A few days later, Soren stood at his dorm window, staring out at the night sky.
The campus was quiet at this hour.
The paths glowed faintly under the mana lamps, and the silhouette of the academy buildings stood tall against the dark.
The world looked peaceful from here, too peaceful, compared to the noise still twisting in his chest.
His head ached dully, and his thoughts kept circling back to the same points.
The duel.
The golden light.
The feeling of being frozen in place while someone else moved freely.
It still made his stomach twist.
Even so, his hand moved on its own, tightening around the cloak draped over the back of his chair.
'It's time.'
He said it to himself, not out loud, but the words felt solid enough to push him forward.
He shrugged the cloak on, the familiar weight settling across his shoulders, then reached over to the desk and picked up the book Lilliana had helped him obtain.
Its cover was plain, the title neat and understated, but he knew how much value it held.
He opened the window.
Cold air spilt into the room, brushing across his face.
The ground below was a fair drop.
For a normal student, it would have been a bad idea.
For Soren, it was still a bad idea; he just intended to cheat a little.
Looking down at the courtyard, he raised his hand outside the window and spoke quietly.
"「Bloom」."
Mana flowed through his circuits, and a moment later, flowers burst into existence along the stone wall.
All sorts of flora sprouted from the windowsill and crept downwards, twisting vines, clustered blossoms, thick leaves.
They dug into cracks in the masonry, weaving together into a cascading ladder of greenery that stretched all the way down to the ground.
Once the floral path was steady enough, Soren swung his legs over the windowsill so that he was sitting with his feet dangling in the open air.
He took a breath.
Then jumped.
Thud—
He hit the ground harder than he meant to.
Pain shot up his leg, and he let out a quiet hiss.
"Stitch thy flesh, I end thy agony. 「Heal」."
Purplish-silver light wrapped around his calf, easing the ache.
He rubbed his leg once, testing the joint, then straightened up and pulled his cloak tighter around himself.
He was sneaking out of the dormitory.
He didn't bother with the proper exits.
The fewer people who saw him walking out at this hour with a book and a handaxe, the better.
Soren set off along the shadowed path, keeping mostly to the darker edges of the walkways.
The academy grounds at night were different, less noise, more space for his thoughts to echo.
Half an hour later, he arrived at his destination.
[Stellaris Cemetery]
[The resting place for the unfortunate souls who lived as hard as they fought.]
Iron bars framed the entrance, and rows of headstones stretched beyond them, some polished and well-maintained, others weathered and fading.
Lanterns flickered faintly at intervals, casting long shadows over stone and grass.
This was where his memories had led him.
Stellaris Cemetery.
The location of the second hidden piece.
His hands shook lightly, not from fear, but from exhaustion and the lingering weight of everything that had been piling up inside him.
Even so, his steps didn't falter as he slipped past the gate and moved deeper between the graves.
He kept to the edges where he could, pausing every so often to check his surroundings.
There were patrol routes here.
The academy took the dignity of the dead seriously.
Being caught digging up a grave on school grounds was something he did not want to experience.
He moved with deliberate care, scanning for any flicker of lantern light or the distant murmur of a guard's footsteps.
Eventually, he stopped in front of a particular grave.
The headstone was a little more worn than the others nearby, its carving faded by time and weather.
To someone else, it would be just another marker among many.
To Soren, it was a trigger in his memory.
This was the one.
"「Inventory」."
A translucent window shimmered into existence before him.
He reached into it and pulled out a shovel, the metal cool and solid in his hands.
Then, without a hint of hesitation, he began digging up the grave.
The soil here was dense and heavy.
Each shovelful felt slower than the last, his arms already tired before he even started.
His muscles ached, his shoulders burned, but he kept going.
Dirt piled up beside the headstone, steadily deepening the hole.
It was a strenuous, tedious task, and his body protested the whole time.
But he had to do this now.
He needed the strength that lay beneath his feet.
Minutes blurred together into something thicker.
His breathing grew ragged, and sweat soaked the collar of his shirt beneath the cloak.
His hands stung where the handle rubbed against his skin, the beginning of blisters forming.
"Finally," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist as he reached a solid surface.
