Feyrith rested his head on his arm, leaning against the hard wooden handrail of the carriage, his gaze turned to the outside world.

He enjoyed the outside scenery, taking in the views of the familiar but brand-new world. It was a shame he couldn’t make full use of this amazing view, the urge to vomit continuously welling up inside of him.

The air inside of the carriage was stale and stuffy, making Feyrith feel quite unpleasant. It was difficult to breathe, every moment close to torture. At first, he could ignore this, choosing to focus on the fact he was inside of the Silverveil kingdom, and was about to see it with his own eyes. Sooner or later, he couldn’t scratch that horrid sensation weighing down on him, the nausea taking over and filling his thoughts.

He felt a bit guilty, because ignoring everything else, he was inside an otherwise grandiose cabin. Fitted with all the space and amenities one could need inside of one. The treatment he got before he boarded the carriage was also nothing short of royal.

When he left his house, Feyrith was greeted by a coachman who led him to a carriage prepared especially by the royal family. It was crafted of beautiful cedar wood, the royal family’s signature white rose emblem proudly displayed on the carriage’s back.

Honoured as he was by this treatment, Feyrith could no longer stand being inside of the cabin. Surely the novelty had worn off. A moment longer inside the carriage, he suspected, would cause breakfast to be a concept of the past.

The scenery was nice though, the silhouettes of various buildings making their way into the carriage. The city was bustling, vendors and shops running across the street, people haggling and buying. All sorts of people were here. Both citizens from Silverveil, and another demographic, one Feyrith knew particularly well, players. The two groups mingled in harmony, the atmosphere loud but peaceful.

As he looked out the window, a familiar sight came into view. Feyrith put on a wry grin, a grin that, if anyone who knew Sylvia would say, reminded them of her. Opening the carriage door, Feyrith called for the Coachman.

“Excuse me, mister coachman.” Feyrith spoke in a cold, aloof voice, his expression shifting completely. It was his instincts kicking in once more, changing Feyrith’s intended tone to the one it was now.

The coachman looked behind him, facing Feyrith whose head was sticking out of the carriage. He was mildly terrified, mainly from Feyrith’s tone, so languid and uncaring. He had heard rumours that the heir of the Aridelle household was both aloof and cold-hearted, but this frigid sensation was something else altogether.

“How may I assist you, young master?” The coachman nervously responded to Feyrith’s call. He had an emotionless expression on his face, a visage that showed neither joy nor anger.

Feyrith put his hand out of the window, in it a gold coin he took out of his pocket. Putting his index finger to his lips, he tossed the coin to the coachman.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone.”

When he finished speaking, and before the coachman could react, Feyrith jumped out of the carriage, landing amongst the crowded street. As he landed, he could see the shocked expression of the coachman, which he thoroughly ignored.

Getting up onto his feet, Feyrith made his way into the crowd, blending right in. In the blink of an eye, he was completely gone.

Far enough away from the carriage, Feyrith took in a deep breath, his mind not exactly used to such quick movements. His body, on the other hand…

For a magician, this is quite a nice body. He was quite impressed by the physical capabilities of his body, robust and full of energy. It was surprising, considering he was going to be a magician in the future, but perhaps that was a different matter altogether.

Taking in a deep breath, Feyrith admired his surroundings. If his memories weren’t wrong, Feyrith was currently in the middle of Bronzewall City, the capital of the Silverveil kingdom, one of the if not the most well-known residential floor in the tower.

This specific scenery was quite nostalgic for Feyrith. He dug up pleasant memories of him running around this exact city to find his rival’s hidden home.

You see, Tower of Pandora allowed players to purchase specific zones inside of certain floors, allowing them to own the land there. The floors that allowed players to do this were primarily those that contained residents, another name for the people originating from the tower. Thus, these floors were given the name “residential floors” by users, the reason being, well...

In the end, Feyrith never did find Heartstealingthief’s home, but it was an entertaining stint either way.

His attention turned away from his self, every fiber of his being admiring the vibrant atmosphere, and the bustle of the crowded stalls, Feyrith felt a light impact on the side of his body.

Crash!

“My bad.” A dull voice came from the short figure that bumped into Feyrith. The figure wore a hood, its face completely covered, but just from its voice alone, Feyrith could tell that it was a he.

Standing up, Feyrith watched as the figure picked himself off the ground and continued walking. Instead of letting him go, Feyrith reached his arm out and grabbed the figure by his left wrist. Reaching his free hand into his pocket, Feyrith confirmed his previous thought. The pocket, previously containing a bag filled with coins, was now empty.

Pulling the figure closer to him, Feyrith pinned its other arm down.

Upon apprehending the pickpocket, Feyrith quickly snatched back his bag, returning it to his pocket. Turning his attention away from the bag, Feyrith glanced at his pickpocket. Messy brown hair and dirty clothes, a childish face with a large frown plastered on top of it. The pickpocket had been a mere child, a serf at that.

Feyrith had a frigid glare on his face as he stared at the boy. Annoying. Before he could decide what to do with him, Feyrith heard a shrill shriek coming from the crowd, directed straight toward him.

“Aidan!” The source of the voice was a young woman, somewhere between 20 and 22, with long wavy brown hair. As she approached Feyrith and the pickpocket, a clear look of anxiety was displayed on her face. They looked at the ground before bowing and apologising to Feyrith.

“My apologies, sir nobleman!” She continued to bow down before grabbing the pickpocket, who was named Aidan, by the collar, making him bow down as well. “My younger brother was foolish to try to pick-pocket you.”

“Is there anything I could do to make you ignore our transgression!” Her face hardened for a moment, before continuing. “Please sir, I will do… anything.”

TUTUTURU!

