"ATARA!"
The voice was frantic, but there was a hint of gentleness to it. Then, out of nowhere, a shadow swept before Alinta's eyes, and the next thing she knew, someone was hanging in her grandmother's arms.
"You have to help me!" the woman cried out, "Otherwise, I don't know what else to do!"
Is that... Morrigan?
Atara, enraged, kicked the woman aside and wiped the filthy aura off her arms. "I hope this isn't one of your shenanigans! You keep disrupting my coven's peace!" Morrigan had visited her territory 10 times already this month. And she was not pleased to see the woman at all! They were supposed to be rivals. Two enemies who should be at each other's throats! Now, Atara had no idea what went wrong or why the other was now treating her like a consultant.
Atara would rather have Morrigan as a foe than a friend. What a nuisance!
Morrigan sobbed. She rose up, wiping away her tears, and said, "This problem I have is more complicated than the previous ones. Please," her eyes changed into radians, and like a puppy asking for a treat, she continued, "Help me this once and I'll never come back again," for this month, she added silently.
Atara's expression clouded. Then, suddenly thinking of something, she turned to face her alleged descendant. She grabbed Alinta's arm and shoved her in front of Morrigan. "Tell this one your problem; she's a part-time disciple of mine, and I'll consider this her training."
Part-time disciple? She still had this half-disciple, and now she has a part-time one? And why couldn't anyone be her full-time disciple in the first place? Atara continued to give these young maidens hope and utilize them, just to break their hearts in the end. Morrigan couldn't help but sympathize with them.
So she addressed the part-time disciple as if she were her own daughter, asking, "What's your name, my dear?"
Alinta opened her mouth to answer, but her sentence was cut off.
"She's just a part-timer," Atara waved her hand, "there's no need to be familiar with each other."
Alinta instantly closed her mouth.
Alright.
Whatever her grandmother said was right!
Morrigan hesitated before saying, "But what shall I call this beautiful lady? It's disrespectful to call her names."
"I don't care," Atara said sharply. "Now, cut it off and just tell us whatever stupid matter you have to run to my coven," her eyes darkened as she added—or more like threatened, "make sure it makes sense this time, or I'll visit your temple and slaughter every living being in there!"
Morrigan's expression was more uncertain this time. Her concerns were important to her and always made sense. She just wasn't confident that Atara felt the same way.
In any case, she was already here. There will be no going back.
So she took a deep breath and said solemnly, "My... my son's sick." She trembled as she remembered her son writhing in pain. "He has been like that for three days now. As a priestess, I can't even determine why he is being like that," she sobbed again and added, "I don't know what to do if something bad happened to him. I'll kill myself if his situation turns worse!"
"Oh, then, please do it right now."
"..." everyone said. What a heartless remark.
"Your son's name," Alinta inquired, "is it, Severino?" Her tone was a little dubious.
Morrigan blinked and nodded, her eyes circling like an innocent child. "That's right. I only have one son, so how can I bear it if something bad happens to him?" She sobbed again.
"How old is he now?" Alinta was a little interested. That was her mate, after all, right?
Morrigan wept. "He's fifteen, the perfect age to transform into a werewolf," she said. Then, suddenly realizing something, she froze.
"Oh," Atara remarked sluggishly. "Congratulations on adding another dog to your household!"
Morrigan's eyes glowed. Her son is about to transform into a werewolf! Her pride! Her mate needed to know this. Sadly, he was in a faraway land, accomplishing whatever he was accomplishing. Anyway, this was fantastic news! She couldn't help but take Alinta's hands in hers, muttering joyously, "Thank you very much!"
"Oh, it's nothing." Alinta didn't do anything anyway.
"I will have you invited to the temple once my son has finally shifted!"
"Oh, no.  "You don't have to."
"We'll be having a banquet to celebrate my son's coming of age, and I'd like to invite the person who helped me; please don't refuse!"
"Oh, okay."
"Great! I shall leave, then! I'll be sending an invitation letter in a few days. See you then!"
After a few seconds, only Atara and Alinta remained inside the cabin.
"Finally!" scoffed Atara. "I really dislike her energetic and soft personality; it just didn't add up." She sat on a chair with her legs crossed. "You can do whatever you want, but never let anyone know your name," she stated, resting her chin on her palm. "We don't want people in this era to be confused about someone with the name 'Alinta,' do we?"
"But how about you?" Alinta inquired, intrigued.
"I'm not someone in this world," Atara answered flatly. "How could this world control me? It didn't even manage to stop me from coming here. How could it control my mind? But I'll have to forget you once you're gone," she said. Then, noticing Alinta's curious glance, she explained, "You are my descendant; hence, knowing you might affect my future."
