Mia imdiately rushed over to Verena. "Verena!!" she called out, panic lacing her voice.
She crouched down beside her friend, her hands trembling slightly as they hovered over Verena’s broken wrist. A soft, verdant glow began to emanate from her palm—gentle, healing, but trembling with frustration. The air was thick with tension.
Mia didn’t even try to hide it. She shot a look filled with raw hatred and utter disappointnt. Her glare was sharp, cutting. Lips pressed into a thin line, like she wanted to say sothing—maybe curse , maybe scream—but she stopped herself. Just stood there, biting her tongue, letting her healing light flow instead.
And then, Kaelira walked forward.
She positioned herself between us without hesitation, eting my eyes. "Hey, Cassius," she said, voice calm but tinged with mischief, "I know you want to go alone. Do your whole broody lone wolf thing. But you didn’t forget about this beauty, did you?" She gestured at herself with a grin. "You promised to search with ."
Right... I did promise her.
A part of considered breaking it without a second thought but the more rational part reminded that Kaelira was... useful.
I gave her a slow nod. "As you wish. But if sothing happens to you, don’t expect to save you. Let this serve as a warning."
She tilted her head and let out a long, theatrical sigh. "You really are sothing else, huh... Would it hurt you to give a little false sense of security?"
I folded my arms, my voice flat. "Isn’t it better this way? You know what to expect with . So when I’m in danger, you’ll run. Save yourself."
She gave a small pout, pretending to be hurt. "Well, if you put it that way... why not? You’re right."
I didn’t bother to smile or joke back. I simply turned toward Miss Celia, who was still frozen near Verena, her eyes wide, still staring in disbelief.
I snapped my fingers in her direction. "Hello, Miss Celia. Don’t daydream. Be a good teacher and send to the academy. Preferably the library."
Her gaze snapped to —sharp, burning. She glared like she was trying to peel my skin off with her eyes.
"You really are those bastard’s son..." she muttered, voice low, trembling with fury. "Completely and utterly inhumane. Wretched. You’re worse than maggots. All of you are."
I stared back at her, unflinching. It didn’t matter. Eventually, her gaze dropped.
She spat out her final words. "Go and die in that place. I’d rather not see your face ever again."
Without waiting, she raised her right hand and flicked it to the side, opening an oval portal—bluish in color, shimring faintly with azure light.
I turned to Kaelira and gestured for her to follow. She smiled, and walked in beside .
Before stepping through, I turned back to Miss Celia. "Truth be told, I’d also rather not see your face. But just to make it clear... I don’t hate you. You don’t want to see , so naturally, I don’t want to see you either. It’s mutual."
I didn’t stick around to see her expression. But I heard a sharp exhale—maybe a snort, maybe a snicker.
Didn’t care.
I stepped through.
And instantly, the world changed.
The stagnant tension and the voices were replaced by silent order. I found myself inside the academy’s library—rows upon rows of towering shelves surrounded .
Kaelira let out a breath beside .
"Wow~" she whispered, her voice tinged with awe. "This place is massive. I don’t even know where to begin. It’ll take forever to search for anything about your fog-thing... and we don’t even have any clue what we’re looking for."
I shook my head slowly. "That’s where you’re wrong. We do have a clue."
She blinked, confused. "We do? That’s news to . What is it?"
I looked at her for a long mont, wondering if I should tell her. Well if she tried anything... it wouldn’t be hard to kill her. One mistake. One wrong move. That’s all it would take.
But for now, I decided to give her a piece of the truth.
I turned toward the nearest shelf.
"Search for the elent ’Nothing,’" I said quietly.
She didn’t say anything at first—just stood there staring at . But then, slowly, a frown crept across her face. Her brows scrunched in clear annoyance as she snapped, "What? Which elent? Are you going to be a bitch about it now? Just tell already—don’t play these damn gas. Weren’t you all cold and emotionless just a few monts ago? And now what? That mischievous bastard version of you is back?"
