I let my head fall back against the chair's rest, drained by this avalanche of sounds and repetitions. My throat stings, my tongue feels heavy, and it's like every syllable stole a neuron from me.
I exhale.
"Damn… I survived the Labyrinth, but the real torture is vowels."
The old man barely raises an eyebrow, not fooled by the fact I don't like learning much. But I chuckle to myself anyway, just to keep up appearances.
[ What's interesting is that you made twelve pronunciation mistakes in under twenty minutes. A record! ]
"Thanks, Senpai, that's exactly what I wanted to hear. Can I also get a school report card stamped with a big fat F?"
[ Request recorded. ]
I close my eyes for a second, trying to prep my memory to hold everything in. Then, without knowing why, I look up.
And freeze.
On the back wall, behind a row of shelves, a massive canvas spreads out, covering nearly the entire surface. Not some decorative fresco, not a religious icon. No. A map. A real one.
My breath catches.
Is that… a map of the world?
"…No way… seriously?"
The old man keeps droning on, not noticing that I've tuned him out. My eyes are hooked, burned by that flood of lines and colors.
Up till now, my world was nothing but scraps of road, filthy caves, and dripping stone walls. And now, suddenly, the world cracks open.
My heart pounds. My fingers dig into the wood of the table.
"Holy shit…"
[ Indeed. Based on my observation, your pupils are dilated. Symptom of cognitive excitement. ]
"Shut up. I'm in the middle of a geographic orgasm."
[ An interesting sexual joke. ]
For the first time in ages, I feel like a door has creaked open.
The map pulls me in. My wings twitch on their own. Before I even realize they've unfurled, they beat slowly and lift me. My boots leave the ground without a sound.
[ Warning: inappropriate aerial maneuver. You are in Velen's most important building. ]
"Yeah, well… not my fault. They're the ones who hung up a giant map like it's a museum piece."
My voice trembles. I move through the air as if pulled by invisible strings.
Meanwhile, the scholar keeps giving his lecture as if he hadn't seen me move—until he glances toward my chair.
To his shock, I'm gone. He looks around, then up.
And he lets out a strangled cry, his quill rolling across the marble, but I don't have ears for him anymore.
The map sprawls before me. Gigantic. Crushing. Pigments burst into vivid colors that hurt my eyes. No neat roads, no perfect borders: just masses, kingdoms, names. Clear enough to grasp, too vast to breathe.
And then… I see.
Two continents, split by a gaping sea, a blue wound cutting the canvas in half. On the left, a territory vaguely familiar. On the right, another, massive.
Both unknown, but a wild urge to visit them rises in me.
My gaze locks onto a single word I can make out—probably one I know.
Ohts.
A name I know all too well. And here, it's marked by a dark blot. The kingdom no longer exists. A funerary land lies in its place, like a scar on the map.
I shiver.
Around it, other inscriptions come back to me. Senpai, Gried, their fragmented stories finally find a visual anchor. Scattered names I clumsily link together: Sariella, farther south; Renxandt, to the north. And between the two continents…
I grit my teeth.
A massive black symbol, wedged between the landmasses like a raw wound:
The Great Elroe Labyrinth.
The map depicts it as a living rift, a dark zone widening at the planet's core. Not just a cave. A scar splitting the world.
I blink, and that's when I notice it.
A small inset, near Ohts and the coastline. Some kind of painted insert, but unlike the rest. Symbols I don't understand. Lines too sharp, too precise.
[ Analysis: stylistic inconsistency. Probability: recent addition, by someone other than the original cartographer. ]
"…What the hell is this patchwork?"
I stretch my hand toward the area, heart hammering.
Behind me, the scholar lets out another cry, this time panicked.
"Shut up, gramps, I'm working."
[ Observation: hostile interaction detected. The individual is in a panic state. ]
"Thanks, Captain Obvious. I think I noticed."
I float closer to the canvas, my fingers trembling inches from the symbols. They almost pulse. As if the ink itself vibrated under my skin.
Then, a sound yanks me from my trance.
Rushed footsteps. A chair scraping.
So I lower my gaze.
The scholar. The old man. He's left his notes behind, inkpot spilled and dripping onto the marble, stumbling away, sandals slapping in a frantic rhythm of fligh.
He wants to bolt.
Problem is… he's seen my true face.
My smile twists.
"Oh no, gramps… not so fast."
I fold my wings, let gravity snatch me, and my boots slam against the stone. My body moves before I even think. Two strides, a breath, and my hand clamps down on his rough collar.
Beautiful.
He squeaks, strangled, as I yank him up in one sharp motion, his feet kicking uselessly in the air.
"You think you can just leave me alone with… that?"
I drag him back, hauling his dried-up frame like a rag. His fingers claw at my wrist, his eyes blown wide with terror.
[ Increased risk of hostility… Your action will be perceived as rebellion. ]
"Yeah well, for once, they won't be entirely wrong."
I rip him from his escape, drag him to the center of the hall, and my wings snap open again, tearing me off the ground. He dangles from my arm, flailing, squeaking like a mouse, while I rise toward the massive canvas.
Feels good to use my wings… probably pleasure, since they're wired straight into my mind.
I all but shove his nose against the map.
"Look."
His voice is nothing but a muffled gargle.
"You see? You get what you're hiding from me?!"
My other hand stabs at the wall—the dark blot of Ohts, the marine chasm, the abnormal display.
[ Suggestion: torturing an old man rarely speeds up his speech rate. ]
"Thanks, Senpai, noted. But this isn't a tutorial, it's a hostage-based lecture."
[ Naturally, normal people love being taken hostage! ]
The old man quivers in my grip, his eyes darting across the map as if he could find an ink-drawn exit. His lips work, but no words, just dry, rasping breath.
"Come on, try harder! Tell me what it means!"
He raises a knotted finger, trembling, and points toward a shelf below, behind me. A row of dark, dusty bindings. A book.
I stare at it a moment… and a grin slips across my lips.
The old man sees it. And he sees my fangs.
His eyes roll back, his arms go slack, his body freezes. He faints dead away, limp like a rag doll on my arm.
"…Ah. Well, that's that."
[ Congratulations: you have mastered the art of traumatic teaching. ]
Maybe I overdid it a little… eh, screw it.
I drift toward the shelf he indicated, wings beating gently. My other hand is already reaching for the book… and without thinking, I let the scholar go.
A dull thud echoes below as he smacks the marble.
"Oops. Didn't mean to."
[ Correction: probability 100% it was deliberate. ]
"Technical detail."
I glide closer to the shelf, my fingers brushing the thick spine of the volume he singled out. The binding creaks under my touch, dust swirling in lazy coils around me.
[ I calculate high probability this historical work covers topics such as past conflicts or territorial chronicles. ]
"Yeah, I'd guessed that, Senpai. But thanks for being my audio guide."
[ You're welcome. ]
My eyes gleam. A map, a book, and an old man fainting at my smile… For once, I'm not the puppet.
I pull the book free. And this time, it'll be me writing the next chapter.