Alinta nodded her head in understanding. Then she opened her mouth but quickly closed it again. She was going to ask who her grandfather was when she realized she'd probably gone back in time to when Atara was still single. Who could ensure that Atara's husband was from this world, anyway? Alinta's grandfather could be from the Hex Kingdom. Her mother, after all, was born in the Hex Kingdom, not in this world.
"How do you think this world will expel me from this timeline, and when do you think that will happen?" Alinta inquired. She should prioritize how to return to the point at which she was transmigrated.
Atara gave her a glance and said, "I have a guess. But," she raised her chin, "I couldn't guarantee it. Just wait for it to come. You'll know the process once it begins." She then stood up. "Instead of worrying about things that are uncertain, I have a job for you."
"What is it?"
Atara exited the cabin. Alinta quickly followed suit.
"You'll see once we get there."
---
"This is---?"  Alinta inquired.
Her gaze was drawn to the men who were fighting. The three women she had seen earlier were also clashing with each other. They were spewing flames, summoning beasts, and casting spells. Their ability to conjure magic—Alinta could tell they were more powerful than the rogues she had met in the past.
"Training," Atara replied flatly. She raised her palm, and the three women's spells dissipated in an instant.
All of them looked at Atara with grievances. "Milady," the brunette said, "we're practising properly; could you please stop interfering?"
Atara harrumphed. "How could you win if you can't withstand my power?"
"Milady," the blonde stumped her feet, "your existence is far beyond that of the priestess; how could we fight against you? It's already enough if we can survive a blow from you!"
Atara then gave Alinta a smug expression. 'I'm so powerful,' she said with her eyes. 'I'm so powerful that you're not worthy of becoming my granddaughter'.
"...," Alinta said. Did the old lady bring her here to ridicule her?
"Anyway," Atara said, clapping her hands. "We have here my newly recruited part-time disciple, who will train with you and join us in the arena after five days."
All the glittering eyes were quickly drawn to Alinta.
"Really?" all of the women exclaimed.
"What?" Alinta was confused. "I thought I wasn't supposed to tell anyone my name?"
"Yes, you're going to participate in the arena without announcing your name."
"Won't they get curious?"
"If I said you're called 'part-time' disciple, then you're called 'part-time' disciple," Atara scoffed. "Who would dare to defy me?"
The three women nodded their heads in unison. "That's right! Our lady is the most prestigious and sought-after woman in the world! No one would dare go east when she says west! No one would dare to go right when she says left!"
Atara's eyes were smug once again.
"...," Alinta said. Alright, if you all said so.
Soon after, Alinta was abandoned by her grandmother. Atara just vanished without saying anything.
"Say," Alinta started, "what exactly is this arena all about?"
"You don't know?" Leslie, the blond girl, asked in surprise.
Alinta simply shook her head in response.
"How come you don't know?" questioned Jean, the brunette.
"Urk. Just say Gra—Lady Atara didn't give me any briefing."
"But still," Jean responded, "it's surprising you're not aware of it."
"Yeah," chided Pia, the red-headed girl, "even a three-year-old would know about the arena."
Alinta remained silent. She wished she could roll her eyes. Couldn't they just explain what was going on in this arena?
"Anyway, we'll just explain it to you." Leslie sat down and patted the spot in front of her. When Alinta and the others were finally seated, she continued, "The arena is where the competition will be held five days from now. It is situated in the middle of the continent, where the Temple of the Priestess Morrigan is located. Every three years, a grand competition is held. It was done for one: the bloodlines to have a place to take out their pent-up frustration on one another instead of declaring war; and two: it is a way to unite every bloodline."
Alinta nodded her head in understanding. "Does that mean every bloodline in the world will gather in three days?"
"Yes!" the three of them agreed.
"Then, what kind of bloodline are you people in Grandm--- Lady Atara's coven?" Alinta couldn't help but observe that everyone in this coven came from various bloodlines.
The three women's expressions darkened. But they regained their vitality after only a few seconds.
Pia cleared her throat before answering, "We're the unwanted creatures of this world; we have different beliefs, so we were kicked out of our bloodlines' tribes."
"But!" Leslie exclaimed, puffing out her chest. "Lady Atara gave us a place in this world! With her might and prowess, Lady Atara subdued those arrogant bloodlines, and finally—finally—we could finally walk around this world without anyone hunting us or chasing us away!"
Alinta was astounded. She knew her grandmother was powerful, but she had no idea her grandma could throw such a fit. How was she able to control all the bloodlines? Alinta was already struggling to manage the werewolves, yet her grandmother defeated all bloodlines with varying abilities and strengths.
She sighed.
It's no surprise her grandmother had such a bad temper and attitude!
Following that, the four of them began their training. They practised until the day came for them to depart. Three days later, with five women and ten men, the journey to the temple began.