Chapter 28: Post-Apocalypse Era

The general library of the Dark Moon Historian Academy occupied an entire wing of the Inner Court.

It was a quiet place by design.

Tall shelves rose in ordered ranks beneath a high vaulted ceiling of pale stone and frosted glass. Soft, regulated light filtered down from above; never too bright, never too dim.

The air carried the dry, familiar scent of old paper and carefully preserved bindings.

Most students who came here spoke in low voices or not at all.

Lazarus preferred it that way.

He had collected his class schedule, returned briefly to the East Wing to drop off the unnecessary materials, and then made his way here with a clear purpose.

There were still two free periods before his next required session, and he intended to use them productively.

The section dedicated to general historical overviews was not difficult to find.

A large placard marked the aisle, and the shelves themselves were organized by Aeon and then by subject.

Lazarus ran his fingers lightly along the spines until he found what he was looking for—a thick, well-worn textbook bound in dark blue leather.

The title was stamped in simple silver lettering:

"A Comprehensive Survey of the Seven Aeons and the Formation of New Earth."

He carried it to one of the reading tables near the tall windows, sat down, and opened it.

The early Chapters covered material he already knew in broad strokes.

The First Aeon, the Classical Era, stretching more than ten thousand years from the earliest civilizations to the first great collapse.

The Second Aeon, the Arcane Era, born from the ashes of that collapse and defined by scavenged technology and the first true Arcane Instruments.

The Third and Fourth Aeons—Mystic and Oriental—each lasting far longer, each building elaborate power systems of Mana and Qi before falling in their turn.

The Fifth Aeon, the Celestial Era, the longest and most prosperous, during which humanity had reached beyond Earth itself before the Unknown first manifested on a scale that nearly ended everything.

Lazarus turned the pages steadily, absorbing the summaries without lingering.

These were the bones of history.

In his past life, he had specialized in the periods near the end of the Sixth Aeon as well as the early centuries of the Seventh.

The broad strokes were familiar.

It was the later sections that held his attention.

The Sixth Aeon—the Forgotten Ages—received a full Chapter. The rise of the System known then as the Akashic Records. Classes, skills, Sanctuary Cities, and the long, grinding reclamation of a ruined world.

Then the voluntary transition.

Humanity, no longer able to sustain the old System, had chosen to abandon it.

They had turned instead to the deeper source that had always lain beneath the Records: the Celestial Library itself.

That decision had marked the beginning of the Seventh Aeon and the birth of the Historian path.

Lazarus slowed as he reached the account of the Seventh Aeon.

’The Aeon I was born in...’

The textbook divided it cleanly into two periods:

Pre-Apocalypse and Post-Apocalypse.

’Oh? This is new...’

He read both sections carefully.

In the Pre-Apocalypse centuries, the Historian system had flourished.

Mythic Historians had not been common, but they had existed. The Grand Council had been filled with them. The Historian Association Chairman of that era had even stood at the threshold of Timeless.

Academies across the four continents had maintained rigorous standards.

Students who failed to advance were removed. Resources were concentrated on those with genuine potential. The number of active high-ranking Historians had been sufficient to answer most threats before they could grow into catastrophes.

Then the Apocalypse arrived.

The textbook did not name the specific Nameless Entity responsible.

It spoke only of "the great calamity that marked the midpoint of the Seventh Aeon" and of the terrible losses sustained in containing it.

Entire generations of experienced Historians had fallen.

Knowledge had been lost.

Bloodlines had been thinned, and the recovery that followed had been slow as well as incomplete.

Lazarus’s crimson eyes moved steadily down the page.

Post-Apocalypse Era. Current year 7,120.

Roughly one thousand years since the calamity.

Only one Legendary Historian currently existed, serving as Chairman of the Historian Association.

The twelve Councilors were mostly Directors.

No Mythic Historian had emerged in the intervening centuries, and the Academies even had to lower their thresholds so that more Historians could emerge.

Unfortunately, this meant the overall quality of graduating Historians had declined. Thus, the number of those capable of handling higher-ranked threats had declined even more sharply.

Lazarus closed the book slowly and rested his hand on the cover.

’So that is what happened...’

He had already sensed the difference before the reading, but he understood things a lot better now.

Humanity’s foundation had grown thinner after the Apocalypse.

It was yet to fully recover.

’As unfortunate as it is, this can be said to be a favorable result. It’s a lot better than the Aeon ending, or humanity being wiped out...’ Lazarus sighed while raising a brow.

’At least the situation can still be salvaged.’

The only problem was time.

If another threat on the scale of an Apocalypse-class Nameless—or something even weaker—appeared in the present age, the current generation of Historians would be hard-pressed to answer it.

’Fish on a chopping block,’ Lazarus thought quietly. ’That is the position this era occupies. One clean strike from a sufficiently powerful enemy, and the entire structure will easily collapse.’

The thought settled heavily in his chest, but he did not allow it to remain there for long.

There was nothing to be gained by sitting in a library and brooding over the weakened state of the world.

He had already decided on his course.

’I’ll just have to work hard.’

Lazarus returned the textbook to its shelf, nodded once to the librarian on duty, and left the quiet hall.

The corridors of the Inner Court were busier now as students moved between periods. Lazarus checked the schedule he had folded into his pocket.

His next class was restricted to Class B and would be held in one of the smaller lecture rooms on the second floor of the western teaching block.

The subject was listed simply as Practical Projection Application.

He arrived a few minutes early.

The room was already half full. Most of the seats near the front had been taken by students who clearly intended to make a good impression.

Lazarus chose a place near the middle of the left-hand side, close enough to see clearly, far enough to avoid unnecessary attention.

The remaining students filtered in.

Conversations were quieter than they had been in the general auditorium that morning. Class B was a smaller group, and the shared status seemed to create a more cohesive atmosphere.

Apart from Lazarus, who was isolated for obvious reasons, everyone seemed to get along quite well.

Then—

CREAK

The door at the front of the room opened.

A man stepped inside.

He had white hair and a slightly slumped posture. He wore an ordinary white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark trousers, and an ornate gold-inlaid black pocket watch hanging from a chain at his waist.

His golden eyes were half-lidded, as though he had only recently been persuaded to remain awake.

—Neron.

’It’s him!’

Lazarus’s gaze sharpened the moment the instructor entered.

Neron walked to the front of the room without hurry, set the pocket watch on the lectern, and regarded the class with an expression that managed to be both distant and faintly amused.

Lazarus leaned back slightly in his seat, crimson eyes fixed on the instructor.

He was not looking forward to this class.

But he was curious.