I should’ve gone straight home. Should’ve taken my gold, my paranoia, and my rapidly spiraling existential dread and barricaded myself in my room until I had an actual plan.
But after receiving that quest?
After seeing the words,
 
Your actions have been logged.
You are not alone.
 
Yeah. There was no way in hell I was just walking away from this.
Which was how I found myself standing in front of the Casanaro Archives.
Not exactly the grand vault of forbidden knowledge I’d been hoping for. The two-story building was crammed between city hall and the old watchtower, its stone walls cracked just enough to look concerning, its wooden sign dangling at a pitiful angle like it had given up a long time ago.
Casanaro wasn’t a major city.
But right now? I’d take whatever I could get.
I stepped inside and was immediately hit with the scent of aged parchment, dust, and poor life choices. The place was dead quiet—just a handful of people hunched over desks, flipping through old records like they had nothing better to do.
Perfect.
I moved deeper, heading straight for the back where the oldest records were kept. Because let’s be real—I had too many questions and exactly zero time to waste.
So I focused on the ones that mattered most.
Glitched dungeons.
Places that weren’t on the system’s radar.
Portals that appeared to some but not others.
Items without names—because my orb? Still nameless.
Items that could level up—because that wasn’t supposed to be a thing.
The more I could learn, the better I could prepare.
The better I could prepare, the less likely I was to get horribly murdered when someone inevitably came asking questions.
So I got to work.
Flipping through pages. Skimming brittle, dust-coated records. Digging through anything that even hinted at an anomaly.
And the deeper I searched, the more one painful fact became obvious:
There was nothing.
No records of a dungeon portal appearing that only some could see.
No mentions of artifacts that could level.
Not even a vague rumor of a nameless item.
It was like the system had erased anything that didn’t fit.
Like this wasn’t supposed to happen at all.
I sat back in my chair, fingers tapping restlessly against the table, my mind racing.
I had come here hoping for answers.
Instead?
I just had more questions.
 
I was knee-deep in dust-covered records and my frustration was mounting with every “nope,” “nothing,” and “system says get lost” I hit.
No records of glitched dungeons.
No mentions of invisible portals.
No signs that leveling items were even a thing.
It was like I was chasing ghosts—except even ghosts had better documentation than this.
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, rubbing my temples. Was I losing my mind?
“Looking for something specific, dear?”
I tensed.
An elderly woman stood beside my table, wearing the patient, piercing look of someone who’d watched a hundred poor fools unravel over dusty books—and wasn’t surprised to see another.
Her robes were simple, a dark blue that blended seamlessly into the archives’ musty aesthetic. Silver-streaked hair tied neatly at the nape of her neck. Hands laced in front of her with the patient calm of someone who’d spent a lifetime surrounded by too many books and not enough answers.
She arched an eyebrow. “I’ve been watching you flip through those records like you expect them to change if you glare hard enough.”
I straightened. “Uh… yeah. Just trying to find some info on a few things.”
She pulled out the chair across from me and sat, folding her hands on the table like a judge about to deliver a very disappointing verdict.
“Maybe I can help.”
I hesitated.
Did I really want to ask about this?
But then I remembered the quest notification. The warnings. The fact that someone—or something—was coming for me, and I had no idea why.
So, yeah. I was asking.
“Have you ever heard of a dungeon that only one person could see?” I asked carefully. “A portal that didn’t exist for anyone else?”
She blinked. “A solo instance?”
“No. Not a solo instance. Something… glitched. A dungeon that wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “Glitched?”
“Yeah. Like, flickering, unstable. No official system record of it existing.”
She frowned deeper. “Dungeons are system-regulated. They don’t just appear randomly.”
Bad sign.
But I pressed on.
“What about items without names? Ever heard of a Chosen finding an artifact and getting nothing but a level attached to it?”
Her gaze sharpened slightly. “An item with a level?”
“Yeah. Instead of a rank, it has a level. Like it can grow.”
For a second, she just stared at me.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Then she let out a quiet, almost pitying laugh, shaking her head.
“Oh, dear. I think you’ve been reading too many fairy tales.”
I stiffened.
Excuse me?
“What?”
“Magic items don’t have levels,” she said, like she was explaining something to a particularly slow child. “They have fixed ranks. That’s how the system categorizes power.”
She offered me a polite, knowing smile. The kind that said I’m humoring you because I have to, but please stop talking.
“What you’re describing doesn’t exist.”
I clenched my jaw. “It does.”
She hummed, unconvinced. “Perhaps you misread something. Or found a faulty appraisal.”
I let out a breath, resisting the overwhelming urge to slam my head into the nearest bookshelf. “Okay. So you’ve never heard of anything like this before?”
She shook her head. “No. And I’ve spent the last forty years maintaining these records.”
Well.
That was disappointing.
But also?
Telling.
The system had been around for generations.
The archives should have had something.
Anything.
And if they didn’t?
That left two possibilities: Either this was truly unprecedented. Or someone had gone out of their way to erase all traces of it.
Neither made me feel particularly great about my life choices.
I leaned back. “If I wanted to find something like this… where would I even start?”
She considered me for a long moment.
Then sighed.
“The archives here are small. Casanaro is a border city, not a historical hub. But the Capital City of Maldon has the largest collection of system records in all of Atira.”
Maldon.
That… made sense.
It was the heart of the kingdom.
If there were answers anywhere, it would be there. But before I could say anything, she gave me a knowing look.
She wasn’t encouraging me.
She was warning me.
“What you’re looking for…” she said slowly, “sounds like a waste of time.”
I held her gaze.
Her doubt should’ve made me hesitate.
Instead?
It just made me more determined.
Because if no one believed this was possible—
If no one even wanted to believe it—
That meant I was onto something.

