I slammed the door to my new quarters and fumbled for the lock, my breath coming in jagged hitches that had nothing to do with my bruised ribs.
Click.
The sound of the bolt sliding home was the most beautiful thing I had heard all day.
I leaned my forehead against the cool wood, closing my eyes. My heart was thumping a frantic rhythm against my chest.
Is she insane? Is the "Calamity" actually just a total lack of social awareness? In the game,
Alisa was always depicted as this cold, untouchable ice queen or a terrifying vortex of dark mana.
They never mentioned that her "villainous" traits included wanting to scrub the back of her bodyguard like we were still playing in the village mud.
"Leo? Why did you lock it??" Her voice came from the other side of the door.
It wasn't just annoyed; it had a sharp, vibrating edge to it that made the wood grain hum.
"I can hear your heart beatingg...."
"Because I value my life, Alisa!" I shouted back, staying firmly glued to the door.
"Go to your own room! Take a nap! Read a book! Do anything that doesn't involve me and a bathtub!"
There was a long silence. Then, a soft thud as if she had leaned her weight against the other side.
"You're hiding from me," she whispered, her voice suddenly sweet, like honey laced with arsenic.
"That's a very dangerous habit to form, Leo. If I can't see you, I start to imagine things. And when I imagine things... the curtains usually catch fire."
A chill ran down my spine. This was the "Dangerous" Alisa—the one who viewed the world as her personal dollhouse and me as her favorite toy.
"I'm not hiding, I'm showering!"
I yelled, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
"Go! Now!"
"Fine," she huffed, and I could practically feel her pout through the door.
"But I'm taking the strawberry soaps with me. You can smell like a wet dog for all I care. Don't complain when your wounds get infected because you were too stubborn to let me help, hmph."
I heard her footsteps recede, the rhythmic thud-thud of her boots fading down the hallway.
I didn't move for a full minute, waiting to make sure it wasn't a feint.
Finally.
I pushed away from the door and stripped off the ruined white shirt.
It was a mess of grey dust and dark crimson smears.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror near the washroom.
I looked like a car crash. My pale skin was a map of purple-and-blue blooming bruises, and the High Healer's "weave" left a faint, silvery scar right over my heart.
I looked fragile, yet there was a new sharpness to my eyes.
I'm not an NPC anymore, I thought, touching the glass. I'm the glitch.
The shower was a marvel of fantasy engineering—enchanted stones that heated the water instantly.
As the steam filled the room, the tension finally began to bleed out of my muscles.
I stood under the spray, letting the water wash away the copper scent of blood and the stinging sweat of the courtyard.
I need a plan, I realized, staring at the floor.
The Duke was still somewhere in the estate, likely watching from the shadows of his high office.
The Inquisition was already inside the walls. And Alisa... Alisa was a ticking time bomb of erratic affection and raw, terrifying power.
I couldn't just play the role of the "loyal dog." If I stayed Level 1, the next assassin wouldn't just bruise me—they would erase me. I needed to find a way to access that "Backdoor"
I saw earlier. If I could manipulate the world's physics like a speedrunner, I might actually stand a chance.
I finished, dried off, and found a fresh set of clothes laid out—not the uniform, thankfully, but a simple black tunic and trousers.
When I stepped out of my room, the butler was waiting in the hall.
He didn't look surprised to see me alive.
"Sir Leo. The Young Lady has retired to her study in a... particularly volatile mood," he said, his voice as dry as parchment.
"She requested that I escort you to the Great Library. It seems the Duke left instructions for your 'Mental Conditioning' to begin immediately before he attends to his afternoon councils."
"Mental conditioning? That sounds ominous."
"It is merely history, geography, and the laws of magic," the butler replied, turning to lead the way.
"Though, for a boy from the borderlands, I suppose it might feel like a different kind of torture."
As we walked through the sprawling corridors, I noticed the guards—the real ones, in silver armor—watching me with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
I was the "Village Brat" who had somehow survived the Night-Walker's training.
We reached two massive bronze doors engraved with the image of a weeping willow.
The butler pushed them open, revealing a room that defied gravity.
Bookshelves rose hundreds of feet into the air, connected by floating staircases and glowing crystals.
"Welcome to the Archive of the North," the butler said.
Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by hovering parchment, was the High Healer from earlier.
He looked up, his spectacles reflecting the blue light of the library.
