Chapter 7 — The Library of Forbidden Knowledge
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The next morning arrived gently.
Thin golden rays spilled across the marble floors of the academy.
The air was cool, but not cold — a pleasant breeze drifted through the wide corridors as if the very building breathed alongside its inhabitants.
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Cyrus walked slowly.
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No destination. No rush.
Today, there were no combat classes. No instructors.
Just free hours — and curiosity.
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> Knowledge.
The only power that cannot be stolen.
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As he wandered, he found himself before one of the older structures.
Massive stone doors stood tall, wrapped in glowing inscriptions, humming softly with faint magic.
Above it, a simple inscription:
"The Infinite Archive."
The academy's grand library.
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Two robed keepers stood at either side — silent, unmoving.
Their faces hidden beneath silver masks.
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Cyrus approached without hesitation.
The keepers did not stop him — only observed.
> They're not guards. They're watchers.
Good. Means entry is permitted — but monitored.
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As the doors creaked open, cool air rushed out like a soft exhale.
The scent of ancient parchment, old ink, and faint ozone filled his nose.
He paused just inside.
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Before him stretched a sea of endless bookshelves.
Row after row of towering blackwood cases — some reaching far beyond what the eye could see.
Floating crystal orbs drifted silently above, casting soft light in shifting colors.
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> Beautiful.
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Here, sound felt forbidden.
Even footsteps seemed muted by design.
He stepped forward, slowly, as though walking through sacred ground.
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As he moved between the shelves, small floating assistants — mechanical drones resembling glowing dragonflies — buzzed softly, sorting books mid-air or repairing worn pages.
L
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> Self-sustaining archive.
Technology fused with magic.
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He passed by the first few rows:
Basic Combat Theory
Elemental Flow Dynamics
Bloodline Manifestations Vol. I -
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Cyrus barely glanced at them.
> Common knowledge. Surface information.
Useful for others. Not for me
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Further back, the shelves changed.
The air grew slightly colder.
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Metal rails appeared along the sides, where automated platforms allowed students to reach higher levels.
Strange symbols marked some of the books here —
Some glowed faintly as he passed.
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A single section drew his eye:
"Restricted: Observation Access Only."
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He stopped before it.
No chains. No locks.
Only a small plaque stating:
> "Access beyond this point requires approval from Faculty Head."
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Cyrus smiled faintly.
> So… the real knowledge lies beyond here.
Secrets they fear to teach openly.
One day...
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For now, he turned his attention to the public collection nearby.
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One book caught his eye:
"The Rise and Fall of the Aurelius House."
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His fingers hovered above it for a moment.
> Ironic.
He pulled it free, flipping through its pages.
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The text was cold.
Historical. Detached.
> "...After the unexplained collapse of House Aurelius, its remaining assets were seized by the Council of Thrones. The true cause remains unknown. No heirs survived."
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Cyrus closed the book calmly.
> Lies… wrapped in carefully approved truth.
And none here know the weight behind those words.
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He returned the book gently, moving deeper into the archives.
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Another caught his attention:
"Council of Twelve Thrones: Power Dynamics and Historical Shifts."
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As he read, fragments of valuable information filled his mind:
Previous failed bloodlines.
Ancient conflicts long erased from common history.
Shifting alliances.
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> The game has existed for far longer than most students here can comprehend.
And I intend to master it fully.
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Time passed.
Minutes. Hours.
But Cyrus never lost focus.
Every page was a weapon being forged inside his mind.
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At some point, distant laughter echoed faintly from the outer halls.
Life continued outside.
Students enjoying free time — training, joking, flirting, sparring.
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> They relax.
I study.
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Yet... for a brief moment, Cyrus allowed himself to close the book.
He leaned back against the tall bookshelf behind him, letting his head rest lightly.
His eyes closed for only a breath.
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> But even I… must breathe.
Must feel.
The faint sound of wind carried into the library as another breeze passed through the open doors.
It smelled of life, of flowers, of the distant gardens beyond.
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> Even in a world built for war… peace exists if one chooses to notice it.
His lips curved — not into a smile exactly — but something softer.
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For a few seconds…
Cyrus Aurelius simply was.
Not planning.
Not hunting.
Not calculating.
Just being.
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Then his eyes opened again, cold clarity returning like a familiar cloak.
> Enough.
He stood, returning the books, and walked calmly out of the library.
> Soon, I will seek permission for the restricted archives.
But not yet. Timing matters.
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Outside, the world of Galactus Academy pulsed with life once more.
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End of Chapter 7