Chapter 90: The Librarian

Sen vaulted over the fourth-floor railing and caught himself on the second-floor railing fluidly. Encapsulation carried him effortlessly as he pulled himself over the railing and broke into a run. Orttha was on the left wing of the second floor. It was where the old man insisted on being, despite not being the best infirmary facility the academy had. 

Simply because it was the closest one to the library. 

When he reached the door, he shouldered his way into the room. Orttha was lying in a bed with guardrails; the curtains were drawn on the room’s window since it was late. Professor Ladia stood over him, and two healing mages worked tirelessly, sweat pouring down their faces. Professor Ladia shot them a hopeful look. Whatever she saw in their response drained that hope from her face. Orttha ignored them, his attention focused on Sen. “Sen!” he said with a bit too much force. He started hacking up a cough and reached feebly for a glass of water next to his bed. One of the healers, the woman, grabbed it and helped him take a sip. “Leave us. I need to talk to him alone.”

Professor Ladia started to protest, but Sen seized the moment. “It’s okay, I’m experienced with healing magic myself. Let me see what I can do.”

Ladia seemed unsure, despite knowing his abilities. The healers, however, looked exhausted. Sen wouldn’t be surprised if they passed out as soon as they left the room. Orttha looked to Ladia and nodded once more, and she relented. “Okay, but I’ll be right outside. Call if you need us,” she said.

Sen nodded and stepped to the side as they made their way out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind them, he hurried forward and ran his hands over Orttha. “Total Restoration Maxima!” he shouted, pouring large amounts of mana into Orttha.

He frowned. It was like it wasn’t taking. Like he wasn’t aiming at a valid target. He’d brought people back from decapitations, explosions, drowning, much worse than whatever this was. He shook his head and readied another spell.

“Total Restoration Maxi—” 

Orttha held up a hand to stop him. “No, Sen. That’s not why I called you here.”

“I can help,” Sen insisted.

With a breath, Orttha placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, you can’t. Not with this. We need to talk while there’s time, and I’m running out of it.” 

Sen shook his head. Why was Orttha talking as if his life was already over? Even if Sen couldn’t help him, he could get Mori, or…someone. Anyone more experienced with healing than him. Mori had extended Ragmár’s lifespan significantly. Surely he could help here.

Orttha sat up, grimacing as he did so. “Sen, there’s something you need to know about me.” 

“I don’t want a deathbed confession, Orttha. We’re going to save you,” Sen insisted. 

“We were never meant to walk this planet at the same time, when you arrived, my work was done,” Orttha said. 

Sen took a step back. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked. Whatever was ailing Orttha must be affecting his mind somehow. He was talking nonsense. “What…” Sen didn’t even know where to start unpacking the old mans words.

Orttha brushed white hair from his face and held a palm toward himself. “Reveal illusion,” he said calmly. His eyes turned from green to red. Sen’s eyes were incredibly rare. Red eyes were rarely a trait found in humans, in fact, whatever mutation had occurred was so unique he’d never actually met any other humans with them, though he had heard of them. Besides Mori, and Ilm, who were replicas of himself, he’d only ever seen eyes like his when looking in the mirror or when interacting with demons. 

“What’s going on Orttha?” Sen asked. He clearly wasn’t showing off his eyes just to reveal they had a trait in common. Not on his deathbed. If he was showing Sen this now, it was for a reason.

Orttha pushed his blanket aside and turned to sit on the bed, placing the guardrail down as he moved. “I didn’t know until I learned your real identity at Harpis Castle. And with how much that adventure took out of me, we haven’t had the chance to talk much.” He sighed. “Neither of us has the time for me to list out the number of greats required before this, but…you’re my great-uncle, give or take...a lot.”

Sen choked. “Excuse me?” 

He’d never had children of his own, or been involved with anyone, for that matter. Studying magic, and pursuing the other gods was all he ever devoted his time to. “Are you saying Mori had children?” he managed to get out. That sounded…unlikely. Mori was a fortress. Sen could hardly see him giving his heart away, let alone having children. 

Orttha laughed. “No, Sen. Your other brother did.”

