CHAPTER 180: CHAPTER 180 - A ’DAGGER’ ?

The sun had risen higher by now, its warm rays casting sharper shadows on the cobbled paths of the academy grounds. The afternoon was not far, and yet Luca walked with a grin plastered across his face, the kind of grin that would make anyone wonder if he had finally gone mad.

On his shoulder, the little Kunpeng shifted its wings and harrumphed in clear annoyance.

"What are you so happy about after wasting 150 credits on a broken dagger?"

Luca stopped mid-step, lowered his head, and let out a small chuckle.

"Heh... heheh..."

And then, without warning, he threw his head back and laughed like a man possessed.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Startled students passing by gave him a wide berth, whispering as if some lunatic had escaped the alchemy labs.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Luca smirked down at the dull, jagged dagger in his hand, lifting it as if it were a priceless gem.

"You petty bird, what do you know? You don’t understand anything!"

The Kunpeng gave him a disdainful look, snapping its beak.

"Petty bird? Hah. No, Luca—you’ve finally lost your mind. Over a broken piece of junk, no less." It raised one of its wings and covered its own face in mock embarrassment. "At least have the decency to look at your surroundings before cackling like a madman."

Luca froze. He glanced around only to find several senior students staring at him as if he had grown a second head. His ears flushed crimson, and he coughed into his hand, forcing himself upright.

"Ahem... nothing to see here."

Quickening his pace, he tucked the dagger closer to his chest, a smirk refusing to leave his lips.

Inside, though, his thoughts were racing.

This dagger... this dagger is something that shouldn’t have been here. I know it. In the game, this was never part of Arcadia’s Exchange. So how? Why?

Kunpeng clicked its tongue.

"Broken dagger, broken brain."

But Luca only tightened his grip, a glimmer of madness in his eyes.

They don’t know. None of them know. This isn’t just some scrap metal... This is the key. The key to getting any weapon, armor, or artifact I want, personally forged by Elder Thrain himself.

His heart thudded with anticipation. Elder Thrain—the greatest blacksmith on the continent, whose masterpieces were beyond compare. With this dagger, he could have anything he wanted.

Luca let out another soft chuckle.

Hahaha... now I can have whatever I desire customized just for me... by the best.

Then his grin faltered slightly, a shadow of doubt flickering across his expression.

But... how did this dagger end up here? It shouldn’t be. It was supposed to be with...

He shook his head, brushing the thought aside.

Well, whatever. Too many unscripted things are happening already. This might just be one more anomaly. ’He’ might have placed it thinking, nobody would know what it is. Still... It’s mine now.

***

[Eric’s POV - Some days back]

I waved Luca and Lilliane ahead with a casual grin as we left the clubroom together.

"Go on, I’ve got something to take care of," I said.

Luca asked if they should wait but—after all, the main characters had their grand missions and fateful encounters. Us extras? We had our own little jobs, the kind that never got written down ,and didn’t matter much.

The cobbled pathways turned quiet as I slipped away, ducking into a narrow alley. My boots landed softly on the stone wall as I climbed, pulling myself up to a back window with practiced ease. With a swift hop, I was inside.

The air reeked faintly of ink, dust, and... burnt herbs? I wrinkled my nose. Typical.

There he was. Hunched over a desk, hair greasy and unkempt, muttering to himself as if the world outside didn’t exist. His quill scratched furiously over parchment, not even bothering to acknowledge the intruder who had just dropped into his den.

"Hey, old man," I called, dusting off my hands. "What are you doing?"

Without even looking up, he grunted, "You brat. What do you mean, ’what am I doing?’ Didn’t you tell me to stay at the academy?"

I raised a brow, smirking. "Yeah, but I meant as an actual dean. Not for you to bury yourself in research and vanish like a ghost."

That finally got him to glance up, eyes narrowed and face lined with irritation. "Tch. Shut up. State your business."

I began to stroll around the cluttered room, hands in pockets, eyes tracing over scattered manuscripts and half-finished devices. The corners of my lips tugged upward.

"Well, I was taking a stroll through the Arcadia Exchange the other day—"

"Hmph," he cut in, shaking his head. "Not a single penny in your pockets, and yet you waste time loitering in the market."

I waved the jab away like an annoying fly, continuing smoothly, "—and I thought, while looking at all those items, why don’t we have a special section? You know, the most practical and essential things—stuff actually useful for battle against the devil cult. Wouldn’t that make life easier for everyone?"

The old man leaned back slightly, tapping the quill against his jaw. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d argue. Instead, he murmured, "Hmm. I suppose."

Internally, I grinned. Knew it. He doesn’t actually care either way.

"So do it," I pushed lightly.

"Argh, brat," he growled, finally losing patience. He dug into his robes and hurled a dull-blue communication crystal my way. "Send the message yourself!"

I caught it one-handed, biting back a laugh. Mission complete.

While he bent over his desk again, already scratching notes like nothing had happened, I activated the crystal and sent the request through. His world had shrunk back down to parchment and ink, blind to everything else.

My gaze wandered to a nearby shelf. Half-hidden under stacks of junk, a dagger caught the dim light. I palmed it smoothly, slipping it into my pocket with practiced ease.

This old man really doesn’t care about his things at all. Should I feel guilty for stealing in my own home? Nah... extras like me get to bend the script. This will stay tucked away as one of those little hidden details no one ever talks about.

I stretched lazily, then said aloud, "Hey, old man. I just realized—I don’t have many credits. What do you say... can I sell some of the stuff I have around here to the Arcadia Exchange?"

He didn’t even look up this time. Just grunted, "What could you possibly have? Hmph. Do whatever you want, so long as they’re willing to accept your trash."

I chuckled, turning back toward the window. See? Not even stealing anymore. Permission granted.

With a final wave of my hand, I vaulted out the same way I came in, the dagger’s weight reassuring in my pocket. Another day, another quiet win for an ’extra.’

***

[Back to present]

Luca lay sprawled across his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the canopy above. For once, the air in his dorm felt calm, untouched by the chaos that usually seemed to follow him. A rare holiday, hard-earned after the perilous mission he had returned from—not that his mind would let him enjoy it fully.

The gorge... what might have happened there? He turned on his side, staring at the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. Did the Vice Dean find anything?

The thought of the whispered rumors about a traitor clawed its way back into his head, souring the brief peace. "So many things are piling up..." he muttered under his breath.

Yet, despite the weight pressing down on him, a smile crept onto his lips. His thoughts strayed, unbidden, to a certain red-haired woman. Amethyst eyes, sharp and unwavering, flashing through his mind. His chest felt warm, lighter.

Well... we’re in a relationship now, right? I mean, we confessed... so that means we are, right?

Before he could sink further into that thought, the crystal on his desk pulsed with a sudden light.

He groaned, half-burying his face in the pillow. "Who is it now?"

Reluctantly, he pushed himself upright and accepted the call. The crystal shimmered, forming a holographic figure before him.

A voice rang out—powerful, cold, and composed, the kind that demanded attention.

"Student Luca Valentine."

Luca’s eyes widened. He scrambled upright, heart skipping a beat.

"Sir Vice Dean!!" he muttered, snapping to attention.

And just like that, his peaceful night was shattered.