Cats are cute. But annoying. Brenna’s familiar, a sleek black cat with golden eyes named Soot, had decided to curl up on the table that I was on. Every so often - waking up from her nap to look up at me in confusion.

I was at the Gilded Hearth again. I was sipping on an enchanted brew. I sat by the windows today. This time — I had ordered a Calming Brew.

The cafe was busy as usual. There was the chatter of patrons and the linking of enchanted teacups. It’s warm, cosy glow was a welcome distraction for my thoughts.

I looked out the window, watching the canals idly. I took another sip of the Calming Brew. This was the one. The Calming Brew changed colours in the cup — different shades of blue. It’s taste —a harmonious blend of spiced caramel and soothing vanilla—calmed my nerves. A magical mocha-late.

Gordo kept coming up to my mind. I had forgotten to see him yesterday. The image of Gordo’s nervous fidgeting lingered in my mind, intertwined with the unsettling mystery of the key now safely hidden in his manor.

The faint hum of its magic still resonated in my memory. A reminder of the unknown danger—or opportunity—it might unlock.

My fingers brushed the Adventurers Guild badge tucked discreetly in his pocket, the smooth platinum adding to my unease.

[A-Class]. [A-Class]. I thought.

It was meant to be a simple visit, registering that key, but I was now saddled with a rank that screamed attention. The opposite of what he’d wanted. At least it kept things interesting.

I had to find out more details from Gordo. With a sigh, I resolved to confront him. Whatever the key’s origins, the real estate agent clearly knows more than he let on, and I had no more patience for half-truths. I took another sip of the brew, savouring the warmth, before setting down and reaching for the last bite of the muffin.

I had got a starfruit muffin this time around as well. Also a better choice. It was sweet. Not too overwhelming. Vaguely like blueberries. The muffin was well done. Light. Hints of cinnamon or nutmeg in the batter. Exactly the combo that I wanted. Calming Brew and starfruit would be my breakfast combo from now on.

The peaceful hum of the cafe was shattered when the door swung open, its bell jangling sharply. My eyes flicked up.

A group of adventurers entered. They were the kind who thrived on attention — loud, brash and armed to the teeth. Their leader, a tall swordsman with a diagonal scar across his weathered face, scanned the cafe until his gaze landed on me.

'Oi, there he is!' the swordsman barked, pointing a thickly gloved hand in his direction. The room stilled, and I sighed inwardly. So much for a quiet breakfast.

The swordsman stomped towards me. His boots clomping heavily on the floorboards, followed by his merry band of mismatched companions. A lean rogue, eyes shifting everywhere and a hulking reptilian beastman who armour clinked with each heavy step. They stopped at my table. Their shadows fell across my breakfast. And the cat. The cat saw them, scrambled off the table and ran to hide behind her owner behind the glass pastry case.

'You’re the new [A-Class] adventurer, yeah?' the swordsman asked, his tone less inquisitive and more accusatory.

I didn’t look up immediately. I used [Appraisal].

The swordsman: [B-Class], the rogue [B-Class] and the beastman [C-Class].

I took a measured sip of my enchanted brew. What did these weaklings want? I placed my cup down before looking up at the swordsman gaze, my expression impassive.

‘I’ve been called a lot of things,’ I said drily, ‘But I don’t recall ‘[A-Class] adventurer being my name.’

The swordsman grinned, a predatory gleam in his eye: ‘Humility’s cute, nobleman, but it doesn’t suit you. Folks are talking about you already. Rumour is you didn’t earn your ranking. A rank like that just doesn’t get handed out easily. So how about we see if you earned it?’

I raised my eyebrow. My face calm exterior betraying not a hint of my irritation. ‘And you’ve decided that interrupting my breakfast is the best way to do this?’

The swordsman’s grin widened. He pulled a challenge coin from his belt, flipping it once before putting it onto the table. The glowing runes on its surface flared faintly, signalling an officially sanctioned duel.

