Chapter 1: The Rain, The Rot, and The Inheritance (Part 1)
Location: The Slums of Oakhaven, The Outer Rim.
Time: Late Night.
Current State: 12 Years Old.
The rain in the Outer Rim did not wash things clean. It only made the filth wet.
It was a cold, relentless downpour that hammered against the rotting wooden shingles of the shack Ren called home. Inside, the air smelled of damp mold, stale porridge, and the metallic, coppery tang of coughing blood.
Ren Arken sat on a three-legged stool beside the bed, his hands resting on his knees. He was twelve years old, but his eyes looked much older. They were the color of storm clouds, still and unmoving as he watched the woman in the bed fight for every single breath.
"Ren..."
The voice was a whisper, brittle like dry leaves stepping on gravel.
Ren leaned forward immediately. He took a rag from a bucket of cool water and gently dabbed the sweat from the woman's forehead. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, the blue veins beneath visible like a spiderweb of sickness. This was Elara. His mother. The woman who had walked away from a palace of gold to live in a shack of mud, just to keep her dignity.
"I am here, Mother," Ren said. His voice was steady. He did not cry. Crying wasted energy. Crying blurred his vision. He needed to see her. He needed to remember every detail of this moment because he knew, with a terrifying clarity, that this was the end.
"Do not... hate him," Elara wheezed, her chest heaving with a rattling sound. "Hatred... is a poison. It kills the vessel... that holds it."
Ren did not answer immediately. He looked at her hand, which was gripping the rough wool blanket with white knuckles. He thought of the man she spoke of. Duke Valerius Arken. The man who had fathered him, then ignored him. The man who had so many wives and concubines that he probably didn't even realize one was missing until the paperwork was filed.
"I will not let hatred control me," Ren said carefully, choosing his words with the precision of a scholar. "But I will not forget, Mother. Forgetting is a weakness."
Elara managed a weak, sad smile. She reached out, her trembling fingers brushing his cheek. " You are... so like him. And yet... so different. You have... my heart."
A violent cough wracked her body. It was a wet, tearing sound. Ren stood up, his small hands moving quickly to support her back, helping her sit up so she wouldn't choke. He wiped the blood from her lips with a practiced efficiency that no twelve-year-old should possess.
When the fit passed, she slumped back against the straw pillow, her eyes dimming.
"The box," she whispered. "Under... the floorboard."
Ren paused. "The money box? We spent the last copper on the healer yesterday, Mother."
"No," she breathed, shaking her head slightly. "Not that. The... deep one. The one... He gave me to guard. The Old Man."
Ren frowned. He knew who she meant.
For the last four years, a strange old beggar had lived in the alley behind their shack. The locals called him "Mad Old Hame." He was blind, missing an arm, and usually smelled of sulfur and old paper. But Elara had always been kind to him, sharing their meager soup even when they barely had enough for themselves.
Mad Old Hame had died three days ago. Found frozen in the mud.
"He gave you something?" Ren asked.
"Go," she urged, her voice fading. "Now. Before... the carriage comes."
Ren's heart skipped a beat. The carriage.
He knew what that meant. The Duke's family knew she was dying. They weren't coming to save her. They were coming to collect the "asset"—the bastard son who carried the Arken bloodline. They wouldn't let a Noble's blood rot in the slums, not out of love, but out of pride.
Ren moved.
He went to the corner of the room, near the leaking wall. He counted three planks from the left, just as he had seen his mother do when hiding coins. He pried his fingernails under the rotting wood. It groaned, resisting, but the wood was soft from dampness. With a grunt of effort, he ripped the board up.
There was a hole in the dirt beneath.
Inside the hole sat a black cube.
It wasn't large. It was roughly the size of a standard apple, perfectly smooth, made of a material that seemed to absorb the meager light of the oil lamp rather than reflect it. It was heavy—impossibly heavy. When Ren lifted it, his muscles strained as if he were lifting a solid lead cannonball.
"Bring it... here," Elara whispered.
Ren carried the heavy black cube to the bedside.
"Hame... was not a beggar," Elara said, her eyes staring at the ceiling, seeing something Ren couldn't. "He was... a Keeper. He said... you have the temperament. You are... calm within the storm."
