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Levi walked with steady purpose, hands buried in the pockets of his long coat, eyes scanning the thinning crowd as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The sky burned orange above the city's skyline, casting long shadows across cobblestone streets. Market vendors packed up their stalls. Children ran home, voices echoing between buildings. The air cooled with the quiet hush of coming night.
Still no sign of anything useful.
He'd wandered the Central District for hours now. Plazas, side streets, alleys, even a bakery where he got very close to buying a magic-infused baguette just to feel something. But no matter how many times he looked, he found nothing that screamed "perfect branch library location."
Then it happened.
SYSTEM ALERT:
A suitable location has been found for the Library of Noctis front.
Levi stopped mid-step, nearly tripping over a loose stone.
"What? Where?" he asked aloud.
A glowing arrow blinked into existence in his field of vision, pointing left and slightly downward.
"Down? That's never a good sign."
The arrow pulsed insistently.
Levi sighed. "Fine. Let's follow the magical hallucination and see where this nightmare leads."
He turned and followed the arrow's direction, which led him into a narrower street lined with weathered buildings and dim lampposts. The crowd thinned. The cobblestone grew cracked. The walls closed in around him. The scent of roasted almonds and fresh bread was long gone, replaced by damp stone, grease smoke, and the faint, regrettable whiff of someone urinating where they shouldn't.
The arrow continued forward, now flickering like it had performance anxiety.
Levi glanced around, muttering, "This is where quests go to die."
Another turn. The air thickened. Shadows lengthened. He passed a broken cart, a sleeping dog, and someone vomiting into a bucket while making eye contact with the moon.
Then the arrow stopped.
It pointed at a wall.
More accurately, it pointed at a corner.
He tilted his head. "You can't be serious."
He turned left, ducking under a low arch.
The alley was worse. Narrower. Shadier. Danker.
No sane person would walk here on purpose. Not even for crime.
And yet, at the end of the passage, surrounded by decay and urban regret, stood a three-story mansion.
It did not belong.
Levi blinked twice.
The house was clean, sharp-edged, and impressive in a way that made no logical sense. Black iron latticework curled over tall windows. Copper fixtures caught the dusk light. Stone lions flanked the entrance, their eyes carved with unsettling precision. The whole structure looked like someone had torn a mansion out of a steampunk horror novel and slammed it into a garbage alley just to confuse people.
It was utterly, profoundly suspicious.
And of course, the arrow pointed right at it.
"Of course," Levi muttered. "You find the one haunted mansion in this entire city and say, 'Yes, perfect! Let's open a bookstore inside!'"
But before he could walk away, a scream tore through the air.
Female. Young. Hoarse with pain.
Levi froze.
From the shadows near the house, he spotted movement. Five men, armed and cruel-eyed, dragging a struggling girl in a Henderson Academy uniform across the street.
"Still got some fight, huh?" one man sneered, backhanding her hard. She spat blood.
Another kicked her legs out. "Beg for it. C'mon."
The girl growled, "Just kill me, then."
And they did not like that answer.
With curses and jeers, the five dragged her through the iron doors of the mansion.
Levi's eye twitched. His hands balled into fists.
"System, don't you dare," he muttered.
SYSTEM ALERT:
Emergency Quest Triggered!
Task 1: Take over and renovate building into Library Front
Reward: One Random Skill (Rank F to Myth Tier)
Failure: Minus 3 Levels
Task 2: Rescue Potential Patron #002
Reward: Second Patron Arrival
Failure: Death
Levi stared blankly. "You. Did not. Just do that."
SYSTEM:
You're welcome. Opportunity and violence go hand in hand.
"Are you insane? This is a murder house! I'm not doing a boss fight in a gothic theme dungeon!"
SYSTEM:
Quest locked. Cannot decline. Estimated threat level: Moderate to lethal.
Reminder: The girl is a potential customer.
"Oh great! Now it's good business to charge into death traps!"
Still fuming, Levi reached into his inventory and pulled free the Divine Hammer of Pangu. The heavy, rune-etched warhammer shimmered into existence, humming with sealed power.
He looked at the mansion.
Then back at the hammer.
"Let's see you stop me this time."
SYSTEM WARNING:
Using Divine Hammer of Pangu at full force may obliterate building, surrounding area, and kill second patron.
He paused.
"You absolute bastard."
The hammer vanished with a faint ping.
He stared at the building again. No backup. No weapons. No skills.
Just one librarian, a fancy coat, and a growing list of regrets.
"I leveled up, right?" he muttered. "That's got to count for something."
SYSTEM:
Incorrect. Host remains under-leveled for expected interior encounter. Possibility of strong enemy inside: 87.3%
Levi rubbed his temples. "Then what do I have?"
He stood there for a moment, thinking.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"Wait. The shoes. System, my shoes are indestructible, right?"
SYSTEM:
Correct. Invincible Black Leather Shoes cannot be damaged or destroyed, even by divine-class attacks.
"And they can take any impact without breaking?"
SYSTEM:
Affirmative.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Levi's face.
"That should do it."
Princess Celine von Revola
Blonde hair. Violet eyes. My lineage is a crown even when I wear none.
From the moment I could hold a sword, I've been called many things. Prodigy. Noble blade. Young hero.
I never bowed to fear. Never backed down. Not even when they sent men twice my size in tournaments. Not when noble sons sneered at me. I stood above them all, by blade or by heart.
I just entered Henderson Academy this year. First place in the sword department. I earned it.
I walk the halls not in disguise, but in full regalia. My uniform bears the Revola royal crest, a golden griffin on red velvet. Professors bow. Students step aside.
I am not a mystery.
