The sun had dipped below the horizon, surrendering the sky to the moon, which gracefully reclaimed its place among the stars. The blue twilight intertwined with the silver glow of the moon, casting a magical luster across the heavens.
In the forsaken town, a dilapidated building loomed, its walls crumbling and fractured. Inside, on an old chair, a figure sat shrouded in shadow. The ethereal blue light spilled onto the table, filtering through the cracks of the tattered window, illuminating small patches with its gentle glow.
The table, uneven from its mismatched legs, tilted precariously to one side. The figure placed a small wooden slab upon it, and as he did so, the light revealed his weary hand, fingers gnarled and wrinkled as those of an old man.
With a deliberate motion, he produced a small envelope from beneath his jacket. It bore no address, an enigma in its simplicity. He tore open the top, revealing the note concealed within.
As he unfolded the paper and began to read, his eyes narrowed with each line, reflecting a deepening sense of fatigue and loss. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "Someone is creating that machine again," he murmured, the weight of the words settling heavily upon him.
***
The moon yielded to the advancing dawn, as the sun ascended from the valley, casting its luminous glow upon the streets and homes below.
In the abode of the Aurelith family, an extraordinary event had transpired; for the first time, Ren awoke early. It was not by choice, but rather the relentless echoes of yesterday that stirred his mind from slumber.
He retrieved his phone, slender as a sheet of glass, its display a translucent canvas of information. With unwavering focus, he searched for something that eluded him.
"Ren! Is everything alright? You're up so early!" his mother exclaimed, her voice tinged with astonishment.
At that moment, his father entered, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of his son.
"You two are truly something else," Ren sighed, finishing his breakfast of toasted bread slathered with jam and accompanied by fried eggs. Without another word, he departed.
"What do you think?" Emerald, his mother, whispered to Ridge, his father.
"What do you mean?" he replied, confusion clouding his expression.
"I mean his sudden decision to study advanced mathematics, waking up so early. Doesn't it feel like something is off?" she mused, sipping her warm morning tea.
"I think he is just maturing," Ridge said, his words slightly muffled by the bread still in his mouth.
"Perhaps, or maybe he's found a girlfriend," she whispered, leaning conspiratorially toward Ridge.
"Nah, no way!" Ridge laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.
***
Ren wandered down the familiar street he had traversed countless times from the academy to his home. Today, however, he chose not to take the Lev-Bus; it was part of his plan—one that had compelled him to rise early and eat breakfast ahead of schedule so that he could walk.
"That man must know something," Ren pondered, but upon arriving at the designated spot, he found it deserted.
"Where did he go? Does he only come at noon?" Ren mused, forging ahead through the desolate alleys. Suddenly, his steps faltered, a chill racing down his spine. He whirled around, but found himself alone.
"There was someone, without a doubt!" Ren insisted, his heart pounding as his breath quickened.
"This is bad," he murmured, flashes of troubling news reports replaying in his mind, the rising tide of crime weighing heavily on him.
"Taking the usual route would be perilous; I must opt for the longer one." With that resolution, he altered his course, diverting into a narrow, congested alley on his right, his mental map of the area guiding him.
Emerging from the cramped passage, he stood before a vast heap of refuse, a mountain of discarded electronics.
"My father took this path during his school days," he recalled, envisioning the route: first, the phone booth, then a right turn at the playground, and onward until he reached the candy shop.
Before him now lay the remnants of that shop, utterly devastated, reduced to mere debris and crumbling foundations.
"After this, take a left, and continue until you see a library," Ren instructed himself, turning left just as a voice called from behind.
"You're looking for me, aren't you?" The voice was laced with laughter. Ren jumped forward, losing his footing and tumbling to the ground. As he lifted his head, he caught sight of a familiar figure standing before him—a man clad in a dust-covered, worn jacket, books bundled within a piece of cloth, his crimson eyes locking onto Ren's.
Just as Ren prepared to speak, the school bell rang, echoing through the air. "You can still make it. If you wish to talk, meet me here again after school," the man said. Ren longed to ask a multitude of questions, but he stifled his curiosity and sprinted away, narrowly making it through the gate before it slammed shut.
The man remained, unable to contain his smile. "So, he did read the book."
***
As the final moments of class slipped away, Mr. Marsh clapped his hands to capture the attention of his students. From beneath his desk, he retrieved a metal box and placed it prominently atop his workspace.
"Every student must fill out their future college preference paper, if you have not done so already, and submit it into this box," he instructed.
One by one, the students began to drop their preference notes into the box, which scanned each paper and transferred the information to Mr. Marsh's digital clipboard.
Once all the forms had been submitted, he dismissed the class, and the students filed out. Mr. Marsh remained seated, perusing the submissions with a keen eye. Suddenly, something caught his attention.
"Ren! Could you come here for a moment?" he called, and Ren, already anticipating the request, approached the teacher's desk.
"Yes, sir," he replied.
"According to your sheet, you wish to pursue a degree in Artificial Magic at Ariella University of AM, am I correct?" Mr. Marsh inquired, his gaze fixed on Ren's face.
