The wind moved softly through the wide grassy field, bending the tall blades in long silver-green waves. Small wildflowers bloomed between the rocks scattered here and there, pale and stubborn against the earth.
Misha stood in the middle of it all and looked ahead. This was the place where Gerbaut had tested her, where Nyxie had laughed from the side with her side comments, where Elyes had watched with that tired, unimpressed face of his. It was also where Yara had stood there with her arms folded, smiling that gentle smile Misha now wanted to tear out of every memory attached to it.
She closed her eyes as the breeze brushed against her skin.
It should have felt peaceful... but it didn’t. Everything here still carried them. Their voices, their footsteps, it all felt like sewn into the field itself.
After regaining control of her body, Misha had gone back to Genesis instead of advancing to Exodus. She was not ready to face the challenges ahead. At that time, it felt more like her feet moving while the rest of her lagged behind.
Genesis was still as lively as ever. That almost made it worse.
People moved through the streets with baskets, weapons, books, charms, and tired little hopes tucked beneath their arms. Merchants shouted over one another, children laughed somewhere farther down the road, and lanterns glowed warm above the evening stalls.
The city had not changed. She had. Before, Genesis had looked big and alive, full of dangerous possibilities and strange wonders. Now it looked unbearably ordinary with every bright shopfront felt faintly cruel.
She walked through it alone. Her clothes still carried dirt, dried blood, and ugly wear of the floors. Her sleeves had stiffened in places. A few people glanced at her, then away. Others stared longer, curious in the casual way strangers were when they saw someone visibly ruined.
At one point, she passed by the Academy. She had not meant to stop there, yet her feet slowed on their own when the tall gates came into view.
She could see students in their uniforms moving inside. Some laughed, some frowned over their grade sheet, and some whispered excitedly to one another like the future had not yet found a way to claw at their throats.
Elyes might be there, she had thought. Or perhaps, someone who knew where he was.
In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She stood only there for a while, staring at the Academy with the quiet indifference of a place that kept producing climbers and never cared which ones came back.
So she left a note. A very short one that will catch his attention once he read it. She folded it quickly because if she took too long writing it, she might end up saying something she could not bear to read back.
"I’d like to give this to Elyes Faust..." she said, handling it to the gate guard. "I’m a friend of his. I’m from Skyreach, he’ll know once he sees this note."
The guard looked at the paper, then at her, clearly unsure whether he should take it.
Whether it would reach Elyes or not did not seem to matter much to her. She only liked the thought that she had at least done something, even if it was small. Even if it was pathetic.
From the Academy, she wondered without direction. That was when a familiar guard noticed her while strolling near the inner gate.
"It’s you," he said, slowing as he took her in from head to toe. "You’re looking like a mess again."
"Let me guess." His mouth twitched, then he chuckled. "Was it Floor 7 again?"
Misha stared at him for a moment. For one strange second, she wanted to laugh, or cry, or ask him what exactly about her looked so consistently disastrous. In the end, she only nodded.
The guard shook his head as if that somehow confirmed everything he suspected about her just like from the first day. "And you’re planning to regroup with your party again?"
Party... The word struck harder than it should have.
What party did she have left? Jules was dead, Nyxie and Gerbaut died too, all because Yara betrayed them. And Elyes...
Something flashed through Misha’s eyes then, too quick and too sharp for the guard to understand.
"Yes," she said at last. "I’m looking for them."
The guard gave her a short nod. "I see. Hope your friends made it."
Misha smiled, but it never really reached her eyes.
She kept walking after that, though walking no longer felt purposeful. It felt like drifting with her eyes open. The streets bent around her, voices passed, light moved across stone, and she barely noticed any of it until someone called out.
"Young lady!"
The first call did not reach her properly.
"Misha!"
That one did.
She paused and turned. She saw an old man standing near a stall lined with traveling goods, fabrics, and oddments that clearly survived more floors than most people ever would.
"Grandpa Tobias?" She asked, blinking a few times before walking over.