“I only have Mori and Ilm. I don’t have any other brothers,” he said. Technically, he didn’t have any siblings. Mori and Ilm wereliving people, and he considered them family. But they weren’t siblings by birth. He’d been an only child. He grimaced as a spear of pain stabbed his mind. Like something forcing its way to the surface. “What…” His hand lifted to his face, and he steadied himself on the tray next to Orttha’s bed. The sensation wasn’t the same as when Tutor tried to push through his Adamantine Mind.

“You did have a brother. For a while, he used your name. But when he got older, he chose a new one. He went by the name Saene.”

The pain redoubled. It felt like trying to pull a fishing line caught on an anchor out of the ocean. Like something heavy was getting drudged through the waters of his mind. He grasped the sides of his head. “What…what’s happening?” he muttered.

He saw himself in his childhood bedroom. His mother knocked. She was calling him to dinner. He wasn’t hungry. Sen just wanted to keep practicing a new spell he’d been working on. With the wave of his hand, a copy of himself came to life and ran downstairs to join his family. 

Another memory. Years later, his parents woke him for school. He’d jumped out of his window late the night before. He’d sensed bandits on the outskirts of town; they planned to raid the village. In the middle of the night, at nine years old, he’d intercepted the men and slaughtered them in the dark. He sent his copy to school and rolled back over to rest.

Later, another memory. A neighboring village had burned down, and a survivor, a little girl with brown hair, somehow managed to reach their town. She said demons had attacked and killed everyone. Her brother stayed behind. He was Sen’s age, and he’d stayed behind to fight demons so his little sister could escape. 

Sen wanted to help. He was strong enough. But his parents refused, even though they’d learned how powerful he was. He stormed to his room, summoned his copy once more, and then ran away. That was the last day he’d spent with his family. At thirteen years old, he’d left with only his knowledge of magic and a desire to help the boy he’d heard about. He found the girl’s brother, beaten and battered in the burnt wreckage of a home. Somehow, incredibly, he’d managed to run a sword through a lesser demon and kill it. That was the first time Sen encountered the destruction of demons. It was in that moment that he decided to raid the Shadowhell continent. A few years later, at the age of sixteen, he did so. Ravaging the armies of the continent on his own until he forced the God of Demons to surrender 

He’d never returned. He’d left his family behind because they held him back. Sen knew, even at that age, he’d realized the life he wanted to live and the life they wanted for him were too different. So he’d left, and he’d left a replica in his place.

[You’d questioned that decision when you were younger. You wondered if you should go back and see them again. But you thought they were better off with the copy you left them. You asked me to erase your memories of them and to filter thoughts of them from your mind. It seems that boy…the one you left behind, eventually started a family of his own.]

“So…this…copy…he had children, and you’re his descendant?” Sen asked quietly. It was an odd feeling. He didn’t think he’d have family in modern times, let alone Orttha of all people. “What…what happened to him? This…Saene.” He found himself asking. 

“He lived normally for a time. Eventually your parents passed, and he grew curious. Most of his childhood memories were scattered. You summoned him often to take your place. The moments you avoided were moments he cherished. But he had questions. He’d blinked in and out of existence according to the whims of a powerful being that had one day simply left him behind. So, when he no longer had your parents to take care of, he wandered. He learned the truth of who you were. It took time, but he pieced it together. The girl who had escaped to his village was now the sister of the King. The same king you’d gone to save as a boy. A king with a court magician known as the God of Magic.”

This was…a lot. He’d known he had parents. But for some reason, it had never really bothered him that they didn’t talk. He knew they’d be okay. Had his sureness of that fact stemmed from the fact he’d subconsciously known he’d left someone behind for them? That they wouldn’t really know their child had moved on without them? Or had it been Tutor’s interference? “What did he do then?” Sen asked.

“He didn’t have the same gifts for magic that you did, but he studied. He learned what he could, and when he heard Ragmár’s promise. That the God of Magic would one day return, he moved forward with a single goal in mind.”