He leaned the shovel against the side of the dug-out earth and put it back into his inventory with a thought.
Below him, nestled where a coffin should have been, was a wooden construct that looked more like a hatch than a casket.
He crouched down and pulled it open.
Instead of a body, a staircase descended into darkness.
Soren's expression tightened.
He summoned his handaxe into one hand, its familiar weight reassuring, and conjured an [Ignition] spell in the other, letting a small, controlled flame bloom over his palm to serve as a light source.
Then, slowly, he began to descend into the darkness.
Step… step…
The air grew cooler the further he went down.
The stone stairs were narrow and slightly damp, the smell of earth and old wood growing stronger with each step.
Tension gripped him like chains.
Even with the flicker of fire in his hand, the darkness below felt almost solid.
Shadows clung to the walls, and the echo of his footsteps seemed too loud in the enclosed space.
Still, he didn't rush.
He was desperate for strength, but he wasn't suicidal.
Running blindly into a dungeon was the fastest way to lose everything he had clawed together so far.
If he was going to throw himself into danger, it would be with his eyes open.
Eventually, the staircase ended.
At the bottom, a stone door loomed in front of him, tall and heavy, its surface etched with faint, worn lines that might have once been decorative patterns.
Seeing it, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.
It was the same as he remembered.
He attached the handaxe to his belt to free his hands and summoned the book he had brought.
Its weight in his palms was a reminder of how much trouble he had gone through to get it earlier than he should have.
This was the help he had requested from Lilliana.
A book that, under normal circumstances, Soren would have been unable to obtain at this point in time.
It was supposed to be a reward in the second semester, a quest item handed over by the principal.
But he had relied on his connections, on Lilliana's position and trust, and managed to bring it here before the first semester was even over.
Of course, he wasn't allowed to keep it.
– Here… I'm not sure why you need this, but please promise me that you'll give it back in a couple of days, and please… talk to me if something is going on… we're friends, aren't we, Ren?
'I'm sorry…'
The memory of her hesitant smile and anxious words tugged at him.
He felt guilty for using Lilliana like this.
For smiling and nodding and saying "of course" while knowing he had no intention of fully explaining what he was doing.
But guilt didn't change the fact that he needed what was hidden here.
He turned his attention back to the door.
Right beneath the handles was a rectangular slot, a few inches thick.
He let out a quiet breath of relief when he saw its size and shape.
It matched the book perfectly.
He slid the book into place.
'Thank god it's the same.'
With how much had already changed compared to what he remembered, he had been worried that even simple triggers like this would be different.
If the conditions here were altered, he would be stuck.
But this, at least, hadn't shifted.
He glanced down at the title as the book settled into the slot.
[Crystalised Mana] [By Lunaris Sona]
At first glance, it looked like nothing more than a treatise, dense text, narrow margins, a straightforward label.
But Soren knew better.
He knew the secret worth of this book.
Why the principal treasured it.
Why people in the game's world would have killed for something like this.
Research papers on a form of physical mana, compiled by one of the greatest geniuses in history, and assistant to the academy's founder.
If sold, this book alone could buy and furnish a mansion in the capital of Fialova.
Not a modest home.
A mansion.
That was how sought-after the works of Lunaris Sona were.
The book sat snugly in the gap and…
Click.
Scrrraaaaaapppeeeee—
The heavy stone door began to move, grinding open slowly.
Soren's grip tightened on his axe as he stepped back, muscles tensing.
The flame in his left hand flickered as the stale air from within the crypt spilt out, carrying the scent of dust and something old.
He readied himself the moment the door started sliding aside.
His boots crossed the threshold, hitting the cold stone floor of the crypt.
The temperature dropped immediately, seeping into his legs through the soles of his shoes.
His body felt heavy, and his mind was still foggy from sleepless nights and constant overthinking.
As he stepped further inside, Soren's mind replayed every battle he had fought up to now.
The goblins in Rena Forest.
The training matches.
The mock duels.
Every failure.
Every mistake.
Every moment where he had frozen, hesitated, doubted.
Rumble…
Crash!
The sharp sound of splintering wood echoed through the crypt, not from one place, but from many.
————「❤︎」————