With a push, she opened the door, holding it long enough for the whole group to file inside. The room was lined with tall shelves, the scent of old parchment and binding glue mixing with candle smoke. Light from iron lamps made the wood glow in patches and shadows.

  Pixie looked up, wide-eyed. “This place smells like a thousand stories got stuck in the walls,” she whispered.

  For a split second, Yren almost looked surprised. Her eyebrows lifted, a small line of honest emotion creasing her face. Then the expression vanished, as if it had never been there. She answered without missing a beat, voice as dry as before. “If you want to find any of them, the reference desk is there. Don’t get lost.”

  Without any further comment, Yren led them deeper between the shelves, her focus already back on the task.

  Ethan caught up beside her as they wove through the stacks. “What are you studying?” he asked.

  Yren didn’t slow down. “Arcane theory. That’s my field—graduate track. Most of it’s research, translation, sorting fact from rumor.” She shrugged slightly. “Not many practical jobs for it, unless you’re built for the work.”

  Ethan kept his voice low. “That’s the magic I have an affinity for, apparently. The system called it arcane, but I’m still figuring out what to do with it.”

  That made Yren pause. For the first time, her careful distance slipped. She turned and really looked at him, genuine interest flickering in her eyes. “You’re serious?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t had much luck finding anything useful, but that’s what it says.”

  A spark of excitement showed on Yren’s face before she masked it again. “If you’re actually trying to work with arcane, you’ll want to check the northeast alcove. Most of the texts are dead ends, but a few records might be worth your time. Avoid anything tied with red ribbon—those are reserved, and the librarians don’t tolerate mistakes.”

  She slowed a little, almost inviting Ethan to keep pace.

  “If you find anything that actually makes sense, I’d like to hear about it. Most of us only get as far as the theory.”

  Ethan nodded. “I’ll let you know if I stumble on anything that isn’t just another riddle.”

  That seemed to satisfy her for a breath, but as they turned a corner, Yren glanced at him again, studying his face as if reevaluating everything.

  Her tone shifted—no longer purely academic, but genuinely curious. “Have you always had the affinity? Did you know about it before the system identified it?”

  She searched his expression, all pretense of formality gone. “I’ve read everything I could find, but I’ve never actually met someone who could work arcane directly. Most of us only talk about it in the abstract.”

  The questions started coming faster, her focus intent now. “What does it feel like when you try to use it? Do you get any sense of structure, or is it just raw possibility? Does it behave anything like the elemental types?”

  She seemed to catch herself, a faint hint of color in her cheeks. “Sorry. It’s just—I never thought I’d actually meet someone with arcane magic. If you’re comfortable sharing anything, I’d be… interested. More than interested, honestly.”

  Ethan kept his voice low as they passed another shelf. “We went through affinity testing at the Guild before we got here. The others picked up elemental skills pretty quick, but when I touched the stone, it only reacted for arcane. I was given a training scroll yesterday—it sort of... imprinted some information in my mind, but it’s not like reading a book. The scroll just crumbled after I finished.”

  Yren’s eyes widened a little. “They gave you an arcane training scroll?” She shook her head, almost impressed. “Those are worth more than my tuition for a year. Most students never even see one.”

  She studied him a moment longer, her curiosity fully awake now. “You’re already ahead of half the people studying here. Those scrolls are rare for a reason—they’re meant to shortcut the basics, but nobody really understands how the process works for arcane. Most of us just wish we could get our hands on one, even once.”

  Yren led them deeper into the library, weaving between tall shelves and quiet study tables. She finally stopped beside a broad reading desk and turned to face Ethan.

  “What are you hoping to find here?” she asked, her tone practical. “The collection is broad, but some subjects are better stocked than others.”

  Ethan took a breath and looked at the rows of spines, the soft glow from clusters of glow stones casting even light over the shelves and tables. “Enchanting. Runework, if you have it. Anything about arcane magic, or books that talk about how the system works. I’m trying to learn as much as I can.”

  Yren nodded, all business. “Enchanting and inscription are along the east wall. There are tomes on runes, sigils, the theory behind them, and some field notes from previous scholars. Arcane and aether texts are shelved in the alcove at the back—there isn’t much, and most of it is fragments or essays. System studies and class records are over here,” she added, gesturing toward a row of worn journals and thick ledgers. “Those mostly cover people’s attempts to document class changes and oddities.”

  She gave him a thin, almost sympathetic smile. “If you want help finding a particular title, just ask. Otherwise, you’re free to explore.”

  Yren moved off to reshelve a stack of books, leaving Ethan and the Pack to explore. For a moment, the library felt less like a maze and more like an invitation.

  Pixie trotted ahead, nose to the floor, then hopped up onto a stool near the nearest shelf. “Hey, Ethan—these books have a lot of squiggly lines,” she announced, ears flicking with interest.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Buster grumbled, “What’s the point in a story if you can’t eat it?” But he nudged a book open with his nose anyway, his tail wagging just a little.

  Moose pressed his nose close to a thick volume on system theory, muzzle wrinkling. “Wait… I can actually read this.” He blinked, then pawed at the page, his eyes tracking each line with mounting surprise. “It’s not even in common, but I can still read it. Is that normal?”

  Lyra lifted a slim book off the shelf, flipping through it with careful hands. “The translate bond,” she said softly. “It must be working here, too.”

  Pixie spun in a circle, tail thumping against the stool. “I can read all the stories?” She picked up a book of fairy tales in her teeth, dropped it onto the table, and began reading aloud, stumbling over a few words but clearly delighted.

  “Ooooh—this one’s about a pudding that runs away from its baker!” she said, tail thumping. She sniffed the page. “It smells like cinnamon.”

  She gave the paper an experimental lick.

  Yren, without looking up from a nearby shelf, said flatly, “Please don’t lick the books.”

