The third page glowed with a faint blue light.
That's it. That's the challenge page. Please... just let it be in English.
He closed his eyes. Flipped the page. Opened them slowly.
His heart dropped.
It wasn't English. It wasn't any modern language.
What the hell is this? No... no way...
He broke into a sweat. Panic rose in his chest.
Before, the book had letters. But now? These are...
...symbols?
He stared at the page, horrified—his survival already hanging by a thread.
Damn it all. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?
Chrono thought, his knees buckling as he dropped onto the cold sand. His hands trembled as he stared at the glowing page—alien symbols dancing across it like some cruel joke written in an ancient tongue meant only for gods or madmen.
He gripped his hair with both hands, fingers clawing at his scalp in a mixture of panic and fury. His breathing grew erratic, shallow. He bit down on his lip, so hard it drew a line of blood that traced the corner of his mouth.
How?
How am I supposed to understand this?
How is this even remotely fair?!
A soundless scream escaped him as he tilted his head back and let his body collapse into the sand. He laid there, staring up at the endless night sky—calm, vast, unbothered. The stars offered no solace. They just watched, distant and indifferent.
"I can't… I can't do this," he whispered aloud, the words barely more than a breath.
Chrono placed a hand over his face, as if trying to shield the emotion pouring out of him. His chest rose and fell with shallow, shaky breaths. His fingers curled into fists, grabbing at the sand beneath him, squeezing it with such intensity it spilled through the gaps between his fingers like time itself—impossible to hold onto.
His mind spiraled.
What am I supposed to do?
What does any of this mean?
Why me?
Why like this?
He moved his hand from his eye and looked up again, desperation etched into every inch of his face. For a moment, he looked as if he were searching the heavens for an answer. For help. For mercy.
There was none.
The silence was suffocating.
He let out a long, ragged sigh and slowly pushed himself up, brushing the clinging grains of sand from his clothes like it even mattered. His movements were sluggish, drained. The book dangled in his grip now like a weight tethering him to his fate.
Is it seriously going to end like this?
He took a step forward, then stopped. His foot sank slightly into the sand, but he didn't move.
He stood there—motionless. Empty. A lone figure swallowed by the night. As if the realization had finally set in: he was utterly alone in this. Not metaphorically. Utterly. Alone.
His body slouched, shoulders drooped as if he had been carrying the entire world and someone had just told him it was pointless.
There was no fiery resolve this time. No clever plan brewing. Just a boy, crushed under the weight of a language he couldn't read, challenges he couldn't comprehend, and a fate he didn't ask for.
And yet, as if driven by muscle memory, he took another step… and then another… until the beach was behind him. He didn't look back. Maybe he was afraid that if he did, the ocean would answer with more silence.
Brushing the sand from his feet, he walked. The path home was familiar. Comforting, almost. But every step felt heavier than the last.
And in his mind, one thought circled like a vulture:
What if I really can't do this?
That thought lingered in his mind longer than it should've.
He stopped mid-step, staring blankly ahead, one hand slowly rising to his chin.
"Haha… you really are weak-willed, Zeph Chrono."
He muttered it with a bitter chuckle, the kind that scrapes the back of your throat when you're just trying to feel something other than dread. The laugh wasn't joy—it was a cracked mirror reflecting a boy trying not to break.
As if laughing at his own hopelessness could somehow make it less real.
Throwing in the towel isn't like me.
The thought sparked something. His eyes widened, a crooked smirk creeping across his face like a shadow stretching in candlelight. To any onlooker, he would've looked unhinged—laughing to himself under a dark sky, book in hand, face dirtied by sand and defeat.
All I've been doing is reacting emotionally. Panicking. Sulking. Feeling sorry for myself.
What the hell's gotten into me?
He covered his face with a palm and let out another chuckle—not at the challenge, but at himself. At how quickly he'd almost cracked.
With a sharp slap to his cheeks, he exhaled hard and started walking again, dusting off the remnants of his breakdown.
There's no way this challenge is impossible. There has to be a way to decode those symbols.
His expression returned to its usual cool, contemplative demeanor—only now it carried the sharp edge of urgency. His voice, silent in his thoughts, steadied itself like a sword drawn with purpose.
