Lyra glanced down toward her shoulder, but said nothing aloud.
As she stood at the threshold of the vast hall, a strange sensation washed over her.
Something inside this forgotten place… felt strangely, deeply familiar.
Not familiar in the sense that she had ever set foot here before—rather, the quiet atmosphere seemed to welcome her presence in a way she couldn’t rationally explain.
Almost unconsciously, her feet began moving, carrying her slowly toward the raised platform at the front.
Mira noticed her movement and turned around.
“Lyra?”
“I…” Lyra blinked, pausing on the steps.
“I don’t know why… but I feel like I need to look at the master desk.”
Neither Mason nor Mira attempted to stop her.
Lyra climbed the short stone steps, dust swirling around her ankles.
The large desk before her was carved out of a single, solid block of dark obsidian.
Its surface was completely empty.
Except for one thing.
Lying quietly in the very center of the dark stone… was a single, leather-bound black book, it hadn’t been there, when she had first scanned the room, it felt as if she had had to come close to see it.
Unlike every other object inside the vast chamber, it wasn’t covered in a single speck of dust.
Lyra reached out, her fingers hovering above the cover.
“…Strange.”
“It looks brand new,” Mira said, stepping up to the edge of the platform to look.
“How is there no dust on it?”
“There isn’t even a scratch on the leather,” Mason added, his sharp eyes scanning the desk for magical traps.
“It has been preserved very carefully.”
Lyra gently picked it up.
The cover was completely blank—no title, no emblem, no author’s mark.
Yet, despite its heavy leather binding, it felt surprisingly light in her hands.
“What does it say?” Mira asked excitedly, leaning in.
Lyra carefully opened the cover to the first page.
Blank.
She flipped to the second page.
Then the tenth.
Then the middle.
Every single page from beginning to end was pure, unblemished white parchment. Get faster updates on g.com.
Not a single word, rune, or diagram had been written inside.
“…It’s completely empty,” Lyra said, staring at the blank pages in confusion.
Mira frowned, deflating slightly.
“Seriously? All this buildup for a blank notebook?”
Lyra ran her thumb across the smooth edge of the paper, feeling a subtle, dormant warmth radiating from the spine.
“I don’t know why…” she whispered, looking down at the empty book with a thoughtful expression.
“…but I feel like I shouldn’t leave this behind.”
“Then keep it, My queen,” Myrmor said calmly.
Lyra nodded once.
Without questioning the overwhelming instinct any further, she carefully slipped the black book into the main compartment of her backpack.
She had no logical explanation for why it mattered—only that leaving it behind felt fundamentally wrong.
As she stepped back down from the platform, Mira suddenly gasped, pointing past her.
“Look up there!”
Everyone turned to look at the massive black stone wall behind the master podium.
Stretching across the entire span of the wall was an enormous, masterfully crafted mural.
Despite its obvious age, brilliant fragments of magical paint and inlaid glowing crystals had survived the centuries.
The artwork was breathtaking in scale and detail.
On the left side, a majestic golden dragon soared through shattered heavens.
Beside it, a phoenix spread dazzling wings of crimson fire.
To the right, a shimmering mermaid rose from turbulent blue waters, while elegant elves stood beneath towering silver trees.
Tiny, translucent fairies danced among glowing flora alongside towering giants, sturdy dwarves, fierce beastfolk, and radiant spirits.
Dozens upon dozens of distinct, powerful races were depicted in a grand, harmonious circle, all facing toward something at the very center.
Or rather… where something ‘used’ to be.
Lyra frowned, stepping closer to the wall.
“The center…”
“…It’s gone,” Mason finished, his voice heavy.
The absolute middle of the grand mural had been violently, deliberately erased.
It hadn’t faded with time, nor had it been damaged by natural erosion.
Someone had taken a heavy chisel or blade and violently gouged out every single trace of whatever figure or symbol had once stood at the center of the world.
Only deep, jagged scars remained etched into the dark stone.
“…Why would anyone do that?” Mira whispered, staring up at the violent gouges.
“Why destroy just the middle?”
For several long, heavy moments, silence fell over the ancient classroom.
Then—
‘Tsk.’
A subtle, quiet sound echoed directly within Lyra’s mind.
She instinctively glanced down toward her shoulder.
Myrmor was standing at the edge of her collarbone, his tiny golden eyes fixed entirely on the damaged center of the mural.
In his mind he thought derisively.
“Still trying to act all mysterious…”
His mental voice carried neither explosive anger nor sudden surprise.
It held only a profound, crushing disappointment.
Lyra waited, sensing the immense weight behind his silence.
She knew he was reflecting on an era long forgotten by the modern world.
‘ …Myrmor?’ she called softly in her mind.
Myrmor slowly broke his gaze from the scarred stone.
“It is nothing you need concern yourself with at your current strength, contractor.”
Lyra let out a quiet, defeated sigh.
‘I knew you were going to say that.’
“You still like to ask a great deal of questions, Lyra.”
Lyra offered a small, defiant smile.
‘And one day…
I’m going to make you answer every single one of them.’
Myrmor’s antennae twitched slightly.
“For your sake… I hope that day comes very late.”
His cryptic reply only ignited her curiosity further, but before she could press him any more—
BOOOOOOM!!
A violent, heavy rumbling echoed from deep within the subterranean ruins behind the classroom walls.
The ancient stone floor shook violently beneath their boots, sending cascading clouds of dust raining down from the vaulted ceiling.
Mason instantly drew his massive greatsword with a sharp metallic clatter, stepping into a defensive stance in front of the girls.
Mira instinctively reached for her bow, summoning her Wind Hare in a flash of green light.
Lyra stepped back from the scarred mural, her hand falling directly to her crystal wristband as Myrmor’s golden eyes flared with sudden sharpness.
“…That didn’t sound like a cave-in,” Mira yelled over the grinding stone.
The heavy rumbling echoed a second time—much louder, much closer, and accompanied by the terrifying sound of shattering stone.