Darek focused on the compass in his Soul Mirror again, closed his eyes, and let his energy flow into it.

  Information about the Tyrants.

  A moment later, he opened his eyes again—and saw nothing. No red line. No change.

  Mhh. That would’ve been too easy. I already knew the compass had limits.

  Darek was still sitting at the table in front of the books he’d gathered. He crossed his right leg over his left and began to sort his thoughts.

  Either there’s no information nearby at all… or I’m being too vague. Think.

  He still assumed that Sorus in the dream hadn’t been the true core, but a symbolic stand-in for the snake’s influence. Just like Sorus’ brother likely carried a part of the Tyrant within him and only embodied it figuratively in the dream—an interpretation of themselves and their motives.

  So far, they knew the Tyrant had something to do with mountains, that Sorus’ brother had been corrupted somehow, and that it wasn’t a “monster” so much as a walking catastrophe.

  “You’re forgetting that it devours souls and drains life from anything that gets too close or crosses its gaze,” Iris said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Thanks, Iris,” Darek replied flatly, eyes empty. “Almost forgot.”

  He focused again.

  Information about Aquilara’s mountain range.

  Suddenly, dozens of red lines streaked through the library and far beyond it. Darek froze, stunned—though in a way, he’d expected it.

  Okay. That’s too much. Ninety-nine percent of those books probably wouldn’t help me at all.

  He took one deep breath.

  If this doesn’t work, I’m out of ideas.

  Information about the Tyrant that resembles a mountain range.

  Darek looked up and, as expected, saw nothing.

  He sighed, shoved his chair back, and stood.

  Then Iris’ voice sounded in his head again. “Are two eyes not enough for you? I’m starting to think that with you two-eyed types they’re just decoration.”

  Darek frowned, trying to figure out what Iris meant as Iris continued.

  “Ask your online thing how many eyes a two-eyed creature really needs in order to see,” Iris added, laughing.

  Darek’s gaze hardened.

  “Seraphis,” he said in a commanding voice.

  Seraphis—who usually loved to rest in the Soul Mirror on the soul-bound pillow—lifted his body with excited energy and stretched higher. With gleaming eyes, he stared at Iris as if something pent-up inside him had finally found an outlet.

  Since his change after devouring the Glassvein Worm, his appearance had shifted profoundly. Even with his already impressive growth, he now seemed many times more imposing. It wasn’t just his size; the passive effects of the ingredients he’d absorbed had altered his presence. His aura felt denser, more tangible—and his hungry, delighted look only emphasized it further.

  “Okay, okay, I’m just kidding, haha. Here—look behind you,” Iris said, suddenly and visibly intimidated.

  Darek let it go. He wasn’t in the mood to keep messing with Iris right now, so he turned around.

  Only because of Iris’ hint did he even notice it: a faint, almost transparent, illusory pale red line. Otherwise it would have escaped him completely.

  Mhh. Where is it even pointing…That… the museum should be in that direction…

  Lost in thought, he furrowed his brow.

  Looks like today’s turning into a full-on education trip. Fine. We’re done here for now.

  Darek returned all the books to their places, then sat down at one of the library computers. He searched the catalog for any hint of the blue notebook—this poetry collection, or whatever it was supposed to be.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Leaving it here is an option… but it’s way too mysterious. Even the red line it showed me was stronger than the others—thicker, denser, almost tangible. That means this book has to be much closer to what I’m looking for than anything else I’ve found. And yet I couldn’t uncover a single piece of information about it.

  A quick search confirmed that the untitled book wasn’t listed anywhere in the library’s system. Not under poetry. Not among notebooks, diaries, or any other uncategorizable works—there was no entry at all.

  Weird… well. At least no one will miss it.

  Casually, he slipped the book away and left the library.

  Alright. Let’s go.The museum can’t be more than ten minutes from here.

  By now it was already midday, and the sun sat high enough that the buildings hardly cast shadows. Despite the crowds, the plaza still felt open—light, almost carefree. If you looked at Plaza Solara, at people eating, shopping, or laughing in cafés, you’d never have guessed a catastrophe had swept through here just a few weeks ago. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with warm stone and the faint perfume of flowers in window boxes, while the murmur of conversation and the clink of plates formed a calm, almost peaceful symphony.

  Darek couldn’t help marveling again at how quickly humans adapted, letting the atmosphere of the square wash over him.

  He grabbed his bike and headed toward the museum. It wasn’t placed right in the center like the library—two side streets over, across from a large park that couples loved for romantic walks. Between the trees hung the faint scent of grass and blossoms, accompanied by distant, low conversation.

  The museum itself looked unassuming—easy to miss if you rode past. But precisely because it sat in such a popular area, everyone ended up here sooner or later.

  So yeah. I’m definitely in the right place.The red line runs straight through the entrance—still faded like before, but that’s probably because I don’t have much knowledge or connection to it yet.At least students get free entry on weekends. If I’m spending my day off in a museum, I might as well not pay for it.

  Darek pondered.

  If I picture this… an object connected to the Tyrant from my prophecy is here. In our museum.I’m curious what it is.

  Right before the entrance, Darek stopped and studied the large orientation map on the signboard.

  Exhibition rooms: 1 – Art, 2 – History & Archaeology, 3 – Education.

  Mhh. Nothing jumps out.If I had to guess, I’d obviously bet on history.

  He locked his bike outside and climbed the steps into the museum, following the red line.

  The museum halls were large, spacious, and painted bright white so that the exhibits always remained the focus. But Darek didn’t pause anywhere. He didn’t stop to admire anything. He moved with purpose through the corridors until he reached the room where the line ended.