But… I need to acknowledge reality.
There's also a chance I can't decode the symbols. That it's beyond me.
He stopped walking, body frozen in place, his thoughts gathering like a storm cloud.
Still… it's leaning more toward it being decodable than not. I'd say 80/20.
A confident smirk tugged at his lips again. That ratio was enough to keep going.
Because seriously—why would there be seven challenges, if I couldn't even get past the first barrier? What kind of twisted setup throws you into a trial only to stonewall you at the start?
But then…
He paused again, brows furrowing as another, darker thought seeped into his mind.
…The seven challenges are just false hope. Just bait. A lie to keep me dancing in circles while I rot in an endless loop.
His fists clenched.
Or maybe they're real… but the figure wants me to fail. Maybe it put those symbols there on purpose—to make this whole thing impossible.
He stared at the night sky, cold and quiet, as if trying to pull the truth out of the stars.
But that doesn't track either. If it wanted me to fail, and it can bend time and space and make books appear from nothing, why not just destroy me outright? Why bother with all this?
Unless… it can't interfere directly. Maybe there's a rule. Some kind of restriction.
Maybe it can't take whatever it wants from me—since I'm 'worthy.'
His hand returned to his chin, deep in thought, his feet moving again on instinct as he paced through the quiet night.
But then… if it really wanted to sabotage me… why go with something as indirect as using an undecipherable language?
It could've just given me a challenge I couldn't win.
It doesn't make any sense.
He stopped, staring ahead again, but this time not in despair—in focus.
But, If there's a way in, there's a way out.
The smirk faded, replaced with something colder. Sharper. Determined.
Chrono exhaled through his nose, then glanced at the book in his hand.
This thing is the key. The figure gave it to me and said everything I need is in here. That means the solution exists. I just need to find the right way to read it.
And if it's not readable through normal means… then I'll find abnormal means.
His eyes narrowed.
His gaze lingered on the book longer than it should've—like something finally clicked.
Or maybe…
He remembered something.
His eyes widened.
That's it.
The figure literally gave me the answer.
A dry chuckle slipped out of his mouth, his head tilting back toward the night sky. The stars stared back indifferently, but Chrono didn't care. A wide grin stretched across his face.
"Make use of libraries."
That's what it said.
He chuckled again—louder this time—covering his face with both hands. Not from embarrassment, but disbelief.
I can't believe I was freaking out, and the solution was handed to me. Literally handed to me.
His laughter slowed, then stopped, fading into a steady breath. He slowly lowered his hands and shoved them into his pockets.
That means… somewhere out there, there's a book that can translate these symbols. I just have to find it.
But then, a bead of sweat trailed down his cheek.
That's the problem, isn't it?
How do I know the book is even in Aetherreach? What if it's in another country? Another continent?
He placed a hand on his chin, lips pressing into a thin line as his thoughts raced.
No. I can't afford to spiral again.
For now, I'll assume it's here. I'll rule out the worst-case scenario… at least until I have proof.
Still, his gaze sank toward the pavement below.
Aetherreach is massive… a sprawling beast of a city. And it's not just one library—there are dozens. Maybe even hundreds.
And each one has a hell of a lotta books. Old, dusty, unorganized archives. Ancient languages. Reference indexes. Catalogues that probably haven't been updated in years.
He squinted at the ground like it might whisper a shortcut.
It won't be easy.
He paused, the weight of the task forming like bricks on his shoulders.
But it's doable.
The problem is finding every library in Aetherreach.
If the book even is in Aetherreach.
He slid his hand from his chin and returned it to his pocket. The determination in his eyes didn't flicker.
Fine. That's my next move. I'll map every library. I'll start tonight instead of heading home. There's a library close by too
He finally began to walk, his boots crunching softly against the sand-gritted sidewalk.
---
After a few minutes, Chrono arrived at the library. The street outside was quiet, bathed in orange streetlight, and the interior of the building was hushed and dimly lit, like the rest of the world had already gone to sleep.
The only people inside were the librarian at the front desk—half-drowsy, flipping through a magazine—and a girl with shoulder-length dark hair, seated deep in the reading section. She sat alone at a corner table, a tall stack of books next to her, her face practically buried in one as her head bobbed slightly to whatever she was listening to.
