The announcement board was a slab of obsidian three meters tall, and it smelled like ozone and crushed dreams.
It stood in the center of the main quad, humming with the magical signatures of the faculty. Hundreds of students were crowded around it, shoving, cursing, and praying to various deities that they hadn't been paired with the F-Class rejects.
I stood at the back of the crowd. I didn't need to look. I knew how this story went.
In the original timeline, the Midterm Dungeon was where I, Caelus von Valerius, hid in a supply closet for six hours while my team did all the work. I had emerged unscathed, taken credit for their kills, and mocked the commoner who lost an eye protecting the rear.
It was a classic villain beat.
I just need to find a closet, I told myself. A nice, deep closet with a lock. I'll sit there, play solitaire, and wait for the System to dock me points for cowardice. Easy.
"Team 1," the magical voice boomed from the board, echoing across the stone tiles. "Captain: Second Prince Lucas."
The crowd hushed. The Golden Sun. The Hero.
"Members: Saintess Elara."
A collective gasp. The Power Couple. It was inevitable. It was perfect.
"And..."
The voice paused. It sounded like the magic itself was confused.
"...Caelus von Valerius."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush a lung.
I stared at the obsidian slab. My name was glowing right there, under theirs.
Team 1: The Hero, The Saint, and The Trash.
"No," I whispered.
I looked across the quad.
Lucas was standing on the steps of the library, surrounded by his sycophants. He wasn't looking at the board. He was looking directly at me.
He smiled.
It wasn't the politician's smile he used for the cameras. It wasn't the charming smile he used for Elara. It was a small, tight curvature of the lips that said, I am going to peel you like an orange in the dark.
My stomach dropped.
This wasn't a team. This was a kill box.
In a dungeon, there are no cameras. No teachers. Just monsters and "accidents." If I died in there, Lucas would emerge weeping, claiming he tried to save me but I was too weak, too foolish, too villainous to be helped.
He would kill me, comfort Elara in her grief, and look like a saint doing it.
Life Force: 71:10:00
"I'm dead," I told the paving stone next to my boot. "I have seventy hours of life and I'm going to spend them being digested by a goblin because the Prince has an inferiority complex."
"A formidable team."
I jumped.
Ren, the Prince's aide, was standing beside me. He was a mouse of a man, always clutching a clipboard like a shield. He smelled of ink and nervous sweat.
"His Highness requested you personally," Ren said, not making eye contact. "He believes... he believes everyone deserves a chance to prove their worth. Even you."
"I don't want a chance," I hissed. "I want to go home. I want to drop out. I have a sudden, violent allergy to confined spaces."
"Attendance is mandatory," Ren recited, sweating harder. "Failure to enter the dungeon results in expulsion."
Expulsion meant leaving the Academy grounds. Leaving the grounds meant the Life Force drain doubled and the System executed me.
"Fine," I spat. "I'll go."
Ren scurried away, looking like he expected me to bite him.
I turned and walked toward the Supply Depot. If I was going into a dungeon with a guy who wanted to murder me, I wasn't going in fair.
[LOCATION: THE SUPPLY DEPOT - ALCHEMY SECTION]
The shopkeeper was a goblin with one ear and a profound lack of customer service skills. He was reading a magazine about siege weaponry.
I slammed a bag of gold onto the counter. It was the "allowance" Isolde had given me for the arson.
"I need poison," I said.
The goblin didn't look up. "Rat? Roach? Ex-wife?"
"Paralytics," I said. "Neurotoxins. Blinding powder. Anything that makes a person regret having a nervous system."
The goblin lowered the magazine. He looked at my black suit. He looked at the desperation in my eyes.
"Aisle four," he grunted. "Don't touch the purple vials unless you want to dissolve."
I raided aisle four.
I grabbed Midnight Shade (blindness). I grabbed Root-Rot (paralysis). I grabbed a bag of Flash-Dust that was technically illegal in three provinces.
I stuffed them into my pockets. I looked like a walking chemical hazard.
Lucas wants a fight? I thought, my hands shaking as I paid. I won't fight him. I'll blind him, cripple him, and run away while he's vomiting foam.
It was a villainous plan. It was dirty. It was perfect.
I walked out of the shop, feeling slightly better. The weight of the glass vials against my ribs was reassuring.
"You look like you're planning a murder."
I froze.
Sylvia was leaning against the wall outside the shop. She was sharpening her sword. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. The sound grated on my teeth.
"I'm planning a field trip," I lied. "Educational enrichment."
She looked at my bulging pockets. She smelled the faint, acrid scent of toxins.
"Lucas rigged the teams," she said. Her voice was flat.
"I noticed."