Gasps rippled through the cafe. I sighed, glancing at the coin like it was a tedious piece of paperwork. ‘You know,’ I said, brushing a crumb off my sleeve, ‘there’s a time and place for theatrics. Not, here.’

Knew it. I should have just destroyed the thing, instead of trying to do the right thing.

The swordsman leaned in, his scar catching the light. ‘A duel’s a duel. Or are you scared?’

I looked at him for a moment. My expression unreadable. I reached into my pocket, removing the [A-Class] badge and setting it out on the table besides the challenge coin.

I used [Intimidation] released a tiny flicker of my Draconic aura - pinning them in place ‘It’ll be a duel to the death.’ I said. ‘All three of you versus me.’ I said calmly.

The swordsman’s grin faltered. Replaced by a flicker of fear. The rogue went pale. The reptilian beastman started to bow from the pressure. I picked up the [A-Class] badge, putting it back in my pocket. ‘Unless you intend to compensate me for the interruption, I suggest you take your posturing elsewhere. I’m quite fond of the cafe and I don’t want it to become your stage.’

A tense silence followed, broken only by the rogue muttering, ‘Roderick, let it go.’

I spoke again - using [Intimidation] and releasing a tiny flicker of my Draconic aura - pinning them in place. ‘Spread the word, no matter what duel comes it’ll be a duel to the death. I don’t want you guys wasting my time.’ I wanted to warn them off.

I sealed my aura again. The trio looked at each other, then back at me. The swordsman, their leader, glared at me weighing his options.

Finally he let out a sharp laugh, scooping up the challenge coin. ‘You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.’ He said, his tone forced. ‘But don’t think this over. You’ve got eyes on you, nobleman. Let’s see how long you can keep up the act.’

He turned on his heels, his companions following hurriedly, and the cafe went back to it usual activity level.

I exhaled. Lifting the cup again. Not much left. The Calming Brew steadied my nerves. This place is surprising.

***

I made my way to Gordo’s office by Gondola. Before walking in I pinned the [A-Class] badge to my chest. I stepped into Gordo’s office, the faint jingle of a brass bell above the door announcing my arrival. The office was exactly as I remembered it: a chaotic blend of pomp and desperation. The walls were painted an overambitious shade of royal blue, now slightly faded, and adorned with poorly framed certificates proclaiming Gordo’s Realty Services as 'The Premier Choice of Vallenport’s Elite.' One certificate hung crooked, its frame cracked at the corner.

The desk at the centre of the room was cluttered with parchment contracts, quills, and ink pots, as well as a suspiciously untouched crystal paperweight shaped like a miniature manor. A small sign perched precariously on the edge of the desk read: Dream Homes for Every Budget!

Behind the desk sat Gordo, as large and round as the cushioned chair that seemed to groan under his weight. His too-tight jacket strained at the buttons, and his red silk cravat looked as though it had been tied in haste. Despite the office’s ostentatious claims, the entire setup reeked of someone trying far too hard to appear successful.

As soon as Gordo spotted the aristocrat, his face split into a wide, nervous grin, and he rose with exaggerated enthusiasm, almost knocking over a teetering stack of property ledgers. 'Ah! My favourite client!' he boomed, his voice overly loud and dripping with insincerity. 'To what do I owe the pleasure today?'

I skipped the pleasantries. I looked sharply at him, narrowing my eyes. 'Cut the act, Gordo. What do you really know about the Manor?'

The grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of panic. Gordo fidgeted, his hands darting to adjust his cravat, which now seemed even tighter as beads of sweat began to form on his brow. ‘Know about it? Why, only that it’s a fine property! A historic gem! The pride of—‘

He spotted the badge. The sunlight had just hit and it gleamed. The platinum announcing it to be an [A-Class] badge.

‘Gordo.’My voice dropped, cold and un-amused. I leaned forward slightly, just enough to make him squirm. ‘I won’t ask again.’

