The morning sun cast long, golden rays across the Seventh Spire.
A cool mountain breeze drifted over the crooked cedar fence, carrying the sweet scent of blooming honey. In the center of the garden, the five-star Sun-Lotus Cabbage unfurled its jade leaves, sparkling with clear morning dew.
Beside the fence sat thirty-two carved jade chests abandoned by the Ashford Fleet. They rested in quiet rows beneath the eaves, untouched and ignored.
Inside the small timber cottage, the silence was absolute.
Felix Vance lay buried beneath three layers of midnight-navy celestial silk.
The eight-hundred-thread-count astral fabric was cool against his cheek and completely impervious to dust. He had not moved a muscle in ten hours. His breathing was slow and untroubled by mortal worries.
Across the room, Barnaby the clockwork owl perched upon his polished cedar bracket.
The brass automaton remained frozen in place. The black rubber stopper Felix had hammered into his beak was still held tight, silencing any pompous morning speeches. In his brass talons, Barnaby firmly clutched a single polished copper coin, his amber crystal eyes fixed in an eternal, offended stare.
Near the stove, the weathered pine table stood rock-solid on the uneven floorboards.
Beneath its short front leg, the nine-dragon Sovereign Heart Seal rested quietly in the shadows. The ancient imperial artifact crackled with faint ripples of violet lightning, doing its sacred duty as a four-inch furniture shim.
Everything was peaceful until two pairs of boots touched the gravel path outside.
Arch-Inquisitor Valen stopped at the edge of the clearing, his heart hammering against his ribs.
His immaculate silver goatee twitched with nervous spasms. His disciplinary robes, usually starched stiff enough to deflect arrows, were damp with cold sweat around the neck.
Behind him crept a junior clerk from the Ministry of Academic Records carrying a thick parchment ledger.
"Lord Inquisitor," the clerk whispered, adjusting his spectacles. "Is this truly the Seventh Spire? Why are we walking on our tiptoes?"
Valen spun around, pressing a trembling finger to his lips.
"Silence, you fool!" Valen hissed. "Do you want us erased from the census records? Keep your voice down, or you will not live to see lunch!"
The clerk frowned, tapping an ink-stained scroll.
"According to Statute 404, Solitude Spire has accumulated zero academic credits for three consecutive terms," the clerk said. "Zero lecture attendance. Zero martial assessments. If the resident fails to report to the Central Plaza by noon today, his branch status is revoked, and the land is repossessed."
Valen snatched the scroll with shaking fingers.
"The automated registry is a mindless brass machine!" Valen rasped. "It does not know that the boy in that shack blew twelve imperial dreadnoughts out of the sky yesterday with a single yawn!"
The clerk blinked in surprise.
"If the Chancellor decreed this peak a sanctuary, why serve the notice at all?" the clerk asked.
Valen squeezed his eyes shut.
"Because if an audit summons is not logged before the third bell, the central matrix sounds the Great Warning Siren across all seven peaks!" Valen whispered hoarsely. "Do you know what happens if that boy is woken by a siren? He will melt the Central Spire into brass soup! We deliver the parchment quietly, log the rune, and run!"
Valen took a deep breath, crept across the lawn, and tiptoed up the wooden porch steps.
Every board felt like an unexploded landmine.
Valen slipped a copper nail and a small brass hammer from his pouch, holding the crimson-sealed parchment against the cedar door.
*Tap.*
Valen froze, his eyes rolling back in terror.
He waited five agonizing seconds. No thunderbolt descended.
He exhaled, drove the nail home, and stamped the delivery rune with his wax seal.
*Whoosh.*
A cold gust of wind sliced through the morning air. A blade of polished mithril appeared an inch from Valen's jugular.
"State your business with the Sovereign," an aristocratic voice whispered behind him.
Valen went rigid. Cold sweat poured down his neck.
Standing on the porch railing was Lyra Ashford.
Her golden hair was tied in a warrior’s queue. She wore her dark blue traveling tunic, her right hand gripping her rapier. In her left hand, however, she held a battered straw broom.
"L-Lady Lyra..." Valen squeaked. "Peace! I am not here to disturb the master’s cultivation!"
Lyra’s eyes narrowed into icy slits.
"You have driven iron into the Sovereign’s outer gate," Lyra said. "Senior Brother ordered me to guard his threshold. All hawkers, tax collectors, and loud vermin are to be swept from the mountain."
She leveled the straw broom toward his chest like a lance.
"Speak your plea before I sweep you into the lower clouds," Lyra commanded.
"It is an assessment summons!" Valen stammered frantically. "The automated academic matrix! If Disciple Vance does not register his attendance at the Central Spire today, the array designates Solitude Spire as derelict and activates the defense towers!"
Lyra stared at the crimson-sealed parchment nailed to the door.
Her sharp mind immediately began to dissect the situation.
*The Academy Council is testing Senior Brother’s intent,* Lyra realized in awe. *They saw him obliterate my clan’s fleet, and now they tremble. They wish to know if the Primordial Sovereign intends to participate in the mortal hierarchy, or if he plans to cleanse the institution.*
Lyra’s grip on her rapier tightened.
*A summons from the mortals to a living god! Senior Brother has maintained his mortal disguise for three years. If this assembly is disrupted, his cosmic plans might be forced into early fruition.*
Before Lyra could speak, a lazy wooden scrape echoed from inside the cottage.