I ran a hand through my hair, dragging my fingers through the strands with a tired sigh. ’Yeah... a similar thing happened with Mia too. She couldn’t hear it either. My words, they didn’t reach her... I’m all on my own.’
It wasn’t anything new.
"Athyst lightning," I repeated, voice low but certain. "Search for anything about athyst lightning elent."
She blinked, then gave a shrug like it wasn’t a big deal. "Should’ve just said that the first ti. What’s with you, seriously? You’re switching moods more than a girl on her period. Get a grip, man."
I gave her a faint nod, nonchalantly brushing her words aside. "I’ll try. For now, you head up to the top floors and search there. I’ll scavenge the lower floor. Keep your eyes out for anything on elents... or on the world’s history, too."
That made her perk up. Her brows lifted with genuine curiosity. "History? Why? Don’t tell you’re here to study like a nerd now."
I shook my head, lips twitching into a half-smile. "Not really. I just have questions. And I’m hoping the answers are buried sowhere in this place’s past. A long history ans long-forgotten truths... and that’s exactly what I’m looking for."
She gave a firm nod. There was a seriousness to her expression now. "Alright. I’ll see what I can find. Good luck to you."
"You too," I replied, lifting a hand in a casual wave as I turned to walk away.
I began making my way deeper into the library’s heart, letting my steps fall naturally between aisles and winding corridors. My eyes drifted across the endless shelves, scanning the engraved wooden plaques marking each section.
There was Mana Theory.
Application of Mana.
Philosophy.
Psychology.
Economics.
Biology.
Geography.
Architecture.
Astrology.
I even stumbled upon an expansive Literature section—surprisingly well-kept and categorized with care. Subsections like Romance, Tragedy, Horror, Psychology, Drama, Cody, Philosophy, Fantasy, and even Personal Diaries rested peacefully on the high shelves.
But none of them held what I needed.
Each passing step reminded of just how vast this place was. Maybe the information I needed was stored in the upper levels—maybe the restricted areas.
Down here, it felt like only the general, watered-down knowledge was kept.
Still, I kept moving, cutting through row after row, until eventually I found what I was looking for: the Elents section.
My eyes scanned the spines quickly. Titles jumped out at :
"The Most Basic Elents"
"Check If You Have the Strongest Elent?"
"Ranking of Elents: From Fire to the Forbidden"
"Everything You Need to Know About Elents"
"Elents Guide for Toddlers"
"Hypothesis of Newer Elents"
"How to Check Your Affinity?"
There were so many. I started pulling them down one by one, flipping through pages and skimming their contents with practiced urgency.
But nothing. Nothing on Nothing. Nothing on Athyst Lightning.
Still, there was sothing. Sothing close.
In a book titled "The Power of Lightning", I found a peculiar entry—a speculative theory about lightning elents existing on a broader color spectrum. The author had proposed that lightning wasn’t a monolith, but a spectrum like light itself.
Yellow.
Blue.
Green.
Red.
Indigo.
Orange.
Each color had its own distinct properties, abilities, temperants. It was an elegant theory, almost poetic in its structure.
But... no violet. No athyst. No ntion of the color that echoed in my soul.
And that felt wrong.
The author of this hypothesis was a man nad Emanuel Blitz, soone who had lived on the Northern Continent—far from here.
I closed the book with a soft thud and returned it to its place on the shelf, my hand lingering on the cover for a brief mont. My thoughts trailed back to that na.
’Emanuel Blitz...’
A quiet whisper echoed in my mind, a gut feeling that I had just uncovered the edge of sothing massive. Maybe the violet lightning wasn’t common knowledge. Maybe it wasn’t even accepted as real.
But this man, this theorist—he had touched on sothing.
Sothing close.
I made a ntal note.
’I need to et him. He might hold the truth I’ve been looking for. Secrets buried in the lightning... and maybe even deeper.’
With a sigh, I looked back at the ginormous shelfs of books still ready to be harvested. Maybe, I wouldn’t even need to et him. Maybe, I would find what I wanted.
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