Two weeks later.
After countless hours of swinging his axe, Liam finally felt ready.
He had learned to balance his grip and posture—to hold his weapon naturally without over-gripping or fighting its weight.
He drilled himself until his hips, shoulders, and footwork moved in sync, channeling every ounce of force into each strike.
More importantly, he had finally gotten the hang of coordinating both axes, switching smoothly between overhead, side, and hooking motions.
He wasn't an expert yet, but the basics were firmly grounded.
"Now I just need one last thing to guarantee I pass the trial," Liam muttered inside the quiet confines of his dorm room.
He packed extra clothes, food, and water into his storage ring. The ring preserved everything in a suspended state, as though time itself had paused.
The fact that it was originally designed to hold corpses still made his skin crawl, but since it was corpse-free, he shoved the thought to the back of his mind.
On the way to the station, he booked a train to the Library District through his band.
Once aboard, he found his seat, his mind wandering as he tried to recall details from the novel.
"It's you."
The soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw the cat girl from before.
"Aine?"
"We keep running into each other," she said with a smile.
"If I didn't know better, Junior, I'd say you were stalking me," she teased.
Liam chuckled. "Please, if I were stalking you, I'd at least put in the effort to look mysterious about it."
Her ears twitched as she laughed.
The two of them had crossed paths a few times over the past week. Their first meeting after the train had been when Liam registered for club activities.
Aine had turned out to be a senior in desperate need of members for her club: the Mythology Discussion Circle.
They focused on researching gods, demons, heroes, and legendary beasts.
It sounded grand, but in truth, it was just a bunch of geeks obsessing over long-dead gods and their scandals.
His kind of people.
Other clubs handled mythology too—albeit with far more professionalism. That, and the fact that their club president was too picky about who joined, left the Circle short on members. Still, Liam liked the Circle's messiness.
"So, where are you headed?" she asked.
"To the library," he replied.
Her eyes widened in mock shock. "Didn't take you for the studious type."
"Ouch. Are you calling me a brute?"
"Your words, not mine," she said slyly.
"Sure, sure. Next thing you'll say is I look like the kind of guy who can't even spell 'library.'"
She giggled. "That's not it. I just always see you at the training grounds after school. Most first-years barely have free time, yet you're always there."
"Oh? Now who's stalking who?" Liam shot back.
Aine burst into laughter. "Touché."
Their conversation carried on until the train screeched into the Library District.
"Will you be at club tomorrow?" she asked before he stood.
"Maybe," Liam said with a half-smile. "Depends on whether I finish my assignments."
"Oh…" Her ears drooped slightly with disappointment.
He gave her a reassuring smile and slipped out with the crowd.
***
Inside the library
The library's massive interior gave him pause.
Like the rest of the school, it was a strange blend of fantastical design and modern features.
Towering shelves stretched like walls of a labyrinth across the vast room, their rows fading into the distance.
The air carried the faint smell of old parchment mixed with something sharper, almost electric.
Liam approached the desk near the entrance where a young woman sat—likely no older than her late twenties. She had a gentle smile, and something about her presence reminded him of a warm fireplace.
"Good morning," she greeted.
"Morning," Liam replied.
"Is this your first time here?"
"It is."
"Well then, just scan your band here." She gestured to a small glass machine on the counter. "Once the library registers your entry, you're free to browse until curfew."
He tapped his band against the scanner, watching it flicker green.
"Just know," she added, "as a first-year, you only have access to the first two floors."
Liam nodded.
From the novel's description, he remembered: each year granted access to an additional floor, with only the highest rankers and the student council permitted beyond.
He took one last look at the towering maze in awe before making his way to the second floor.
Without paying much attention to the scenery, he wandered toward the left wing, checking each private booth he could find.
He wasn't sure exactly where the specific book would be, so all he could do was search one by one.
He paid special attention to the hidden ones—the booths tucked into quiet corners perfect for solitude.
But therein lay the problem: how was he supposed to find something designed to be overlooked?
He tried recalling clues from the novel, putting himself in Celeste's shoes, until finally a memory clicked—she had stumbled across certain texts during her first year.
Using that as his lead, he searched the surrounding booths.
"I knew it was huge, but I didn't expect it to take this long," Liam sighed, exhaustion settling into his bones. This wasn't the ache of training but the foggy fatigue of mental strain.
"Maybe I should just give up for today. Three hours, no results." He sat at an open reading table, resting his arms on his knees.
...Sigh
"Worst part is, I haven't even covered half the west section."
His eyes wandered across the shelves—until something caught his attention.
In the far corner, two smaller shelves were pressed oddly close to the wall, leaving just enough space for a narrow passage between them.
Something about it tugged at his memory.
He slipped into the dark space, barely wide enough for one person. At the end, he finally spotted it—a private booth hidden away.
Excitement flared, but he quickly tempered it. He'd had too many "this must be it" moments already.
Inside, the booth looked abandoned. Books, tomes, scrolls, and journals were piled in haphazard stacks, dust clinging to the edges.
Liam sifted through them, running his fingers along spines and flipping through covers. Frustration gnawed at him—until his hand froze.
One spine stood out. The faded cover matched the description he'd memorized from the novel.
With careful hands, he pulled the book free, staring at it as a grin tugged at his lips.