Orttha held a hand out and touched Sen’s shoulder and he heard a voice. It was similar to his own, as Mori’s was, but also different, shaped by a different life, by different experiences. 

“I’ll repay him for the life he gave me, for memories I cherished with a family that loved me. That loved us. When he returns, I will ensure I contributed to his success,” Saene’s voice declared. 

Sen watched a montage of memories fly past, and Tutor helped him process them. Saene met a woman and fell in love. He had a son. He continued to learn magic and taught his son as well. When his son came of age, Saene increased his lessons. He passed down something he’d been working on. Sen couldn’t quite make it out, but he saw Saene’s son flipping through pages. 

Saene grew old. His son took over his work. He passed it to a daughter. Who passed it to a son. Each of them with white hair and red eyes. Over and over, their bloodline continued; each member of their line had only one child. They were remarkably healthy, thanks to the artifact they passed down through the generations, but when it was time to pass that artifact on, they grew sick and passed within a short period of time. It was the price of the artifact, one their bodies couldn’t handle. Each of them carried it for exactly forty years. From the time they were thirty until the age of seventy. They married only once, and the artifact ensured they had only one child. 

Saene had intended to protect the bloodline and its inheritance. But he’d been careful about it. He’d worried what might happen if it spread too much. If there was something hidden within that the wrong people could take advantage of. So the artifact kept careful watch over the bloodline throughout the generations. Until finally, he saw an old man pass the book down to a younger, thirty-year-old Orttha. 

Sen learned all of this, saw it all, in seconds. “So, you have the artifact now?” he asked. 

Orttha nodded. “I do. I celebrated my seventieth birthday not long before you came here.” He lowered his eyes. “I thought…I thought I would be the one to fail the mission my father passed on to me, and his mother to him.” Orttha’s eyes watered. “I fell in love. I had a wife. But they killed her. The cult of Arcane learned of us several generations ago, and they’ve pursued our line since, seeking to take the artifact we’ve protected all this time.” 

Sen thought of the memory of Milim’s village being burned down after they’d helped Orttha. The cult he’d seen again in Snake’s memories. How was one group so involved everywhere he turned? 

He blinked, a thought occurring to him. A mystery suddenly made sense to him, and he remembered the wording of that strange reward notification he’d once gotten. 

[This reward has been earned. Please see the Guardian of the God of Magic’s boon for your reward.] 

“You’re the guardian of the boon then,” Sen said.

Orttha smiled. He turned, and a temporal space opened next to him; the old man had mastered that technique remarkably fast. Then again, he was related to Sen by blood. That was still an odd thought. 

Orttha pulled out a thick tome, much thicker than any Sen had ever seen. He tilted his head. “What is that?” Sen asked. 

“We’ve worked on it for generations. Saene didn’t inherit the power that Mori or Ilm did. He hadn’t been created with that purpose in mind. But he trained, and he worked hard, and he instilled the importance of those things in the memories that we’ve passed down. This book is empty. In Saene’s time, it was a low-grade artifact, hardly worthy of your attention. But since then, generation after generation of Lockes have poured their mana into this book. It’s yours to fill now. Yours to use. Take it so I can see his dream fulfilled,” Orttha said.

Sen grabbed the tome. If it had started as a low-grade artifact, it certainly wasn’t now. He waited for the notification, this was considered a class reward, for some reason, so he knew it would give him more information.

[Reward: Boon of the God of Magic. God-Grade Grimoire.] 

Sen’s jaw fell open. “A…God-grade magic artifact?” So this was the tier above high-grade? 

Orttha beamed at that. “My father felt it was on the verge of completion, but it only changed recently. It took the work of many lifetimes, but this is a gift from your brother.” 

Orttha spoke with Saene’s voice again for just a moment. “This is my thanks for giving me the life you did. Use it well, brother.” Orttha smiled, not aware of what had just transpired. 

One more memory snuck its way into Sen’s head.

“Visit home. Mom and Dad are buried on the outskirts of the village where we grew up. They…they always accepted me. But I think they knew, deep down, what happened. I heard them once…they said they wished you’d come and visit. I know they’re gone now, and I know this sounds silly, but…it would mean a lot if you came to see them just one more time. Goodbye, Sen, and thank you,” Saene’s voice, his presence faded from Sen’s mind.