Chrono's eyes drifted over to her.
Not a lot of people. Perfect.
He smirked to himself, his pace relaxed as he walked toward the shelves.
He slowed when he passed her, his eyes narrowing curiously.
That's… a crap ton of books. She's clearly digging into something. There's a slim chance one of them's the one I need.
If I can't find the book, maybe I'll ask.
He gave a soft, inward nod and moved on, heading to the far side of the library. The section labeled "Languages & Linguistics" stretched across a long aisle of dusty shelves.
Chrono stopped in front of them.
His smirk faded.
Holy crap, that's… a lot more than I expected. That's at least 300 books.
He let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
It's a good thing I'm just looking through the languages and linguistics section and not the entire library.
Because it doesn't really make sense to search the ENTIRE library for a book about translation. It's the process of elimination.
He picked up a book at random, flipped through the pages, and scanned them.
Nothing. Not even close.
Another book. Another letdown.
After a few minutes and a growing stack of misfires beside him, Chrono stepped back from the shelf and exhaled through his nose.
Strike one. Not that I expected to hit gold on the first try.
But… still. Would've been nice.
He rubbed the back of his neck, slouching slightly as he walked out of the aisle, disappointment dragging behind him like a shadow.
His eyes wandered toward the reading corner again.
The girl was still there. Still reading. Still swaying to whatever was in her ears. The stack of books beside her was slightly smaller now.
Chrono hesitated.
Do I really wanna do this? She's probably gonna think I'm some weirdo stalker.
Then again, if I screw up, it's not permanent. It resets. She forgets. That's the perk of being stuck in a time loop.
A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.
God, this is gonna be so awkward.
He approached slowly, every step heavier than the last, until he stood just beside her table. He raised a shaky hand and tapped her gently on the shoulder.
She jolted, flinching in surprise, her book nearly slipping from her grasp—but Chrono caught it midair and handed it back before it hit the floor.
She blinked, wide-eyed, and turned to face him, pulling out one of her earphones.
Chrono's heart pounded in his chest.
Alright, too late to back out now.
"Uh, hey. Sorry to bother you," he said, keeping his voice level and polite. "Do you mind if I take a look at the books you're reading?"
She stared at him for a second, lips slightly parted. Her eyes flickered down to her lap. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of a page, and her face began turning pink.
Wait a minute… She's nervous.
Is it social anxiety? Damn it. Of course I'd approach the one person who hates being approached.
Chrono awkwardly scratched the back of his neck with one hand and shoved the other into his pocket, suddenly feeling like a giant nuisance.
Just great. I'm harassing the quiet girl. Nice one, Chrono. Way to be a creep.
He was about to apologize and leave when she finally glanced back up at him.
"…S…sure."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Chrono blinked, surprised.
Huh. Okay. Not what I expected, but I'll take it.
"Thanks," he said quietly, offering a small, appreciative nod as he carefully sat across from her—still cautious, like he didn't want to spook a scared animal.
Chrono tried his best not to stare, but his eyes betrayed him with occasional, fleeting glances in the girl's direction as he skimmed through the stack of books beside him.
She was quiet—too quiet—and he couldn't help but notice the tremble in her hands as she struggled to turn the pages. Her fingers fumbled at the corners like the paper weighed more than it should.
Is she uncomfortable?
Maybe she's not used to people sitting near her. Fair. I kind of forced myself into her space.
His eyes lingered on her face a little longer this time, curiosity getting the better of him. Beneath the curtain of dark hair hiding half of her face, he caught a glimpse of warm brown eyes—big, almost gentle—and a small mole resting just under her right eye.
She's… kinda cute.
The thought caught him off guard. His hand went to his chin almost reflexively, like he was trying to physically contain the realization.
But then her trembling worsened.
Damn it. Idiot. Stop staring like a creep.
He immediately snapped his gaze back to the books in front of him, pretending to read even though his brain wasn't registering the words anymore. He sighed, low and sharp, as he shut the final book with a soft thud.
She flinched.
The reaction made his heart sink a little deeper.