I stepped out of the archives, my mind still racing.
Maldon. The capital. If I wanted answers, that’s where I needed to go.
But before I could take another step—I stopped.
A shadow peeled away from the wall as I stepped outside.
A tall, armored figure leaned against the outer wall of the archives, arms crossed over his chest. Relaxed. Almost bored. But his eyes?
Sharp. Unmoving. Watching.
A slow, creeping chill curled down my spine.
I didn’t know this guy, but every part of me immediately knew I didn’t like him.
He straightened with a casual, deliberate movement, the heavy click of his boots against stone carrying just enough weight to make sure I noticed. Then he smirked.
“Felix Ravensburg.”
I froze.
He knew my name.
I had never seen him before in my life, but somehow, he knew exactly who I was.
Bad sign.
Very bad sign.
I forced myself to stay still, keeping my expression as neutral as I could manage. “Who’s asking?”
He took a slow step forward, eyes raking over me like I was an insect he hadn’t quite decided whether to crush or study.
“Ah,” he drawled. “You’re as charming as I expected. Should have expected as much from a Shadowborn.”
His voice had that infuriating blend of arrogance and amusement—like he already knew he was better than me and didn’t even need to prove it.
“I’m Cassian,” he continued. “Cassian Valstar. And you’ve been busy.”
My stomach twisted.
He knew.
He knew about the dungeon. About me stepping somewhere I wasn’t supposed to.
And now?
He was here.
Cassian sighed, shaking his head like the entire situation bored him to death. “Relax. We’re in a safe zone. I’m not here to kill you.”
Which, fun fact?
Not nearly as comforting as he probably thought it was.
Because the only thing worse than someone who wanted you dead—was someone who wanted to play with you first.
Cassian took another calculated step forward, every movement deliberate, controlled—like a predator closing in, savoring the moment.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Something told me that’s exactly what he wanted.
“I suppose you’re wondering who I am,” he mused, tilting his head.
“Not really,” I muttered. “You already introduced yourself.”
His smirk widened.
Zero humor behind it.
“I am a Chosen Enforcer,” he said, ignoring my comment entirely. “Not a job. A calling.”
I frowned. “An Enforcer?”
Cassian nodded. “We do not answer to people. We answer to the system.” His voice was steady, unshakable—like he was quoting scripture burned into his very bones.
I clenched my jaw. “And what? You just go around punishing people for breaking the rules?”
Cassian chuckled, a low, humorless sound.
“You think too small.”
He took another step closer, stopping just outside melee range.
“The system doesn’t need laws. It doesn’t require oversight. It sees all. It knows all.”
His sharp blue eyes locked onto mine.
“And when something steps outside its order…”
He smiled, thin and cruel.
“It sends us.”
My chest tightened.
I already knew where this was going.
Cassian sighed, flicking his fingers casually.
A system window blinked into existence between us.
Not mine.
His.
[System Quest: Investigate Felix Ravensburg]
Status: Active
Objective: A Chosen has entered a location not designated for system access. Their actions must be reviewed.
Warning: The subject has been marked as an anomaly.
Resolution: To be determined.
I stared.
My heart thudded painfully against my ribs.
The system knew.
It didn’t know what I had done.
Cassian didn’t either.
But it didn’t matter.
The system had marked me.
Cassian dismissed the window with a flick of his hand, his smirk sharpening into something colder, more sinister.
“The system doesn’t make mistakes, Shadowborn.”
His voice was almost gentle.
Almost.
But there was an edge beneath it—a razor, waiting.
“You have been weighed, measured, and found wanting by the system.”
I forced myself to stay still.
To keep my face blank.
To act like I hadn’t just read my own death sentence floating in the air between us.
Because if Cassian didn’t know what I’d done—
Maybe, just maybe—
I could still talk my way out of this.
I swallowed, keeping my voice even. “Look, I don’t know what the system thinks I did, but I haven’t—”
Cassian scoffed. Loud. Derisive.
“Oh, spare me.”
He stepped forward again, his presence looming, suffocating, like he already knew he had won.
“You think I don’t know a liar when I see one?”
His tone dripped with amusement.
The mocking kind.
“Come on, Felix. You’re not even good at this.”
My stomach twisted.
He wasn’t buying it.
Not even a little.
And that meant I was in deep, deep trouble.
Cassian sighed dramatically, like this entire encounter was a tedious chore he couldn’t wait to be done with.
“Let me explain something to you, Shadowborn.”
He raised a hand—and another system window snapped open.
Not a quest.
A status screen.
[Cassian Valstar]
Class: Guardian
Role: Enforcer
Level: 55
I felt cold.
“Level fifty-five?” I repeated before I could stop myself.
Cassian grinned wider, pleased with my horror.
“The gap between us,” he said smoothly, “is insurmountable.”
He let the words sink in. Let me feel the weight of them.
“You’ve been flagged,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “And now?”
His smirk sharpened to a blade.
“Now, you’re mine.”
I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to backpedal.
“It’s only a matter of time.”
His confidence wasn’t bravado.
It was certainty.
Why wouldn’t it be?
He was level 55.
I was level 13.
The system had already decided I was guilty.
And Cassian?
He wasn’t investigating.
He was hunting.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me like a particularly interesting frog he was planning to dissect.
“You broke the rules.”
His voice dipped lower. Just above a whisper.
“Now, I break you.”
A chill crawled down my spine.
He didn’t need to fight me.
Not yet.
He was savoring this.
Letting me squirm.
Letting me feel the noose tighten.
I clenched my fists, hating every second of it—and hating even more that he was right.
Cassian lingered a moment longer, letting me stew in it.
Then, finally, he turned away.
Just like that.
Like I wasn’t even worth the effort.
But as he passed me, he paused—just long enough to throw one final warning over his shoulder.
“Enjoy your freedom, Shadowborn.”
His smirk cut deeper than any blade.
“It won’t last.”
Then he left.
 