“I…can’t believe I’d forgotten him. All this…all this time you’ve been waiting on me,” Sen said slowly. The grimoire felt heavy in his hand. Heavier than it should. The weight of generations of family members working to give him this. This inheritance. 

“Sen, can I ask you something?” Orttha said. His eyes shut for a moment, as if his lids were heavy, and he started to fall back. 

Sen hurried forward to catch him. “Yes, what is it?” he asked as he helped Orttha lie down on his back. 

“Why haven’t you gone to visit the ruins of the Kingdom?” Orttha asked.

Sen blinked. “I…” The truth was, he didn’t know. 

Orttha forced his eyes open and stared at Sen with red eyes that mirrored his own. “You need to face your past. Promise me you’ll go,” he said. 

Sen took a deep breath. These were Orttha’s final moments, how could he possibly deny him that. “I will,” he said, and before he thought too much about it he added another promise. “And I’ll keep Milim safe too, you don’t need to worry.” 

Orttha smiled. “I know. I knew I didn’t need to ask that.” He smiled. “I already knew.” Orttha’s eyes closed, and he quieted. 

And Sen felt dissatisfaction. 

He’d known Orttha was family for all of ten minutes, and now he was losing him? He understood, loosely, why Saene had wanted to ensure the bloodline didn’t spread too far or wide. But…did Orttha really need to die just because his mission was over? Was that all life was? Checking off a box and then passing on? 

No. 

Not if he could help it. Orttha had people who cared about him. He was Milim’s father. This would devastate her. He was family to Mori and Ilm as well, didn’t they deserve the chance to talk with him too? 

He had a God-grade artifact in his hands now; he was the God of Magic. When did he ever bow down just because something appeared set in stone? Magic defied reality itself. He wouldn’t dare abandon the hope that he could save someone he cared about. Someone he’d fought alongside. His own descendant, in a roundabout way. 

He held his hand over Orttha’s heart and channeled his magic; the grimoire beside him glowed, thick with the pulse of mana. Xochi emerged from Sen’s pocket of his own accord and yawned, waking up at the sudden flow of mana. He tilted his head and lent his own powers to the cause. 

Sen focused on the curse. “Break Curse Maxima. Total Restoration Maxima. Purge Conditions of Extinguishing Maxima!” 

Orttha’s eyes shot open, and he gritted his teeth. His whole body strained, and light convulsions rocked his body. Sen persisted, keeping his focus on the curse. It was like a prison around Orttha’s heart. A prison within a prison within a prison, and he lacked keys for all of them. 

Sen steeled himself. 

Orttha was a grumpy old man who closed the library on a whim. He loved books, and would literally fistfight someone who disrespected one. He rushed headfirst into danger to save Milim when she was in danger. When they faced the flesh golem and Harpis, Orttha had been right by his side. This was a good man, and even if his reputation wasn’t the best, Sen had a feeling he wasn’t the only one who wanted to see Orttha survive. 

Once more he focused on the spell most likely to succeed, but this time he used a different Maximizer. One that he’d only just learned. “Break Curse Alumnus.” A pulse of mana exploded from him, reinforcing the spell he’d cast, and the entire academy shook under the force of his authority. It resonated throughout the academy, expanding even further until it reached the walls of the town of Bright Sail and continued outward. The call for aid was vague. It wouldn’t be words the other students and faculty heard. It would be a general feeling.

The Librarian of Brightsail Academy, Orttha, was in danger, and he needed help. 

Milim 

She’d started running as soon as she heard the news. When she felt the wave of mana flow through her, and sensed some strange sensation calling out to her, she obliged it. She gave every scrap of mana she could. She’d do anything to save him. 

Mori

He looked up from his studies. Ilm noticed too. She turned to look at him but he didn’t have an answer for her. The mana was clearly his masters. He didn’t know what was going on, but he responded to the call in an instant. Mori shut his eyes, knowing Ilm would do the same, and they answered the call.

