Night had fallen, and the sky glowed a strange violet hue. In the town of Hemsworth, that light poured through the shattered window of a run-down building, casting fractured rays onto a dusty wooden desk—its legs uneven and unable to levitate like most modern furniture.
On top of the desk rested a sealed letter. The wax bore the image of a dolphin—an unusual emblem.
The letter was addressed from a distant land called Feril, but the sender had not signed their name.
From the depths of the shadows, a hand emerged—lit faintly by the violet glow. The fingers trembled slightly as they broke the seal and opened the letter.
On the back, written in bold, slanted ink: WR-2.
____________________________________
Morning arrived.
Ren stirred awake, washed his face, and dressed quickly. He opened a small drawer secured with his fingerprint and retrieved the mysterious book, tucking it into the inner pocket of his coat.
After a quick breakfast—fried eggs, toast, and strawberry jam—he stepped outside, ready for school. But today, he didn't board the Lev-Bus.
He walked.
His mind buzzed with questions—questions that spun circles without answers.
One thought lingered stronger than the rest: the old homeless man. The one he took the book from.
"The man obviously knows something. Something that could uncover the truth."
As he walked beneath floating cars and over shifting pavement designed to ease each step, another thought gnawed at him:
"Who tore the pages of the book? And why?!"
His steps slowed as he reached the usual spot—but the man wasn't there. The alley was empty. Confused, Ren wondered if the man only came out in the evenings. He turned back toward the school path but felt something strange—like someone was watching him.
His heart skipped. Crime had risen lately in this area. A gut instinct kicked in.
He chose a shortcut.
It was a path he'd never used before—one his father had once spoken of from his own school days. The shortcut cut through a neglected sector, now used as a mechanical waste zone.
Piles of broken appliances and stripped machines lined the street. The valuable parts had long been salvaged. Only rusted shells remained.
Ren stepped into a narrow alley, just wide enough for him to pass through.
Suddenly, a sound.
Familiar. Yet… off. He ran toward it.
But found Nothing.
He stood still, catching his breath, thinking.
What was that sound? Why did it feel so familiar?
A distant bell rang out. The school bell.
He is Late.
He ran the rest of the way and managed to check in just before the gate shut behind him.
____________________________________
Behind an old, cracked electric pole, the homeless man stood.
A crooked smile played on his lips.
"Looks like you read the book," he whispered.
He stepped into the light, revealing a golden pocket watch in his hand. Its ticking matched the same rhythm it had the day he met Ren.
_____________________________________
The soft hum of the classroom faded as Mr. Marsh clapped his hands for attention.
"Everyone, submit your academic preferences," he announced, tapping on the digital board behind him.
Students started writing quickly, their choices appearing one after another on the display.
The room buzzed with excitement—whispers, exchanged glances, scribbling.
Mr. Marsh's eyes scanned the list, but he paused midway, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
"Renaris Aurelith," he called out. "You've chosen Ariella's University of Artificial Magic?"
Ren stiffened at his desk, feeling every pair of eyes shift towards him.
He hesitated for a breath longer than he meant to, then stood up awkwardly.
"Yes, sir," he said
his voice carrying a faint note of confusion—and something like doubt.
Mr. Marsh tilted his head slightly, studying him.
Given Ren's past disinterest in anything related to Artificial Magic, this was unexpected.
But instead of questioning further, the teacher offered a small, encouraging smile.
"Well done on finally choosing your path," Mr. Marsh said warmly.
Ren exhaled a silent breath of relief, grateful not to be pressed for an explanation.
He sank back into his floating chair, heart still thudding in his chest.
____________________________________
Five hours later…
The final school bell rang, and the corridors exploded with life.
Students streamed out, laughter and chatter filling the air.
Some gossiped about the latest AR game; others compared facial care tips or zipped past on sleek air skates, hovering a few inches above the ground.
Amidst all this, Ren walked alone, the noise washing over him like distant static.
His mind stayed locked onto something else—the ticking sound he'd heard before.
It gnawed at him, familiar and unsettling.
When he reached the bus station, he hesitated.
His gaze drifted toward the shortcut he had taken earlier—the same narrow alleyway.
A shiver of uncertainty ran through him.
Should I really try it again...?
Ren stood there for a moment, battling the uneasy feeling of being watched that had haunted him before.
Finally, he clenched his fists lightly and turned toward the alley.
One more time, he thought.
He stepped into the dim pathway.
The familiar tick-tick sound returned, sharper this time, threading itself into his bones.
Then, a vivid memory flashed—the first time he'd met the homeless man.
Spinning around instinctively, Ren scanned the alley.
A deep, familiar voice echoed through the air, sending a chill down his spine.
"Looks like we meet again, curious little boy."
The man stood in front of a crumbling building—its windows cracked, its wooden gate rusted and leaning sideways.
Dead plants clawed at the broken fence.