The weight of the my gaze was too much. Gordo crumbled, slumping back into his chair with a resigned groan. ‘Alright, alright! Look, it’s not my fault, okay? That place has a history. I didn’t think it’d cause real trouble.’

‘Go on,’ I said evenly, crossing my arms, waiting.

Gordo shifted in his seat, his fingers drumming anxiously on the desk. ‘The manor,’ he began, his voice lowering ‘used to belong to you distant relative, Lord Edran T’valor. Brilliant mage, but, uh… eccentric doesn’t begin to cover it. The man was obsessed with forbidden magic — runes, curse, alchemy, you name it. Over the years, he got… paranoid. He started shutting people out. Refusing to leave the manor. Rumour has it he was trying to unlock something — dangerous. Powerful.’

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Another T’valor? How many of them were there - second case of madness after Azure’s family.

My eyebrows knit together, I was interested in spire of myself ‘And?’

‘And,’ Gordo continued, swallowing hard, ‘one day he just vanished. Poof. Gone. Left the whole place in a mess. Locals started spreading stories — ghosts, curses, magic traps. A few poor souls tried to move in over the years, but let’s say none of them stayed for long. The manor’s been abandoned for decades until… until you.’

I looked at him in silence for a long time. No wonder it was so cheap. I spoke to Gordo with a deliberate calm in my voice, ‘and you didn’t think to mention this when I bought the place?’

Gordo fidgeted more, his fingers tugging at his collar. ‘Well,’ he stammered, ‘I figured someone of your, uh, calibre could handle it! I mean, you’re — you’re not exactly an ordinary buyer, are you? A bit of eccentric family history, a few ghosts. Nothing you can’t handle right?’

Gordo looked at my [A-Class] badge.

I raised an eyebrow. I was unimpressed. ‘You sold me a manor with that kind of history,’ I said coolly, ‘without so much as a warning.’

'Think of it as… an opportunity!' Gordo said hastily, his nervous grin returning. 'A chance to uncover your family’s secrets! Who doesn’t love a bit of intrigue, eh?'

I leaned forward, gaze narrowing. 'If I find anything else you’ve neglected to mention, Gordo, rest assured, you will be the first to know.'

Gordo chuckled nervously, dabbing at his brow with a handkerchief. 'O-of course, m’lord! Anything you need, you know where to find me.'

I stood up, straightened myself, brushing invisible dust from his coat. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the office, leaving Gordo slumped in his chair, muttering, 'Why do the difficult clients always have to be the powerful ones?'

***

Back home. I decided to do something I should have done earlier. I used [Dragon’s Sight] to go look through my house. My irises glinted faintly in the light as my vision shifted to look at magic in its truest form.

I worked my way room to room. The ground floor was all good. The only things that slightly glowed were the new furnishings. Dining room. Parlour rooms. Kitchen. Spare bedrooms. Upstairs. My bedroom. The guest bedrooms. All good. Except the study.

Things were different when I got to the study. As I walked in the library. I had only been in there once to look at it. Spending most of my time in the bedroom or the drawing room downstairs.

It was quiet, the only noise being the sound of my footsteps on the wooden floor as I moved through the shelves. Dust motes hung in the air, caught in the glow of the fading afternoon, streaming through the windows.

The books were in surprisingly good condition. Despite their age. Is walked thorough the rows of towering shelves, a faint shimmer at the back of one of the larger shelves caught my eye.

I saw a blue glow. As I walked closer I saw the faint shimmer of hidden runes. The vertical side of the shelf was covered in runes invisible to naked eye. I stepped closer.

I touched the runes. Pushing a sliver of magic through them. The runes faded after that. A hidden panel slid aside, revealing a hidden compartment. It was near the ground, so I kneeled down and looked into it. There was a keyhole.

How could I have missed it?