"I can break his arm," she offered. "Before the exam starts. An accident. He trips. Into my fist. Repeatedly."
"No," I said.
If she hurt the Prince, she'd be expelled. Or executed. She was the Sword Saint's daughter, but even she couldn't assault royalty in broad daylight without consequences.
"I can handle it."
"You can't," she said. She sheathed her sword. "You have no mana. You have poisons and a bad attitude. Lucas has a Tier 4 Core and a Light Attribute."
She walked up to me. She was too close. I could smell the steel and the rain again.
"Take this."
She held out her hand. In her palm was a small, silver amulet shaped like a shield. It hummed with a low, steady vibration.
"What is it?"
"A Guardian's Oath," she said. "It blocks one fatal blow. Any blow. Physical or magical."
I stared at it.
That amulet was worth more than my family's estate. It was a national treasure.
"I don't need your charity," I sneered, trying to channel the arrogance of the old Caelus. "I can protect myself. Keep your trinkets."
I turned to walk away.
A hand grabbed the back of my collar.
Sylvia didn't argue. She didn't plead. She yanked me back, spun me around, and jammed the amulet into my breast pocket with enough force to bruise.
"It wasn't a request," she whispered.
Her grey eyes were storms. They weren't looking at me with the adoration of the past few days. They were looking at me with the terrified aggression of someone watching a toddler play in traffic.
"If you die in there," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "I will resurrect you just so I can kill you myself."
"That's biologically impossible," I squeaked.
"Try me."
She patted the pocket where she'd shoved the amulet. Her hand lingered for a second over my heart.
"Don't trust him," she said. "Don't turn your back on him. And if he tries anything... use the green vial."
I blinked. "I didn't buy a green vial."
"I slipped it in your pocket while I was threatening you," she said calmly. "It's Wyvern Bile. It melts armor."
She stepped back.
"Survive, Caelus."
She turned and walked away toward the training grounds, her hand resting on her sword hilt.
I checked my pocket. Sure enough, next to the amulet, there was a small green bottle.
[ITEM RECEIVED: WYVERN BILE][SOURCE: THE OVERPROTECTIVE SWORD][LETHALITY: EXTREME]
I looked at the amulet. I looked at the poison.
"She's crazy," I muttered. "They're all crazy."
But I didn't take the amulet out.
[LOCATION: DUNGEON ENTRANCE - THE GAPING MAW]
The entrance to the Midterm Dungeon looked like a wound in the world.
It was a swirling vortex of grey fog, anchored by four massive rune-pillars. The air around it was cold, sucking the heat out of the day.
Teams were gathering. They looked nervous.
I stood by a pillar, trying to look bored.
"Caelus."
The voice was smooth, rich, and made my skin crawl.
Lucas walked up. He was wearing pristine white armor with gold inlays. He looked like a god who had decided to grace the mortals with his presence.
Elara walked a step behind him. She was clutching her staff, her knuckles white. She looked pale.
"We are teammates," Lucas said, extending a gloved hand. "Let us work together for the glory of the Academy."
I looked at his hand.
In the last life, he had shaken my hand right before he ordered the guards to seize me.
Don't shake it, my brain screamed. It's a trap.
But if I refused, I was being "uncooperative." I was being a "villain."
Wait.
Being a villain is the point.
I looked at his hand. I looked at his face.
I reached into my pocket. I grabbed a handful of the blinding powder. Just a pinch. I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger inside the pocket.
Then I pulled my hand out—still dusty—and shook his hand.
"Sure," I said. "Glory."
Lucas smiled. He squeezed my hand.
I felt a sharp prick in my palm.
A needle. Hidden in his glove.
He pulled away. His smile didn't waver.
"To the end," he said softly.
I looked at my hand. A tiny drop of blood welled up in the center of my palm.
[POISON DETECTED][TYPE: TRACKING TOXIN][EFFECT: ATTRACTS MONSTERS]
I stared at the blood.
He hadn't poisoned me to kill me. He had poisoned me to make me bait. Every monster in the dungeon would smell me from a mile away. I was going to be a walking dinner bell.
I looked up at Lucas. He was already walking toward the portal, chatting with Elara.
He knew. He knew exactly what he did.
A cold, hard laugh bubbled up in my throat.
You want bait? I thought, touching the Wyvern Bile in my pocket. Fine. I'll bring the monsters. I'll bring them all to you.
I wiped the blood on my black jacket.
"After you, Your Highness," I whispered.
I stepped into the fog.
[ENTERING DUNGEON INSTANCE: THE CRYPT OF WHISPERS][DIFFICULTY: ADJUSTED BY HOSTILE INTENT][SURVIVAL CHANCE: 12%]
The world turned grey.