The back room of

  smelled of the damp rain that's been drizzling for few hours now.

  Elias sat on a stool, a rag in his hand, carefully wiping a smudge of dust from the casing of Unit 74. The drone hovered patiently at eye level, emitting a low, rhythmic purr that vibrated the air.

  "Good condition," Elias murmured. "Optical sensors are aligned. Anti-gravity stabilizers are at 99% efficiency. You have taken care of yourself, 74."

  The drone chirped happily and nudged his hand.

  Gable bustled in from the kitchenette, carrying a tray. She set a steaming cup on the table next to Elias.

  "It is a special blend," Gable said, her voice hushed with reverence. "'Black Dust.' Aged for fifty years in the cellar. The best I have."

  Elias looked at the liquid. It was pitch black and oily. It smelled like a poorly maintained attic.

  He picked up the cup. His thumb brushed a jagged chip on the rim.

  He paused.

  He knew this chip.

  He had made it in the winter of 996, when he had dropped a stack of while trying to balance a tea tray and a cat.

  The cat had been fine. The cup had not.

  "Thank you," Elias said softly.

  He took a sip.

  It tasted like mold. It was terrible. It was the worst tea he had ever tasted, worse even than the tree bark in Oakhaven.

  He drank it anyway.

  "It is... historical," Elias said.

  Gable beamed.

  Rylus was pacing by the window, peering through the blinds at the neon-lit street outside. The Knight looked jumpy. Every time a floating carriage zoomed past, his hand twitched toward his sword.

  "The Mage Guard is swarming," Rylus whispered. "They are sweeping the district. They say the 'Voice of the Storm' was heard in the sewers."

  "They are idiots," Elias noted, taking another sip of mold-water. "Acoustics do not work that way."

  "Why do you sell this?" Elias asked, gesturing to the shop around them—the fake wands, the glittery brooms, the 'Grimoires' that were actually cookbooks. "Why sell lies?"

  Gable’s smile faded. She sat down heavily in a velvet armchair that puffed dust into the air.

  "The people don't want the truth, Lord Archivist," Gable said, her voice tired. "They want the legend."

  She pointed to a poster on the wall. It depicted a heroic, muscular wizard fighting a shadow monster. The caption read: SAINT ARION: THE SHIELD OF THE WORLD.

  "After the Turn," Gable explained, "the Church burned the records. They said the Void was a contagion. Knowing about the Old Magic was dangerous. So they rewrote it."

  She looked at Elias.

  "They made Arion a Saint. They made the King a god. And you..."

  She hesitated.

  "Me?" Elias asked.

  "They made you a cautionary tale," Gable whispered. "The Hoarder of Secrets. The man who locked the world away because he was too greedy to share. They say you died eating your own books."

  Elias stared at her.

  He felt a cold, burning indignation in his chest.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  He was not a hoarder. He had a very strict return policy. And he had never eaten a book. Well, maybe once. It was made of candy-glass. But that was a special occasion.

  "I see," Elias said. His voice was brittle. "I have been... edited."

  He looked at the fake 'Staff of the Void King' leaning against the wall. It was a mop handle with a glass marble glued to it.

  He felt bad. Gable was risking her life to hide them. She was a keeper of history, even if the history was fake.

  "I have no coin," Elias said. "My currency is invalid. But I wish to pay you for the tea."

  "No!" Gable gasped. "Your presence is payment enough!"

  "Nonsense," Elias said. "You are a merchant. You need stock."

  He stood up. He walked over to a shelf filled with "Wands of the Ancients" (twigs with glitter).

  "These are useless," Elias noted. "But they have... potential."

  "They are pine," Gable admitted.

  "Organic matter," Elias mused. "Capable of holding a charge, if persuaded."

  He raised a finger. He didn't want to make them powerful. Just... authentic. A little glow. A little hum. Enough to make them worth the price tag.

  He focused on the concept of .

  .

  It was a Tier-1 Enchanter skill. It was supposed to add a temporary magical aura to an object.

  Elias pushed a drop of mana into the shelf.

  He forgot that his mana wasn't normal anymore. It was Void Mana. It was heavy. It was hungry.

