Picking up a stack of papers that had been left in the lab, Bell began to skim through them.
"Hmm? What's this?" he muttered, one eyebrow raising slightly.
Previously, in the underground laboratory, he had left everything untouched — but not before reading through every document scattered around. None of them had been particularly useful to him, so he left them behind for the government to seize.
However, this particular stack in his hands—
"I'll be taking this with me."
There was a certain alchemist who could make use of the research he had just read. He also couldn't risk it falling into the wrong hands. It wasn't that he didn't trust the government — though he didn't — but more so that he didn't trust certain individuals within it, the kind who would twist discoveries like this for their own selfish gain.
Admittedly, he also wanted to give the research to the pink-haired alchemist, Sarakit, for a selfish reason of his own — but one that wouldn't harm the world.
In fact, it might help it.
Other than a few minor injuries, despite being outnumbered, it was no surprise that there had been no casualties among his men. The difference between the forces of a Duke and those of a Count was vast, regardless of the fact that he had brought the B-squad.
The cleanup of the surprise raid of the mansion afterward was rather simple.
As expected, though what they had done was technically a crime, the justification, the testimonies of the surviving servants who were too terrified to go down with the ship, and the capture of Count Vorath, who had attempted to flee amidst the chaos, had put them in the right and with the Agnus crest on some guards' shoulder plates, the city couldn't do much to punish them.
If anything, the city wanted to reward them instead.
Bell, however, refused to be rewarded and only requested that they keep the matter quiet.
Of course, such secrecy was impossible to maintain completely; those in power would learn about it eventually, and once they knew, they might tell someone, who might tell someone, who might tell someone else, etc., until everyone knew.
But as long as the general populace remained unaware for a while, he didn't care.
There was no reason to bring attention to himself yet.
Not that he planned to hide his strength or achievements.
That would be foolish, as a lack of reputation could easily hinder him later. And as a reader of light novels and webnovels, it frustrated him slightly when the protagonists would refuse to reveal their strength, even just a little bit.
It seemed like a smart thing to catch their enemies off guard, and sometimes he would agree with their decision to do so, but in Bell's shoes, he was an Agnus.
Attention was already his middle name.
He wouldn't be able to avoid being noticed anyway, so he might as well prevent himself from being perceived as a pushover, which would invite trouble.
But for now, he didn't want to be known for this.
There was no pride to be found in it. He hadn't slain a dragon or achieved glory; he had simply avenged those poor children. This wasn't an achievement. It was sad.
"Let's head home," Bell said.
* * *
Many weeks later, September 3rd.
It was the day before the start of the new semester. The day before the novel truly began.
As expected from a story Bell had constantly criticized every new chapter that came out for being cliché, it began with a transfer student joining the academy, something uncommon enough to catch the attention of the students.
A lot had happened between the raid on the Droselmire mansion and now.
First, Bell had trained his body to the point of fainting on multiple occasions. Once frail but toned, that word, "frail", no longer described him. To call him frail would be like calling a tree trunk a twig.
He was built now: lean, toned, and though the definition wasn't visible beneath long sleeves, he was extremely muscular despite the lack of bulkiness.
His hair had grown a little longer. His height even increased by a few small ticks. His eyes were sharper and more tired than ever.
His knowledge of the world had expanded so much from reading books and listening in on conversations that no one would guess he hadn't been born into it.
As for the missing memories of the original Bell Agnus, he had filled in the gaps by listening to stories from his mother and grandfather, overhearing conversations among the maids and butlers, and conducting his own research and deductions.
It was enough to keep anyone from suspecting the truth as long as they didn't get too deep into details, and if they did, all he had to do was feign ignorance and pretend that he forgot.
It would've been a lot easier to hide it as well if he had kept the personality of the original, but that wasn't something Bell could envision himself doing. And he already had an excuse for his personality change. Thatincident.
It wasn't only his body that had changed.
He had created the second star in his skill tree.
The only issue was that the star wasn't lit, and Unbound Step was still the only ability that Bell was able to use.
That was one of the many difficulties of being one's own god.
Other followers could unlock stars in their skill tree by strengthening themselves, receiving missions from their gods, and upon completion, receiving points that they could use to select which star to unlock — some more costly than others.
But Bell didn't have that luxury.
He couldn't assign himself a mission.
There was no "next star" waiting for him. He had to create it — to forge his own ability.
The novel never explained how this process worked, yet Bell somehow knew. The knowledge felt innate, as if it had always belonged to him. The unlit star simply waited for him to ignite it, and in a moment of need and conviction, it would take form and light up.
He wasn't the only one who had changed.
Maya, his fellow student who had sworn loyalty to him, had grown even more devoted to him, or rather, to his cause.
He had been honest with her when he said following him wasn't the wrong choice.
