"This is the place."
Val exhaled as he stood before the tower, an ancient spire with no stairs, no balconies, no doors at ground level.
Typical of an archmage who preferred flying over anything as mundane as walking.
"Great. Time to climb," he muttered.
He reached for a crack in the stone and hauled himself upward.
Rain slicked the walls, wind lashed against him, and more than once his grip faltered. His fingers throbbed, then burned, then went numb.
By the twentieth minute, he could no longer tell whether the moisture on his hands was rain or blood.
But the image of Nara in Zyra's hands shoved every thought of surrender out of his skull.
"Never," he hissed between clenched teeth.
When he finally rolled over the ledge at the top, he lay there for several long breaths, drenched and shaking. Then he laughed weakly.
"I'm going to feel this for three days," he said, pushing himself up.
The lab inside the tower was a chaotic maze of scattered books and half-finished experiments.
The smell of ink, herbs, and whatever magical residue the archmage liked to play with clung to the air.
"This should be it," Val said, weaving between stacks until he reached the back of the room.
A small, dust-coated box waited there as if forgotten. He lifted the lid.
Light burst out, clean, warm, divine.
"The Angel Bracelet. S-tier." Val stared, half awed, half offended. "And this old man kept it in… a random box? Seriously?"
There was no point questioning whether the archmage was senile or simply enjoyed trolling thieves.
Val slipped the bracelet on. It tightened, molding to his arm as if recognizing him.
"First step, done. Next… stopping that professor."
He remembered the moment in the original timeline, the incident that made Nara cling to Zyra.
A professor cornered her, tried to blackmail her with grades, and Zyra swooped in to save her. That twisted rescue was what made her fall for him.
Not this time.
Not in this life.
"After the field exam," Val murmured. "I need to heal first."
He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned toward the hole he climbed through, but something glimmered in the corner of his eye.
"…Huh?"
A faint shine pulsed from beneath a fallen shelf.
Ding.
Host found an A-rank item.
The Ring of the Fallen:
A dying knight's final promise to the woman he loved, enduring even past death.
Effects:
• Hug — +1 point
• Kiss — +2 points
• Sex — +10 points
Val picked up the ring, studying the silver band crowned with a small skull.
"…Was this even in the game?"
He shrugged. "Whatever. Free is free."
He climbed down carefully this time, his arms trembling with every motion.
As he neared the lower half of the tower, a voice drifted up through the rain.
"So this is the quest location," Zyra said.
Val froze.
The night hid him completely, but the voice was unmistakable. For a heartbeat, Val's pulse thundered so loudly he feared Zyra might hear it.
"That was close," Val breathed. "Ten minutes later and I would've failed."
Zyra began climbing from the opposite side of the tower.
Val imagined his face when he reached the top and found the empty box. The thought nearly made him laugh out loud.
But the worry crept in quickly.
Zyra's system was strong. Too strong. If the world favored the so-called hero, it might simply generate another bracelet for him.
The instant Val's boots touched grass, a furious scream cut the night.
"NOOOOOOOO!"
Zyra's voice shook the tower.
"Whoever took it, I'll find you! Do you hear me!?"
Val allowed himself a quiet smile. "Relax. This is only the beginning."
"That's not the only thing I'm going to steal from you."
Val laughed quietly.
He turned to leave, unaware of the mud on the tower's top floor, mud that had faithfully preserved every one of his footprints.
Zyra traced them with a cold smirk.
"Finally… a lead."
If someone stole the bracelet, then someone else knew the plot. That changed everything.
"I need to be careful," Zyra muttered. He began listing names, students, rivals, anyone who might possess the courage or stupidity to climb an archmage's tower.
Three days remained before the exam.
Plenty of time to hunt.
And he would start by finding the student who owned boots with that exact pattern.
Even if it meant playing detective like some prince in that dusty old Cinderella story.