I fished the mystery key out of my pocket, metal cool against my skin and slid it into the lock.

A soft click echoed through the room. Followed by the sounds of gears turning. A small drawer slid out.

Inside it was a dusty book. I checked. Nothing else. The book was leather bound journal. Brown leather. Cracked with age.

I opened it. The first page. Edran T’valor. The writing was faint blue. Almost totally faded with time.

I flipped through it. The first few pages were filled with neat and precise writing. It was a journal. Date at the top. His day-to-day life. Experiments.

Slowly. The topics changed. The gaps in dates got longer and longer. The writing grew more erratic. Words scrawled over diagrams. The writing at the end grew more unreadable except for a handful of phrases.

The Watchers … came after

…. the Primordial Gems. They changed…

the Rules of Magic… new order … new continent.

Those were the only readable lines.

So this is what had become of Edran. I closed the journal with a soft sigh.

From the level of magic I could read, Edran was not much stronger than a [3-star] wizard. Or [B-Class]. It was insanity to attempt to deal with [S-Class] magic as a [B-Class] wizard. Especially as a modern wizard.

It was a strong clue though. I had a hypothesis about this world. It was either a prison, a cage, or a safe-room.

Probably a safe room. Magic ended. Crazy battles happened. Someone repaired the broken continents — which is why they were those unnatural circular shapes and locked the place up.

The watchers were probably some type of spell to stop the entry of too powerful entities.

I kept the book away in my [System Space] for safekeeping continued searching.

The attic/third floor was clear. Last place to check was the basement. The basement was divided into two rooms, the main cellar: filled with wine, food and other magical ingredients and the utility room: housing the enchantment mechanisms of the manor. The lights, heating and other basics.

One of the walls was in the utility room was a fake wall. Transparent to my [Dragon Sight]. It was a wall entirely made of gears. It was still running. Gears ticking. A full fledged mechanical wall. I didn’t want to touch it in case I broke it. I touched it, attempted to push my magic through it. No response.

Another little puzzle to add to the list.

***

I had used magic to briefly tidy up the Study. I stood up there, looking out the window.

I watched the sun dip below the horizon. Instead of a mass of light or colour or pretty changes change. It just instantly got dark.

I felt the air in the study change. At first, it was subtle—an oppressive silence that seemed to stretch longer than natural. Then came the whispers. Faint at first, as if just out of reach, they grew louder as the night deepened, curling around the edges of his mind like a distant song I couldn’t place.

It was in Draconic. So I could understand it. It was a song of goodbye. A sad song.

Books slid from shelves without warning, and the creak of footsteps echoed from the upper floors, though I knew he was alone. The air grew cold, my breath visible in the dim light of the library.

As he turned to face the hearth, the candlelight flickered violently, and a ghostly figure began to take shape.

The transparent form of Edran T’valor emerged. His once-regal visage now twisted by centuries of madness. His eyes burned with an unnatural light, and his voice, warped and distorted, lashed out in fits of desperate ramblings and bitter accusations.

‘You’ve come to take it all, haven’t you?’ the ghost hissed, spectral magic crackling around him. ‘You’ll end it just as they tried! Fools! All of you!’

The magic was weak. Peak [3-star] level. Barely touching [4-star]. But it was ancient magic.

Rare magic. I hadn’t seen this. It wasn’t contained in the Modrath’s memories or Tavalor’s.

Easy to defeat it considering it was weak. I simply sucked out all of the emotion powering it. The magic collapsed into nothing.

All that was left was the transparent form of Edran. The madness in Edran’s eyes was still there, but beneath it lay a flicker of something else—pain, perhaps. Or regret.

I used the system to absorb him.

'I’ll find out what happened to you,' I said quietly. 'And if I can, I’ll fix it.'

The ghost snarled, its form wavering. 'You cannot fix what is already undone.' And with that, Edran vanished, leaving the library cold and silent once more.

I closed my eyes processing his emotions. It matched my hypothesis.

