The chipped wood groaned as I eased the door open. Just a crack, enough to see. Two guards. Thick-necked, faces like worn stone, patrolling the hallway. Their boots thudded a heavy rhythm against the packed dirt floor. They hadn't even glanced toward my room.
Damn.
I pulled the door shut, sliding the bolt back into place with a quiet click. Don't they sleep or something? Seriously, a 24/7 security detail for a bunch of orphans? It felt…excessive. Or maybe it wasn't about protecting the orphans.
My gaze traveled to the small, grimy window. Freedom, maybe? It wasn't barred, just latched. A flicker of something I hadn't felt in days—hope, maybe?—stirred inside me.
I crossed to it, my bare feet silent on the cold floor. The latch was stiff, protesting with a screech as I forced it open. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight slicing through the gloom. The view wasn't inspiring. Just the cluttered rooftops of the lower city, a maze of uneven tiles and leaning chimneys. Still, it was outside.
Peering down, I felt my stomach clench. The ground felt miles away. This was the top floor, of course. A long fall. Too long.
My eyes scanned the wall beside the window. There. A ledge. Maybe three feet to the left. Narrow, barely wider than my foot, but a ledge nonetheless. It looked…reachable. A risky jump, yeah, but definitely doable. I'd seen characters pull off way crazier stuff in anime.
I tested my weight against the windowsill, leaning out cautiously. The air was cool against my face, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and something acrid, like burnt sugar. I could feel the pull of gravity.
Taking a breath, I pushed off.
For a heart-stopping second, I was airborne. My fingers scraped against the rough stone of the wall, hooking onto the edge of the ledge. I slammed into it, nearly losing my balance, my foot scrabbling for purchase. I managed to throw my body forward, sprawling onto the narrow strip of stone.
"Don't look down. Don't look down," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut. Focus. Center yourself. Sound advice for a situation my current self should not be in.
My resolve crumbled. Curiosity, or maybe morbid fascination, won out.
Slowly, agonizingly, I opened my eyes.
Holy shit that's high.
My breath hitched in my throat. The world swam. I gripped the ledge with white knuckles, every muscle screaming in protest. Buildings shrunk to the size of dollhouses. People moved like ants. This was a bad idea. A genuinely, catastrophically bad idea.
Seriously, what kind of cosmic joke was this? I'd envisioned this second life…differently.
"Why couldn't I be reincarnated in a world full of women and I'm the only noble prince?" I practically wailed, the sound swallowed by the city's din. "Is that too much to ask? A harem, a castle, maybe a talking animal companion? Instead, I'm clinging to a ledge like some pathetic commoner, about to become a smear on the cobblestones."
Okay, okay, panic later. Right now, survival. My fingers were starting to burn, and my arms felt like overcooked noodles. I needed to get off this ledge, and fast.
Then I saw it. A pipe. Rusty, thick, and running straight up the side of the building, disappearing onto the roof. It looked old, maybe for water or…something. Didn't matter. It was a way up. And a way off this deathtrap of a ledge.
"When I was looking before, there weren't any guards on the roof, right?" I murmured to myself, my voice shaky. "Most were at the gates and doors, patrolling the hallways and courtyard. Worry about the tower guards, though. If they spot me, lights out."
Sneaking across the roof sounded a whole lot better than plummeting to a messy end.
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tremor in my limbs. Ignoring it didn't work. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I shifted my weight, reaching for the pipe. Cold, rough metal met my fingertips. Gripping as tightly as I could, I shuffled along the ledge until I was directly in front of it.
"Here we go," I muttered, initiating a climb.
It was harder than it looked. The pipe was slick with grime and rust, offering little purchase. Every movement was a struggle, my muscles burning with the effort. I hauled myself upwards, inch by agonizing inch. My arms screamed for a break, my legs trembled. I focused on putting one hand above the other, just keep climbing. Forget about how far up I was. Forget about falling.
"Seriously? Is this what being a protagonist feels like?" I grunted with effort. "Think I need a training montage."