God, I'm making this worse.
He leaned back in his chair slightly, subtly stretching out his arms as he cast a glance at the book she was holding. His eyes widened.
Wait a second… that title.
"A Look Into Ancient Languages"
His body froze mid-stretch.
No way… that could be it. That might actually be the book.
He stared a little too intently, just barely catching her glancing at him from the corner of her eye before she immediately ducked her head, squirming in her seat.
Great, now I really look like a stalker.
He cleared his throat gently, trying to ease the tension in the air.
"Uh, could I take a look at the book you're reading? If you don't mind."
His voice was soft, careful—not wanting to startle her more than he already had.
She looked up, and for a moment Chrono thought she might bolt. But after a short pause, she slowly slid the book toward him with shaking hands.
"Thanks," Chrono said, offering a small, genuine smile. She gave a timid nod, face burning red, then stared down at her lap like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
Please let this be it.
He placed the book on the table like it was a holy artifact. His heart thudded in his chest as he flipped to the cover, then carefully turned the first page.
He flipped again.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
Each page brought another spike of tension, the air around him growing heavier, denser, like time itself was waiting to mock him.
C'mon, symbols… please, just show up.
He flipped.
And flipped.
And kept flipping.
His heart was pounding now—not from excitement, but from the slow onset of dread.
Then… the last page.
Blank.
Chrono exhaled sharply through his nose. His shoulders slumped as he closed the book, the soft clap of the cover sounding far more final than it should have. He pushed it back to her gently.
"Thanks a lot," he said, still wearing that polite smile, but it was thinner now. "I couldn't find what I was looking for though."
She nodded again but paused with the book halfway open. Her fingers hovered above the pages, frozen like she was holding something in.
"…Name?"
Chrono blinked. "Hm?"
She swallowed. "W…what's your name…?"
Her voice was still quiet—barely above the hum of the library lights—but there was something sincere about it, like she'd mustered all her courage for that one question. Her head was tilted down, but her voice trembled with real intent.
Chrono was caught off guard.
"Oh, um—Zeph. Zeph Chrono. You?"
She hesitated, then mumbled, "...May. May Jackson."
Her face turned an even deeper shade of red, and she still couldn't meet his gaze.
Jackson?
Chrono's brow lifted slightly.
Wait… that's the same name as the café.
Could she be related to the owner?
He placed a hand under his chin, gears turning in his head.
Maybe. But then again, Jackson's a common last name. Could be a coincidence.
"Can I ask a question?"
Chrono asked softly, careful not to apply pressure. His tone was gentle—unsure—but calm.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The silence between them stretched long and taut like a noose. Chrono waited, his heart thudding unevenly in his chest.
Can I die now?
He smiled nervously to mask the anxiety crawling under his skin. His shoulders tensed as he waited.
She nodded, barely perceptible, fingers fidgeting with one another, eyes fixed on her lap like it was the only safe place to look.
"Are you perchance… related to the owner of Jackson's Café?"
He forced the words out. A thread of confidence slipped with each syllable, but he kept his composure—barely.
There was another pause. Then, a hesitant nod. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, and her chin tucked lower.
"Oh, I see."
Chrono chuckled lightly, trying to regain some footing, trying to seem casual. But even he could hear the hollowness in his voice.
"...The owner is um…"
May's voice trailed off, strangled halfway through. Her head dropped like gravity had suddenly intensified.
Chrono's eyes widened, panicked.
"I-It's alright, you don't gotta tell me."
He reached out instinctively, stopping short of her shoulder, trying to ease the weight she clearly bore.
She's fragile. I'm pushing too much.
This is probably the most she's spoken to someone in months. I shouldn't ask questions like this.
He let out a quiet sigh and leaned back into the chair, letting the moment settle.
Then, he stood—slowly—pushing the chair back into place.
"It's pretty late, so I'm gonna head home. See you around… I guess."
His voice carried a faint uncertainty, but his expression stayed level, a practiced calm masking the awkwardness.
"...Um."
May's voice barely met his ears, breathy and unsure. She twisted her hands together again.
"Hm? What's up?"
Chrono asked, raising an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.
"...That book… right there. C-could I have a look at it… please?"
