The ring on my finger pulsed faintly, the light rhythmically glowing like a heartbeat. Curse? I closed my eyes and braced myself for the iable.

  It was a good run.

  Ten seds passed. They. Nothing happened.

  “Uhm, mysterious voice?” I asked, crag one eye open and gng around. “What’s supposed to happen?”

  Silehe room was as empty as before, save for the faintly glowing shelves and the dim torchlight casting long shadows.

  “This… is not possible!” the voice finally broke the stillness, but it sounded far less posed now. Gone was the regal tone; in its pce was disbelief. “There were no princesses left in this world! The st queen was imprisoned, and she still is!”

  Ign the voientarily, I turo the other closets. As I suspected, none of them reacted to me. Figures. Must’ve been the . The ented gss proteg them remained unyielding, firming my theory.

  The rest wasn’t for me.

  The voice grew louder, tinged with something close to desperation. “Who are you?”

  “Oh, you’re not the only one who wants to know,” I replied dryly, rifling through a nearby crate I’d previously ignored. “Do I look like John, an unemployed alcoholi his forties?”

  I sighed as I pulled out handfuls of crumbling part and brittle fragments of wood. Worthless. Tossing the debris aside, I moved on to another crate.

  “No,” the voice said sharply.

  As I picked up the crate, it rumbled violently in my hands. My instincts kicked in, and I hurled it away. The crate nded with a loud crash, its tents spilling across the floor.

  “Well, you see,” I said, dusting off my hands, “apparently I’m Charlie, an elven princess, daughter of Irwen.”

  “Preposterous!” the voice roared, filled with fury. “You do !”

  I paused, my irritation growing. “Great. Now I’m hearing voices. Is this how I end up in a psychiatric ward?” I muttered under my breath before addressing the disembodied speaker. “Let me guess—you’re the spirit of the prince who created this ring?”

  The voice’s tone shifted, now carrying an undercurrent of awe mixed with rage. “Your knowledge of history astounds me, pretender princess. Release me, and you may use the leftovers as you see fit.”

  “Leftovers?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, buddy, if you’re calling marvel quality telep ring a leftover, you and I are about to have words.”

  There was nothi worth taking. I let out a sigh, shaking my head as disappoi settled in. “Give me a few days,” I said aloud, more to myself than to the voice. “I wasn’t expeg this… boon. There are a few pces I wao visit anyway. First is… The Cloud Library.”

  I gnced around the ruireasury o time, the dim light casting long shadows over the broken remnants of its grandeur. Should I poke around more in this dungeon?

  No. I’d been lucky to make it this far alive. Time to leave while I still could.

  “Pretender, your heart’s desire is not enough,” the prince began again, its tone haughty and desding. “You must’ve been there…”

  I tu out, closing my eyes. Of course, I’ve been there.

  Ask any NPC about the best library, and they’ll give you one ahe Cloud Library. Except for the imperial librarians, of course. Ask them, and they’ll start frothing at the mouth about their precious Imperial Library.

  Amateurs.

  Fog on the courtyard of the Cloud Library, I let the image settle in my mind. The ring’s magic thrummed faintly, and when I opened my eyes, I was already there. The transition was instant, with no nausea, ne effects. That’s the power of a legendary artifact for you.

  “Pretehat’s…” the voice stammered, its usual disdain faltering. Even the prince was momentarily at a loss for words.

  I was standing in the vast courtyard of the Cloud Library. Six t spires encircled the courtyard, each stretg over a thousa into the sky, their surfaces carved from pure starlight.

  Well, I doubt it, but that’s what they tell you.

  The towers spiraled elegantly, carved with aexts, steltions, and mythical beasts.

  Yes, I defeated ead any of them.

  The faint hum of magic emanated from them, the air charged with the fai static, as if the library itself was alive and aware of me. From the courtyard, I could see we were on a floating isnd which soared high above an endless sea of sunlight-kissed clouds.

  “Wele back,” I whispered to myself. “And prinot a word until we are gone, if you want to be released one day.”

  “Fine,” he responded.

  Finding someoo attend to me wasn’t easy. My method of transportation wasly standard protocol, so I spent a frustrating amount of time cirg the pteau, trying door after door. I found most doors locked or warded, some humming with powerful entments.

  Finally, I arrived at a small building tucked into the edge of the pteau, its walls certainly not made from starlight.

  Oerrace above, an old human man was bent over a yellowed book, scribbling furiously with a quill. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t seem to notice my approach.

  “Hi! I’m Princess Charlie! o meet you!” I called out cheerfully from below, hoping to grab his attention.