He looked at her from head to toe, slow and thorough, one hand moving through his white beard as he studied the blood, the grime, the torn cloak she once bought from him, and the expression she had clearly failed to hide.
"Looks like the cloak you bought from me didn’t survive," he said witu a sigh. "You’re a mess just like the last time I saw you."
"Ah..." Misha lowered her gaze for a second. "Sorry..."
The old man snorted as if she had said something foolish. Then his eyes softened in a way that almost made it worse. He saw the difference in her. The innocence had dimmed. Whatever uncertain little light had still lived in her eyes the last time he saw her had faintly disappeared. It was not dead, not yet. It was just buried under too much.
He heaved out another sigh. "This is what the Tower does when people decide to keep climbing it."
Misha said nothing. There was nothing to say.
Tobias turned his back on her and began rummaging through his things. Clothes shifted, and small trinkets clicked together. He muttered something under his breath until he found what he wanted.
"Ah, here." He turned and held out another cloak.
This one was darker than the last, deep charcoal with gold-lined stitching at the edges. The fabric looked heavier, better, and more suited to someone who had already learned what the lower floors liked to take.
"I’ll give you a discount if you buy this one from me."
Misha blinked a few times. Then, unexpectedly, a small laugh escaped her. It was the first genuine laugh she had managed since everything fell apart. "You’re already trying to sell me another cloak after seeing the state I’m in?"
Tobias looked offended. "Of course I am. What kind of merchant would I be otherwise?"
That made her laugh again. Still, it felt strange in her throat.
The old man clicked his tongue and pushed the cloak closer to her. "Take it, it’s yours."
"No, I’ll buy it."
"I said take it."
Misha looked at him and he held her gaze. "This has always been waiting for you."
She tilted her head, confusion written all over her face. "Waiting... for me?"
Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the fabric. The moment she did, a window appeared before her.
「 〔Hearthkeeper’s Cloak〕
Grade: Ultra Rare (UR)
Description:
A cloak once crafted and worn by a legendary Raider who vanished from the Tower. Despite the years, the fabric shows no signs of wear. Faint traces of mana linger within it, as though it still remembers its former master.
Effects:
• Agility +5
• Strength +3
• Silent Steps: Suppresses the user’s presence and footsteps. Detection by monsters and hostile entities becomes slightly more difficult.
• Storage: Contains an expanded storage space capable of storing non-living objects.
• Unyielding Journey: Reduces effects of exhaustion and environment penalties. Stamina recovery rate increased by 20%.
• Traveler’s instinct: Slightly increases the chance of detecting hidden passages, and traps.
Bound Effect:
• Legacy of the Pathfinder: The cloak gradually synchronizes with its wearer.
Additional effects may unlock once certain conditions are fulfilled.
—
Current Synchronization: 0% 」
Misha’s mouth slowly fell open, her eyes widened as she stared at the window in front of her, then blinked once as if she had read it wrong.
An Ultra Rare item? How in the world did an Ultra Rare item end up on the first floor?
No, forget that. Why was it casually sitting in an old Merchant’s shop like some discounted winter blanket?
Tobias chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. "I was told to give it to you once you survived the tutorial floors."
"W-what?" She looked up at him quickly. "Who told you?"
"Hmm..." He stroked his beard again. "Just a close friend of mine."
That answer only made her more suspicious.
"Why don’t you wear it?" He added.
She narrowed her eyes. "Is something going to happen if I wear it?"
"Just wear it."
A small pout appeared on her lips. Still, she did as he said. She slipped out of her old, tattered cloak and carefully draped the new one over her shoulders.
The moment the fabric settled against her skin, another window appeared.
「〔SYSTEM NOTICE〕
The cloak recognizes the bloodline of its original owner.
Synchronization conditions met.
Current Synchronization: 1%
New functions may become available in the future. 」
Bloodline?
The word caught her attention at once. She looked up sharply at him. "Could it be..."
Tobias only grinned, maddeningly calm. "A certain someone came by and dropped that off here."
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