Above the entrance, faded letters spelled out:
[Ar_ella Lib_ary]
Several letters had long since fallen away.
But Ren understood—it was Ariella Library.
As he stared up, trying to process everything, the homeless man descended the cracked stone steps with a gentle smile.
"I'm Victor Watfrown," he said, voice deep but calming. "Caretaker of this place."
Ren instinctively straightened his posture, uncertain how to react.
Gathering his nerves, he introduced himself with a slight bow of his head.
"I'm Renaris Aurelith," he said quietly.
Victor chuckled warmly.
"No need to be so stiff, boy," he said.
Then, motioning toward the building, he added, "I know why you're here. But it's better to talk inside."
Ren hesitated, a dozen warning bells going off in his mind.
But something about Victor's presence—something steady and unthreatening—eased him.
After a few seconds, he nodded and followed.
The cobblestone path was overgrown with moss, leading past a stagnant fountain choked with algae.
At the heavy door, a lion-headed doorknob greeted him.
Victor pushed the door open with a groaning creak.
Inside, Ren's eyes widened.
The library looked like it hadn't seen a living soul in decades.
Mountains of dusty books teetered on cracked shelves.
Spider webs dangled from corners.
The air smelled of old paper and damp wood.
Not a single sign of advanced technology anywhere.
At the old reception desk sat a woman, probably in her sixties, reading a book through half-moon glasses.
Her silver-white hair framed a face full of wrinkles, and her eyes—sharp and silver—glinted as she noticed them.
She looked straight at Ren and asked in a suspicious tone,
"What are you doing here, young boy? Did this man kidnap you?"
Ren instinctively took a step back.
Victor's voice boomed in protest.
"Rose! What are you accusing me of? You'll scare him away!"
Rose chuckled softly, shaking her head.
"You're still the same fool you were when you were young," she said. "Why bring a boy here?"
Victor crossed his arms, a glint of seriousness flashing in his eyes.
"Because he's going to help us uncover the truth of the Calamity."
Rose's face immediately darkened.
"Are you out of your mind?" she snapped.
"He barely looks sixteen! You want to drag a child into this madness?"
Ren swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their argument.
His voice trembled slightly as he broke the silence.
"I... I'm eighteen," he said.
"And I want to uncover the truth. I want to know what caused the Calamity—and what WR-1 is."
At the mention of "WR-1," Rose fell eerily silent.
For a moment, even Victor said nothing.
Then Rose exhaled slowly, her voice softer.
"So you read that book... You're not just wandering in blindly."
Victor chuckled under his breath.
"Looks like we have a new member. Congratulations, boy," he said, grinning. "There were only three of us before. Now we're four."
Ren frowned slightly.
"A team?" he said, confused. "When did I say I would join?"
Victor smiled knowingly.
"You want answers, don't you? Then you'll need allies. Trust me, it's better this way."
Ren hesitated, feeling a thousand questions burn inside him.
He glanced once at Rose, who still watched him with wary, measuring eyes.
He looked at Victor—relaxed, confident, waiting patiently.
The ticking in his mind grew louder.
After nearly ten minutes of inner struggle, Ren finally sighed.
"Okay," he said.
"I'll join the team—but you have to answer everything I ask."
Victor's grin widened.
"Of course," he said. "Where should we start?"
Ren didn't even pause.
"Tell me what WR-1 is," he demanded.
____________________________________
The train hissed to a halt at Ariella Station. As the gates slid open, a girl stepped out, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder.
Her black hair hung below her shoulders, catching the station lights. In their glow, her black pearly eyes shimmered, revealing a hidden spark of gold.
She wore a mechanic's suit beneath a blue coat, white stripes running down each sleeve — a mark of hard work stitched into pride.
As she passed through the exit, a yellow taxi — driverless, its AI core humming — levitated smoothly to greet her.
"Where would you like to go? Please choose a destination," the AI voice chimed.
"Ariella University of Artificial Magic," she replied, her voice soft yet unwavering.
"Please sit on the back seat and fasten your seatbelt. Kindly submit your name for passenger records," the AI instructed.
A holographic screen flickered into existence.
With fingers thin yet toughened — marked by the faint scent of machine oil — the girl tapped her name into the database.
"Elara Selena."
"Welcome to Ariella."
The AI's voice echoed warmly as the taxi lifted into the air, gliding above the glowing streets.
Elara leaned back, eyes reflecting the lights below — a blend of ambition and purpose quietly etched into her smile.
_____________________________________
Dust floated lazily in the dim candlelight, clinging to the air like forgotten memories.
Inside the abandoned library, Ren sat alone at an old desk, the flicker of flame painting restless shadows around him.
Then, a voice — calm yet edged with weight — broke the silence:
"Let me tell you about WR-1."
"The library's dim light flickered as if it too, was waiting for the truth to reaveled!"