I stood there, frozen, my pulse hammering in my ears.
Cassian was gone.
But the weight of his words?
Still there.
Still pressing down.
You’re mine.
It’s only a matter of time.
I wiped my brow, trying to steady my breathing.
But nothing could shake the cold realization sinking deep into my bones.
I wasn’t suspected.
I wasn’t monitored.
I was being hunted.
The system had already decided I was guilty.
It didn’t know of what.
It didn’t need to.
And Cassian?
He didn’t care about innocence.
He cared about one thing—order.
And when he came back?
I wouldn’t stand a chance.
A Level 55 Chosen against me?
That wasn’t a fight.
That was a foregone conclusion.
I exhaled, long and slow.
Fear wouldn’t help me.
Panic wouldn’t save me.
I only had one choice.
I had to get stronger.
And I had to do it fast.
The gap between us was huge—but I had something he didn’t.
The artifact.
I gained XP faster than normal Chosen.
If I pushed myself, if I grinded harder than anyone else, I could close the gap.
It wouldn’t be easy.
Nothing about this was going to be easy.
But I could survive this.
 
I forced myself to think. To plan.
I needed to start clearing solo dungeons immediately. As many as I could.
Pushing myself harder with each one. No breaks. No excuses.
Loot was crucial.
Better weapons, better gear—anything to keep me alive longer than he expected.
My Shadowborn talents needed to be honed, sharpened into something deadly.
Something Cassian wouldn’t see coming.
But most importantly?
I had to stay off his radar.
I didn’t know how much time I had.
A week?
A month?
Didn’t matter.
Because when Cassian came for me?
I wasn’t going to be the same person he met today.
I took a breath, steadying my heartbeat.
Letting the fear harden into something sharper.
No more waiting.
No more playing it safe.
I was going all-in.
And I wasn’t planning on losing.