As Azad walked down the middle of the street, electric vehicles passed by him. The state of Yadar had the highest number of such cars, due to the vast size of its cities and, of course, the well-constructed roads with elegant pavements that had developed alongside its infrastructure over decades of progressive growth.
With his head bowed, he gazed at the road under the glow of the streetlights towering above, though the light of the full moon shining overhead was even more beautiful. Azad's footsteps were calm as he took in the atmosphere around him. Seven hours had passed in the outer world, yet to him, it felt as though only a few minutes had gone by since he entered the Vaticanus Library. He had come to realize that time flowed differently between the upper world and the place known as the Vaticanus Library.
"What did he mean by that?!"
His mind was consumed by one thought he couldn't shake—Amanos Vaticanus' words about his family.
_
"Did you really say your family was killed by an Embodied Belief?"
He was clearly taken aback by the question, but replied calmly, "Yes, unfortunately. But why do you ask?"
"No, it's nothing."
_
Maybe I'm just overthinking things. I'm tired... I just want to go home.
Azad stood up, and as he reached a vast open space he knew well, he glanced to his left. It was the ruined library, surrounded by transparent iron fences. He walked a little closer and gazed at the massive destruction.
"Why can't I feel anything?" he muttered, placing a hand on his forehead, his mood darkening. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. "No matter what I do, I can't change this truth... the truth that I'm a killer."
He knew all too well that he had only two choices: live with this truth, or drown in a sea of despair — and despair was something he refused to let consume him. Even though the massacre had been beyond his control, it had still happened — and it had happened by his own hands. That was a reality he couldn't escape.
He turned around, tense, as he saw a man standing in a white formal suit, a black feathered cloak draped over his shoulders. His silky black hair, calm smile, and unwavering eyes were all fixed squarely on him.
The moment he laid eyes on him, Azad felt a strange sensation — a blend of unease and familiarity, as though he knew this man but couldn't quite recall from where. What he did know for certain, however, was that his survival instinct had surged to its peak, screaming that this man was dangerous.
"Let's not waste words... you're the one who did it, aren't you?" the man said in a calm tone.
Azad stood frozen, the threat before him clear. He wanted to run — every nerve urged him to — but his instincts warned against turning his back. Instead, he kept his composure and replied in an even voice, "Excuse me, who are you?"
He did his best to hide the tension in his voice, standing tall, not knowing what kind of man stood before him — though Azad feared he might be far worse than the ones who had come after him that morning.
The man gazed intently at Azad, tilting his head slightly before speaking in a calm, deliberate tone:
"I know you're trying to mask your fear of me—but don't bother. I can sense the stirrings of your survival instinct from here. Now then, if you wish to keep your life, I might let you—if you tell me where the Book of the Beginning is."
Who was this man? And how did he know the book had once been in my possession?
Azad knew he couldn't lie—not to him.
If this man could perceive his anxiety, something no ordinary human could ever do, then he could just as easily detect falsehood. That alone made one thing certain: lying was not an option.
What I'm about to do may be selfish, Azad thought, but it's the only path left to me.
"I gave it to the Vaticanus Library—"
The instant the final word left his lips, two pale, glowing eyes emerged from the void above the man's head, staring into azad.
The man's expression—always unreadable, his eyes perpetually shut—shifted. Though still composed, a wave of fury radiated from him, unmistakable and suffocating.
Azad felt it in his bones: this man was furious.
"So… that's how it is," the man whispered, voice like ice cracking in the dark.
"End him."
Azad was struck by a powerful punch from his left, causing him to spin twice in the air. A strong kick then sent him soaring upward, followed by another punch that slammed him back to the ground, shattering the spot where he landed.
He lay face down, swimming in his own blood. Normally, these three extraordinary blows would be enough to crush an ordinary human—but Azad was no longer ordinary.
The attackers were two women dressed in gray outfits, wearing white masks inscribed with ancient symbols—scripts not belonging to any known contemporary language.
As the two women turned their backs to Azad and walked toward a man, the one on the right spoke in a questioning tone, "Wouldn't it have been easier to take him for interrogation?"
"The leader doesn't kill garbage, so don't ask too many questions," replied the other woman, her voice blending mockery with seriousness.
Azad's black hair floated amid the blood, his face pressed into the ground, unable to move his body due to the overwhelming pain. Those blows were not ordinary; they felt like tons of heavy stones falling upon him.
The man, whose expression was emotionless and cold, stared at Azad without taking his eyes off him from the very beginning. Both women noticed this. As they approached the man to leave, he said, "If you were an ordinary human, your head would have been ripped from its place by the first punch…" He turned his back and left, telling the two women—whose faces showed surprise at his survival despite him appearing lifeless and not breathing—
"Bring him."
That was the last sentence Azad heard before losing consciousness.