'It hurts like hell…'

Trafalgar gritted his teeth, lowering his arm slowly. The heat crawling under his skin refused to fade. He stood there, breathing shallowly in front of the massive door that pulsed faintly with light. Unlike the other areas they had explored, there were no runes marked for study, no mana instruments, no footprints — nothing.

He frowned. 'Weird… every other section was studied or sealed off, but this one looks completely untouched. No signs of researchers, no notes, no barrier lines. So why—'

The door answered his thought. A faint tremor ran through the metal-like stone, and the lines across its surface began to shift — softly, soundlessly. It was as if it recognized him.

Trafalgar's eyes narrowed. He took a careful step forward, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythmic pulse glowing from the door. Then, without any command or contact, the slabs split open in silence. The stale air that escaped was cold — unnaturally cold — brushing against his face like a whisper.

He raised a brow, muttering under his breath, "Creepy."

Still, he didn't hesitate. He'd seen stranger things since ending up in this world. Hell, he'd fought dragons, survived nobles, and now stood inside what might be a god's tomb, or bedroom.

The interior was dim, bathed in a soft blue glow that seemed to come from the very walls. The mana density here was suffocating, heavier than anywhere else in the ruins.

'So this is what called me here, huh?' he thought, stepping through the threshold. His boots barely made a sound on the stone floor.

The door behind him slid shut with a quiet thud. No locks, no handle, it simply closed itself, trapping him in absolute stillness.

Trafalgar stood still for a few seconds, listening. Nothing moved. The air smelled faintly metallic, mixed with something clean — old, but not rotten.

He sighed quietly. "Alright then," he muttered. "Let's see what you're hiding."

The deeper Trafalgar went, the stranger it became.

The chamber didn't resemble a ruin at all — it looked more like… a bedroom.

A pristine bed sat in one corner, sheets smooth and unstained. A wardrobe stood nearby, its surface polished enough to catch the faint reflection of the blue light emanating from the walls. Even the air felt still — not dead or old, but perfectly preserved, as if time itself had refused to touch this place.

Trafalgar's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his hand brushing the surface of the desk. Not even the faintest sign of decay. Everything looked lived in.

'What the hell is this place…? How can something buried for centuries still look new?'

He turned slowly, scanning every inch.

'No, this isn't normal. Someone or something maintained this.'

The thought made his skin crawl, but curiosity burned hotter. The mana density in the air was thick enough to hum in his ears. He could feel it brushing against his core, pressing gently like an invisible weight. For a brief moment, he even wondered how it would feel to meditate here — to draw in that raw energy — but quickly pushed the thought aside. He didn't have time for experiments.

He started to search — fast but thorough. Drawers, bed frame, floor edges, even beneath the rug. Nothing. Not a single trace of the relic or object that had called him here.

His movements grew sharper, his breath unsteady.

'Come on… it has to be here. I didn't walk into a sealed chamber for nothing.'

He yanked open the wardrobe doors — empty. Checked under the mattress — nothing.

Frustration welled in his chest, tightening like a knot.

'Damn it. I'm wasting time. If that guard wakes up, I'm screwed.'

He finally stopped, standing in the center of the room, surrounded by nothing but eerie perfection. For a moment, he just stared blankly at the wall, jaw tense. Then he exhaled, shoulders dropping, and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

'This place… it's driving me insane. There has to be something here.'

His gaze drifted upward toward the ceiling — and for the first time, he noticed a faint glimmer above him.

A faint shimmer danced across the ceiling — a small flicker of light, almost invisible. Trafalgar squinted, leaning back slightly.

'...What the—'

Before the thought could form, the ceiling pulsed once, and something detached.

He barely had time to react. The object fell silently, landing squarely on his forehead with a sharp clink.

He flinched, hand instinctively rising to his face. "Tch—" He blinked, spotting the thing that had struck him resting on the bed beside him. A shard. Metallic, dark, glimmering faintly — identical to the one he had found before.

