"Why am I here again?"
Luther asked flatly, his face an expression of pure confusion and regret.
He was seated on a polished brown chair, a wide wooden desk before him. On the desk lay two thick history books—one open, one still untouched—and behind Elder Haro stood a massive white board cluttered with maps, drawings, and notes that looked like a mix between a geography lesson and a conspiracy theory.
And of course, surrounding them were endless rows of books stacked to the ceiling. The smell of parchment and old paper filled the air.
A library. A really big, boring library.
Luther groaned and slouched lower into the chair, staring blankly at the glowing board. The demonic sword, currently disguised as a black necklace, lay around his neck like a smug reminder of how ridiculous his life had become.
"The Aoriphian Empire," Elder Haro began, his thin hand tapping the map with his cane, "was built upon the ruins of the small village of Emir and has prospered ever since."