This world was a safe room.

The magic was gross. A modified ancient magic. Curse magic. It was still ran by emotions - but rather than a single persons emotions, the resentment of dead people were gathered together and used to amplify the casters intentions.

A lot of blood. Spells. Chanting. Standard Dark Lord Stuff.

***

I needed a drink.

I decided to look for some solace at one of the better bars. The Starlight Spire.

A rooftop bar perched on top on of Vallenport’s tallest towers. The bar was famous for its panoramic views of the cities glowing canals and enchanted seating that floated above the floors.

The floors themselves had been enchanted to look like stars, combined with the floating chairs - gave patrons a sensation of sitting among the stars. A string of lights crisscrossed the open-air terrace, their soft gold glow mingling with the starlight from the floors and the faint hum of runes etched into the walls.

I sat at a corner table. Looking out over the city. I had ordered a glass of Nightshade Ale. A dark velvety drink, that faintly shimmered. I sipped and let the con night air, the faint tang of salt ease the tension on my shoulders as I made plans.

I’m probably the strongest person in this world. If someone had gone to the trouble to lock this place up and put watchers in place.

I just had to watch my magic output levels until I figured out how the watchers worked and to avoid them. Limiting my magic to the peak of [5-stars] would be more than enough to solve problems.

My body was also strong enough. Looking at my stat sheet.

===Tavalor

Mana: (Max)

Power Level: [6-star][S-Class] (Ancient Dragon)

Spells: [0/6]

Special Abilities: Ancient Dragon

Active: [Dragon’s Breath], [Dragon's Flight], [Intimidation], [Appraisal]

Passive: [Dragon's Sight], [Ancient Scales]

===

I could probably win fights with one punch alone. I smiled at the thought.

I needed to pick up some physical skills to disguise my special abilities. Also to learn enough spells to fill my 6 spell slots.

Looking at the way magic was used. They had got a lot more sophisticated with how they applied the skills. If you could only learn 6 spells permanently. Then magic skill was about how cleverly you applied the skills.

They had probably come a long way in several hundred years instead of the rough fireballs I was using.

I looked out over the city, observing the layout of town. The city seemed alive with motion—boats gliding through the water below, lanterns swinging gently in the breeze, and the distant hum of evening revelry.

As I drank, over the rim of my glass I overhead snippets of conversations from nearby tables.

A pair of merchants sat in bright gleaming coats speaking in hushed tones.

'They’re saying another ship vanished near the Storm Shores,' one said, his voice low.

'Third one this month,' his companion replied, shaking his head. 'Too many. Something’s lurking out there…'

At another table, a group of mages discussed an unusual surge in magical anomalies.

'Did you hear about the glowing fissure that opened up near the western ward?' a young woman asked, her hands gesturing animatedly.

'A fissure? That’s the third this season,' another replied. 'The Mage’s Guild needs to get its act together before the city ends up in the sea.'

Further off, a bard, deep into his second bottle of enchanted wine, loudly proclaimed a theory about the Watchers:

'They’re not just stories, I tell you! The Watchers are real, and they’re watching Vallenport!' His companions groaned, one muttering something about too much 'dreamwood smoke.'

I listened. Each snipped adding to the puzzle of the city.

This city, this world, was a giant puzzle and I was starting to gather the pieces.

As I gazed across the glimmering canals and rooftops, his thoughts turned back to T’valor Manor—the journal, the [Primordial Stones], the ghost of Edran. Whatever was happening at the manor was undoubtedly part of something larger.

Hopefully, nothing that ruined my plans. I just wanted to relax.

I thought about my next steps. I was an [A-Class] adventurer. So surely I could access the Adventurers Guild archives. Get a tutor to learn some magic. A tutor to learn some basic swordsmanship. The Manor needed some magic barriers to stop people popping up. A lot of things to do.

The flickering lanterns above seemed to match his thoughts.