The carriage rattled to a halt, and Char climbed out onto a quieter street, away from the dense bustle of the market district. The street was wide but barren, with the tarmac of the road cracked and the footpaths and surrounding buildings weathered and peeling with age. The air smelled different here—old parchment, damp stone, and something faintly metallic. He took a slow breath, adjusting the weight of his coat as he scanned his surroundings.
The Archive was hidden in plain sight.
He had written it that way.
To most people, the squat, windowless stone building on the corner of the street was just another storage house, one of the many that belonged to merchants who traded in rare goods. The only thing that set it apart was the lack of any signage—no insignia, no nameplate, nothing to invite visitors.
But Char knew better.
He stepped forward, crossing the street toward the narrow entrance. The doorway was covered in the shadow of the overhang above it, so no one could see inside it from the outside. Two guards flanked the doorway—thick, broad-shouldered men with heavy coats and curved swords strapped to their belts. They didn't look at him as he approached, but Char could feel the weight of their awareness.
He swallowed, keeping his expression neutral. He had written this scene before. The Archive wasn't a place one simply entered. There was protocol.
The first guard shifted slightly as Char came closer, but still didn't speak. That was part of the test. If someone didn't know the right words, they weren't getting in.
Char stopped just short of the threshold. He pulled his shoulders back, steadying his voice.
"I walk roads forgotten," he said.
The second guard turned his head ever so slightly. A pause.
"History is the light in the dark," Char finished.
Silence stretched for a moment, then one of the guards nodded.
"Through the door. No trouble," he grunted, stepping aside.
Char exhaled slowly, careful not to let his relief show. He had almost forgotten he wrote those lines—a coded phrase that scholars, information brokers, and the truly desperate had to speak to gain access.
Without another word, he stepped inside.
*
The Archive was exactly as he remembered writing it.
Dimly lit, the walls lined with towering shelves of books and scrolls, their spines layered with dust and age. The air was thick with the scent of ink and old leather. A few figures sat at long wooden tables, bent over texts illuminated by flickering oil lamps. The entire place had an atmosphere of quiet reverence, as though time itself slowed within these walls.
Char moved carefully between the shelves, his boots making almost no sound against the worn stone floor. He let his fingers brush lightly against the bindings of books as he passed, glancing at the titles. Some of these texts were supposed to be lost—fragments of history erased from the world's surface, but still alive here, beneath the city.
He knew what he was looking for.
The Tome of Ascendancy.
A book he had mentioned once, in a passing reference, buried in the middle of a chapter about Ishmael's early adventures. At the time, it had been a throwaway detail—a relic of old magic, containing the theories of those who sought to transcend human limits. Ishmael had never found it, and Char had never planned to bring it into the main story.
But now, standing in this place, knowing what he was up against—knowing that Edmund Ardent was real, powerful, and near unstoppable—he needed every advantage he could get.
He wove through the Archive's maze of shelves, tracing his memory for where the book might be kept. If it was where he had imagined it, it would be in the restricted section—toward the back, where the texts that were deemed too dangerousfor common scholars were locked away.
He found the section easily enough, marked by an iron-barred gate. A single, elderly archivist sat at a desk just beyond it, her face partially obscured by the deep hood of her robe. She glanced up as Char approached.
He steadied himself. "I need access."
Her thin, wrinkled lips pressed together. "The restricted texts are not for casual browsing, boy."
"I know," Char said, reaching into his coat pocket. He didn't have much, but he had thought ahead. He pulled out one of the silver crowns and placed it on the desk.
The archivist raised an eyebrow.
"Knowledge has a price," Char said evenly.
She was silent for a moment, then reached out with thin fingers and took the coin. With her other hand, she picked up a ring of keys and stood. Without another word, she shuffled over to the iron gate and unlocked it, swinging it open just wide enough for him to slip inside.
Char ducked through, moving quickly now.
The restricted section was darker, the shelves heavier, the air denser with the weight of forgotten things. He ran his fingers along the bindings, scanning the titles, his heart pounding with something that felt like both excitement and fear.
And then—
There.
The Tome of Ascendancy.
A thick, black-covered book, the title written in faded silver along the spine. Char reached for it, his hands almost shaking. As soon as his fingers touched the surface, a strange tingling sensation ran up his arm.
He swallowed.
This was it.
He pulled it from the shelf, holding it tightly against his chest. Whatever secrets this book held—whatever knowledge it contained about power, strength, and the path to something beyond human—he was about to find out
*
Char settled into a quiet corner of the Archive, the Tome of Ascendancy resting heavily in his lap. The weight of it wasn't just physical—there was something about it that made his skin prickle, a sense of latent power in the pages. He ran his fingers over the blackened leather cover before carefully flipping it open.
The first pages were dry and brittle, filled with ancient script and faded diagrams of human figures, their limbs marked with flowing lines—pathways of power, conduits for something beyond normal human strength. Char had always written magic into his world, but it had always been at the periphery, distant and unobtainable for most.
Except for Edmund.
He frowned, his fingers tightening on the paper. Edmund had power—power that Char had given him. But what if Char could take that same power for himself?
He turned the pages, scanning the text for anything useful, anything that would explain how someone like him—someone untrained, unskilled—could gain even a fraction of what Edmund had.
And then he found it.
Ascension Stones.
His breath hitched. He leaned in closer, reading over the passage carefully:
"While some rare individuals are born with open mana nodes, most remain dormant for life. Only through great shock, extreme conditioning, or the shattering of an Ascension Stone may one awaken their true potential. The stones, crystallized remnants of condensed mana, are found deep within the mines of Jaffalex, nestled in the southern mountain ranges. However, they are exceedingly rare, hoarded by kings and warlords, and few ever lay hands upon one in their lifetime."
Jaffalex.
Char flipped the page, scanning the details. The mines were mentioned in passing in his story, a place that had once belonged to an ancient order of warriors, but had long since fallen into obscurity. The stones were the key to unlocking mana, breaking the natural limits of the human body, granting power to those who otherwise had none.
He swallowed.
Edmund had been born with his mana nodes unlocked. That was why he was so powerful. That was why he had his absurd set of abilities—Shadow Shift, Sword Saint, Golden Veil. Doppelgänger. He hadn't needed a stone.
But Char did.
His heart pounded.
This was it. This was his way forward. He couldn't keep relying on the others forever. If he wanted to truly stand against Edmund, if he wanted to survive in this world, he needed power.
And now, he knew where to get it.
Char closed the tome carefully, glancing around. No one had paid him any mind—his presence in the Archive was unremarkable enough. But he couldn't stay here. He needed to move, and fast.
He had a destination now.
Jaffalex.
The mines weren't far from Oryn-Vel, at least not impossibly so. A few days' ride south, deep in the mountain ranges. He could get there, find a stone, and—
And what? Just shatter it and suddenly be able to fight?
Char let out a breath, shaking his head. No. He couldn't think that far ahead. One step at a time.
But first, he needed to prepare.
He tucked the Tome of Ascendancy under his arm and slipped quietly out of the restricted section, making his way back through the Archive's dim halls. As he left, he couldn't help but feel a sense of clarity settling over him.
For the first time since he'd fallen into this world, he wasn't just reacting to things.
He was making a move of his own