Beneath the grand dome of the library, Eileen walked between the towering shelves crafted from centuries-old oak, exuding a distinctive aura of ancient tomes.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the vast stained-glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns onto the polished dark wooden floor.
The air was filled with the comforting scent of aged paper, leather bindings, and magical ink—a scent that spoke of knowledge.
She was searching for a few rare texts on ancient soul stabilization rituals, hoping they might help in treating those who had undergone modifications.
Yet, an unshakable unease clung to her.
It was as if a cold, probing gaze, like a persistent bone-deep sore, occasionally shot from some shadowed corner, fixating sharply on her back.
Whenever she whipped around, her piercing golden eyes scanned the source—perhaps the narrow gap between two rows of shelves or the deep shadows of a tall bookcase—but there was always nothing there, only silent books and flickering light.
Once, twice… Eileen frowned.
She was confident in her perceptive abilities, especially when her mental focus was heightened.
This was no illusion.
She approached Helga, who was sitting in a secluded corner, nearly burying her face in an ancient parchment larger than her head, and lowered her voice: “Helga, do you feel it too… like someone’s watching us?”
“Hm?” Helga didn’t look up, her fingers flying over the runes in her magic notebook, distractedly brushing Eileen off. “Watching us? Oh, that’s probably just some fan who recognized me again. Or maybe they just find your silver hair too eye-catching? Stop being paranoid, Eileen. This place is nothing but books. What else could there be…”
Her words were cut off by a deliberately hushed exclamation.
“Oh my god! It’s really Miss Helga!”
“It’s her! I’ve seen her picture in Arcane Frontiers!”
“Quick! Can you sign my book?”
“Can we take a photo? Just one!”
A group of upperclassmen apprentices had somehow discovered them and were now eagerly crowding around Helga, their eyes burning with admiration, completely ignoring Eileen beside her.
Only then did Helga look up, pushing up her glasses with a trace of irritation at being disturbed, but the glow of subtle pride quickly replaced her annoyance upon seeing their fervent worship.
She cleared her throat and nodded demurely: “Ahem… signatures are fine. Photos… make it quick.”
Eileen watched helplessly as Helga was instantly engulfed by her passionate fans, embodying the image of an “academic star.”
Relying on the book-obsessed Helga to share this “feeling of being watched” was clearly unrealistic.
Shaking her head, she decided to leave this troublesome spot for a quieter area to continue her search for the target books.
Away from Helga’s noisy corner, the depths of the library grew increasingly silent.
The towering shelves stood like silent giants, casting deep shadows.
That sensation of being watched returned, a cold snake’s tongue licking at the nape of Eileen’s neck.
This time, Eileen didn’t turn around immediately. She slowed her steps, pretending to examine the spines on the shelves while her mental power quietly stretched behind her like invisible tendrils.
She stopped at the end of a row, seemingly drawn to a thick tome, her fingers reaching toward its spine.
At that very moment—she spun around sharply, her gaze like lightning, piercing precisely into the narrow passage formed by two rows of shelves behind her.
Her eyes met a pair of them.
A young girl in a plain apprentice robe stood there.
She looked very young, her chestnut hair disheveled, her complexion unnaturally pale, completely bloodless.
What startled Eileen most was her gaze—it was filled with overwhelming, unspeakable grief and despair, like a drowning person fixating, clinging desperately to the only driftwood on the shore, looking at Eileen with mournful longing.
Eileen’s heart clenched sharply. This was not a gaze or complexion of the living! Instinctively, she stepped forward and blurted out, “Who are you? What’s wrong?”
The girl’s lips moved silently, no sound escaping, but Eileen clearly “heard” the soul-deep, heart-rending plea:
“Save me… please… save me…”
Eileen was stunned, nearly rushing forward: “Tell me! What happened? Where are you?!”
Yet, the moment Eileen’s words fell, the girl’s figure began to blur and fade like smoke scattered by the wind!
Her body outline rapidly dissolved before Eileen’s eyes, her grief-stricken face rippling like a disturbed reflection in water, leaving only those despair-filled eyes to lock on Eileen one last time before vanishing completely…
“Wait! Don’t go!” Eileen called out in alarm, rushing to where the girl had disappeared.