Before Feyrith could respond to her, the sound of trumpets blared out, catching the attention of every passerby.

Soon, a carriage could be seen, accompanied by what looked to be an entire platoon of knights, all of them marching in unison. Their boots thudded against the ground, creating a shock wave of sound with each step.

Most of the crowd, Feyrith included, made way for the carriage staring at it as it passed by. Soon a major migration occurred, as several stalls and shops closed, their owners and workers carrying what seemed to be large tents or carts heading in the direction of the carriage. Lots from the crowd followed suit, leaving the bustling square abandoned, empty in numbers, excluding a few outliers.

Noting this Feyrith turned his attention back to the girl and her younger brother, the former slightly trembling at Feyrith’s gaze.

“Anything huh?” Feyrith audibly mumbled, as the girl expectantly and nervously awaited Feyrith’s next word.

-Gulp-

“Do you mind telling me what was going on just now, with the carriage and the stalls closing?” Upon hearing Feyrith’s request, the girl’s face turned to shock, then to confusion, then back to being anxious. Looking up at Feyrith, she hesitantly answered.

“It’s for the festival, sir.”

“Festival?” Feyrith repeated, causing the girl to quickly continue. Each and every one of his words was languid in nature. Every single utterance and syllable from him driving a pike deeper in the girl’s chest.

She wasn’t just anxious, she was terrified. Her brother just had to have an encounter with noble, a rather scary one a that.

“Yes, sir.” She nervously explained. “It’s the yearly festival held to celebrate the nation’s birthday.”

“What was the deal with that carriage?” Feyrith asked.

The girl took a deep breath before continuing her explanation. “It’s her royal highness, the 3rd princess.”

“The 3rd princess? What is she doing here?” Feyrith interrupted the girl. This is a new event.

“She’s one of the sponsors of the festival. Today she’s here to launch the event.” She replied nervously.

“Very interesting.”

Upon hearing Feyrith’s mutterings, the girl took in a deep breath of air as her body tensed up.

Noticing her discomfort, Feyrith reached into his pockets, the same one which held the bag which was very recently stolen from him. Taking out a silver coin, Feyrith held the girl’s hand and placed the coin in her palm.

“Your information is much appreciated.” Feyrith thanked the girl before turning his back, ignorant of the look of complete shock splayed across her face.

When Feyrith grabbed her hands, she had first expected him to execute her, something she had seen happen countless times. Not even in her wildest dreams did she expect something like this to happen.

The noble not only forgave her, he thanked her. Her eyes remained wide as she stared at Feyrith’s back, the latter turning around to leave.

Abruptly stopping, Feyrith turned around and faced the young boy named Aidan.

“A word of advice. You probably shouldn’t pickpocket people. Even if they look like easy prey, most nobles aren’t as forgiving as me.” Feyrith solemnly said, directing his advice toward the boy. The boy named Aidan looked back at Feyrith with an annoyed stare, to which he shrugged off.

He didn’t particularly care about the boy’s wellbeing, but a small part of him tugged at him to do something. Noblesse oblige, was it? If Aidan didn’t want to accept his advice, it was on him, not Feyrith.

With those words, he turned around and walked into the crowd, disappearing once more. The two were left staring in the space he once was, unable to respond to Feyrith’s provocation.

Maybe I shouldn’t have done that? Butterfly effect or something. Whatever, it’s a small price to pay for that much information.

He slipped out of the crowd and headed toward a nearby alleyway. This was where he needed to be to finish what he came here to do.

While Feyrith may have never been in Bronzewall's alleyways, Ciel had it memorised like the back of his hand. He made his way through the twisting and turning pathways akin to the greatest labyrinths, and headed towards the slums.

---

Speeding through the back alleys of Bronzewall, Feyrith felt a droplet of sweat run down his back.

It was fortunate that he memorised these pathways, knowing them as well as the back of his mind, else he would have been lost ages ago. That mad dash to find Heartstealingthief’s hideout wasn’t a waste after all.

How much longer does this go on? Feyrith cursed in his mind, his feet growing weary after a while of running.

The in-game map did not do these back alleys any justice. He didn’t even know how long he had been running, but it must have been centuries at this point, the same dirty walls and pebble roads at every corner he turned.

He was sure that it didn’t take this long to get to the slums, especially since the path he was taking was considered a shortcut. Maybe he shouldn’t unconditionally trust his memory? That aside.

The Bronzewall slums, considered the landfill of the otherwise beautiful city. The unfortunate souls that lived here were those who worked as serfs, fulfilling the unreasonable demands of their lords and masters. Not that Feyrith cared, but most of the people in the slums ended up being used by the big bads of Tower of Pandora. Turned into human sacrifices to summon the ones they worshipped.

An unfortunate fate indeed, but what could he do about it? For now, at least, he was as powerless as them, which was exactly why he needed to head to the slums.

One very important piece of his mage build, one that if the Feyrith Aridelle got ahold of in-game, would make him unstoppable.

At last, as Feyrith turned the corner of yet another alleyway, he locked eyes with a pitiful sight. Broken homes and a dirty street. Littered with droppings and trash, the slums sure fit the description of a landfill.

As he stepped foot into it, Feyrith could feel the gazes of locals focusing on him, making him regret his choice of not bringing a disguise. Their gazes felt like thousands of spiders crawling around on his back, creepy. It was a jumble of different negative emotions. Fear, despair, hatred, malice. It swirled around like a whirlpool, a heavy feeling chaining his chest.

Taking in a deep breath, Feyrith tuned out their existence, making his way further down the trodden path and toward the laboratory. In time, Feyrith found himself in front of a decrepit-looking building, the laboratory at long last.

Let’s finish this then.