The night was very quiet. The moon was high, and the stars looked down on the sleeping academy. Eiden stood in the shadows, near the old wall behind the training yard. His cloak moved slightly in the wind.
He had found something important yesterday. A map, hidden under a floor tile in the old tower, showed a strange path under the academy. The place was called "The Crimson Library."
Eiden looked around. No one was there.
He touched the wall, his fingers feeling for the stone with the faded rune. Click. It moved. The wall opened slowly, revealing a narrow staircase leading into darkness.
He went inside.
The stairs were long. Dust covered every step. Eiden used a small magic light, just enough to see. He didn't want to draw attention.
Finally, he reached a big door. Old, made of stone, with red markings like veins across it. He placed his hand in the center. A pulse of mana passed from his body into the door. The markings glowed for a moment, then faded.
The door opened.
Inside was a library—no, more like a grave of knowledge. Books were stacked in strange angles, scrolls floated in the air, and crystals hummed quietly.
Eiden's heart beat faster.
He walked slowly, touching a broken table. On it were pages—his own handwriting. From his past life.
"So it's true," he whispered. "This place... remembers me."
He sat and opened a book. It was about light magic. Old spells, forgotten by the modern world. He smiled.
Eiden stayed there all night, copying spells, writing notes, and trying small chants. He used very little mana. If anyone found out, it could be dangerous.
His sword lay beside him.
He also trained with it—just short movements. He swung slowly, then tried again, adding a bit of light mana to the edge.
Slice. The air shimmered.
It worked.
He could combine sword and magic. Not fully, not yet—but it was a start.
Suddenly, he felt something.
A presence.
He turned off the light. Quiet. Waiting.
Footsteps above. Someone was in the hallway above the ruins.
Eiden waited until the sound passed. His heartbeat slowed.
It was not safe to stay longer.
He took a few more pages, hid them inside his coat, and left the same way he came.
Back in his room, just before sunrise, he breathed out. Safe.
But he knew it wouldn't stay quiet for long.
Someone else would come looking.
And next time, they might not leave.