She forced the words out, finally raising her head—but only for a moment. Her eyes darted away as quickly as they rose, but in that instant, they met Chrono's, and he froze.
The book is visible to other people?
Chrono stared at it, heart racing.
Thought the book would be similar to the flash, only visible to me. Though, I haven't confirmed if it is only visible to me, but it's safe to assume it is.
He picked it up slowly, weighing it in his hands like it might bite him.
"Uh, sure, here you go…"
But he hesitated.
Can I actually hand her the book?
His hand froze mid-reach.
I've never tested what happens if someone else touches it. Honestly, I didn't think I needed to. I just got it. Why would I think to question it?
He locked up, eyes flicking between the book and May.
What happens if she takes it? Will something happen to her? Or to me? Am I overreacting?
Sweat crawled down his temples.
Then—he exhaled.
"It's a pretty odd book, to be honest. There's only one page that's filled."
He forced a smirk, slowly handing it over. May accepted it with trembling hands, carefully flipping through its damp pages until she stopped on the glowing third page.
"It's weird, isn't it? No cover text. The pages inside are soaked but the cover's untouched. Creepy, right?"
"...Yeah, it's pretty weird… I've never seen a book like this before."
Her voice was calmer now, like the mystery intrigued her. Chrono nodded along, forcing another grin to hide the unease pulling at his gut.
Nothing's happened yet. Maybe it's safe… maybe I was just being paranoid.
He sighed softly in relief.
Guess I was worried for nothing.
Or so he thought.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped.
A soft hissing sound echoed in the silence, like something leaking between the pages of the world itself.
Then, the fog rolled in.
Thick. Gray. Ominous.
It poured from the aisles, oozing between the bookshelves like spilled smoke, swallowing the floor whole.
Chrono's entire body stiffened.
What the hell…?
His eyes widened in panic as he spun in place, looking around the library. The air grew heavier with each breath.
A chill crept up his spine like fingers tracing bone.
He looked at May—her eyes were wide too. She was seeing it. She was seeing everything.
She can see the fog too? Then…
"...Zeph… you… see this too, right?"
Her voice cracked like brittle glass.
"Yeah," he said, trying to stay composed. "I see the fog too."
"...Fog? There's no fog."
Chrono's breath hitched.
May wasn't looking at the fog—she was looking at something else. Something behind him.
His stomach dropped.
She can't see the fog? Then what is she seeing?
He spun around.
Nothing.
Just fog.
But May's eyes—her trembling body—told another story.
Something was coming for her.
May began to hyperventilate. Her lips trembled as she backed into her chair, clutching the book like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality.
Chrono lunged forward—except he didn't.
He tried to move, but his body refused. It was like invisible chains had wrapped around his limbs.
He gritted his teeth.
"May! Drop the book! Right now!"
He shouted—desperate—but she didn't flinch. Her eyes were locked onto something that wasn't him. Something else.
It was like she was in a trance.
Like she was somewhere else entirely.
No, no, no.
For me, there's two people in this room excluding myself…
He strained against whatever force held him, heart pounding.
…but for her…
Chrono's voice cracked as he screamed again.
…There's three.
His legs shook. His body fought, but he remained frozen—helpless.
He could only watch.
Then—
Darkness.
Reality blinked. The world folded inward like a dying flame.
An eternity passed in that single blink.
Then—
Thud.
A loud, sickening sound cracked through the air like a gunshot. It echoed through the library.
Heavy.
Final.
Chrono's eyes shot open, gasping for air like someone drowning in silence.
The library returned.
Still.
Quiet.
But something was wrong.
His eyes scanned the table.
His chest collapsed inward.
May was still seated in her chair.
But her head—
—was gone.
Blood pooled around her neck, the bright red spreading like ink on parchment.
Chrono's lips quivered. The breath in his lungs turned to glass.
His soul cracked.
Then—something touched his foot.
Something soft.
Wet.
Heavy.
He looked down.
Her head.
May's eyes still open, lips parted in frozen shock, rolled to a stop at his feet.
Chrono didn't scream.
He didn't move.
He just stared.
Mouth covered. Eyes wide.
Utterly broken.