  The mana didn't just coat the wands. It soaked into the wood. It woke up the dormant spirit of the trees they came from.

  RATTLE.

  The shelf shook.

  "Oh," Elias said.

  The wands didn't just glow. They floated.

  Fifty glittery twigs lifted into the air. They swirled around the room like a school of angry fish. One of them poked Rylus in the helmet.

  "Sir?" Rylus yelped, swatting at a wand.

  In the corner, a broom—labeled —shuddered. The mana hit it.

  The broom didn't fly. It remembered its purpose.

  .

  The broom leaped from the corner. It landed bristles-down on the floor. It began to scrub. Violently.

  SCRUB-SCRUB-SCRUB.

  It moved so fast it was a blur. It stripped the dust off the floor. Then the varnish. Then the top layer of wood.

  "My inventory!" Gable shrieked, pressing herself against the wall as the wands orbited her head. "It's... it's alive!"

  "It is..." Elias watched the broom chasing Rylus around the room. "...enchanted. Premium stock. You can charge double."

  "Triple!" Gable breathed, terrified but chirpy.

  While Rylus wrestled the aggressive cleaning implement I surrender! Stop polishing my greaves!,

  His eyes landed on a crystal ball.

  It was dull, scratched, and sat on a velvet pillow. The tag read:

  It was dead. A piece of glass.

  But Elias felt a hum. Not from the ball, but from the air around it. The city was saturated with signal magic. The Leyline Towers were broadcasting data.

  "Interconnected," Elias murmured.

  He placed his hand on the crystal.

  "[Connect]."

  He didn't cast a divination spell. He just... opened the line.

  The crystal flared white.

  The fog inside swirled, cleared, and snapped into a sharp, high-definition image.

  It wasn't the future. It was a live feed.

  Elias was looking at a round table made of floating stone. Five people sat around it. They wore robes of silk and light. They looked important.

  "The Mage Council," Gable whispered, peeking over his shoulder.

  Elias leaned in.

  The Council wasn't discussing the "Heretic." They weren't discussing the "Voice of the Storm."

  They were looking at a holographic projection of a stone tower.

  The Leyline Relay Tower Elias had fixed in the meadow.

  "Efficiency is at 98%," a woman in blue robes said. Her voice came clearly through the crystal. She looked terrified. "It’s impossible. The theoretical limit is 45%."

  "Who did this?" a man with a gold beard demanded. "Who touched the Relay?"

  "The signature is ancient," the woman said. "The runic structure... it utilizes the . It ignores the throttling protocols."

  Elias frowned. '

  "This is a threat," the bearded man declared. "If the people learn the Relays can be this efficient... they will question the tithes. They will question ."

  The Council murmured in agreement.

  "Dispatch the Seekers," the man ordered. "Find the source of this repair. And silence it."

  Elias pulled his hand back.

  The image vanished. The crystal went dark.

  Silence filled the back room except for the

  of the broom, which was now polishing Rylus’s boots against his will.

  "Seekers," Gable whispered, her face pale. "They are the Mage Hunters. The Elite. They don't arrest people, Lord Archivist. They erase them."

  "We need to leave," Rylus said, kicking the broom away. "Now. Before they trace that signal."

  Elias stood there. He looked at the dead crystal ball.

  He felt a cold anger. They weren't hunting him because he was a monster. They were hunting him because he was . They were hunting him because he had fixed their sloppy work.

  "No," Elias said.

  Rylus paused. "Sir?"

  "We are not leaving the city," Elias said. "The tea is here. And now... I know where the rest of the books are."

  He remembered the woman's robes. The blue silk. The insignia on her shoulder.

  "The High Mage mentioned the Vault," Elias said. "The Royal Academy Vault."

  He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

  "I recognize that name," Elias said. "In 998, that was my overflow storage unit. I believe I left a box of very important journals there."

  He grabbed his staff. Unit 74 chirped and hovered at his shoulder, ready for violence.

  "Rylus," Elias said. "Pack your things."

  "Where are we going?" Rylus asked, looking weary.

  Elias adjusted his hood.

  "We are going to school."

  Status UpdateMana Consumed:Current Mood:Inventory:

  +1 Sentient Broom (Aggressive), +1 Drone Reputation:Objective: