The halls of the Tuition Cube were silent.
Save for the soft echo of Noah's boots against the polished floor.
The towering walls, adorned with intricate carvings of ancient magic symbols, cast long shadows under the faint glow of the luminary orbs suspended above.
Noah's thoughts were as restless as his steps.
Darting from one subject to another like a labyrinth of unresolved questions.
The upcoming midterm exams loomed large in his mind, but something else nagged at him.
A quiet unease that he couldn't quite place.
That was when the familiar chime of the system echoed in his head.
[New Quest Available! ]
「Reward: 2000 Plot Points.」
『Objective: Investigate the origins of the newly introduced arsenal—guns—and their integration into this world.』
Noah's steps faltered, and he came to a halt in the empty corridor.
The words flashing before his eyes like an unwanted reminder of his past.
The very idea made his stomach churn.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, groaning softly.
"You've got to be kidding me."
He muttered under his breath.
『You are uniquely positioned to investigate this matter as the only individual with prior knowledge of firearms from a different world. Use this knowledge to uncover their origins and their acceptance in this magical realm.』
The system's voice was calm and matter-of-fact.
But it only served to deepen Noah's frustration.
Guns didn't belong here.
This world, with its ancient spells, intricate runes, and elemental magic, was supposed to be untouched by the tools of his previous life on modern Earth.
Yet, the memory of seeing one—a pistol, to be exact—was fresh in his mind.
It had been on that fateful night.
Noah's memory drifted back to the confrontation with Professor Caelan.
He had been weak, barely conscious, and surrounded by danger.
He could still see the gleaming barrel of the weapon in Caelan's hand, hear the professor's cold words as he prepared to eliminate him.
Caelan had said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Noah hadn't fully understood what he was looking at then.
His mind clouded by the haze of his injuries.
But now, with clarity, he recognized it for what it was—a firearm.
A tool that had no place in this world.
He also remembered how he had been saved.
She had intervened, her magic cutting through the tension like a knife.
She had saved his life, as she always seemed to do.
He owed her a thank-you.
One of these days, he would get around to expressing his gratitude properly.
Returning to the present, Noah resumed his walk.
His thoughts now laser-focused on the quest.
Guns were a rarity here, that much was clear.
If they were abundant, the world would be in chaos already.
Magic reigned supreme, and introducing firearms would disrupt the delicate balance of power.
But if Caelan had one, there were bound to be others.
How did they get here?
The most logical explanation was that someone from another world had introduced the concept.
A transmigrator, like him.
Either that or some unparalleled genius had managed to design them independently.
A feat that seemed nearly impossible given the current state of magical engineering.
He paused by a window, gazing out at the sprawling academy grounds below.
The system hadn't given him a deadline for the quest—
It meant he could take his time, investigate thoroughly, and avoid drawing unnecessary attention.
Still, the thought of firearms existing in this world unsettled him.
They were tools of efficiency, yes, but also tools of destruction.
In the wrong hands, they could cause devastation on a scale this world wasn't prepared for.
But then again, with magic...it is only sensible with the current scaling of power in that world that guns weren't that powerful.
Noah considered his options.
'Should I start digging now?'
The midterm exams were fast approaching.
And with all the preparations required, it would be nearly impossible to devote his full attention to the quest.
Perhaps he could wait until winter break.
That would give him ample time to investigate without the looming pressure of academics.
But where would he start?
There was no questioning him.
The man's old office might hold clues, but accessing it was a challenge in itself.
Students weren't allowed in the faculty area without permission.
And sneaking in would be risky.
He would need a solid plan.
There was also the possibility of tracing purchase histories.
If Caelan had bought the firearm or its components, there might be records somewhere.
But finding those records would require connections and resources that Noah didn't currently have.
"Looks like I'll need to get creative," he murmured to himself.
As he walked, Noah's mind drifted to the broader implications of guns in this world.
Here, they weren't seen as mundane tools.
They were likely considered devices of magical engineering, crafted through a combination of enchantments and mechanical ingenuity.
That perception alone could explain their limited presence—
Creating a firearm would require immense skill and knowledge.
But who was behind it?
The idea of another transmigrator unsettled Noah.
He wasn't ready to world with someone else from Earth, someone who might have their own agenda.
If that was the case, this wasn't just about firearms—it was about control.
Whoever introduced guns could potentially shift the power dynamics of the entire world.
Lost in thought, Noah barely noticed when he turned a corner and found himself outside one of the empty lecture halls.
He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he considered his next steps.
"First, I need more information..."
He needed to find out if there were others like Caelan—
People who had access to firearms or knowledge of their creation.
He also needed to figure out if anyone was actively producing them.
Snooping through Caelan's office seems like the best lead for now, he decided.
It wasn't ideal, but it was a starting point.
Noah straightened, pushing himself off the wall.
His gaze was sharp, his mind racing with possibilities.
This quest wasn't just about earning plot points—
It was about understanding the growing changes in this world and ensuring that he stayed ahead of the curve.
For now, though, he had to balance this investigation with his other priorities.
The midterm exams couldn't be ignored, and his own training demanded attention.
He was still refining his understanding of the [Cold Embrace] curse.
And swordsmanship was a glaring weak point he needed to address.
"Too many things to juggle..." he muttered. But that was nothing new.