"Ah, You again, boy," the healer muttered. "Sit down. We are going to find out exactly what kind of 'bug' you are."
My stomach dropped. Does he know?
The healer who name was Elian
Master Elian didn't bother with dusty tomes.
He tapped a crystal on the desk, and a holographic map of the continent bloomed into the air, shimmering with blue light.
"Most 'Shields' are just meat and muscle," Elian said, circling a glowing red zone on the map.
"But a Shadow must know the board. Tell me, boy—if the Holy Inquisition marches from the South, which mountain pass do they take?"
I stared at the map. My heart started to race.
My brain automatically pulled up the "Grand Invasion" event from the game's strategy guide.
"They don't take the pass," I said. The words were out before I could bite them back.
Elian paused, his hand hovering mid-air. "The pass is the only way through the Frost-Spine mountains. Every tactician in the North knows this. It's common knowledge."
"Then common knowledge is a death sentence," I countered, my voice shaking with a mix of nerves
I stepped forward, my finger hovering over a tiny, unnamed jagged line on the map's texture—a spot that looked like a simple artistic detail.
"There's a dry underground riverbed here. It's a... well, it's a structural weakness in the map—I mean, a hidden cavern. If they collapse the entrance, they can move a battalion under your walls in three days."
The library went dead silent.
The butler's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Elian's spectacles nearly slid off his nose.
"That area is marked as solid, impenetrable granite," Elian whispered, his voice trembling."
That is classified military geography. How could a boy from a border village possibly know about the Veins of the Earth?"
Shit. I felt a cold sweat break out on my neck.
I wasn't supposed to know that. That was late-game intel revealed during a Chapter 8 cutscene.
"I... I used to catch crickets in the caves," I lied, my voice cracking. "I just saw how the water flowed. I'm just guessing, really."
Elian didn't look like he believed me.
He quickly cleared the map and pulled out a jagged, pitch-black rock. The Primordial Stone.
In the game, this thing measured your capacity to hold mana.
"Place your hand here," Elian snapped. "Let's see what's actually inside you."
I reached out, my hand trembling. The moment my skin touched the cold stone, it didn't glow. It didn't hiss. It turned a sickly, flickering Static Grey.
"What is this?" Elian leaned in, his face pale.
"It isn't Fire, or Water, or even Light. This is... 'Entropic Mana.' It's the energy of a fading world."
"Is that bad?" I asked, pulling my hand back as if I'd been burned.
"It's useful for breaking things," Elian replied
Elian breathed, looking at me with a mix of pity.
"But it eats at the user. It's a curse, Leo. You don't have the blood of a noble to stabilize it. Without a proper anchor, this power will burn you out before you turn twenty."
Oh, that power was suck... aww i though, I'm looking like a hopeless boy
Suddenly, the library doors groaned.
The shadows in the room elongated, stretching toward us like hungry fingers.
Alisa stood at the entrance. She had changed into a dark crimson dress that made her look like a drop of blood in a snowstorm with her hair look like wine.
She looked regal, terrifying, and completely
unimpressed.
"Are you done poking my dog?" she asked, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"He's been in here for an hour. I'm starting to lose my patience, and when I get bored, things tend to break."
Elian jumped back, bowing so low his forehead almost hit the table.
"Young Lady! We were just... assessing his potential."
"His potential is to stay by my side,"
Alisa said, walking toward me.
Every step she took left a faint frost mark on the floorboards.
She stopped right in front of me, sniffing the air with a small frown.
"You smell like the Healer's old herbs. I preferred the strawberry."
She turned to Elian, her eyes flashing a dangerous,
"The Duke is calling for a council. He wants his 'Shadow' present.
Apparently, the maid we caught had a letter hidden in her heel."
My stomach did a somersault. The plot was moving too fast.
I wasn't ready yet. I was just a kid with "Entropic" mana that was apparently killing me.
"What did the letter say?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from wobbling.
Alisa smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. It was the smile of a girl who had just found a way to hurt the world that hated her.
"It says the 'Hero of the Prophecy' has been found," she whispered, leaning into my ear.
"A boy with the blood of Kings. He's coming here to 'save' me from my 'evil' father. Isn't that hilarious, Leo? A Hero is coming to kill us."
She grabbed my hand, her grip tight and cold. "Let's go. I want to see Father's face when he tells us how he plans to bury a Hero." with a evil smile