For a second, everything inside him went still. Then he sighed quietly through his nose, muttering under his breath, "Of course…"

He reached toward it — cautiously this time — but the moment his fingers brushed the surface, the shard shivered. The faint hum that followed grew louder, resonating deep in his chest.

'No, not again—'

The shard liquefied instantly, turning into a black fluid that crawled up his hand. It clung, spreading with unnatural speed until it sank beneath his skin.

Pain followed like lightning.

His entire arm flared with fire, the burn spreading from wrist to shoulder. His breath hitched as his knees buckled, forcing him to the ground. "Ghh—ahh!" The groan tore from his throat, half-choked.

It felt like his veins were being replaced with molten metal. The tattoo along his arm glowed faintly through his sleeve, snaking upward.

He clenched his teeth, fighting to stay quiet, fists digging into the floor. A thin stream of blood slid from his nose, dripping onto the cold stone.

'Damn it… this again… why—does it always feel like it's fusing with me?'

The searing pain faded as suddenly as it came. He stayed there for a few seconds, panting, wiping the blood away with his sleeve. The world seemed to hum faintly around him, as if reacting to what had just happened.

Trafalgar sat up slowly, glancing at his trembling hand. The shard was gone — fully absorbed. Only the faint pulse beneath his skin remained.

'This feeling… it's too specific to be coincidence. It's the same — the pain, the reaction, the mark spreading.'

He exhaled shakily, eyes narrowing.

'...This whole "fate" thing... it's starting to piss me off.'

Trafalgar sat there for a few moments, the air still vibrating faintly around him. His pulse had finally steadied, though the ache in his arm refused to fade completely.

He glanced at his sleeve — the faint glow beneath it slowly dying out.

'Shit… how long was I out? Ten minutes? Twenty?'

The realization hit him like a wave of cold water. Time had slipped away. If anyone noticed he was missing—

He pushed himself up, ignoring the pain and the faint dizziness lingering in his head. There was no point thinking about it now — he had to move. Fast.

Before leaving, his gaze swept the room one last time. Two worn notebooks rested on a nearby shelf, their covers marked with unfamiliar runes. 'Good enough for Barth's "relic."' He grabbed them both and tucked them under his arm.

The door opened for him the same way it had before — silent and smooth, as if acknowledging his departure.

A few quick turns through the tunnels later, he reached the bathroom corridor. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, and his breathing was heavier than he wanted it to be. When he stepped inside the sight of Barth still standing awkwardly near the entrance awaited him.

The Myrrhvale guard was on the floor, slumped against the wall, still asleep.

Barth's eyes widened instantly. "T-Trafalgar!? You're okay?! You're bleeding! D-did you kill someone?! Please tell me you didn't kill someone!"

Trafalgar raised a brow, rolling his sleeve down subtly to hide the bloodstains. His tone stayed calm. "Relax. No one's dead. I just… hit my head, that's all. He's still out cold?"

Barth nodded frantically. "Y-yeah! He hasn't moved!"

"Good." Trafalgar glanced at the guard briefly, then turned away, pretending to adjust his collar. He felt the faint throb in his arm again — stronger now, creeping toward his shoulder.

Barth's gaze followed the motion, and his eyes suddenly went wide. "W-wait… when did you finish your tattoo? It—it's bigger than before."

Trafalgar froze for a fraction of a second before forcing a small smirk. "Ah. That? When I was away from the academy. Didn't think it was worth mentioning."

Barth's expression faltered. He wanted to believe it — but he couldn't. Especially when they shared a room, and Trafalgar had never once shown a mark like that the last night.

He looked down nervously, clutching his notebook against his chest. He didn't press the question.

Trafalgar gave his arm one last glance and adjusted his sleeve again, he exhaled slowly and turned toward Barth, his tone calm but focused. "Second part of the plan, ready, Barth?"

Barth jumped a little at the question, clutching his notebook nervously. "R-ready!"

A faint grin tugged at Trafalgar's lips. "Good. When we get out of here, I'll give you your reward."

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