Over the past weeks, she had carried out numerous missions: gathering information on certain individuals, compiling it, and anonymously leaking it to the authorities to dismantle criminal networks from within.
In truth, she did most of the legwork, but she could tell he truly regarded her as his own hands, an extension of himself, when he sent her out into the city.
He could have done it all himself, but she was better suited for it. He had other matters to focus on.
One of those matters was the alchemist, Sarakit.
After her grandfather's recovery, her family's life had improved drastically.
Every day was brighter, the meals richer, there was more laughter, fewer tears, but most importantly, they no longer had to chase a cure.
They could finally live.
Sarakit now had the luxury to throw herself back into her passion: creating potions, strange brews, and all manner of bizarre concoctions unseen on the market.
Most were useless, a waste of the funding Bell provided, but she produced them with astonishing speed. Her genius lay in quantity and experimentation. The very definition of quantity over quality.
Still, every so often, quality emerged from the chaos.
With Bell's subtle guidance and the knowledge he remembered from the novel, Sarakit succeeded in creating the Star Potion, a potion that healed the body while boosting star energy production.
The same potion that he had been hoping to consume during his training.
Only a few samples were released into the market so far, a mere tease to stir rumors. Create this allure and make people yearn to get their hands on it.
To protect both the potion and its creator, not only was it being sold after numerous steps to ensure it couldn't be traced back to Sarakit, but Bell had also moved Sarakit's family into the Agnus estate, with his mother's permission of course.
How much could one's parents dote on their child?
But it wasn't just the Star Potion that had value to Bell.
Once Bell handed Sarakit the papers written by Dr. Debronx, something new began to take shape, something that could change the world. Something that hadn't even existed in the novel.
If those documents had fallen into the wrong hands, they might have produced chimeras at best.
But in Sarakit's hands, they held the possibility of a future where lost limbs could not only be replaced with prosthetics as he had promised Maya, but regrown entirely.
That future was still far away, of course. It would take many more years of research and experimentation.
For now, Sarakit had only managed to create a liquid that could generate additional flesh, mass, and occasionally bone.
The results were unpredictable.
A rabbit might grow a third ear, half missing.
A rat's leg might double in size with its anatomy all wrong.
It was a work in progress. A very veryvery rough work in progress.
She also managed to concoct a poison that wouldn't kill Bell but would bring him pain so intense that even walking felt like dying. And he drank it willingly before every training session.
Sarakit thought him a madman, but since he was her benefactor, she kept that opinion to herself.
Her grandfather, a former member of the Black Hawk, had also joined House Agnus's guard. It shouldn't have been that easy to do so, but once they discovered he had sworn loyalty to Bell on the Black Hawk's creed, he was welcomed in with open arms.
That old man was delighted to stretch old muscles and shake off the rust gathered on his skills from his years bedridden with Dragon Fever.
Her parents had become chefs for the manor, closing down their restaurant. They would be in the kitchen with the other chefs, preparing meals for the family when Tiara was busy or not in the mood to cook.
Sarakit and Maya had also grown closer over the weeks.
It wasn't to the extent that they could consider each other friends as for the most part, they were off doing their own things, but it was to a point that if they saw each other in the hallway at the academy, they would smile and wave at each other and if they had class together, they might sit next to each other and actually spend time becoming real friends.
The only issue was that Maya was a little jealous.
Her bond with Bell was that of master and servant, sworn loyalty and devotion.
Sarakit's was one of sponsor and beneficiary.
It wasn't deep resentment — just quiet envy. And if she felt negativity toward anyone, it was toward Bell himself.
It had been her choice to follow him, yes, but his words had been so convincing — his ideals, his resolve… perhaps even his looks had played a small part.
Those darn looks.
She shook her head. At least he was keeping his promises.
A lot had happened over the past weeks: small events, unseen movements, some even overseas. One in particular involved a certain blue-haired student living by herself in an apartment who was spiraling deeper into despair each day.
But now, it was almost time.
Just one more day. One more night's rest and the story would officially begin.
Bell could finally meet the protagonist of the novel tomorrow.
After finishing his morning workout, one of three he performed daily when not otherwise occupied, Bell stepped out of the shower just as his mother knocked on his door.
"Bell, guess who's home?" she asked. He could hear the giddiness in her voice as if she couldn't wait to reveal it.
He paused, towel draped around his shoulders. "...Who?"
"Your eldest brother is home!" Tiara exclaimed, voice bright with joy. "Cyro's back!"
'Cyro Agnus?'
He knew him.
Not just because he was now his older brother.
Not just because of the praises and all the things that were being said about him in the estate by the workers and his own mother.
He knew him from the novel.
Cryo Agnus.
The Red-Eyed Paladin of the First Order.