"Yes, I aspire to study Artificial Magic Engineering," Ren replied confidently.
"Excellent! Given your grades, I have no doubt you will be accepted. Just remember to enjoy the journey of learning," Mr. Marsh said, a warm smile illuminating his face as he bid Ren farewell.
"Thank you, sir," Ren said, bowing slightly before hastening out of the classroom. Without a moment's pause, he vaulted off the wall and made his way back to the dilapidated candy shop.
Upon his arrival, he found a man standing there, awaiting him, as if he had anticipated Ren's return.
"Ah, there you are, young inquisitive boy," the man said playfully, a grin spreading across his face.
"Um, who are you? Why do you have that book? And do you know about the torn pages?" Ren bombarded him with questions.
"Let's take it one question at a time, shall we?" he chuckled. "I am Victor Watfrown, a librarian—though technically, I'm a caretaker."
Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Ren felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him, and he lowered his gaze. "Renaris Aurelith," he murmured.
"Now, Renaris, before we delve into the book, let us find somewhere safe to talk," Victor suggested, gesturing toward the abandoned library.
"Safe?" Ren echoed, puzzled.
Without further explanation, Victor strode toward the old library, where the cobblestone path was overrun with moss, and sturdy bushes tangled with the pavement on either side.
At the entrance stood a grand fountain, long since dry, featuring a statue of an angel with a broken wing, its still waters a breeding ground for countless bacteria.
Ren's eyes traveled to the library's façade, where letters that once spelled "National Library" had succumbed to time, leaving only a few remnants.
Victor pushed open the creaky wooden door, a cloud of dust swirling around Ren, causing him to cough and squint against the sudden haze. When his vision cleared, he was awestruck by the sight before him.
Books—hundreds, no thousands—were piled high in every corner, cloaked in dust, each one harboring the weight of history and the potential of the future.
"It seems you're quite taken with this place," Victor remarked with a laugh, hanging his jacket on a rack as he approached the counter.
Behind the counter sat an elderly woman, her face lined with wrinkles, her silver hair interspersed with strands of black. She was engrossed in a book, her pale brown eyes peering through small circular glasses, a delicate chain attached to one side.
She regarded Ren for a moment before shifting her gaze to Victor. "Don't tell me you've kidnapped that child," she said, her tone sharp.
"Kidnapped?" Ren jumped, startled by the accusation.
"Don't phrase it like that, you old hag," Victor retorted. At the mention of the term "old hag," the woman snapped, hurling her chair at him.
"Now you're trying to kill me?" he shouted. "Who the hell is the old hag?" she countered.
Regaining her composure, she turned her attention back to Ren, her expression softening into a gentle smile. "Welcome, young one. I am Rose Chardebonvet, the senior librarian of this venerable establishment," she said, her voice soothing and melodic, a stark contrast to Victor's playful yet gruff tone.
She shot Victor a fierce look, one that suggested she was far from pleased. "So, why have you brought this child here?" she demanded.
"Well, I thought he might join us," Victor replied, his demeanor suddenly serious.
"Wait, what?" Ren exclaimed, confusion etched on his face.
"Join us? Have you lost your mind? He's just a kid!" Rose began to scold Victor, who averted his gaze, unwilling to meet her eyes.
"He read that book," was his only defense. The old woman's expression shifted to one of disappointment, resembling that of a mother chastising her wayward child.
"Did you force him to read it?" she asked, and Victor shook his head. "No, he was the one who wanted to uncover the truth."
In the midst of this exchange, Ren stood in utter bewilderment, struggling to grasp the unfolding situation.
Rose finally settled back into her chair, exhaling deeply. "Very well, the boy may join us," she conceded. Victor's face lit up with a smile as he approached Ren.
"But I never agreed to join anything, and who are you all?" Ren protested, still wary.
Victor stepped closer, producing a small pocket watch of golden hue. "We are merely a group of individuals like you, seeking the truth. This library is the bond that unites us," he explained. Before Ren could unleash another torrent of questions, Victor interjected.
"You wish to know the contents of that book, don't you? Then join us, and I will share everything you desire to understand."
The weight of indecision bore down on Ren, his mind racing with questions and doubts: "Is it wise to join them? Are they truly trustworthy? Does he genuinely know what he claims?"
After grappling with his internal turmoil for what felt like an eternity, he ultimately arrived at a decision.
"Very well, I shall join the team, but tell me, how can I trust you?"
Victor flashed a grin, his teeth gleaming like polished ivory. "Because we owe our lives to him as well."
Ren felt a sense of satisfaction at the response. "I understand," he chuckled, "but how many members are there in the team?"
"Let's see," Victor replied, "there's Rose, myself, you, and three others currently absent."
Ren nodded, his gaze drifting towards the dusty, closed window; the sun was beginning its descent.
"Now, enlighten me with what you know, Mister," he demanded, fixing his pale, luminous eyes upon Victor.
"Very well," Victor began, "let us start with the question: what is WR-1?"