Six figures moved through the endless Archive.
Xelth'Ruun.
Veylen.
Aiden.
Victor.
Zero.
And Rey.
Five of them glided through the air as naturally as breathing.
One of them did not.
Rey hung slightly lower than the rest, supported by a faint force beneath his feet. Aiden's telekinesis was doing all the work, even if no one bothered to point it out.
Veylen glanced sideways.
"…To not even possess a basic flight art," he said calmly. "Truly pathetic."
Rey opened his mouth.
"But—"
"Shut it," Aiden cut in instantly. "Even if you explained, he wouldn't understand at your current level."
Rey wisely nodded and stayed quiet.
After several minutes, the endless shelves thinned.
An altar emerged.
It floated alone in a void of white, circular and compact, its surface carved with countless inscriptions. Techniques, arts, laws, fragments of knowledge, all engraved into the surrounding space itself.
This place alone was worth more than entire worlds.
They descended.
Rey stepped down carefully, finally released from Aiden's support.
Xelth'Ruun moved first, his tone impatient.
"We'll proceed immediately. I have no intention of wasting time on something that isn't worth lingering over."
Veylen inclined his head and said nothing.
Rey frowned.
"…Aren't we choosing techniques here?"
Xelth'Ruun glanced at him.
"This is not a marketplace," he said flatly. "Nor a library where you wander and pick what you like."
He gestured toward the center of the altar.
"Here, you do not choose the book. The Archive chooses what you are worthy of."
Rey swallowed.
"Each text carries a return rune," Ruun continued. "If the host dies, fails, or proves unfit, the knowledge returns here. Nothing is wasted."
He motioned forward.
"Go."
Rey climbed the altar alone.
At its center floated a monolith.
A massive slab of pure black, smooth and unadorned to mortal eyes. Yet to beings like Ruun, faint lines of an ancient, unknown script shimmered across its surface.
The pride of the Archive.
"What do I do?" Rey asked cautiously. "Just… touch it?"
"Yes," Ruun replied. "That is enough."
Rey placed his hand on the monolith.
Nothing happened.
On the surface.
Inside, everything happened.
A presence invaded him.
Not violently.
Not gently.
It peeled him open layer by layer.
Body.
Blood.
Mana.
Soul.
Mind.
Even the deepest corners of his conscious realm were laid bare, examined without permission or mercy.
Rey's breath hitched.
It felt like being stripped in front of the universe.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Even Xelth'Ruun frowned slightly.
The monolith glowed.
Runes bloomed across its surface in shifting colours. Red. Blue. Purple. Green. Shades that had no names.
None of them could read it.
Not Rey.
Not Aiden.
Not Victor.
Not even Veylen.
Only Xelth'Ruun nodded.
"…Acceptable," he muttered. "For a low mortal."
Rey stepped back as instructed.
Ruun snapped his fingers.
The monolith pulsed.
Energy surged upward, vanishing into the unseen heights above the altar.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
Something responded.
Books.
Scrolls.
Manuals.
They descended like a flock of birds, gliding through the void and circling the altar in perfect order.
Victor's breath stopped.
One book drifted toward him instinctively.
Dark purple.
Blood-red veins across its cover.
A black sigil etched at its center.
His hands trembled as it landed in his grasp.
"…No," he whispered.
He knew this book.
< Voidborn Blood Genesis >
The technique he had searched for across countless worlds.
The foundation of his peak combat path.
The art that refined physique, bloodline, and mana as one.
The art he never obtained.
Cold sweat drenched him.
"This… shouldn't be here," he murmured.
Xelth'Ruun's gaze snapped to him.
Victor stiffened instantly and stepped back, saying nothing further.
Ruun turned to Rey.
"Thirty-seven," he said. "That is how many responded to you."
Rey blinked.
"That's… good?"
"For you?" Ruun shrugged. "Impressive."
He waved his hand.
"You may choose eight."
Rey flinched.
"Eight?"
"I normally allow five," Ruun said coldly. "Be grateful."
Rey bowed his head quickly.
"Sir, may I consult my companions?"
"Do as you wish," Ruun replied. "Just don't waste my time."
The trio joined Rey.
Aiden scanned the titles rapidly, his expression sharpening.
Victor said nothing, but his eyes lingered on several texts.
Zero observed silently.
Soon, the list settled.
The Chosen Eight
1. Soul Requiem of the Abyss
2. Voidborn Blood Genesis
3. Primordial Abyss Devourer
4. Eternal Arcane Genesis
5. Ethereal Soul Dominion
6. Paradoxical Weapon Dance
7. The Tome of Annihilation and Creation
8. Omni-Blood Genesis Scripture
Rey lifted his head.
"Sir, these are our choices."
Xelth'Ruun counted them slowly.
"…Good," he said. "No theft."
A dry laugh escaped him.
"Even if you tried, you'd have turned to ash."
No one laughed.
Ruun waved his hand again.
"Step forward."
The eight books floated, forming a slow circle around Rey.
Veylen suddenly spoke.
"Sir," he said carefully. "Are you truly going that far?"
Xelth'Ruun smirked.
"For the greater good," he replied. "And didn't I promise five more slots later?"
Rey froze.
Five more… later?
Veylen's expression tightened.
The air thickened.
Xelth'Ruun extended his hand.
Energy surged.
The binding began.
And then—
Something moved.
—