The heavy cedar door swung inward.
Valen fell backward off the porch, landing flat on his rear in the damp clover, scrambling back like a terrified crab.
Through the doorway shuffled Felix Vance.
He was wearing his rumpled gray hemp tunic, loose pajama bottoms, and frayed straw slippers. His brown hair stuck up in three directions, held together by an old leather bootlace.
In his right hand, he held a chipped ceramic mug filled with lukewarm jasmine tea. In his left hand, he held his cracked obsidian slate.
Felix stopped at the threshold, blinking against the bright light. He squinted at the silver-haired old man sprawled in the clover.
A translucent HUD tooltip snapped into place over the shivering inquisitor:
【Target: Arch-Inquisitor Valen】 【Affiliation: Radiant Dawn Discipline Pavilion】 【Current Status: Severe Anxiety / Stage-4 Bureaucratic Panic】 【Threat Level: Harmless Paperwork NPC】 【Inspector Note: Highly prone to dramatic deliveries. Has visited your doorstep four times this semester to deliver various expired notices. Can be safely ignored or dismissed with a wave.】
Felix took a slow sip of tea and sighed.
"You again?" Felix said, his voice flat and bored. "I told you yesterday, I don't want the premium cable package. And stop knocking on the door before noon. You're ruining the sleep cycle."
Valen lay trembling in the grass, his mouth working silently.
"Senior Brother," Lyra said respectfully, lowering her rapier and bowing. "This inquisitor has pinned a decree to your threshold. The mortal council has issued a summons for the Annual Assessment."
Felix glanced at the cedar plank beside his nose.
Nailed to the wood was a heavy vellum scroll stamped with a crimson wax seal.
Felix tilted his chin. Another tooltip popped up:
【Item: Mandatory Campus Summons (Eviction Warning Attached)】 【Issuer: Central Academic Formation Matrix】 【Summary: Solitude Spire possesses 0 Academic Credits. Failure to report to the Central Plaza by 12:00 PM will result in automated zoning revocation and repossession of dormitory grounds.】 【Inspector Note: Standard low-level quest hook. The game developers clearly want you to leave the starter zone to trigger the next narrative cutscene.】
Felix frowned in mild irritation.
"Zero credits?" Felix muttered, taking another sip of tea. "Of course I have zero credits. Why would I attend classes? The lecture hall is a thirty-minute walk, and the professors talk slower than dial-up internet. What kind of terrible game forces you to do homework to keep your starter house?"
He raised his hand, intending to rip the parchment off the door and toss it into the compost bin.
Before his fingers could touch the paper, a crystalline chime rang in his ears.
*Ding-ding-dong!*
The cracked obsidian slate in his left hand vibrated violently. The screen flashed bright gold, bathing his rumpled tunic in warm amber light:
Felix froze. His thumb hovered over the glowing screen.
His tired eyes widened by a millimeter.
"Five hundred crystals?" Felix breathed, his deadpan expression breaking into genuine gamer shock. "For a daily quest? Just to walk across the bridge and stand in a crowd?"
Normally, daily quests in his idle games handed out five or ten crystals—barely enough to buy a single stamina potion after a week of grinding.
Five hundred crystals was half a multi-pull on the limited character banner!
And a Fast-Travel Waypoint? If he unlocked a waypoint, he would never have to ride the creaky suspension bridges again. He could just teleport back to his hammock whenever he needed a nap.
"Well," Felix murmured, tapping the glowing `[ACCEPT QUEST]` button with his thumb. "When the developers put real money on the table, you don't turn it down. Free currency is free currency."
He looked down at Valen, who was still frozen on the ground, staring at Felix with unadulterated awe.
To Valen, the boy had not merely read a piece of parchment.
The boy had touched the crimson summons, causing his ancient obsidian relic to erupt with blinding golden divinity. The Primordial Sovereign had received the mortal council's humble challenge, weighed it in his cosmic mind, and chosen to grace the academy with his presence!
"He... he accepted..." Valen wept silently, bowing his head into the dirt. "He has chosen mercy over destruction! He will descend upon the Central Spire in person!"
Felix turned back toward the cottage door, taking a final gulp of his lukewarm tea.
"Lyra," Felix called out casually.
"Yes, Senior Brother!" Lyra snapped to attention, her eyes shining with devotion. "Shall I prepare your celestial war-chariot? Or shall we summon the winds of the firmament to carry us across the peaks?"
Felix glanced at her, thoroughly confused.
"What war-chariot?" Felix asked, scratching the back of his neck. "We're taking the public gondola. Grab the tea kettle and a backup mug. If this school assembly has long speeches, I'm going to need caffeine."
Lyra bowed deeply, her chest swelling with reverence.
*The public gondola!* she marveled internally. *He refuses the pomp of kings! He chooses to travel among the common disciples, cloaking his terrifying majesty beneath the guise of a weary traveler! His Dao of Humility is truly unfathomable!*
"This disciple will fetch the kettle at once!" Lyra declared.
Felix stepped back inside the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Out in the grass, Valen slowly picked himself up, wiped the dirt from his starched robes, and looked toward the distant Central Spire with mounting dread.
"May the heavens have mercy on the academy today," the Inquisitor whispered. "The slacker is leaving his mountain."