The passage was empty. Only cold shelves and dust danced in the shaft of light.
A faint, indescribably chilling aura lingered briefly before dissolving into the library’s familiar scent of books.
“Eileen? Who are you talking to?” Serena’s voice came from nearby, tinged with confusion.
She had been on watch not far off and hurried over upon hearing Eileen’s shout. Her sharp red eyes swept the surroundings. “What ‘don’t go’? There’s no one here but us.”
Seeing Eileen’s pale face and her gaze fixed on empty air, Serena frowned. “What’s wrong? You look terrible. Just now you were talking to yourself… are you possessed?”
Eileen stood still, her golden eyes fixed on where the girl had vanished, her heart pounding wildly.
A hallucination? No! The grief and despair at the soul level felt so real that it made her very soul tremble! That desperate plea, that final lingering gaze before disappearing… it was no illusion!
“Serena… did you really see nothing just now?” Eileen’s voice trembled barely perceptibly as she looked to Serena, seeking even the slightest confirmation.
Serena looked baffled and waved her hand in front of Eileen’s eyes. “See what? There isn’t even a shadow here! Eileen, have you been too tired these past few days? Maybe we should go back and rest. Helga is probably stuck with experiments anyway.”
Eileen shook her head silently. She knew what she had seen. That girl’s apparition… those desperate eyes… and the student who, as the librarian mentioned, had died tragically here half a month ago…
Was all this just coincidence? Was the girl’s plea connected to that unresolved case? Or did it involve something deeper, a darkness she had yet to touch?
A profound confusion and a chill gripped her.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Without any clues now, rashly making noise would only alert the enemy. She needed time to think, she needed information.
“I’m fine, maybe… just a bit tired.” Eileen suppressed the turmoil in her heart and forced a smile at Serena. “I’ve almost found the material I need. Let’s go back.”
*****
The next morning, Eileen arrived slightly earlier than usual outside the “New Moon Class” classroom she was responsible for.
Before entering, she overheard Karen and a few classmates speaking with a hint of frustration.
“… Ugh, don’t mention it. Just thinking about next month’s ‘Martial Tournament’ gives me a headache.”
“Yeah, last year our class was dead last, and the ‘Stellar Class’ guys mocked us for an entire year!”
“No choice, our class just doesn’t have many practical fighters, and last year that Owen guy just forfeited…”
“This year probably won’t be much better. Eileen-sensei is great at theory, but the Martial Tournament… ugh.”
Martial Tournament? Eileen’s interest was piqued as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
“Good morning, Eileen-sensei!” Karen and the others immediately stopped talking, nervously standing to greet her.
“Good morning.” Eileen nodded, her gaze settling warmly on Karen. “Karen, what’s this Martial Tournament you were just talking about? It sounds important.”
Karen’s face flushed red as she scratched her head awkwardly. “Ah… Sensei, you don’t know? It’s the academy’s annual ‘Magic and Martial Arts Competition,’ but we call it the ‘Martial Tournament’ for short. It’s one of the academy’s biggest events! Each class sends representatives to compete in magical duels, mage-tech equipment operation, even cold weapon combat. Then they’re ranked overall.”
She paused, voice dropping with evident discouragement. “Last year… our class came in last. In the academy, the Martial Tournament rankings largely reflect the mentors’ practical teaching skills and the class’s overall strength… so…”
Karen quickly looked up, hastily adding, “Sensei, please don’t misunderstand! Your lessons are amazing! We’re just… just too dumb! Our fundamentals are weak! We lack practical experience! We’re holding everyone back!”
Seeing Karen’s earnest attempt to explain, worried about disappointing her, warmth blossomed in Eileen’s heart, quickly followed by a surge of determination.
She stepped to the podium, her golden eyes sweeping over the class, a confident and resolute smile on her face:
“Last year’s results are last year’s results. This year, I’m here.”
Her voice was soft but carried a strange, compelling power. “I promise you, this year’s Martial Tournament, the only goal for our ‘New Moon Class’ is—”
She paused, clearly enunciating the two words:
“First place!”
The classroom fell instantly silent. The students’ eyes widened, staring at Eileen as if they couldn’t believe their ears.
Karen’s mouth hung open.
