Footsteps grew louder.
I pressed my back against the cold stone wall, every nerve in my body screaming at me to move—but not too fast. My mana was unstable, my breathing uneven, and whatever had just happened inside that seal had left a residue I didn't yet understand.
Calm down.
Two figures appeared at the mouth of the alley.
Men. Adventurers, judging by the leather armor and short blades at their waists. One of them sniffed the air like a hunting dog, his brow furrowing.
"Did you feel that?" the taller one asked.
"Yeah," the other replied. "Mana fluctuation. Strong. Localized."
My heart sank.
So the awakening hadn't gone unnoticed after all.
I lowered my head further, shadow hiding my face. If they were just curious, I could maybe slip past. If they were experienced—
"Hey," the tall one said sharply, his eyes locking onto me. "You. Cloak."
I didn't respond.
He stepped closer. "You come out of nowhere, and suddenly a sealed door turns into dust? That's suspicious."
I clenched my fists.
Don't use magic. Don't draw attention.
"I'm just a traveler," I said calmly, keeping my voice steady. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The second man narrowed his eyes, his hand resting on his blade. "Funny. Because the mana spike came from right here."
The system stirred.
[Warning.]
[Host condition: unstable.]
[Recommended action: avoidance.]
Avoidance sounded great—if I wasn't cornered.
The taller adventurer took another step forward, and that's when I felt it.
A sharp pull from deep within my chest.
The Authority Fragment reacted.
Not violently—instinctively.
The air around me thickened, pressure building like an invisible wall. The runes beneath my skin flared for a split second before I could suppress them.
Both men froze.
"What the—" one of them muttered.
I felt it then—the cost.
A deep, gnawing pain bloomed behind my eyes. My thoughts slowed, my memories blurring at the edges, as if something was scraping against my mind.
[Passive Authority leakage detected.]
[Side effect: Minor memory erosion.]
My teeth clenched.
So this is the price.
Using—or even existing with—forgotten power wasn't free.
"I told you," I said quietly, forcing the pressure down. "I don't want trouble."
The air snapped back to normal.
Both adventurers staggered as if waking from a daze.
"…What were we doing?" the shorter one asked, blinking.
The taller man frowned, confused. "We… felt something strange. But… it's gone."
They looked at me again—but this time, their gazes slid past, unfocused.
I held my breath.
After a tense moment, the tall one clicked his tongue. "Probably nothing. Let's go. This district's bad luck."
They turned and walked away, their conversation already drifting to something else entirely.
Only when their footsteps faded did my legs give out.
I sank to one knee, breathing hard.
"Memory erosion…" I whispered. "So the spell doesn't just erase others."
It erodes me too.
That was the true horror of forgotten spells.
They didn't just destroy the world—they consumed the Guardian holding them.
[Notice.]
[Authority Fragment stabilized.]
[Leakage temporarily suppressed.]
I pushed myself back up slowly, wiping sweat from my brow.
I couldn't stay in this alley any longer.
As I stepped back onto the main street, the noise of the city washed over me, grounding me in reality. Merchants shouted, adventurers laughed, magic crackled harmlessly in the air.
No one noticed me.
Good.
I blended into the crowd, pulling my hood low, my mind racing.
Fragments caused instability.
Instability caused memory loss.
Too many fragments too quickly—
I didn't finish the thought.
I stopped near a quiet corner, resting a hand against my chest.
Rule number one, I told myself. Never awaken a fragment without preparation.
If I wanted to survive long enough to understand my role—long enough to decide whether I was a guardian or a disaster—
I needed control.
Training. Knowledge. Restraint.
And above all—
I needed to learn how much of myself I was willing to lose for power that should never have been remembered.
Because now I knew the truth.
Every forgotten spell came with a price.
And eventually—
The Guardian would have to pay it in full.