Warning

This plot includes a unique interpretation of a certain important character from the main story. This plot is strictly a work of fan fiction and does not represent official views. 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 Prologue

—I was weak.

Titles like "hometown prodigy" and that level of skill weren't enough to survive in this Academy City.

I was a failing student in the Junior Division, and the rank I was given upon entering the Middle Division was the lowest class.

Even when I challenged rank matches to try and change my situation, I just kept losing until I was a wreck.

No one cared about me. No one even looked at me.

Even when I managed to cling on and reach the Senior High Division, nothing changed.

Incompetent, bottom-feeder, that one person who's just there, who was that again?

That was all I got from those around me. Whether I was there or not made no difference; I was nothing more than something less than the background.

Finally unable to take it anymore, I fled into the underground ruins to escape the eyes of others.

I ran blindly until I was out of breath, the wall I happened to lean against crumbled, and I tumbled down into a place no one had ever entered.

And there, I found "it."

Golden hands. That was the only way to describe them.

Immediately after finding them, I was thinking of nothing but optimistic things like, "If I sell these, I might be able to make enough money to go back home."

However, just as I reached out to pick them up, "it" began to move with a clatter.

A pathetic yelp escaped me, but looking closely, it was as if... it was asking for help.

Was it the last shred of conscience remaining in my heart, worn thin by the academy—the desire to help someone in trouble? Or was it the moment I threw that conscience away?

The moment I grabbed those "hands," memories flooded into me. The skills and the trajectory of defeat of a certain demon who once seized the academy and tried to steal all the value in the world.

I gathered the fragments of "it" scattered across the ruins, and as I repaired them, I thought. How did he make it to within one step of his goal, only to fall?

I believe he had two flaws.

First, he himself did not understand the "Value" of this world. That's why he tried to collect "Value" as efficiently as possible by stealing the "precious things" of the people in this world. That indirectness was one cause of his defeat.

So, I modified my own eyes so that I could see "Value." So that I could surely harvest it from the most fatal spots.

Second, because he called himself a collector, he treated "Value" as nothing more than trophies to be hoarded.

"Value" is just like drachmas. Even if the thing itself is just a number, it can be exchanged for something else.

The alchemy my parents taught me, which had been useless at the academy, finally proved useful here.

When I turned a high-"Value" journalist who had sniffed me out from somewhere into a gold statue, I felt a sense of pure relief.

Then, I spent a week walking through the academy while hiding the "hands." If I'm going to aim for targets, I should start with those of high "Value." I want to gain strength before my movements are discovered, and I want to crush the troublesome ones.

At the same time, thinking I needed some starting capital, I looked for students like my former self—those who wouldn't be noticed whether they were there or not—and stole their "Value" to take it for myself.

After searching carefully like that, I finally found one. Guest, they'll do. They have a particularly good-looking "Value," even for this academy.

I reached out my hand.