"We’re here" One of the lower ranked officials announced.
The rest of the officials came down the carriage, I and their head came down last.
The Regulators’ headquarters rose like a fortress, built of dark stone etched with faintly glowing runes. Spires climbed above the walls, each tipped with a steady silver flame. A massive iron gate, stamped with their chain-emblem, stood as the only way inside.
The gate groaned open, revealing a courtyard paved with obsidian tiles that pulsed faintly with runes. Officials in silver-trimmed coats moved in strict lines, but the moment I stepped through, their rhythm faltered. Silence pressed down on the space, every eye fixed on me.
Ignoring their gazes, I followed the officials and stepped into the headquarters.
Their wooden doors opened with a low creak, and I stepped into the headquarters.
The inside wasn’t what I expected of an organization that practically ruled over battles, it looked more like a bureaucrat’s nest.
Desks lined the wide hall, clerks bent over Aether codices— which looked like crystal-bound ledgers that shimmered faintly as quills scratched across their surfaces.
Scrolls and stacks of parchment piled high on shelves, and the air carried the faint metallic tang of processed mana, drawn through glowing conduits that ran like veins across the walls. It felt like a place that recorded everything, down to the last breath.
Eyes trailed me the moment I entered, workers pretending to be busy while sneaking fearful glances my way. The silence followed me deeper into the hall until we reached a corner office where a man stood waiting.
He wasn’t armored like the officials, nor robed like a mage. Instead, his sleeves were rolled up, his gloves smudged with ink and chalk, and his belt carried measuring rods etched with runes. Blueprints and mana diagrams littered his desk, and he looked up with the weariness of someone who had been called to fix one problem too many.
"So you’re the one who ruined half the inn’s structure?" His voice was clipped, dismissive.
My jaw tightened. "Ruined? I’m obviously not the only one and I’m sure you guys aren’t dumb enough not to have known that "
"That room was engraved with a low–tier spatial formation" He jabbed a finger into one of his ledgers. "Do you even understand how much it costs to re–engrave one of those?"
My face darkened. ’Did he just ignore me? To think a day would come when I’d be treated like this’
Keeping those thoughts at the back of my mind, I replied, "Maybe if your designs weren’t so flimsy, they wouldn’t have crumbled. Don’t blame me for your incompetence."
The man bristled, and one of the younger officials stepped forward, clearly ready to bark something, but their leader silenced him with a raised hand.
"Leave us," the higher-up said flatly.
The six others hesitated before filing out, their boots echoing against the polished stone floor. When the door shut behind them, the room felt heavier, quieter.
The man spoke with hidden anger, "The reason it crumbled was because it was never meant to handle such a scale of battle...a scale an F rank like you is incapable of exhibiting" He added with narrowed eyes
I could feel their inspecting eyes all over me, like I was some sort of test subject and the bottled up frustration I’d been holding on to threatened to burst open.
Not wanting to do anything I might regret, I stood up and walked towards the door. "We’re finished here. I at least expected Matthew to be here, but I can’t say I blame you."
"Sit", the higher-up commanded with furrowed eyebrows.
I ignored him and kept walking.
In two strides, he was at my side, his hand clamping down on my shoulder. "I said sit" he repeated, his voice low, steady—like he was speaking to a wild animal.
I turned my head slowly until our eyes met. His composure cracked instantly. The cold emptiness in my gaze froze him mid-breath. His fingers trembled before he snatched them back as though he had touched fire.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then he straightened, jaw clenched, forcing steel back into his tone. "Don’t overstep. You’re only F-rank," he muttered, as if the words were for himself more than me. "I’m B. Remember the difference."
I tilted my head slightly, a small, humorless smile tugging at my lips. "Ranks don’t stop shadows from swallowing the light."
He shivered again—and this time, he couldn’t hide it.
"Starek, let him leave". The man ordered
Starek immediately snapped his head towards the man— probably to avoid seeing my hollow eyes, and spoke with hidden apprehension.
"B–but we haven’t accounted for the damages"
"The inn has reimbursed us fully and mages have been sent to fix the inn. I only ordered his arrest to confirm something and my questions have been answered. So let him go"
The higher–up— Starek, was at a loss for words and he glanced at my uninterested face for a fleeting moment before wordlessly releasing the restrictions placed on the room.
"We’ll be seeing soon, Mr. Clark" The man spoke as I made my way out of the office.
