"Hey. Don't be informal with me. It's disgusting," Aren snapped.
Classic Aren. Voice like chipped ice. Ego like a frozen mountain.
I wanted to smack that smug mouth of his.
But I didn't.
Because I'm the mature one.
Supposedly.
There were plenty of demi-humans at the Academy—beastkin, feybloods, scaled, clawed, and horned things that all pretended to be students.
But Aren?
Frost Tribe. Different breed entirely.
They didn't send their kids to this place. Too proud. Too isolated.
Only the royal bloodline ever crossed that bridge. Literally.
Even the novel barely mentioned them—
Just Elin and Aren.
Side villains, background noise.
At first.
Then Princess Elena dies.
The Demon from the Outside takes her body.
And they fall—fast.
The first to bend the knee to Sylvanna Nightshade.
The first to lose themselves.
And me?
I'm not letting it get that far.
In this Practical Test?
I only have two goals.
Simple enough:
1. Kill that fucking monster.
2. Keep Elena alive—no matter what.
Because if she dies...
It wakes up.
And then I die.
Right now, maybe—just maybe—I have a sliver of a chance against it.
The Obsidian Howler.
A+ Rank. Apex predator.
A monster made from horror and regret
And me?
I'm just a D-rank cadet who barely survived a timeline that doesn't even exist anymore.
A walking corpse that remembers too much.
And this time… I have to win.
Because I know one thing:
Rage without strategy?
That's just suicide in disguise.
We moved deeper into the Garden of Eden.
Don't be fooled by the name.
Nothing here feels sacred.
The air breathes wrong—
Like a horror house without a staff to save you.
Like a place someone imagined but didn't love.
Elin and Aren walked ahead—
Bickering like siblings in a soap opera that stopped being funny the first time two of them died.
Elena stayed near me.
Quiet. Still. Watching.
Like she'd seen this all before.
Like the forest couldn't surprise her.
Which made sense.
She's an elf princess.
The Elven Domain is practically a continent of forests.
In fact, Frost itself—where Elin and Aren are from—is technically part of the Elven Domain. Not that they'd ever admit it.
Me?
I'm the only outsider here.
Even in my old world, I'd never visited a real forest.
I kept scanning the terrain.
Mapping it out in my mind.
Every vine. Every root. Every beast that might be lurking just out of sight.
Because I'd been here before.
Not long.
Just a few hours.
Thanks to my Exclusive Attribute—Perfect Recall—I remembered every breath of those five hours.
I wasn't just walking through the forest. I was comparing it, second by second, to a 4K memory playing on loop in my mind.
And then—
I opened it.
[ Mark of Ruin ]
Let's see what horror this one brings.
[Exclusive Attribute: Mark of Ruin]
Grade: EX (Conceptual Authority)
Type: Narrative Magic / Story Magic
Origin: ■■■
Description:
A conceptual authority engraved into your being after synchronization.
This mark allows the manifestation of magic or constructs based purely on imagination and structural understanding.
---
Core Functions:
Universal Elemental Affinity
→ You may access and control all elemental properties.
Magic Circuit Materialization
→ Any magic you can clearly conceptualize and define can be made real.
Construct Realization
→ Constructs, tools, and phenomena imagined with sufficient clarity may be physically manifested.
---
Source Power:
All functions draw from Story Points.
"The more Story Points you invest, the stronger the result becomes."
---
Limitation:
→ Magic and constructs cannot be used without spending Story Points.
→ The cost scales based on complexity, scale, and impact on the story. ]]
After checking the details of my Exclusive Attribute, I got the general idea of how to use it.
But for now?
It's useless.
Because I don't have enough Story Points to activate it.
Not yet.
I glanced around.
Strange.
When we first entered the Garden of Eden, we were attacked almost constantly.
Monster after monster.
Fight after fight.
But now?
It's been at least fifteen minutes—
No monsters.
No cadets.
Just… silence.
Was my luck really that bad last time?
I glanced at the branches overhead.
What I thought were leaves…
Were wings.
Folded. Disfigured. Twitching like they were dreaming.
Fuck this place.
It's Hella creepy.
Even the air felt like it was holding its breath.
Thick. Waiting.
But we kept walking.
Because what else could we do?
-------
Four Hours Later
Our team had made real progress.
Over 200 points earned.
All thanks to Elena.
Being an elf?
It's practically cheating in a place like this.
She could spot monsters before they emerged, recognize flora at a glance, and—most importantly—analyze weaknesses.
Some of the creatures she found weren't even in the Academy's bestiaries.
And me?
I only recognized a few because of Cale Ashblood.
That emo bastard fought them in the novel.
So I'd pitch in whenever I could, sharing what I knew.
But the heavy lifting?
That was Elena.
Now, we sat near a waterfall—
Tired. Alert. Alive.
Aren and Elin had gone hunting and returned with two rabbit-like creatures—except they had horns.
They also brought back fruits.
Looked like a mix between apples and cherries.
I double-checked with Elena.
"They're safe," she said, calmly peeling the skin off a glossy red one.
Good enough for me.
I even found a familiar ingredient:
Black Onions.
In the novel, Cale used them while grilling meat.
Despite all his power, that guy developed a habit:
He never ate food prepared by someone else.
After 998 regressions, cooking had become second nature to him.
And trust?
That was never part of his menu.
{ If I'm going to die," he once said, "I'd rather it be from my own burnt stew. }
I smirked at the memory.
Even in this world, that guy lives rent-free in my head.
"Princess Elena," I said, eyes fixed on the golden-haired elf.
For the first time, I actually looked at her.
Not just glanced—looked.
Her eyes, a quiet shade of green, glimmered in the dappled light.
Beautiful. Serene.
In the last round, there was no time for this.
Only tension. Panic. Screams.
Then death.
Looking at her now reminded me of her final breath.
The way her voice trembled when she told me to run.
How she tried to die alone.
No matter how hard I try not to remember it,
It haunts me.
Burned into me—by Perfect Recall.
I don't think I can ever see my team the same way again.
"…What is it?" she asked.
Her tone was calm.
Almost detached.
Not cold—just quiet.
Like someone used to silence.
"I just… wanted to thank you."
I said it softly.
But what I really wanted to thank her for—
No one else remembered.
The moment she chose death…
So I could live.
"Hey, Lucifer! What are you doing? Come help me with the fireplace!"
Aren's voice cut through the moment, loud and annoyingly energetic.
I turned, half-expecting his usual smirk.
Yup. There it was.
Is this guy jealous or what?
"I heard you, you damn wolf. Don't need to yell."
I sighed, dragging my steps toward him.
Seriously—this shameless idiot.
Calling me out like that just because I was talking to Elena?
Though... maybe I'm no better.
I barely helped with anything—just did the bare minimum.
Then again, that's more than Aren usually does.
Still, before I could fully sink into my thoughts—
[[ Your Relationship with the character: Elena Sylvarin Thelen has improved. ]]
[[ She thinks positively of you. ]]
[[ You have gained 40 Story Points. ]]
I paused for a second.
Huh.
So even a single quiet moment could shift someone's opinion of me that much?
Noted.
Time to build a fireplace, I guess.
------
[ Author's Note:
Just a quiet chapter before the storm.
Lucifer remembers. The world doesn't.
Let's see who pays the price. ]