  He noticed. By ung an air spell at me.

  Years of honing my reflexes saved me from taking a direct hit. My shield materialized instinctively, and when the air bolt ected, the force pushed me several meters back. It didn’t deal any damage—just a harmless push—but the speed and precision told me everything I o know.

  This old man’s a pro.

  “Woah, woah! Old man!” I yelled, holding up my hands to show I wasn’t a threat.

  It didn’t matter. He was already trag runes into the air, his mana fring as a rger spell began f. “I’m not the enemy!” I shouted desperately. With a thought, I sent my whip and shield bato my iory. “See? Not armed now!”

  “Demons are always armed,” he retorted, his voice gruff and dripping with suspi. The magitio swirl around his hand, glowing brighter with every sed, but he didn’t release the spell. Yet. “State the reason for your presence, spawn!”

  Spawn? First pretender, now a demon? What’s , eldritch horror?

  I exhaled, biting back a retort. There is time to be sarcastic ter. “Old man, did you fall from that terrad hit your head? I’m an elven princess, Princess Charlie, requesting help from the library. I just want to copy two spells.”

  His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and calg. The magi his hand swirled dangerously, crag with barely tained energy. This spell wasn’t just for show—it had some serious firepower.

  “You are not in our records,” the old man said, his toill steeped in suspi. The glow of the spell in his hand dimmed as he powered it down. Then, with an impressive flourish, his robes fred, and he flew down to meet me, nding with effortless grace.

  Damn. Air magic is so cool.

  “Well, that’s probably because I’m kinda o all this princess stuff,” I said, shrugging. I didn’t have any agic to show off—failing to cast Ice Dan front of him would be too humiliating—so I did the best thing: leaned awkwardly against the wall, trying not to look as unfortable as I felt. “Irarently my mother—is waking up, and I’m gearing up to face her. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Ah, a new princess,” he said, his gaze studyihen, with a pause and a tilt of his head, he added, “Wait, no. You always were a princess.”

  That caught me off guard. Always? My mind whirled for an expnation. Could it be as straightforward as… because the previous Charlie heir character Princess?

  Before I could press him further, he turned briskly aured for me to follow. Without so much as an apology for the air spell, he guided me toward the sed tower.

  “So… you believe me?” I asked, trailing behind him.

  “Yes, Princess,” he replied without hesitation. “I have a way of knowing. But to ensure you truly are who you cim to be, we must verify.”

  As roached the entrao the tower, the heavy wooden doors creaked open on their own, revealing the interior dipped in a faint golden glow. What? I stared at them in disbelief. They were definitely locked when I tried earlier.

  Not fair!

  He stepped aside, motionioward the entrance. “I hope you’re not against a little registration?” he added with a faint smirk, the first hint of amusement crag through his otherwise harsh demeanor.

  Old tomes lihe t shelves, their spines worn but ly arranged, while faintly glowing magical mps cast shifting shadows that danced across the stone walls. The air carried the st of aged part and dust, a yet alive.

  “Well, no,” I murmured, trailing behind the old man toward a heavy wooden table at the ter of the room. “But I’m not… just a princess.”

  He didn’t slow or look back. “No? Anything else hardly matters to us,” he said dismissively, reag for a book so massive it looked like it could crush even Lucas. He grunted as he wrestled it from the shelf, the weight making his robes billow slightly as he pulled it free.

  I didn’t offer to help. He’d just tried to bst me, after all.

  With a thud that echoed through the chamber, he dropped the colossal tome onto the table, sending a plume of dust into the air. I waved a hand in front of my face, coughing lightly as the particles settled.

  “Well… if you say so,” I muttered, biting my lip as I watched him flip open the book. The pages, bnk and waiting. “But,” I added, hesitating before tinuing, “I think it’s kinda important to know.”

  “Know what?” he snapped, his irritation seeping into his tone as he fumbled around for something to write with.

  Opening a small closet he table, he rummaged through the tents with increasing frustration. Scrolls cttered to the floor, and the faint king of ink bottles filled the silence.

  “Well,” I said, my voice light with foronce, “I’m also a hero.”

  The rummaging stopped abruptly.

  He stopped for a moment, then turned slowly to face me, surprise all across his weathered features. “And you didn’t think of leading with that?”

  I shrugged, keeping my expressioral, though my lips twitched upward.

  His surprise melted into exasperation. “Of course,” he muttered. “Why mention that earlier?”

  And there it is. Irritation was back, full force. How was I supposed to know that?