First? The last-place class aiming for first? That sounded like a fairy tale!
Eileen met their shocked, confused, and doubtful gazes with the same smile. “What, don’t believe your new mentor? Or don’t believe in yourselves? Strength isn’t innate; it can be trained. Starting today, our classes will focus more on practical exercises. As long as you’re willing to work hard and trust me, we can achieve it!”
Her words were like stones cast into a still lake, stirring ripples in their hearts. Although the goal still felt distant, Eileen’s confidence and promise shone like a faint light, illuminating the corners of their habitual self-doubt.
Her eyes scanned the classroom and soon noticed an empty seat by the window. She recalled that the spot was also vacant last class.
“Whose seat is that?” Eileen asked, pointing at the empty spot.
Karen followed her gaze, smirking with clear disdain and helplessness. “Oh, that’s Owen’s seat. That guy… well, he’s kind of the ‘celebrity’ of not just our class but the entire academy. Registered at the academy but always carrying a battered sword, acting like a swordsman. He rarely attends class. Rumor has it he spends his days hanging around the low-level adventurers’ guild outside the academy, getting into fights and brawls—a textbook delinquent! The teachers have pretty much given up on him.”
“Owen…” Eileen silently noted the name.
After class, Eileen went to the staff room to gather more information about Owen from the other teachers.
The moment she mentioned his name, several senior instructors immediately showed undisguised disdain and contempt.
“Owen Sterling? Don’t mention that waste of space!” an irritable elemental magic tutor scoffed. “He’s a disgrace to the academy! Has decent magical talent but chooses to degenerate, obsessed with crude swordsmanship! It’s just incomprehensible!”
“Yeah,” another female tutor chimed in sharply, “he’s always causing trouble, and I’ve heard he’s involved with some shady people outside the academy. Eileen-sensei, I advise you to stay away from him. Students like that are hopeless, a pure waste of time and resources! Don’t bother with him!”
“By the way,” a nearby well-informed tutor lowered her voice, mixing mystery with disgust, “I heard… when the incident happened in the library’s underground storage, someone saw him skulking nearby? No proof, of course, but with his bad reputation… hmph. Anyway, Eileen-sensei, just leave him be. Let him rot!”
The tutors talked over each other, tearing Owen down to nothing and strongly urging Eileen not to waste effort on such a “scoundrel.”
However, the more vehement their rejection, the stronger Eileen’s curiosity grew.
A student gifted with magic but obsessed with swordsmanship? A delinquent despised by all teachers? Possibly even vaguely connected to the library murder?
What untold story lay beneath all this?
Eileen said nothing in rebuttal, simply smiling and nodding that she understood.
But in her heart, she had already made up her mind.
After finishing her day’s teaching, Eileen did not return to the dormitory or the lab immediately.
She called Serena (Helga had already buried herself in the lab mixing potions) and, based on vague information from Karen and other students, left the academy grounds to the comparatively chaotic “Anvil District” on the outskirts of the imperial capital—said to be a gathering place for many low-level adventurers and mercenaries, and a frequent haunt of Owen.
They wove through narrow alleys riddled with sewage, the air thick with cheap alcohol and sweat.
The surrounding buildings were low and dilapidated; the passersby dressed shabbily, their eyes either dull or wary.
Serena’s hand never left the sword hilt at her waist, her red eyes sharply scanning their surroundings, protecting Eileen from behind.
After some inquiries, they finally found an extremely run-down, rickety shack deep in an alley piled with discarded mage-tech parts and rusty weapons.
The wooden door hung crooked, half the windows nailed shut with boards.
A faded, worn wooden sign hung above the entrance, its pattern indistinct, but faintly showing the silhouette of a broken sword.
“This it?” Serena frowned, looking at the grim surroundings. “That kid really lives in a place like this?”
Eileen nodded and took a deep breath, stepping forward to knock.
However, just as her hand was about to touch the dirt-streaked, cracked wooden door, an extremely subtle yet unmistakably clear wave of energy rippled through her senses like a stone skipping across calm water.
This fluctuation… was not magic, but an intensely restrained yet explosively potent… fighting spirit?
Moreover, it seemed tinged with forcibly suppressed rage and pain.
Eileen froze, a flash of surprise flickering through her golden eyes.