Snake

He looked around from his bed in the infirmary. He didn’t know that much about magic. Heck, he was still surprised to learn he’d be attending Brightsail Academy next year. He had high hopes for it though. The wave of magic that washed over him was overwhelming, and he hesitated at the request for help. At least, that was what it seemed like the pulse of mana was seeking. He remembered what the white-haired boy had said to him when he’d first woken up with hazy memories. There were a lot of bad people in the world. He said the last words out loud. “Be better than them.” With that in mind, he nodded and offered up what little mana he had to the cause. He hoped it helped, even if just a little.

Calabari

He sat in a dirty alleyway in Bright Sail. It had been a mistake to return here with Marrow. If anything, they should be as far away from here as possible. The cultist had abandoned him nearly as soon as they arrived, and Calabari had learned Dean Withershade had been arrested. Now here he was, in a filthy alleyway, wondering what to do next. That was when the wave of magic hit him. He tilted his head and sorted through the call for help. 

“Orttha?” So the old librarian was in danger. Calabari chuckled. “Serves you right you old geezer!” Even though he’d managed to heal his leg, he still felt phantom pains from time to time. Orttha deserved exactly what was coming to him. But…hadn’t he just been upset that Calabari had put students’ lives in danger? He frowned. No, Orttha hadn’t really been the one in the wrong. “Ugh! Fine. You want some mana, then take it!” Calabari scoffed and waved a hand. His mana flowed from him and he answered the call. “This doesn’t mean I don’t want you to croak, old man!” 

He found himself drifting toward the exit of the alleyway and staring at his old academy in the distance. 

He sighed.

The Shield Lord

He was surrounded on all sides by assassins wielding fire magic. A massive blue barrier of mana encompassed him as he caught his breath. He hadn’t expected so many tonight. He’d perhaps expended a little too much mana practicing his newest technique, but there was nothing like training with your life on the line. The Flamelord’s assassins were good for that at least. 

Mana reached his barrier and stopped. He squinted. “A message? Sure.” He flicked his hand and allowed the pulse of mana through his defenses. “I don’t know an Orttha,” he said aloud after sensing it. 

He hefted up the metal shield whose weight he’d allowed to rest on the ground. “But what’s the point of a shield that doesn’t protect someone who needs it?” He poured the rest of his already empty mana reserves into the spell. 

The barrier around him dissipated. 

The leader of the assassins cackled. “That’s it. He’s out. Strike!” 

A dozen techniques erupted to life all at once. The Shield Lord cracked his neck and held his shield up. 

He charged right towards a mass of lord and noble-level enemy spells with a grin on his face. 

Sen

Maxima brought out a spells true nature. It was a modifier designed with raw power and true potential in mind. But this curse hadn’t been made from raw power. In the same way a low-grade grimoire had evolved over time thanks to the work of many, this curse had developed as well. If anything, he suspected it might even be on a similar level. The will of each generation had reinforced it, ensuring it held. Now he needed more. The combined will of Brightsail Academy, some of the strongest students in the world, against Saene’s bloodline curse. He felt them answer the call. Only a few at first, familiar signatures. But as his call for help filled the students with memories of their interactions with the old librarian who was always chasing them for folding the corners of pages and kicking them out of the library because he had to poop and wanted privacy, many more of them responded. As well as some graduates who had never even interacted with the man. The flood of mana was like a tsunami striking the curse from all sides. 

That was when he felt the first crack in the curse. It didn’t take long to spread, and as more people poured their effort into the technique, he learned just how valuable the Alumnus Maximizer was. 

The curse over Orttha’s heart shattered. 

Just as quickly, Sen released the spell and refocused his mana. “Total Restoration Maxima!” 

This time, it seemed to work. 

Behind him the door burst open and Milim hurried through. She ran and hugged Orttha, then looked up at Sen. “Is he...?”

Sen smiled. “He’s going to be okay,” he assured her. This was why he’d grown strong. To protect the people he cared about. He wouldn’t dare sit back and watch one of them die. After all, what was the point of being a god-level magician if you couldn’t defy death for yourself and those around you?