The walk to the Silver Tower was quiet.
It wasn't the peaceful kind of quiet. It was the silence of a funeral procession where the corpse is still walking and knows exactly which hole it's going into.
Two Student Council enforcers flanked Caelus. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. The silver armbands on their uniforms marked them as the elite—students who had traded their personalities for a little bit of authority and a lot of mana credits.
Caelus stared at the floor as he walked. The marble changed from the white of the main hall to a deep, vein-riddled grey as they entered the administration wing.
He checked his wrist.
Life Force: 01:32:15
He had an hour and a half.
"I'm dead," Caelus whispered.
The guard on his left twitched but didn't look at him.
"I interrupted the Prince," Caelus muttered, half to himself, half to test if the guards were actually robots. "I ate fruit during a national address. And now I'm being taken to the Principal. She's going to expel me. Expulsion means I leave the Academy grounds. Leaving the grounds means the Life Force drain doubles."
He did the math. If he was expelled, he would die before he reached the city gates.
Maybe I can steal something in her office, he thought, desperation clawing at his throat. A pen. A paperweight. Anything.
They stopped in front of a massive double door made of blackwood. There were no handles. There was only a single, glowing red rune in the center that looked uncomfortably like a bloodshot eye.
"Enter," a voice came from inside.
It wasn't loud, but it vibrated in Caelus's teeth. It sounded like cello strings being plucked in a cold room.
The doors groaned open.
The guards stepped back. They weren't going in. They knew better.
Caelus took a breath that tasted of dust and fear, and stepped inside.
The Principal's office was not a classroom. It was a cathedral to narcissism and dangerous magic. The walls were lined with bookshelves that stretched up into shadows Caelus couldn't see. Floating lights drifted lazily through the air, illuminating artifacts that looked illegal in at least seven kingdoms.
And there, behind a desk large enough to land a wyvern on, sat the Principal.
Isolde von Aethelgard. The Iron Witch. The Ruthless Gardener.
She was pouring wine.
She didn't look up as Caelus entered. The liquid in the crystal decanter was a deep, violent crimson. It sloshed into the glass with a sound that was too heavy for liquid.
"Close the door," she said.
Caelus turned. The heavy doors slammed shut on their own, the wind from the impact ruffling his hair.
01:30:00
"I can explain," Caelus blurted out.
Isolde stopped pouring. She took a sip of the wine, her eyes closing for a moment as if savoring a complex joke. Then she opened them.
They were violet. Not the soft purple of flowers, but the hard, burning violet of a mana flame.
"Explain what?" she asked. "The apple? The disrespect? Or..."
She waved her hand.
The air above her desk shimmered. A holographic projection materialized. It was grainy, showing the view from a security crystal in the infirmary.
It showed Caelus.
It showed him freezing as he touched the wallet. It showed the panic in his eyes. And it showed him winding up and launching the leather pouch out the window with the form of a major league pitcher.
BOOM.
The projection shook as the explosion replayed.
Isolde leaned back, swirling her glass. "The wallet contained a Mana-Combustion Rune. It was set to trigger on contact with anyone who didn't possess a specific mana signature. I placed it there to catch a spy."
She looked at Caelus.
"You aren't the spy, Mr. Valerius. The spy was the man you blew off the wall."
Caelus swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper. "I... I knew that."
"Did you?"
"Yes," he lied. "I sensed his presence. I realized the wallet was a trap. I used the trap to neutralize the threat. It was a tactical decision."
Lie points, he begged the System. Give me Deception points.
The System remained silent. It knew he was lying. Isolde knew he was lying. The chair he was standing next to probably knew he was lying.
"Tactical," Isolde repeated. She stood up.
She was tall. Taller than him. She moved around the desk with a fluidity that suggested she didn't walk so much as flow through the space. She stopped inches from him.
He could smell her. She smelled of ozone, old paper, and something metallic—like a sword that had just been cleaned.
"You have no mana," she whispered. "Your core is garbage. Your reputation is trash. And yet..."
She reached out and tapped his chest, right over his heart.
"You have instincts."
Caelus flinched. Her finger felt like a soldering iron.
"I want to make a deal," she said.
"A deal?"
"You destroyed my trap," she said, turning back to the window. "But you also caught my rat. So I won't expel you. Instead, you will pay me back."
Caelus narrowed his eyes. "How much? My family has money. I can write a check."
Isolde laughed. It was a dry, scratching sound. "I don't want gold, boy. I want entertainment."
She turned to face him, her silhouette framed by the afternoon sun.
"You are going to be my disciple."
Caelus blinked. "What?"
"My secret disciple," she corrected. "Officially, you are still trash. You are the villain. But privately? You belong to me."
"No," Caelus said immediately.
It was a reflex. Being the disciple of the Iron Witch was a death sentence. Her training methods were legendary. Survivors usually ended up in therapy or in urns.
"I refuse. I'm busy. I have... studies."
"You have an hour and twenty-five minutes to live," she said.
Caelus froze.
He looked at his wrist. She hadn't looked at it. She couldn't see the numbers.
"How do you—"
"I can smell it on you," she said, walking closer again. "The desperation. The decay. You're rotting, Caelus. Whatever curse you've picked up, it's eating you alive."
She held out her hand. Resting on her palm was a ring.
It was black metal, rough and unpolished. It looked like a piece of slag iron that had been beaten into a circle.
"This," she said, "is a Suppression Ring."
Caelus looked at the ugly piece of jewelry. "I don't have mana to suppress."
"It doesn't suppress mana," she said softy. "It suppresses presence."
She took his hand. Her skin was freezing cold.
"The Second Prince is watching you," she murmured, sliding the ring onto his index finger. "He smells the anomaly. He smells the threat. If you walk out of here like this, he will kill you before dinner."