Despite the pain, an old, familiar feeling began to stir. A strange sense of…focus. It was like when I used to lose myself in a particularly challenging video game level. This wasn't just about survival. It was about overcoming an obstacle. Meeting a challenge. A small, insidious voice in the back of my head whispered something about accomplishment. I shoved it down. I wasn't trying to be heroic. I just didn't want to die.
The climb felt endless. The rough metal bit into my palms, leaving them raw and aching. I could feel my energy reserves dwindling with each upward pull. I paused for a moment, hugging the pipe tightly, trying to catch my breath. My lungs burned.
Just a little further.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my hand reached over the edge of the roof. I pushed, straining every muscle, and hauled myself upwards. I tumbled onto the rough tiles, sprawling awkwardly.
"Ugh," I groaned, savoring the solid feel of the roof beneath me. I lay there for a moment, catching my breath, listening to the frantic thumping of my heart.
Then, I sat up, scanning my surroundings. The roof was flat and dusty, covered in a layer of grime and broken tiles. A maze of chimneys rose around me, casting long, eerie shadows.
And then I saw him.
A guard. Standing on top of one of the towers, scanning the rooftops with a bored expression. He was looking…this way. He hadn't seen me yet, but he was definitely about to. His gaze swept across the roof, pausing for a split-second near the corner where I was sitting.
"Oh, come on!" I hissed, instinctively ducking down behind one of the larger chimneys. My heart hammered in my chest. I flattened myself against the rough stone, trying to blend into the shadows. The guard's eyes lingered for another moment before moving on.
Close one. Way too close.
I peeked around the chimney, cautiously. The guard had resumed his monotonous patrol, seemingly oblivious to my presence.
I needed to be more careful. Much more careful. This roof might be better than the ledge, but it wasn't exactly a sanctuary. It was just a different kind of trap.
I waited, counting to sixty, heart still hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The guard continued his patrol, moving with a sluggishness that almost felt insulting. Finally, convinced I was in the clear – at least for the moment – I slowly raised my head, scanning the surroundings.
The view stole my breath.
Ashwood Haven. It wasn't just an orphanage. It was a fortress. A grim, imposing structure of grey stone, squatting in the middle of a sprawling courtyard. Four towers, each identical, stood guard at the corners, looming over the main building like watchful sentinels. The whole complex was encircled by a high, thick wall, topped with jagged battlements. It wasn't designed to nurture children. It was built to contain them.
And judging by the sheer scale of the place, to break them.
I'd been focused on escaping from a building, I hadn't even bothered to think about where I was escaping to. The realization hit me like a physical blow. The orphanage wasn't situated on the edge of the Dark Forest; it was an outpost within it. A fortified island in a sea of shadows.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. This wasn't some simple case of runaway orphan life. This was…something else entirely.
My gaze fixed on the west tower. It was closer than the others, and maybe, just maybe, I could find a way down from there. I began to run, low to the ground, crouching as if trying to become part of the roof itself. The tiles scraped against my skin, leaving a trail of dust and grime. Each step was measured, calculated. I needed to be silent. Invisible.
Reaching the side of the building closest to the west tower, I stopped, my legs burning. I peered over the edge, assessing the situation.
My hope deflated like a punctured balloon.
The distance to the tower was…impossible. A clean drop, at least twenty feet, onto hard-packed earth. No ledges. No vines. No conveniently placed hay bales. Just…air. And a very painful landing.
My eyes traced the grey stone of the tower, searching for some kind of foothold, some way to climb down. Nothing. The tower was smooth, unyielding, built for defense, not access. A narrow opening at the very top served as the guard's post. Looking upwards, I still saw the guard scanning the horizons.
My gaze drifted upwards, following the tower's stark verticality. And then I saw it.
A window. Open.
Located about two-thirds of the way up the tower, the window was a dark rectangle against the grey stone, beckoning like a secret. It wasn't a large window, more like an arrow slit, but it was enough.
And something about it felt…wrong. Too open. Too inviting.
Then it hit me.