  “So, my name is Princess Charlie, Hero of Ice-Blood,” I said, crossing my arms and tilting my head. “Happy? And while we’re at it, who even are you?”

  He finally fished a bottle of ink from the cluttered closet, muttering something under his breath. With a flourish, he opehe massive tome again and began writing my name—full title included—onto one of its bnk pages. His quill scratched loudly against the paper, the sound grating in the silence.

  “Good. You’re telling the truth,” he said bluntly as he fihe entry. Then, without so much as a pause, he smmed the book shut with a resounding cck that made me flinch. “I’m not important.”

  “Not important?” I responded, raising an eyebrow. “Right. You’re the guy who tried to air-bst me intond, but you’re not important.”

  He ignored me, brushing dust from his hands. “Now, what do you want?”

  I threw up my hands, annoyed. “Why are you so dismissive of me? I thought this pce weled everyone.” My tone dripped with sarcasm as I gestured around the room. “Here, where knowledge meets the skies and starlight. Isn’t that your whole deal?”

  For the first time, his stern demeanor cracked, a faint smile tugging at the ers of his mouth. “You know the legend,” he said, nodding slightly. “But, Princess, you’ve e at a terrible time.”

  He took a step closer, his expression darkening. “Your dear mother cast a spell—an agreement with other realms—that is now tearing our world apart at the seams. Cracks are f, princess. Reality itself is bug uhe strain.”

  I stared at him, my earlier frustration repced by a creeping sense of dread.

  “Why she was allowed to do it is beyond me,” he tinued, shaking his head. “But it means we, here at the Tower, have far more pressing matters to attend to.” His voice was steady but edged with weariness.

  “So,” he said, spreading his arms in a gesture that was half-dismissive, half-impatient. “State what you need and be gone—however it is you’ve transported yourself here.”

  I let out a sigh, already weary of this exge. “Just let me copy two legendary siege spells—belonging to Eeleim—and I’ll scram faster than an Italian skipping out on a tab.”

  The old man studied me, his eyes narrowing as if trying to decide whether I was serious or insane. Finally, he spoke, his tone deliberately slow. “You have the right to it. But these two spells—”

  “Are important to me,” I cut him off sharply, tired of pying nice. My patience was thihan my remaining HP after the st mud-wolf fight. “I could copy up to five, but I’m fih two. For now.”

  Without waiting for his response, I sat down and jabbed a fi the table. “The book.”

  For a moment, he just stood there, his face a mix of amusement and something smug. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, the book shot from the shelves and smmed onto the table with a showy thud, sending a dust cloud straight into my face.

  Apparently, it doubles as an ambush on. “Hey!” I shot him a gre, brushing the dust off my head. His expression icture of innoce, as though he hadn’t just onized a library artifact against me.

  The book was beled Eeleim Spell Colle, its title etched in swirling gold letters that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. I flipped through the pages, ign the tempting spells desigo turire battlefields into chaos. No. Focus, Charlie.

  Finally, I reached the se I needed and stopped.

  [Do you want to copy (2) siege spells?]Yes, system.

  [Spells copied successfully]Before I could take another look or bask in my insignifit victory, the old man waved his hand again, and I felt the chair I was sitting on lurch backward. A moment ter, I was unceremoniously shoved out the door—still on the chair.

  “Hey! Rude!” I yelled, stumbling to my feet. Laughter echoed from inside, but the man himself was o be seen.

  “Well,” I muttered, brushing off my now-dusty dress. “At least I got the spells.”

  A momehe door creaked open, aepped out, looking as serene as a grandfather doting on his grandkids. “Now, Princess, go like the Italians—whoever they are.”

  “Gd to see I’m leaving an impression,” I said. He just chuckled as he walked baside, the door shutting firmly behind him.

  “I’m leaving you oar review,” I grumbled, pouting. With a sigh, I turned my attention to the ring’s power. Where to now? I had more charges than expected, and it was time to upgrade my bat abilities. The best pce for that… Ah, perfect.

  I focused on my destination, closing my eyes as I pictured it. “Goodbye, stranger,” I muttered, activating the ring.

  The temperature plummeted instantly. Freezing air bit through my clothes, a harsh reminder of my ck of ice resistance.

  Great, Charlie. Perfening, as always.

  I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was a t, translut figure. She stood at least teers tall; her form a mix of ethereal, elven grad human strength. Her semi-transparent body shimmered like ider moonlight, her features seamless and anding.

  [Sn of Ice Lv.25]Type: 8-mythical | HP: 1056/1056“Oh.”