Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for me to find her.
In a sea of gray, brown, and black hair, she was a beacon of pure, unadulterated brilliance.
Standing near the edge of the safe zone, checking a slender rapier with practiced, almost weary movements, was a girl who looked like she had stepped out of a high-definition painting.
Silver hair that flowed down her back like liquid moonlight.
Eyes of crystal blue that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand oceans.
Alicia Ashborn.
If life were fair, if the author of that trash novel had any sense of narrative justice, she would have been the true protagonist of its story.
------| System Interface |------
[Name]: Alicia Ashborn
[Race]: Human (???)
[Status]: Healthy
[Age]: 15
[Rank]: F-
[Class]: Magic Swordswoman
[Legacies]: Future Queen Of Nothingness (S-)
[Trait]: Time Codex (EX)
[Law]: Time
[Masteries]:
Intermediate Swordsmanship ★☆☆☆☆ -(Progress: 50%)-
Intermediate Spellcrafting ★☆☆☆☆ -(Progress: 50%)-
Intermediate Mana Manipulation ★☆☆☆☆ -(Progress: 50%)-
------------------------------
'Monster.'
I narrowed my eyes at the screen.
While Alastor was at the moment one weak, big, self-centered bastard who would burn an orphanage just to get stronger, Alicia was the complete opposite.
In the novel, she was like a saint.
Not the religious kind, but the kind who broke her own bones just trying to save others.
She tried her best to save every single life in the Tower.
Every mob.
Every ungrateful piece of crap.
Why?
I don't know, to be fair. I can't relate to her at the end of the day, sadly.
'She is a Regressor after all.'
The owner of the [Time Codex].
Thankfully, the only reason her Rank was F- and her masteries were merely Intermediate was that The Tower placed heavy restrictions on her.
She didn't get to keep all the nuclear-level spells or the powerful swordsmanship from her previous live.
No, no, no.
They were locked behind the floors, slowly unlocking as she climbed.
Like a dripping faucet of godhood.
'But that's not what worries me.'
My thumb brushed the hilt of my sword instinctively.
In the novel, this was her mere second run.
She was still inexperienced enough to make mistakes, yet knowledgeable enough to be dangerous.
'But what if this isn't the second run?'
I didn't know if I had been transmigrated into the novel's canonical timeline or if I had been dropped into a timeline far, far down the line.
Is this her third run?
Her fifth?
...Her ninth?
If it's the second run, she's a variable I can control.
If it's her ninth... she might already know who I am.
Or rather, who Sethius is set to become.
'I need to keep her in check.'
If there was anyone in this Tutorial who needed to be watched more than the psychopath Alastor, it was her.
Because while Alastor was a chaotic force of nature, Alicia was above even him.
And, as if sensing the weight of my killing intent, or perhaps just feeling my gaze, the silver-haired girl stopped inspecting her rapier.
She turned.
Her crystal blue eyes locked onto my crimson ones across the vast expanse of the white room.
*Thump.*
Our gazes met.
And for a split second, I saw it.
Not the confusion of a newbie.
Not the fear of a child entering a death game.
I saw exhaustion.
Ancient, deep-seated exhaustion.
...
*Blink.*
The world shifted.
One moment, I was staring at the burning ruins of the 150th Floor, once, the sky tearing apart as the Outer Gods descended to feast on the scraps of our people's lives once again.
The next, I was standing on white marble tiles.
The smell of ash and blood was gone, replaced by the sterile scent of the Tutorial Lobby.
"...Haa."
A breath I didn't know I was holding escaped my lips.
I looked down at my hands.
They were small.
Smooth.
Unscarred.
The calluses from wielding my sword for decades were gone, replaced by the soft skin of a fifteen-year-old girl.
'It worked... again.'
I clenched my fist.
[Time Codex] has activated.
[Current Regression Count: 9]
[Warning: Soul Integrity Critical! No further regressions available.]
I stared at the red text hovering in my vision.
The last chance. There would be no more do-overs.
No more waking up in this white room.
If I died here, if I failed to stop the Collapse this time... it was truly game over.
I started to run the calculations in my head.
The Tutorial strategy.
My kin betrayal on the 10th Floor.
The location of every hidden piece.
I had memorized them all.
But then...
*Prickle.*
A sensation crawling up my spine.
A gaze.
Heavy. Predatory. Arrogant.
I turned my head slowly, my eyes scanning the sea of children until I found him.
Standing apart from the crowd, dressed in black silk that cost more than a small kingdom, with long white hair and eyes like spilled blood.
Sethius Von Nevermore.
'...Him.'
My grip on the rapier tightened until my knuckles turned white.
I watched him.
He was looking at me.
His expression was impassive, a perfect mask of indifference, but his eyes... they were analyzing me.
'What will you do this time, vampire?'
I bit my lip, suppressing a sigh.
In my eight lives, Sethius Von Nevermore had been the most inconsistent, frustrating variable in the entire Tower.
In my first two runs, he was simply dead.
After that, he started to be truly unpredictable.
Two times, he was a calamity.
He survived the Academy somehow and then went on a rampage.
He started wars with each Empire, destabilized the floor politics, and accelerated the Tower's destruction by years.
He was a villain through and through.
Then, in three of my runs... He changed.
He tried to be... helpful?
It was truly pathetic.
He tried to save people every chance he got.
He tried to ally with me against the Outers.
But every single time, he died miserably.
He was like a wannabe hero who lacked the crucial plot armor.
And my last run... Run number eight.
I shuddered thinking about it.
In the eighth run, he did... nothing.
Absolutely nothing!
This creature finished the Academy, went back to the 89th Floor, and just... stayed there.
He bought a mansion. He ate pancakes. He drank wine.
And, when I tried to reason with him, thinking that he would maybe be of help, he just looked at me with bored eyes and asked if I wanted some syrup.
He watched the world end from his balcony, sipping tea for fuck sake!
'He felt like a completely different person in every timeline.'
Sometimes a monster.
Sometimes a martyr.
Sometimes a sloth.
Yet, that stupid arrogance remained the same.
I looked at him now.
He stood with a straight back, one hand resting casually on the hilt of a black Miao Dao.
He looked sharper this time.
There was a focus in those crimson eyes that I had rarely seen before.
He didn't look like the pure maniac who wanted to burn the world, nor the fool trying to be a hero, nor the lazy glutton.
He looked... dangerous.
Extremely so.
'Please.'
I closed my eyes for a brief second, sending a prayer to whatever Gods were still alive defending our home.
'Please, just be useful this time. I don't have the energy to clean up your mess this time.'
But when I opened my eyes, he was still staring with a faint, twisted smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
'Shit...'