That wasn't just any window. That was the head enforcer's office. The rumors had been circulating amongst the orphans for years – a dark, secluded chamber at the very top of the west tower, where the head enforcer conducted his…business. I'd dismissed them as just stories. Nightmares spun to keep the little ones in line.
But now? Seeing the open window, so exposed, so vulnerable…it screamed of arrogance. Of invulnerability. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a trap.
"Seriously?" I muttered, rubbing my chin. An open window in what was supposed to be a fortress? It felt like a blatant disregard for any kind of security. What was he planning? What was he expecting?
The thought sparked a ridiculous idea. A dangerous, reckless, borderline insane idea. But it was taking root in my mind, fueled by boredom, desperation, and a morbid sense of curiosity.
Could I…could I actually climb the tower? It would require a daring ascent, finding some way to scale the smooth stone, dodging the guard at the top. It was a long shot, but honestly, staring at the unforgiving drop and accepting my fate, didn't seem appealing.
"Look, Colin," I said to myself, reverting to my old name without thinking. "You've survived worse. You climbed corporate ladders filled with backstabbing managers. This is just a stone tower. With a potentially murderous enforcer at the top. No big deal."
I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves. It was a gamble, a massive one. But I had a feeling, a strange, unsettling intuition, that whatever was happening at Ashwood Haven, whatever secrets it was hiding, were tied to that open window. And I, for reasons I didn't fully understand, needed to know.
I started looking up the tower, searching for the slightest imperfection in the stone, a crack, a crevice, anything that could serve as a handhold. It was a long shot—a ridiculous, impossible shot—but I was out of options. And, if I was being honest with myself, I was completely, utterly, and irrevocably intrigued.
The stone was slick, almost polished. No natural handholds. Fantastic. Just my luck. I scanned the tower's facade again, desperation clawing its way up my throat. Then, I spotted it. A series of barely perceptible indentations, almost like…scratches? Old, weathered, but undeniably there. Someone had climbed this tower before.
"Alright," I breathed, forcing a sliver of optimism into the equation. "Maybe this isn't a suicide mission after all."
It was still a suicide mission. Just a slightly less obvious one.
I tested one of the indentations with a tentative touch. It was shallow, barely enough to fit the tip of my finger. But it was something. I took a deep breath and began to climb, relying on a combination of clumsy scrambling, sheer willpower and praying to whoever was in charge of not letting me plummet to my death.
Each upward movement was a victory, a testament to my questionable life choices. The stone bit into my fingertips, leaving them raw and bleeding, but the adrenaline kept me going. Ignore the burning muscles. Ignore the dizziness. Ignore the gnawing fear that the guard would turn around at any moment.
Finally, after what felt like days, I reached the window. My arms trembled, protesting the strain. I hauled myself upwards, bracing for the impact, and rolled into the room.
Dust. Everywhere. The air hung thick and stale, smelling of aged parchment and something vaguely metallic. It wasn't what I expected. I anticipated…grandeur? Menace? Instead, it was just…empty.
Too empty.
An open window in a head enforcer's office? On the top of a secure tower? No guards? It didn't add up. This felt deliberate. Like a stage set. A trap.
"Is this my luck stat acting up?" I muttered, glancing at the system notification that had popped up earlier. "'A Rank Luck?' What even is A rank? Is that good? Bad? Does it mean I'm just really good at finding trouble?"
I dismissed the thought for now. Stats were weird. This world was weird. I needed to focus.
The room itself was surprisingly small, dominated by a large, ornate desk. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books and strange artifacts. A wave of unease washed over me. This wasn't the study of a man concerned with running an orphanage. It was the lair of…something else.
I cautiously stepped inside, my eyes darting around the room. Jars lined one wall, catching the dim light. Inside, preserved in some viscous fluid, were…parts. A claw, a scaled hide, an eye that stared back with unsettling intelligence. Monster stuff, straight out of an RPG.
My stomach churned. I moved to the shelves, carefully examining the objects displayed. Glowing orbs, intricate metal boxes, and scrolls covered in indecipherable symbols. I hadn't seen anything like this before, not even in my otaku-fueled imagination. These things radiated power, a dark, unsettling energy that prickled my skin.
