Sunlight spilled across the bed, sliding through the window and landing on Alaric's face. His eyes fluttered open, hesitantly adjusting to the warm glow. Stretching, he sat up slowly, letting the light linger on his features.
"A morning in this peaceful world," he murmured, his voice soft, almost reverent. He stretched his arms toward the ceiling before shuffling to the window, peering down at the streets below, where people and carriages moved in serene rhythm.
"This world is as peaceful as ever," he said quietly. A group of birds had gathered on the windowsill, chirping softly in their morning routine.
"Good morning, friends," Alaric greeted them with a bright smile. The birds chirped back, a small chorus of life welcoming him to the day. He turned toward the bathroom. "Let's start the day."
The door slammed open behind him, and his younger sister, Liora, stepped in, exasperation written across her face. Books lay scattered across the floor like fallen soldiers.
"That again?" she sighed, stepping carefully around the pages. "Why does your room always look like this?"
Her gaze flicked toward the birds perched on the windowsill. "These birds… you shouldn't leave the window open." With determined efficiency, she began gathering the books, stacking them neatly on the shelves and table.
Alaric emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a slim shirt and trousers, leather boots laced tightly, and a long tailored coat in shades of black and brown.
"Good morning, Liora," he said sweetly.
Liora gave him a deadpan stare. "Finally. I thought you'd sleep all day after reading those books all night." She tugged at the overstuffed cupboard, struggling to close it.
Alaric approached and gently reshelved the books. "You think I'm hoarding knowledge," he said with a wry smile. "I'm not. I'm keeping territory."
"Why does it matter so much?" Liora asked, arms crossed, voice sharp.
Alaric looked down at her, ruffling his hair thoughtfully. "You see paper. I see a living experience. In this world, the most valuable treasure isn't gold or jewels—it's the time and effort required to understand the laws of heaven and earth."
He opened the window, letting the morning breeze flow inside. Liora rolled her eyes. "Territory? It's just a bookshelf, not a kingdom."
Alaric turned to her with a calm smile. "Every book is a version of me that no longer exists. The one I read at nineteen, the one at twenty… each mark, each underline, is a footprint left by a ghost. If I threw them away, I'd lose the map of how I became who I am today."
Liora shook her head, half in exasperation, half in admiration. "I'll never understand you. Mom's calling—you'd better come down before you leave for the academy."
Alaric picked up a small box of grains and scattered some on the windowsill for the birds. "Eat, little travelers. You have no barns, no locks, no maps, and yet the world never lets you go hungry. Why is it that I, with all my pockets and walls, am the one who forgets how to trust the wind?"
Satisfied, he set the box aside and made his way downstairs. His father, Cedric, already donned in a suit and leather boots, was leaving. "I'm off to work," he said energetically.
His mother, Elowen, waved at him with a warm smile. "Have a nice day," she said, turning her gaze to Liora. "You didn't finish your vegetables."
Alaric sat at the table. "Good morning," he said peacefully as he served himself.
"How's the academy going?" Elowen asked, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
"Great," Alaric said, smiling brightly as he ate quickly.
"Eat slowly, Alaric," she warned, concern shadowing her words.
A soft knock at the door drew his attention. "Good morning, Mr. Alaric," a quiet, warm voice said.
Alaric looked up. "Celine Marlowe. You're here."
He grabbed his bag. "I'm ready. Let's go."
Elowen frowned slightly. "At least eat your breakfast."
"I'll eat outside, Mom," he said with a wave, closing the door behind him.
On the street, Celine followed calmly, eyes on the ground. "Did you sleep well, Mr. Alaric?" she asked softly.
"Yeah… though I didn't sleep much," he admitted, scratching the back of his head nervously. "I stayed up studying the ancient techniques of Eastern lands—their control over essence without injury."
Celine stopped and looked up at him, her gaze quiet but firm. "You shouldn't risk your health for knowledge, Mr. Alaric."
"Don't worry. I keep it in mind," he said, moving forward.
"You never listen to me," she muttered, pouting slightly, before trailing behind him.
A boy ran past them, a huge balloon slipping from his grasp. "Please! Don't let it fly away!" he cried.
Alaric bent down, catching the string. "Here. Is this what you wanted?"
The boy's face lit up. "Thank you! I almost lost it. I have to hold it tight now."
Alaric smiled gently. "Do you think the balloon is happy to be yours again?"
"It's a balloon. It doesn't feel anything… but I feel better having it back," the boy said, confused.
"That's the trap we all fall into," Alaric said softly. "We think we protect the things we love, but we often protect only how they make us feel. You clutch the string so hard your hand cramps. Is that joy, or struggle?"