I am Princess Celine von Revola. Second daughter of Emperor Varelios von Revola. The youngest sword prodigy in our empire's recent history. Top of the sword department in my first year. First Class duelist, Third-Tier combatant, blessed with the divine favor of my bloodline.
They call me the Blade of Justice.
I believed them.
Until today.
It began with a message. A friend kidnapped, location pinned to a part of the city no patrol dares enter. The Lower Quarter. A pit of crime and rot. I knew it was bait. Every instinct screamed it.
But I went.
Because I am royalty.
Because I thought I was strong enough to spring the trap and break those waiting inside it.
Instead, it broke me.
Five Fourth-Tier warriors from the Order of Redemption. Fanatics. Rebels. They overpowered me with brutal precision. My sword shattered.
I was dragged into a crumbling mansion hidden in the alleys. Three stories of dust, decay, and blood-soaked wood. A building so out of place it looked like it was torn from a horror novel.
Inside, the scent of mold, iron, and death clung to every surface.
They bound me to a splintered chair in a room lined with cracked portraits and faded red drapes. The floor creaked like it resented the weight of the living.
Their leader, Kent, a scarred brute with a permanent sneer, knelt beside me.
"Princess of Revola," he said with mock reverence. "You'll fetch quite the ransom. Or start a war. Either way, we win."
I spat blood on his boot. "Do your worst."
He smirked. "Oh, we will. But slowly."
"You're lucky, little dove," he hissed. "We're keeping you alive. For now."
I glared at him, blood on my teeth.
Then:
Knock. Knock.
The rebels froze.
One warrior, nearly two meters tall, asked, "Boss Kent, what do we do?"
Kent clicked his tongue. "Go check. Probably some drunk."
He called toward the door. "Who's there?"
The answer came, clear and calm.
"Pizza delivery. Extra pepperoni."
The tension broke like a snapped bowstring. One of the men snorted.
"You serious?"
Someone laughed. Another guy muttered, "Wrong house, idiot."
The tall one, Shag, shook his head and walked to the door.
"Waste of time," he muttered, pulling the handle. "Yo, dumbass. You got the wrong—"
BOOM.
A single, concussive blast turned Shag's entire upper body into red mist.
There wasn't even time to scream.
Blood hit the ceiling. Ribs clattered against the wall. His head hit the floor and rolled across the carpet until it bumped against my knee.
I looked down.
I was staring into his lifeless eyes.
Then I looked up.
And saw him.
A man stood in the doorway, perfectly composed. His black coat swayed gently behind him, undisturbed by the violence he'd just unleashed. His hair was neatly tousled, his expression unreadable, like he'd just tossed out the trash instead of exploding a full-grown rebel.
He looked perfect.
Beautiful, even.
Regal without trying.
I thought he was a prince.
Then I saw the weapon in his hand.
Not a sword. Not a wand.
A shoe.
A simple, worn, perfectly maintained leather shoe. The kind you'd see on a butler or a diplomat. And yet it still steamed faintly from the impact, as if offended by the blood now on its sole.
It shimmered faintly with residual energy.
Smoke curled from its sole.
He stepped inside.
Unhurried.
Unbothered by the carnage.
The rebels were frozen in disbelief.
Kent's lips parted. "What the—"
The man lifted the shoe.
No pose. No preamble.
Just presence.
He looked at Kent. Then at the rest.
And spoke:
"Here's your pizza. Should've tipped better, you pieces of shit."
Levi
Five minutes earlier.
Levi stood outside the mansion, holding one of his Invincible Black Leather Shoes in his right hand.
He'd taken it off. Examined it. Confirmed with the System three times that it was, in fact, completely indestructible.
"So just to be clear," he muttered. "If I throw this shoe really hard at someone's face, it won't break?"
SYSTEM:
Correct. The shoe will remain intact. The face will not.
"And I can use it as a projectile weapon?"
SYSTEM:
Technically, yes. Though this is not its intended purpose.
"I don't care about intended purpose. I care about not dying."
SYSTEM:
Understandable. Proceed with caution.
Levi took a deep breath, gripped the shoe like a baseball, and walked up to the front door.
He knocked twice.
A gruff voice from inside yelled, "Who's there?"
Levi cleared his throat and said, in the most deadpan voice he could manage, "Pizza delivery. Extra pepperoni."
There was a pause.
Then laughter.
Someone muttered, "Wrong house, idiot."
Footsteps approached.
The door swung open.
A massive man, nearly two meters tall, filled the doorway. He looked down at Levi with a sneer.
"Yo, dumbass. You got the wrong—"
Levi threw the shoe.
Not a casual toss. A full-force, overhead fastball pitch aimed directly at the man's face.
The shoe hit him square between the eyes with the force of a cannonball.
His head exploded.
Literally.
Blood, bone, and brain matter sprayed across the ceiling and walls in a grotesque arc. The body stood there for half a second, headless, before collapsing backward with a wet thud.
Levi caught the shoe as it ricocheted back into his hand.
He stared at it.
Then at the body.
Then back at the shoe.
"Holy shit," he whispered. "It actually worked."
SYSTEM:
Congratulations. You have discovered a combat application for footwear.
"I just killed a man with a shoe."
SYSTEM:
Correct. Would you like a commemorative achievement?
"No. Shut up. I'm processing."
He stepped over the corpse and into the mansion, shoe still in hand, coat billowing dramatically behind him.
Inside, four more men stood frozen in shock.
And tied to a chair in the center of the room was a blonde girl in a Henderson Academy uniform, blood on her face, eyes wide with disbelief.
Levi looked at the men.
Then at the girl.
Then back at the men.
He lifted the shoe.
"Here's your pizza," he said flatly. "Should've tipped better, you pieces of shit."