"What is this?" Ren asked, staring at the object. It felt cold, colder than the winter rain outside.
"A burden," she whispered. "And a choice. Place your hand... on it. Accept it."
"Mother, you need rest—"
"Do it!" She mustered a sudden, surprising burst of strength, her eyes locking onto his. "Promise me... you will keep it shut. Promise me... you will be the Warden."
Ren swallowed hard. He didn't understand, but he trusted her. He trusted her more than anyone in this world.
He placed his small, pale hand flat against the cold surface of the black cube.
Click.
A sound echoed, not in the room, but inside his skull. It sounded like a massive lock tumbling into place, a sound of heavy chains moving in a deep dungeon.
[ DNA Signature Verified. ]
[ Bloodline: Mixed. Human / Unknown. ]
[ Mental Stability: High. ]
[ Transferring Ownership of The Bibliotheca of Infinity... ]
Ren gasped, pulling his hand back, but the cube stuck to his palm. It wasn't sticky; it was magnetic. It began to dissolve. The black metal turned into a liquid smoke, swirling up his arm, sinking into his skin.
Pain.
It wasn't a burning pain. It was the sensation of being filled up. It felt like someone was pouring an ocean into a cup. His mind expanded, stretched, and screamed under the pressure. Memories that weren't his flashed before his eyes—mountains of gold, skies burning red, monsters the size of cities, and an endless, silent library stretching into the void.
[ Process Complete. ]
[ You are now the Librarian. ]
[ Warning: The Contents are Sealed. Level insufficient. ]
Ren fell to his knees, gasping for air. The cube was gone. His hand looked normal, but under the skin of his right palm, there was now a faint, black tattoo of a closed book with chains wrapped around it.
He looked up, panic finally cracking his calm mask. "Mother, what was—"
He stopped.
The room was silent.
The rattling breath had stopped.
Elara's eyes were closed. Her face was smooth, the pain finally gone. Her hand, which had been gripping the blanket, had fallen limp off the side of the bed.
The rain hammered on the roof. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Ren did not scream. He did not wail.
He slowly stood up, his legs shaking from the strange energy coursing through him and the weight of the grief crushing his chest. He reached out and gently fixed the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. He smoothed her hair. He kissed her cold forehead.
"I promise," he whispered to the silence. "I will be the Warden."
Just then, the sound of the rain was overpowered.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
Heavy hooves on the mud. The creak of iron wheels. The jingle of expensive harnesses.
A carriage had arrived outside.
Ren turned to the door. The grief in his grey eyes hardened. It solidified, turning into a sheet of ice over a deep, dark ocean. He touched his right palm, feeling the hum of the strange power hiding there.
The door burst open.
Two knights in silver armor stood there, the rain sluicing off their pauldrons. The crest of a roaring lion—the Arken Sigil—was emblazoned on their chest plates. They looked around the filthy shack with sneers of disgust, until their eyes landed on the small boy standing by the deathbed.
"Ren Arken?" the lead knight barked. He didn't even look at the dead woman.
Ren stood straight. He smoothed his ragged tunic. He looked at the knight, not with fear, but with an eerie, placid evaluation.
"I am he," Ren said.
"Lord Valerius has summoned you. Grab your things. We leave now."
"I have no things," Ren said.
"Good. Then move. The horses hate this smell."
Ren took one last look at his mother. I will come back for you, he vowed internally. I will give you a grave fit for a Queen. But first, I must survive the snakes.
He walked toward the door, stepping out into the cold rain, leaving his childhood behind in the dark.
[ System Alert ]
[ New Quest Generated: Survive the Lion's Den. ]
[ Difficulty: B-Rank. ]
[ Reward: Access to 'Row 1' of the Archive. ]
Ren looked at the blue text floating in the air—text that the knights seemed unable to see—and he didn't flinch. He simply climbed into the carriage.
End of Chapter 1 - Part 1
Summary of Events:
Ren's mother, Elara, passes away.
Ren inherits the Bibliotheca of Infinity (The Archive) from the previous hidden Keeper (Mad Old Hame).
Ren is collected by the Duke's knights, beginning his journey into the noble world.
The System initializes, offering his first Quest.