Claude sat in silence, his gaze dropping to his own robes, the black fabric hanging clean and neat.
On his chest, embroidered in bronze thread, was a six-pointed star encircling a small circle—the symbol of a Mage Apprentice. Beneath this symbol lay his silver badge, marked with Claude de Laval, Department of Energetics.
Amidst the silence, his mind turned back to earlier. After registering as a Mage Apprentice, he'd been presented with the choice of departments to join.
Although there were four departments in total, only three were open to new apprentices, while the fourth was slightly more... unique.
Zal had urged him to join the Department of Energetics. It was the same department that Raymond had once been a part of, working as an associate professor.
And, the choice seemed natural; every spell he'd learned thus far fell under Energetics, and his grasp on the fundamentals would serve him well.
With a sigh, Claude leaned back, eyes scanning the modest yet unfamiliar room. It was bathed in a warm, golden light that filtered through tall, latticed windows framing the spires of Elysium against the afternoon sky.
Polished wooden floors gleamed faintly, while a dark oak table sat at the centre, its surface bare. He shifted, feeling the cushions beneath him seemed to mould to his form.
"So... this is a sofa?" he muttered, fidgeting slightly. "Elysium really has quite a few nifty things…"
The fabric was softer than he'd expected, yielding to his weight yet springing back just enough to cradle him comfortably.
The house, provided by Elysium was his accommodation for now. He had a month to settle in, but after that, Elysium would assign him a mission to complete.
It was a part of the price to pay for the accommodation. In the future, even more missions will be assigned, one every three months, as a way for him to pay back his use of Elysium facilities.
And yet, the thought didn't bring the dread it might have once; rather, it brought determination. His gaze drifted to the badge again. After everything that had happened—the conflicts, the long nights spent sleepless and on edge—he was here, finally.
But he couldn't afford to grow complacent. He had questions, and he would find answers. An abundance of questions remained in his mind, yet now he was in a place where real knowledge, the kind he'd only ever dreamed of, was within his reach.
As he considered this, Zal's last words echoed in his mind:
"For now, get adjusted to life here. I'll inform the council about you. You should be fine, but expect an observation period."
Claude frowned slightly, gripping the badge tighter. 'I just hope this will go fine,' he thought. Yet, deep within him, a small spark of confidence flared—he had come this far, and whatever lay ahead, he would face it. He had to.
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Rustle!
The faint sound of parchment echoed through the vast space as Claude moved deeper into the library's aisles, one of many in a sea of shelves that seemed to stretch endlessly. This was the Qasr-e-Vehem—an amalgamation of college, archive, and library.
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It had once been the grand Royal Library of the Uru Kingdom. Left to ruin in the aftermath of the War of the Faithless—the devastating conflict that brought Uru to its knees.
After being rebuilt, it became a library and a temple for the mages of Elysium. A reservoir of knowledge, a bastion of faith.
The library walls were lined with thick tomes and scrolls, some stacked haphazardly, others displayed with meticulous care in glass cases. The towering shelves held knowledge from every known corner of the world.
As the scent of parchment and ink drifted into Claude's nose, a wave of memories washed over him. Bringing him back to his days as a library assistant, back in that small coastal city in Francia. Only months ago, he had been assisting in managing a library, dreaming of finding Elysium.
And yet here he was.
Fate had spun its web, and now he stood not as an assistant but as an apprentice mage. Nevertheless, his ruminations were shattered by the memory of what had just transpired. His expression darkened as he recalled the image that had branded itself into his thoughts—a vast, watching eye.
And beyond that… Eternity.
He had glimpsed it—a path, a way to transcend, to reach the fabled realm of immortality.
An answer to the question that had lingered in the back of his mind since that night in the village.
Would he also die? Just like Raymond? Would his body be devoured by the Earth, becoming a mere echo of the past?
Yet, if he was to pursue this goal, he needed more understanding and knowledge beyond what he'd yet encountered. He returned a book to the shelf, scanning titles as he walked further down the aisle, hoping for even the faintest hint of a lead.
His eyes stopped on a thick, leather-bound tome, embossed with faint golden letters that shimmered faintly. Subspace: Mysteries and Truths, by Charlotte Dupont.
He lifted the heavy book from the shelf and opened to the introduction, his eyes narrowing as he read.
Introduction:
The Subspace was first known about during the War of the Gods. When Asteria, Queen of the Gods, went missing, a power struggle erupted. In this turbulent time, the divine throne lay vulnerable, and the first hints of subspace began to taint the mortal world. Only now do we understand that these gods fell not to one another, but to the creeping corruption that came from within subspace itself.
But subspace corruption is not indiscriminate; it has a purpose and a direction. Over time, we learned that even gods are vulnerable to it, becoming twisted, and unrecognisable. A single seed of this corruption can ripple outward, tainting those who offered their faith...
This corruption thus, spread and spread until IT happened.
Claude's eyes narrowed as he continued to read, feeling that he was getting closer to understanding at least some of the questions he had.
Cataclysm:
And then He came. Called forth from the deepest reaches of subspace, a being arrived—not as an incorporeal presence but in a physical form, a terrible manifestation summoned to this fragile world. His arrival marked the true onset of the Cataclysm, a calamity so vast and unfathomable that the world would never recover.
History itself began to unravel in His wake; time seemed to twist and fragment. Records vanished, stories warped, and truths dissolved into myth. The Gods, the empire, and every great power that had once stood tall—everything disappeared, as though swept away by an unrelenting tide.
The skies bled, the earth convulsed, and the seas raged as He moved across the lands, an unstoppable force. A malevolent force. Nations crumbled beneath His shadow, their borders erased, their people scattered.
The world writhed and reshaped itself as if reality bent to accommodate His will. When the chaos finally settled, it was as if the remnants of creation had fallen into new and unfamiliar patterns. The continents, fractured and reshaped, bore the first traces of the world we know now—a crude prototype of its current form, Arta.
Yet, as mysteriously as He had come, He vanished. When He left—or how—remains a riddle buried in the tides of time. The few texts that have survived from the Lost Millennium speak only in fragments of His departure. Some whisper that He was banished, others that He simply withdrew, his purpose fulfilled.
All that is certain is this: with the Cataclysm’s end came the fall of the Age of the Gods. The divine beings who had once walked alongside humanity disappeared into obscurity, leaving no trace but ruins and relics. With their departure, the golden age of humanity faded, leaving the survivors to rebuild amidst the ashes of a world forever scarred.
The age that followed was one of silence and confusion, where history itself transformed into an untrustworthy storyteller. From this, the civilisations of today began to rise. But even now, the echoes of that terrible presence linger...