I ran my fingers along the shelves, checking for hidden compartments. Nothing. I opened cabinets, rummaged through drawers. Empty. Disappointingly empty.
Then, tucked away in a corner, I spotted a book. Its cover was bound in faded black leather, with silver clasps that had tarnished with age. I pulled it out, revealing the title in spidery, gothic script: De Profundis Alchemiae—The Depths of Alchemy.
I flipped through the pages. This wasn't alchemy as I'd imagined it—transmuting lead into gold, creating elixirs of life. This was…darker. Rituals involving sacrifice, manipulation of life force, the creation of unnatural abominations.
What would the head enforcer need with this? Why would a man supposedly devoted to helping orphans be engrossed in such macabre knowledge?
My gaze finally landed on the desk. It was covered in a chaotic mess of papers, scrolls, and quills. I hesitated, then cautiously approached.
Beneath the clutter, I found them. Maps. Detailed charts of the Dark Forest, crisscrossed with lines and markings. Certain locations were circled in red ink. Others were crossed out with savage slashes. Several spots had a bold 'X' marking them.
I traced one of the X's with my finger. A small village, nestled deep within the forest. A place I recognized from the whispered rumors amongst the orphans – Oakhaven. A place no one ever returned from.
And then I started seeing a pattern. The circled spots tended to be locations of known mana springs. Places where power flowed freely. The X's…were places with artifacts. Or, potentially, locations where artifacts had been.
This wasn't about running an orphanage. This was about…gathering something. Hunting.
And I had a horrible feeling that whatever was being hunted was far more dangerous than anything I could possibly imagine.
My breath hitched. Oakhaven. It wasn't just a village. It was a target. A point on a map, marked for…something. I scanned the other X's. Each one corresponded to a village or ruin within the Dark Forest, each one radiating a silent plea for help.
The implications hit me like a punch to the gut. All those hunters sent into the forest weren't just gathering supplies. They were searching. But for what? And who was ordering them to search?
I moved deeper into the pile of papers, my fingers skimming across brittle parchment. A document, penned in hurried script, caught my eye. It was a ledger, detailing deliveries to Ashwood Haven. Not food, or supplies, but…components. Strange herbs, glowing minerals, and things I couldn't even begin to identify.
My eyes scanned faster, skipping across meticulously recorded amounts and dates. A chill snaked down my spine. These weren't supplies for an orphanage. They were ingredients. Ingredients for…something sinister.
Then I saw it. A name, scrawled in the margin, underlined in crimson ink.
"The Shadow Cult."
My blood ran cold. It was just a name, but it echoed with a weight I couldn't explain.
I dug through the papers, frantically searching for more. And I found it. Reports. Detailed analyses of the hunts. The "beasts" the hunters were tasked with killing weren't random monsters. They were…guardians. Protectors of something. The reports lamented the difficulty in retrieving what the beasts guarded. Mentioning failed expeditions, lost hunters, and the increasing frustration of the head enforcer.
Each hunt wasn't about survival or providing for the orphans. It was a calculated attempt to locate and seize…artifacts.
My mind raced. Artifacts? The Shadow Cult? The hunts? It all fit together, forming a terrifying picture. Ashwood Haven wasn't an orphanage. It was a front. A recruitment center, a training ground, and a logistical hub for a sinister operation. The orphans weren't being raised. They were being groomed.
I stumbled back, knocking over a stack of scrolls. They unfurled across the floor, revealing more fragments of the puzzle. A detailed map of the Dark Forest, marked with intricate symbols. Notes on ancient ruins, mentioning forgotten powers and… a name.
"Warlock."
The references to the Warlock were fragmented, cryptic. Mentions of lost knowledge, forbidden techniques, and a power that could "reshape the world." The papers suggested that the Shadow Cult believed the Warlock's legacy held the key to opening a gate for their dark god.
