "Shut the hell up!! This ti I will prove you wrong."

Mia groaned. "Great. By the way, Now both of you are spouting dramatic lines like heroes from a bad play."

I smirked. "Jealous of our cool factor?"

"Please. I'm the only one here who actually studied this morning."

"Well then, dear genius," I said, rising from the couch, "how about we grab breakfast before you turn into a walking encyclopedia?"

She hesitated.

Then stood.

"Fine."

So we went.

Three strange souls—one cursed, one genius, one enigmatic.