  Pixie blinked. “But what if they taste like the stories?”

  Buster grunted, “That’s how they get you.”

  Ethan didn’t even flinch. “Pixie. Pages aren’t snacks.”

  “Yet,” she muttered, nudging the book closer with one paw.

  Amelia peeked over Pixie’s shoulder, her nose twitching at the illustrations. “Some of these are about wolves and foxes. I want to read this one.”

  Ethan grinned, the moment of tension fading as he watched the Pack fan out through the library, each discovering their own small treasure in the stacks. Even Buster looked impressed, turning a few pages with a careful paw.

  For a little while, the research could wait. There was a kind of quiet joy in seeing his friends lose themselves in books—even if some of them needed to be reminded not to drool on the bindings.

  They lost track of time in the quiet of the library. Books stacked up around their table—old treatises on enchanting, diagrams of runework, journals left behind by students who’d tried to untangle the system’s logic before him. There were scribbled margins, half-finished schematics, and a few theories Ethan could almost see the shape of, even if he didn’t grasp all the details yet.

  The Pack read in their own ways: Moose paging steadily through a bestiary, Buster falling asleep on a volume about wild herbs, Pixie giggling over stories she half-understood. Lyra lingered on the more difficult texts, tracing the unfamiliar script with one careful finger, while Amelia collected a pile of illustrated tales about foxes and shadowy hounds.

  Ethan felt the old tension in his chest start to loosen. For the first time in a while, the world didn’t feel quite so hostile or confusing. He couldn’t say he understood everything, but he’d learned enough about enchanting, system mechanics, and how classes were structured that the city—and the future—seemed a little less overwhelming.

  As the bell overhead finally chimed, Ethan glanced around the table at his friends—each lost in their own page—and realized he was ready to face the next challenge, whatever it turned out to be.

  Behind them, Yren made her way along the shelves, quietly gathering the stray books the Pack had left in odd places. She worked with practiced efficiency, sliding each volume back into its proper spot and straightening the stacks before the librarians could notice. She moved from table to shelf and back again, keeping order as if she’d done it a hundred times.

  After a while, Yren returned to their table, glancing at the stack of borrowed books and the loose cluster of Pack members still thumbing through pages. She tapped the edge of the desk to get Ethan’s attention.

  “System lecture starts in a few minutes,” she said. “It’s open to guests today. You might get something useful, or at least see how the Academy thinks about the rules.”

  Ethan gathered his notes, gave the Pack a quiet signal, and followed Yren down a winding corridor lined with more carved doors and scholar plaques. The room for the lecture wasn’t as grand as the main hall but felt older—rows of dark benches, a chalkboard scuffed from years of diagrams, and faint traces of old enchantments in the ceiling beams. Glow stones set into the walls gave everything a steady, golden light.

  The Pack settled near the back, drawing a few curious looks from students already in their seats. Moose sat beside Ethan, taking in the details; Pixie squirmed restlessly, her paws tucked under her; Lyra and Amelia found a quiet spot at the end of a row, half-shadowed by a column. Buster sprawled out with a huff, already eyeing the door.

  A moment later, Professor Tahl stepped up to the front—a spare man with silver in his hair and a deep voice that carried even before he spoke. The murmurs died as he picked up a stick of chalk and wrote across the board:

  The System: Known Patterns and Unsolved Mysteries

  He turned, scanning the room with sharp, thoughtful eyes.

  Ethan listened with rapt attention as Professor Tahl’s voice echoed through the room. The System, Tahl explained, was at the heart of every adventurer’s life and every magical discipline—an invisible network that tracked skills, levels, classes, and even failures. But the questions were always bigger than the answers.

  Why did the system sometimes respond as if it understood the person behind the request, while other times it ignored them entirely? What happened to all that information—skills, records, even memories—when someone died? Did the System archive it, erase it, or pass it on to someone new? Tahl offered more theories than certainties, and most of Ethan’s own questions lingered without resolution.

  At one point, a few older students were called up for a formal debate at the front of the class. Was the System a living thing—a mind behind the rules? Was it a god, distant and arbitrary, setting patterns for mortals to puzzle over? Or was it just a complex machine, running scripts that no one had ever fully uncovered? The debate grew heated, circling the same riddles: Why were some rules hidden, and why did system responses seem to change with each generation?

  Ethan found himself jotting notes—half-formed questions, the beginnings of new theories, details he’d never thought to consider until now. The Pack stayed mostly quiet, watching the students with varying degrees of interest: Moose alert, Lyra thoughtful, Pixie whispering wild guesses into Buster’s ear until he told her to hush.

  The lecture wrapped up with a preview of the next session—Class Fusions: History, Myths, and Known Cases. Students began to pack up, voices low as they argued the last points on their way out.

  As the crowd thinned, a teaching aide—a thin woman with copper hair and an armful of books—made her way over to Ethan. She leaned in and spoke quietly with Yren, glancing at Ethan as she did.

  Yren nodded, then turned to Ethan. “Professor Tahl wants to speak with you in his office. Nothing urgent. He just prefers quiet to questions shouted in a crowded hall.”

  The Pack stood, gathering their things. Moose gave Ethan a gentle nudge, and Pixie looked ready to follow, her tail high and curious.

  A door at the back of the lecture hall led out to a narrow courtyard. Sunlight slanted across stone tiles, glinting off low hedges and a shallow fountain murmuring in one corner. Yren guided Ethan and the Pack along a covered walkway, the arches framing glimpses of students crossing between buildings or sitting with books on the benches.

  They passed beneath a set of carved lintels and entered a quieter wing, the hall lined with dark wooden doors, each marked with a brass nameplate. Ethan caught the faint scent of old paper and chalk dust, a reminder that this part of the Academy was built for thinking, not show.