The ring slid past the knuckle.
Pain.
It wasn't a burn. It was a crush.
Caelus screamed. He tried to yank his hand away, but Isolde held him fast. It felt like his finger was being put in a vice. The black metal contracted, biting into his skin, grinding against the bone.
"Ahhh! Take it off! It's crushing me!"
"It's calibrating," Isolde said, her voice devoid of sympathy.
She let go.
Caelus fell to his knees, cradling his hand. The pain radiated up his arm, settling in his shoulder as a dull, heavy ache. He gasped for air, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
He looked at the ring. It had settled. It looked tight, the skin around it red and angry.
"What... what did you do?" he wheezed.
"I saved your life," Isolde said, walking back to her wine. "That ring masks your aura. To the Prince, to the Church, to everyone... you will feel like nothing. Just background noise. A harmless, powerless piece of trash."
She sat down and crossed her legs.
"Now get out."
Caelus stared at her. "That's it? You break my finger and tell me to leave?"
"You owe me, Caelus," she said, picking up a quill. "And I always collect. Be ready."
Caelus stood up unsteadily. The pain in his hand was a constant, throbbing reminder of the deal he hadn't agreed to.
He stumbled toward the door.
Life Force: 01:20:00
He still needed hours. The ring didn't stop the timer.
He reached for the door handle—which had appeared now that he was dismissed.
"Oh, and Caelus?"
He stopped.
Isolde didn't look up from her paperwork.
"Next time you decide to eat during a ceremony," she said, a hint of amusement coloring her tone, "try a pear. The crunch is less distinctive."
Caelus opened the door and fled.
------------------------------------------------------------------
[LOCATION: THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER]
Isolde waited until the door clicked shut.
She put down the quill. She hadn't been writing anything. She had just been drawing lines through the name "Lucas von Aethelgard" over and over again until the parchment tore.
She looked at the empty spot where Caelus had stood.
"He refused," she whispered to the empty room.
In the last timeline, Caelus had begged for help. He had come to her on his knees, asking for power to protect the Saintess.
But this Caelus? He had looked her in the eye and said no.
She touched the crystal ball, rewinding the footage of the wallet throw one more time.
"He's terrified," she analyzed. "He's weak. He's dying."
She smiled, and for the first time, it reached her eyes. It was a terrifying expression.
"Perfect."
She opened a drawer in her desk. Inside lay a collection of dossiers. She pulled out the one marked [PROJECT: REGICIDE].
She dipped her quill in the red ink.
Under the list of assets, she added a new name.
Caelus von Valerius (The Villain).
"Grow quickly, my little disaster," she murmured. "We have a kingdom to burn."
------------------------------------------------------------------
[LOCATION: THE DORMITORY COURTYARD]
Caelus stumbled out of the Silver Tower into the blinding afternoon sun.
His finger throbbed. The ring felt heavy, like it weighed five pounds.
Life Force: 01:15:00
Seventy-five minutes.
He looked around the courtyard. Students were moving between classes, laughing, talking about the ceremony. They looked so alive. They looked so... full of time.
He hated them.
He needed a win. He needed something evil that wouldn't get interrupted by a bug or a sword-wielding maniac.
He saw a group of first-year students standing near the fountain. They were looking at a map, clearly lost.
Fresh meat.
Caelus straightened his jacket. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. He fixed his face into a sneer.
"Hey," he called out, marching toward them. "You lost, runts?"
The students turned. They saw the black suit. They saw the dark circles under his eyes.
"Uh, yes," one of them squeaked. "We're looking for the Elemental Hall."
Caelus pointed toward the West Wing. "It's that way. Third door on the left. Can't miss it."
The students bowed. "Thank you, senior!"
They ran off toward the West Wing.
Caelus watched them go.
The Elemental Hall was in the East Wing.
The West Wing was the third-year combat training grounds. Specifically, the monster containment unit.
They weren't going to class. They were walking straight into a room full of hungry slime monsters.
Caelus waited.
One second. Two seconds.
[ACT OF DECEPTION DETECTED][TARGET: INNOCENT FRESHMEN][RESULT: MINOR TRAUMA IMMINENT]
A warm rush of Life Force flooded his veins. The pain in his finger dulled. The tightness in his chest loosened.
Reward: +3 Hours.
Life Force: 04:14:45
Caelus slumped against the fountain, letting out a long, shaky breath.
"I did it," he whispered. "I finally did it."
He had sent children into danger. He was a monster. He was safe.
"Excuse me."
Caelus jumped.
A girl was standing behind him. She had glasses, a stack of books, and a look of intense admiration.
"I saw what you did," she whispered.
Caelus froze. "You did?"
"Yes," she nodded vigorously. "You sent them to the combat grounds."
"I... yes. Yes, I did."
"Because you knew the Elemental Hall is closed for maintenance today," she beamed. "And the combat grounds are hosting a special lecture on fire safety. You sent them to the only place they could actually learn something!"
Caelus stared at her.
"What?"
"You're so thoughtful," she said, writing something in her notebook. "Detailed oriented. Kind."
Narrative Deviation Detected.Interpretation: Benevolent Guidance.
Caelus grabbed his hair. "No! No, I lied! I wanted them to get eaten by slimes!"
"So humble," the girl sighed.
Life Force Penalty Applied.Calculation: -1.5 Hours.
Life Force: 02:44:45
Caelus screamed. It was a short, sharp sound of pure frustration.
He turned and ran toward the dorms. He needed to lock a door. He needed to hide. He needed to stay away from anyone who could possibly misinterpret his desire to be a terrible human being.
"I hate this school!" he yelled as he sprinted across the grass.
From the window of the Silver Tower, Isolde watched him run. She took a sip of her wine.
"Energy," she noted. "Good."