Warhammer World, Korol.
It was Sunday. Early in the morning, Byrne arrived at the largest library in Black Rock City and stayed there for the entire forenoon. He sat at a desk in the corner, with a large stack of books piled up beside him.
Four days had passed since the last Dream Gathering. During this time, whenever he had a spare moment, Byrne dove into the library to sift through various books related to ancient scripts. From The Evolution of Imperial Script to Rune Analysis of the Barbarian Age, and even ancient scrolls of regional dialects—he pored over every relevant text he could find.
With the cognitive enhancement of NZT-48, it took Byrne only four days to fully master the Imperial scripts spanning thousands or even tens of thousands of years. Whether it was the standard Archaic style or the pictographs of remote tribes, he could interpret them fluently.
Now, you might ask: why does a world with starships still have such a retro location as a library? One can only say—this is Warhammer. It is an absurd world where sci-fi intertwines with the archaic, and civilization exists alongside savagery. The Empire's territory is vast, and Warp storms frequently disrupt interstellar communication. Ancient texts serve as both a heritage of civilization and precious historical data unpolluted by Chaos. Libraries are the safe harbors for these materials.
He raised a hand to rub his aching eyes and pushed the Dictionary of Ancient Imperial Script to the side. Then, he took a pen and wrote the complete prophecy on a blank page of his notebook. Using the knowledge of ancient scripts he had acquired over the past few days, he began to translate.
The Rift shifts, the Dark Raven shall fall, and the Savior shall be born. When that time comes, they must temper themselves with Pure Fire to cleanse the filth of Chaos.
The Deceiver lays a trap, the Plague-Bringer spreads decay, the Reveler twists the mind, and the Wrathful One ignites the fires of war.
The Twins of Doomsday and Salvation both lie dormant within the embers of Lainean; they are the fangs of destruction and the glimmer of redemption.
On the day the Dark Raven's wings are broken, the Twins shall clash. It will lead either to rebirth or eternal silence.
Finishing the last sentence, Byrne set down his pen. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Combining the Forge Prophecy with Tzeentch's divination, countless thoughts surged through his mind.
It turned out he had misunderstood the relationship between the two prophecies. They were not contradictory; rather, they pointed to the descendants of the same family—a pair of twin sons. The "Child of Prophecy" mentioned by Tzeentch was the one who would bring destruction, using the power of Chaos to subvert the Imperial order. The other was the Savior from the Forge Prophecy, who would rescue the world from the brink of ruin.
He hadn't expected that the twins who decided the fate of the world would both come from a family that had been tragically exterminated a century ago.
The Lainean Family...
Byrne's fingertips unconsciously traced the handwriting in his notebook. The image of the skeleton in the underground passage and the ring in his drawer surfaced in his mind again. He recalled the information he had received from Selena the day he returned from the wasteland to Black Rock City.
A hundred years ago, the Laineans were judged as heretics and exterminated by the Inquisition for secretly researching Warp energy and attempting to collude with Chaos to destroy Korol. Now, considering this prophecy, that extermination was likely not as simple as it seemed.
Thinking of this, he opened a silk-bound volume with a worn cover. This was a rare book he had accidentally stumbled upon while searching this morning; it contained a relatively detailed account of the Lainean family's deeds. The silk pages were yellowed and brittle, but fortunately, the handwriting inside was clear. It was evident that someone had kept it well. The family crest of Lainean was stamped on the title page.
Byrne flipped through it for a while, his frustration growing the more he read. He hoped to find clues about the one who had escaped the massacre through these written records. Unfortunately, while the volume recorded many events of the Lainean family, it didn't mention a single word about the extermination itself.
Just then, a voice suddenly came from beside him.
"Young man, it is quite rare to see someone reading the records of the Lainean family."
Byrne turned his head and saw an elderly man in a gray robe standing next to him. The old man had white hair and wore a pair of heavy copper-framed glasses. A library badge was pinned to his chest.
"Few people flip through these ancient books, especially records concerning fallen families. Most people avoid them like the plague."
Byrne steadied himself and made up an excuse. "Sir, I enjoy exploring history. I happened to see a mention of the Lainean family a while back and felt curious about their downfall."
The old man smiled, and the gaze behind his lenses softened slightly. "Oh, it's rare to find a young man so studious. However, the matters of the Lainean family are far more complex than what is recorded in these books. The truth of those years was buried in the ashes long ago."
Byrne asked tentatively, "Do you know this family, sir?"
The old man laughed, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes bunching together, though his gaze held a certain depth. He pulled over a nearby chair and sat down.
"More than just know them. When I was young, I assisted the old head librarian in organizing the secret archives of the Lainean family. However, those files were sealed by the Inquisition decades ago. Not even a duplicate was left behind."
"Is that so? The information I found only says they were exterminated for colluding with Chaos."
The old man sighed. "Heh, that's just the Inquisition's version. The Lainean family wasn't colluding with Chaos; on the contrary, they were fighting it."
Byrne feigned surprise. "If they were fighting Chaos, why did the Inquisition label them as heretics?"
The old man shook his head. "Who knows? Unless a high-ranking official from the Inquisition explains it personally."
Seeing that the old man didn't know the reason either, Byrne felt a bit disappointed. Nevertheless, he asked:
"Sir, when you were organizing the data, did you find anything that wasn't in the usual records?"
The old man looked around. Seeing no one nearby, he lowered his voice. "I'll tell you this: I actually have something that isn't in the common records. But if word of this got out, the entire library would probably be shut down by the Inquisition."
Hearing this, Byrne nodded. "Sir, you have my word; I will keep it a secret."
The old man stared at Byrne for a long time before slowly speaking. "Very well. Follow me."
With that, he put his hands behind his back and walked toward the depths of the library. Byrne immediately stood up and followed.
The depths of the library were far quieter than the front hall. Sunlight was sliced into fine patches of light by the heavy bookshelves, falling onto the dusty floor. The old man's steps were slow but steady, avoiding the shadows between the shelves with every stride. He clearly knew every inch of this place.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a small room. It was a cramped storage space with a mottled wooden table in the center, surrounded by wooden crates covered in dust.
Byrne scanned the room and turned to ask, "Sir, where is the item you mentioned?"
The old man closed the door behind him and spoke. "You can see it, but first, you must promise me one thing."