Ignoring the ominous statement, I calmly walked out of the office, receiving strange gazes from the workers and the six officials that followed me in.
Back in the office, Starek and the man sat opposite each other with grim expressions plastered on their faces.
"That man is an F rank, right?" Starek asked.
Placing his head on his forehead, the man replied, "Yes, but the oppressive aura he releases doesn’t exactly attest to that"
Slouching into the chair, the shocked Starek spoke, "I thought I would die for a moment there. No wonder Master Matthew ordered his arrest. Speaking of, what are we going to tell him?"
The man didn’t respond immediately, searching through a few documents, he eventually answered:
"Although it’s cowardly of us to do this, law B6-8, subsection C says: No ranked warriors are allowed to fight in civilian spaces unless in unavoidable circumstances."
Starek exclaimed with wide eyes, "Fryn! We both know that only applies to S ranks!"
"We don’t have much of a choice here do we? The Virsch family controls fifty percent of the finances used to keep this place running and even though I’m not sure the patriarch approved of this, I still know he won’t take kindly to his son being denied of something as simple as this" Fryn countered
Starek went silent before replying, "What about Master Matthew?"
"What about him?"
"The law implies two or more individuals must be present for it to take effect and as much as I’d like to deny it, that man clearly uses Water— an element of chaos which we found traces of in the room. But the Lightning element that we also found didn’t come from the same mana source"
"And almost everyone knows the Virsch family specializes in the Lightning elements except for Lady Rimezna who possesses both Lightning and water elements"
Fryn went silent at the water tight explanation Starek gave and they both decided to speak to Matthew concerning the matter.
Escorting him out of the office, Fryn went back to his chair with a heavy sigh escaping his mouth.
"To think I still have to be present for the arrival of Miriam Rothschild in the next two days....haaa....they don’t pay me enough for this"
...
The low groan of the iron gates echoed behind me as I stepped out of the headquarters.
Watching the bustling streets with a distant gaze, my legs moved on their own and I began wandering aimlessly on the streets.
The roads buzzed with life, wagons rattling over cobblestones while vendors shouted deals from makeshift stalls. Children darted between legs with laughter, chased by dogs that barked at everything. Perfumes of grilled meat and spiced wine fought against the stink of sweat and smoke. Musicians on corners plucked strings, their tunes lost to the crowd’s endless chatter.
I approached a stall and bought myself a piece of meat— which I somehow got for free at the end of the day.
’Why am I such a loser?’
Sitting on a bench close to a dark alleyway, the thought came to my mind as I nibbled absentmindedly on the piece of meat.
’It was just one incident and I’ve become this shell of my former self. Why can’t I be like those regressors who went through the most gruesome deaths and still not change for the worse?’
I wanted to feel frustration at those words, to rage at my own fragile mind despite all the so-called mental fortitude I’d been gifted.
But nothing came. No anger, no fire. Just silence. The emptier I searched inside myself, the heavier the void became—like my emotions had been stolen, leaving only a hollow echo that mocked me with its stillness.
’System’
******
[Ding!]
******
’I want to ask a question’
*******
[Ding!]
[The host has used 5/5 of his free trials. Exp points shall be deducted according to the range of the questions asked.]
*********
Taking a deep breath, I dropped the meat close to my side and questioned extremely slowly:
’Is it possible to....revert back to my former state of mind?’
******
[Ding!]
[The host has asked a semi–plausible question.]
[The host’s current state of mind is a direct consequence of system integration and external factors.]
[Reversion to former state: Impossible.]
[However... partial restoration of emotional balance is possible. The cost: 15,000 Exp points and one permanent skill slot.]
[Proceed? Y/N]
********
My fists tightened until my knuckles turned white. ’Impossible.’ The word hit harder than any blade I’d ever faced.
A bitter laughter escaped from my mouth, the croaky sound drowned by the lively streets.
"Fifteen thousand..." I muttered under my breath, the number rolling around in my skull like a curse.
’One skill slot, gone forever, just for the chance to feel human again.’
A hollow anger swelled in my chest, but it fizzled out before it could burn. All I was left with was the suffocating weight of the system’s cold verdict pressing down on me.
"...Of course," I whispered, voice raw. "Getting fifteen thousand points is already impossible and I’m sure it knows that."
*******
[Ding!]
[50 exp points has been deducted for the host’s query]
[Remaining points: 450]
Remark: ....
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