The boy smiled. "If I don't struggle, it flies away."
"And if it flies away, does it cease to exist? No. It joins the sky. By clutching it so tightly, you turn a bright, dancing thing into a burden. You no longer see its red; you only see the knot on your finger."
Celine handed the boy some coins. "Buy a new one. If it's lost, at least you won't worry."
In front of the academy, Alaric took a deep breath. "Great. Let's see what we can learn today."
Inside, Celine greeted teachers politely. "What's your plan for today, Mr. Alaric?"
"Anything that helps me understand the world," he said calmly.
The library was bustling when a teacher pointed at a metal door embedded in the wall. "This door was made by the Solian continent's army during the Second World War. It's been locked for years, but today it opened mysteriously. A girl has gone missing, and we believe she may be inside. The room is at least four to six meters deep underground."
Alaric handed Celine his bag. "What will you do, Mr. Alaric?" she asked, concern in her eyes.
He placed a reassuring hand on a boy's shoulder and stepped forward. "I have to bring her out."
The teacher moved to stop him, but the door slammed shut.
"It closes automatically after a certain time. The only way to wait is… outside," another teacher said, worry in their voice.
Inside, darkness swallowed everything. "Why is it so dark here?" Alaric muttered. He pulled a small glowing locket from his pocket. "Always useful."
The stairs ended abruptly, and he collapsed, groaning as pain shot through his body. He looked around, eyes landing on an open cage.
"What's that?" he whispered, hesitant.
A low, guttural breathing echoed from inside. His heart pounded. Then a scream—a scream that tore through the silence—shattered the air.
"It's a scream…" he muttered, running toward the girl huddled in the corner. A massive creature, kneeling on the ground, loomed over her.
"That's an Asceptore," he whispered, eyes wide with shock.
The girl looked up, fear etched in her features. "A…Alaric," she breathed.
Alaric's gaze darted to an old, rusted sword lying nearby. Kneeling carefully, he reached for it. The creature's eyes locked with his, unblinking. If he faltered, the connection between them would snap, and it would attack.
He gritted his teeth, heart hammering. As he drew the sword, the creature lunged with a furious roar.
"No!" Alaric shouted, dragging himself under a stone bench, driving the sword into the creature's knee. It screamed in pain, claws tearing at the metal as it tried to pull free.
"We have to run," Alaric said, grasping the girl's hand. "No questions. No sounds. No hesitation."
A glowing red orb appeared, spinning in the air, radiating orange and crimson light.
"A Brenite," Alaric muttered, shielding her with his body as it exploded against the wall. Smoke curled around them. Blood dripped from his forehead, but he pushed forward, unshaken.
The creature advanced, speed unrelenting. Alaric leapt onto an iron grate, grabbing the door above the stairs. "This is our last chance," he said, rolling onto the ground and sprinting, the girl clinging to him.
It pounced again, claws slicing the air. Alaric's legs shook, but his resolve held. Another sword caught his eye. He lunged, bracing himself.
The creature roared a thunderous, echoing roar that promised death.
Alaric grabbed the sword and rolled away from the creature, planting the blade firmly in the ground. As the creature lunged, the sword pierced its chest.
"Finally," Alaric murmured, resting his hand against the back of his own.
The girl rose weakly, staggering toward him. "Th-thanks," she said hesitantly.
Alaric looked up at her with a small, tired smile. "I'm glad you're safe. Life… life is the only thing that truly matters," he said quietly, then his gaze shifted to a blue, glowing locket.
The girl helped him to his feet. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern heavy in her voice.
Alaric smiled weakly, leaning on her for support. "Can you help me walk over there… to that locket?" he asked, pointing toward it.
She nodded and guided him carefully. Once he held the locket in his hand, he slipped it safely into his pocket.
As they climbed the stairs, the girl opened the door, and Celine stood there, her eyes wide. "Mr. Alaric, are you okay?" she asked, quickly pulling him toward herself. Her gaze then sharpened as it fell on the rescued girl.
The teachers looked on, concerned. "What happened?" one asked, noticing the blood trickling down his forehead.
Alaric offered a weak smile. "I'm fine… just need some bandages and rest," he said, a nervous undertone in his voice.
Celine's eyes turned sharp, almost protective, as she helped him out of the library. "You're bleeding a lot, Mr. Alaric," she said, worry etched in every word.
One teacher's gaze drifted to the fallen creature. "That's… strange. We never knew a creature like this could survive," they muttered thoughtfully, still processing what had just occurred.