My breath caught in my throat. The Warlock. The greatest archmage to ever live, reduced to a footnote in a cult's twisted quest for power. The papers detailed theories about his final resting place, speculating he'd hidden his legacy – his gift, his power – within an artifact somewhere in the Dark Forest.
The hunts weren't about food or supplies. They were about finding that artifact. The one holding the Warlock's power.
A sudden, reckless thought flared in my mind. If this artifact was as powerful as they claimed… if it housed the legacy of the most powerful mage to ever exist… then maybe, just maybe, it was my ticket out of this hellhole. Maybe it wasn't just a means for the Shadow Cult to summon their god. Maybe it could be my means to… everything.
I could take out the head enforcer. Destroy Ashwood Haven. And finally, truly, live the life I always wanted. A life where I wasn't a pawn, a tool, a disposable orphan. A life where I was in control.
The idea was intoxicating. Dangerous. Utterly insane. But the more I read, the more it solidified in my mind. I wasn't a hero. I wasn't driven by some noble sense of justice. I was driven by self-preservation. By a desperate desire to escape. And if this artifact was the key, then I would find it.
"But first," I muttered, scanning the room, "I need to know where to look."
The papers were fragmented, a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. But patterns began to emerge. The Shadow Cult seemed particularly interested in a region known as the Whispering Cairns – a desolate expanse of ancient burial mounds deep within the forest. The reports mentioned "anomalous energy readings" and "residual magical signatures."
Bingo.
The Whispering Cairns. It felt…right. A desolate, forgotten place. The kind of place someone would hide a god's worth of power. I committed the location to memory, etching it onto my brain like a brand. This was it. My escape route. My chance.
I started gathering the relevant papers, stuffing them into the pockets of my threadbare tunic. A risk, yes, but I needed this information. I was about to turn to leave when a cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind.
[System Notification: Quest Complete - Unseen Paths.]
I froze. The System. It had been quiet for hours, letting me get lost in the head enforcer's secrets. Now, of all times?
[Reward: 50 XP, +5 Intelligence, +2 Agility, Unlock Talent: Infinite Comprehension. Talent ]
I barely had a moment to bask in the absurd windfall when a new sound cut through my thoughts – voices. Muffled at first, then growing clearer. Coming from outside the door.
"...said he's been…unusually quiet," a gruff voice rumbled. It sounded like one of the head enforcer's lieutenants.
"The enforcer wants results, not explanations," a smoother, more refined voice replied. "He suspects someone is snooping around. Ordered a thorough search of the tower."
My stomach plummeted. They were coming. Now.
Panic threatened to overwhelm me. No time to formulate a plan. No time to think. I scanned the room, my eyes darting across the bookshelves, the dusty artifacts, the ominous jars. A final, desperate glance at the map of the Whispering Cairns. I memorized the key landmarks one last time, imprinting them onto my mind.
There was only one way out.
I didn't hesitate. I sprinted towards the window, adrenaline coursing through my veins. My muscles screamed in protest, but I ignored the pain. I launched myself forward, ignoring the drop.
The air rushed past my face as I plummeted. Bracing for impact, I fully expected to shatter every bone in my body. But something…shifted. A surge of energy flowed through me, a strange lightness I hadn't felt before. The fall slowed, became manageable.
I landed with a roll, absorbing most of the impact. Disoriented, but miraculously intact. I stumbled to my feet, weaving through the shadows, navigating the treacherous rooftops with an almost instinctive grace. My newly enhanced agility was already kicking in.
It wasn't a comfortable descent. The rooftop was filled with rubble, loose tiles, and the occasional carelessly discarded rat skeleton. But I moved quickly and quietly, blending into the darkness. I could hear the guards shouting in the distance, their voices growing closer.
I found a fire escape, rusted and groaning, and slid down, landing in a dark alleyway behind Ashwood Haven. From there, it wasn't hard to find my way back to the dorms, melting back into the sea of anonymous orphans before anyone noticed I was gone.
I squeezed back into my bunk, heart still pounding. It was close. Too close. But I had what I needed. A destination. A talent. And a burning desire to get the hell out of Ashwood Haven.
to be continued....