I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 289

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Top 20 Trending Guilds Worldwide (May 2028)

Top 1: Royal Dominion

Top 2: RedHoods

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Top 4: Sovereign Legion

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Top 13: Gilded Sword

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"The Gilded Sword Guild continues its steady rise..."

"Royal Dominion maintains the number one position for the fifth consecutive month..."

"Sovereign Legion shows strong signs of revival. With the combined efforts of Cypher Knoxx and Christian George, the global Hero community is watching closely..."

Inside a luxury limousine, Whitney Owen sat with one leg crossed over the other, casually flipping through the Phantom Herald while an ordinary newspaper lay folded beside it. The city lights slid across the tinted windows as the vehicle glided forward in near silence.

She clicked her tongue.

Annoyance flashed briefly across her otherwise composed expression.

Royal Dominion remained at the top, just as expected—but that wasn’t what bothered her. What irritated her was everything happening beneath that position.

Sovereign Legion was climbing again.

And worse—Gilded Sword had broken into the top fifteen.

With Talon’s backing, that once-struggling guild was suddenly gaining momentum, attention, and credibility. It was a partnership she had wanted—no, one she had assumed would naturally fall into Royal Dominion’s hands.

But it hadn’t.

She leaned back against the leather seat, fingers tightening slightly around the paper.

’If only I’d had the chance to bring it up with Remillia sooner...’ The thought tasted bitter.

"Urgh," she muttered under her breath.

Cypher.

Remillia.

Two pieces she had failed to secure.

If she’d managed to pull even one of them into Royal Dominion, the current rankings wouldn’t just be stable—they’d be untouchable. Instead, she was forced to watch other guilds rise using assets she had once brushed against but never truly claimed.

"We’re here, young miss," the driver announced softly as the limousine slowed to a stop.

Whitney exhaled, composed herself, and turned toward the window.

Outside, the Eryndor River shimmered beneath the lights of the city. Docked elegantly along the riverbank was a massive luxury cruise ship, its polished hull gleaming as guests began to board.

Today marked another gathering of the Ascendant League.

It was an exclusive circle—one that existed beyond ordinary social clubs or business associations. Membership was reserved strictly for high-ranking officials and influential figures. Over time, Whitney had expanded its reach, selectively inviting promising students from prestigious families, Heroes with sterling reputations, and wealthy businessmen whose influence stretched across industries.

Every single member shared common traits.

They were rich. Famous. Popular. And born into—or capable of shaping power.

By now, the Ascendant League boasted over three hundred members. Without exaggeration, these were the people who would shape Aeonia’s future—its policymakers, its military leaders, its economic pillars.

Whitney stepped out of the limousine at last.

Her heels clicked crisply against the pavement as she walked forward, her posture flawless, movements practiced and effortless. Wearing high heels had long since become second nature to her. She approached the entrance of the luxury cruise ship.

The guards stationed at the entrance stiffened the moment they saw her.

No identification was requested. No invitation checked.

They simply stepped aside and bowed slightly as she passed.

After all, the Ascendant League was hers.

Whitney walked onboard without pause.

Soft music drifted through the deck, mingling with the quiet murmur of early guests. Crystal lights reflected off polished railings and glass panels, casting a refined glow across the ship. She scanned the area with a cold gaze, immediately spotting someone who had arrived ahead of schedule.

A lone guest stood by the railing, elbows resting against it, staring intently at the dark waters below as the river flowed past.

Whitney recognized her instantly.

She walked closer, heels clicking softly against the deck.

"Angela?" she called.

The woman turned around, surprise flickering briefly across her face before breaking into a bright smile.

"Whitney!" Angela exclaimed. "Wow—you’ve gotten prettier!"

Whitney returned the smile and stepped forward, pulling her into a light embrace. "You flatterer. Why didn’t you contact any of us? We didn’t even know you were here already."

Angela sighed, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "I’ve been busy with missions. I still haven’t completed the trainee hero program yet. I need ten more before the GHA evaluates my rank."

Even with her exceptionally strong backer, the rules were clear. Reputation alone wasn’t enough—missions and results still dictated a Hero’s standing.

Whitney hummed thoughtfully, then smiled. "Once you’re done, make sure you join my guild."

Angela laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Alright, alright. I’ll think about it."

Lies.

Angela had improved—Whitney could admit that much. Her tone was steady, her expression relaxed, and her smile didn’t waver even once. To anyone else, it would have sounded convincing enough to pass without suspicion.

But Whitney wasn’t anyone else.

She had eyes and ears everywhere.

The information guild under her control had already submitted multiple reports. Angela had been discreet, careful even, but patterns never lied. She had been asking questions—quiet ones—about Remillia. And not just her. Another name surfaced repeatedly in those reports.

Cypher.

The two names alone were enough to give Whitney a persistent headache.