  So… the archaeology section. Room two.

  He stepped inside, and immediately the faint scent of old paper and waxed wood hit him, mixed with the chill of stone floors. Sunlight poured through tall windows above, making dust motes dance like tiny golden sparks. The muted creak of doors and the soft echo of his own footsteps made the space feel almost holy.

  Damn. It feels like time itself is frozen in here.

  Now and then he caught the distant murmur of other visitors and the low hum of ventilation, but the room remained quiet—almost reverent. Darek’s heart beat faster.

  So it’s here?

  He lost the line for a moment and let his gaze sweep the room, searching for the object. The area was well filled; most of the dozens of artifacts were protected behind glass cases, each one staged by targeted lamps. The few objects standing in the center were lit by four spotlights—one from each side—while those along the walls were illuminated by two.

  His attention caught first on one of the excavated suits of armor. Contrary to what you’d expect from ancient armor, it didn’t shine in normal silver-gray. It gleamed a vivid red, so bright it almost looked like it was radiating out into the room.

  Beside it, diagrams and notes hung on the walls—plans and instructions for old houses and excavated objects, a scattered archive of past centuries.

  And then—finally—his eyes found what he’d come for.

  “There it is…” he whispered.

  And an impressed, breathless “Wow”—almost like a quiet groan—was all Darek managed to get out.

  He stood before a massive stone tablet—at least six meters tall—a monolith marked by shallow and deep gouges, holes, and craters. It rose on a pedestal in front of the wall and was additionally secured by steel cables from the ceiling.

  It wasn’t the only tablet in the archaeology hall, but it was the only one not attached to the wall—an obvious hint of its sheer mass, its heavy material, and the resulting weight.

  Darek was still completely overwhelmed.

  I’ve never really cared about school stuff or museum stuff… but standing in front of something like this feels entirely different.The monolith’s presence is almost tangible—like I can feel the centuries it survived.

  He clearly hadn’t expected this. He’d imagined an old scroll, or some ordinary stone. For a brief moment, he’d even worried the object might be sealed behind glass—but thankfully, this tablet was only surrounded by a thin barrier rope.

  Alright. Let’s read the information about this thing first.

  “This piece of history was part of a gift and was presented personally to King Siegmund Aquilara by the Queen of Serphira herself: Mariel Serphira Potifera—the Just.”

  Darek sucked in a sharp breath and froze.

  W–what?What does she have to do with this? Why is she suddenly involved?A gift… to Aquilara? Why?And most of all—what even is this?

  His thoughts tripped over each other. For a moment he felt completely unmoored, as if the floor had dropped out beneath him. Only after a few deep breaths did he steady himself and force his eyes to keep reading.

  “—the Just, presented in recognition of his deeds and his support of Serphira in times of need. According to records, the monolith consists of a difficult-to-identify material—a stone that surpasses even the hardest known substances. Researchers concluded it is likely rock from inside a cooled volcano. Due to its enormous weight and exceptional hardness, it is considered unusable and impossible to process further. The marks on the monolith likely stem from its early use as a practice object for fencing and sword techniques. The second part of the gift remains, according to records, in the possession of the royal family.”

  Holy— that’s a lot of information at once.What did Siegmund Aquilara help her with? And why?That must’ve been shortly after Sorus’ death…Damn it. I’ll check that online later.

  Whatever. Only one thing matters:Despite all the history, this thing has something to do with the Tyrant.Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.

  A subtle pull spread in his chest—an odd blend of nerves and curiosity.

  His intuition urged him closer.

  I should take a closer look.

  Darek glanced right, then left. Nobody was paying him real attention. Once he was sure no one was watching, he ducked under the barrier rope and stepped directly up to the monolith.

  I didn’t even want to do this kind of crap.I wanted to stay relaxed. Chill. Unnoticed.And not even two hours later I steal something from the library and trespass in a museum.Though… this is more trespassing than vandalism.Still—both are absolutely not me.

  Darek stood in front of the monolith. His gaze narrowed, as if he’d instinctively sensed what was coming. Before he realized it, one of his hands was pressed to the stone’s surface—cold, damp, almost alive beneath his fingertips.

  With his first blink, it felt like his eyes had never been open at all.

  The world vanished into complete darkness. Nothing but black. An endless abyss that threatened to swallow him.

  Darek felt his heart accelerate, but he forced himself to stay still.

  Focus… just a moment. Just one breath…

  And then—something.

  A thought, a feeling, a presence—so enormous it filled his entire mind, weighed down his chest, and made his limbs prickle with electric tension. It was almost as if someone had painted that power in blazing red across the blackness of the void—pulsing, alive, merciless. It sank deep into him—demanding, warning, testing.

  Darek stayed astonishingly calm—calm as he could possibly be. He let the impressions in. He absorbed them, felt for their core, tried to interpret them. The silence inside his head became almost tangible. Time stretched like rubber. Every heartbeat was thunder. Every second expanded toward infinity.

  And then…

  In the midst of that all-consuming darkness—between the pulsing red light—a name appeared.

  Clear. Unmovable.

  A name that changed everything.

  The mere feeling of that name made dread crawl through him. It was as if something immense was siphoning his soul, as if the air around him had thickened—heavy with power, terror, and… death.

  And in that instant, Darek understood with sickening clarity, with terrifying familiarity:

  That is his name.The one who is the Tyrant of the mountain range.

  His name—the name that makes even the darkness tremble—was:

  GOLIATH.