No matter how carefully she tried to conceal Remillia’s whereabouts, no matter how many records she buried or trails she erased, people kept circling back. Especially those who once stood close or rather who had bad blood to her.

Whitney clenched her fingers slightly at her side before relaxing them again. ’You asked me to hide you,’ she thought, a trace of irritation flickering through her mind. ’But you never made it easy.’

Still, she kept her expression composed.

"Let’s go inside," Whitney said smoothly, turning toward the entrance to the interior cabins. "It’s getting chilly. I also prepared us a private room."

Angela hesitated for just a fraction of a second. "Y-Yeah," she replied, then followed.

Whitney led the way through the cruise ship’s elegant interior corridors. The lively chatter and soft music from the main deck gradually faded, replaced by muted footsteps and the gentle hum of the ship’s engines. They passed through a secured hallway, where guards nodded respectfully and opened the door without question.

The private room awaited them.

It was spacious, warm, and comfortably luxurious—not ostentatious, but refined. Plush seating lined the walls, a low table rested at the center with neatly arranged drinks and snacks, and floor-to-ceiling windows offered a calm view of the river outside. Soft lighting bathed the room in a gentle glow, carefully chosen to soothe rather than impress.

Angela looked around, clearly surprised. "What is this place for?" she asked.

Whitney closed the door behind them with a quiet click.

"We can hang out here," she said casually as she moved toward the seating area. "You don’t like parties anyway, right? The others will come soon."

Angela let out a small laugh, nodding as she took a seat. "Yeah... you know me too well."

Whitney smiled as she sat across from her, crossing her legs gracefully.

’Too well,’ indeed. Her gaze lingered on Angela just a second longer than usual before looking away.

At that moment, a knock rang out from the door.

"Young miss, your guests have arrived."

Whitney’s eyes flickered briefly toward the door before she smiled, her posture straightening ever so slightly. "Looks like they’re here already," she said to Angela, then cleared her throat with practiced elegance. "Let them in."

The door slid open smoothly, and four familiar figures stepped inside almost at once.

Rex Harrison walked in first, tall and broad-shouldered, his presence calm and imposing like a seasoned knight. His sharp eyes scanned the room out of habit before settling on Whitney, giving her a brief nod of acknowledgment.

Behind him came Christian George, wearing his usual bright grin, hands stuffed casually into his pockets as if this were just another friendly get-together.

Edge Killian followed closely, his sharp features and unsettling aura immediately drawing attention. His eyes were narrowed, his posture lazy yet predatory, as if he were perpetually amused by the world around him.

And lastly—

Cypher Knoxx.

He stepped in quietly, his eyes unreadable, his presence far more subdued than the others. He didn’t smile nor he didn’t speak. His gaze briefly swept across the room, lingering for the briefest moment on Angela... and then, almost imperceptibly, flicking away.

Four names. Four figures.

They were the rising stars of the new generation—heroes who had reached fame, power, and influence at only twenty-one years old. Wherever they went, attention followed.

"It’s been a while, guys!" Christian said cheerfully, spreading his arms as if expecting applause.

"Move it," Edge muttered, shoving Christian aside with his shoulder.

"Hey, watch it!" Christian protested, stumbling a step before regaining his balance.

Edge ignored him completely, his attention already locked onto Angela. He walked straight up to her, stopping far too close for comfort. His usual smirk softened, replaced by something almost... sincere.

"How have you been?" he asked, his voice low and oddly emotional.

Whitney watched the exchange, lips twitching as she shook her head slightly. ’You haven’t changed at all,’ she thought.

"So-so," Angela replied flatly, crossing her arms as she leaned back. Her eyes flicked him up and down with clear judgment. "What about you? You look even more creepy now."

Edge blinked once, then burst out laughing. "Hahaha! That’s a funny way to say I’m handsome."

"Have you become crazy?" Angela shot back without missing a beat.

Their familiar banter filled the room, like nothing had changed between them.

"Ah, I’m so tired," Christian groaned, completely ignoring the exchange as he trudged over to the couch and flopped down dramatically. "I barely get any rest these days."

"Why? Already tired of Sovereign Legion?" Rex asked casually as he squeezed in beside Christian, reaching for the crystal decanter and pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Christian groaned and immediately snatched the glass from Rex’s hand, tilting it back and draining it in one go. "Sovereign Legion is too cutthroat. They’re sending me to three dungeons a month!"

Rex burst into laughter, unfazed. "Then why don’t you join us instead?" he said, pouring himself another glass. "Whitney doesn’t overwork me too much. Sure, she makes me lead high-ranking dungeon raids, but at least I still get to sleep."

Christian let out an even louder groan, sliding down against the couch cushions. "Believe me, I wanted to. I really did. But I’ve got a kid to take care of."