CHAPTER 39: CHAPTER 39 - THE ARCHIVE

Before she began, she made sure to lock the archive door to stay undisturbed, because she was going to be here all day; with a click, the door sealed.

Morena stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle. The air was stale, carrying the scent of parchment and oil that had soaked into the stone for decades, with a hint of burning wood due to the torches.

Rows of shelves stretched before her, higher than her head, each one filled with tomes bound in leather or scrolls tied with worn cords.

Candles flickered faintly in their sconces. She lit more, one by one, until the room glowed in soft orange. Shadows danced against the shelves, and dust stirred with every step she took.

"AI."

[Listening.]

"Begin wide-scope scan. Skim every document as quickly as possible. Sort everything into categories as you go. I want all information stored and organized by the end of the day."

[Acknowledged. Parameters set: breadth-first scanning. Categories established: History, Geography, Theories, Methods, Miscellaneous. Processing begins.]

Morena nodded at the predetermined categories and didn’t add anything else. Instead, she moved towards the first shelf and reached for the nearest book. Its leather cracked as she opened it, clearly having been untouched for ages; the ink was faded, but still legible.

She turned the pages at a steady rhythm; she didn’t stop to read any words, she simply ensured her eyes could see the pages clearly and moved on. The AI caught everything, feeding it into her mind in flashes, cataloging at a pace far beyond her own.

Hours passed like that. Book after book, scroll after scroll. She didn’t sit—her body moved shelf to shelf, her hands pulling volumes down, her eyes scanning, her thoughts sharpening as the information poured into the AI.

The only thing that slowed her was the age of the books; some were old, very old, and because of that, she had to be extra careful not to ruin the pages by flipping too quickly. At first, she underestimated just how quickly she was flipping and accidentally ripped one of the pages.

Thankfully, the damage wasn’t bad, but since then, she paid extra attention.

By noon, stacks of opened tomes filled the central table; these were the ones she found interesting enough to pay extra attention to. Dust clung to her gloves, her breath faintly marked the air, but her pace never faltered.

"Summarize progress."

[History: 137 documents processed. Geography: 42. Theories: 89. Methods: 24. Miscellaneous: 76. Relevant data extracted.]

"Show me the important points as I continue."

She decided that instead of just going through the pages, she would also revise the information she had compiled so far, covering the most important things as judged by the AI using her bases.

[Displaying.]

As she turned another page, her vision filled with highlighted fragments.

The family history appeared first. Names of ancestors she had never heard, branches erased from memory because they had failed or betrayed. One uncle had sided with a rival house and been executed. A cousin had vanished in the border wars, declared dead without body or proof.

The records were blunt, without mercy. It showed that the family was very old, and while they weren’t always nobles, they had always been one that strived to be powerful warriors.

It is said that the oldest of the family, the first one to bear the family’s name, was a warrior of the 4th Level, a feat that is almost impossible to achieve in these current times.

How they achieved it, how powerful they were, or even what happened to them were all unknown. It is believed that after establishing the family and leaving their method behind, they left to seek ways to break through higher levels, but they have never been seen since.

Many in the family have strived to be like them, to reach such a place, but the closest to have done this so far was her great-aunt, having reached the peak of Level 2 before dying.

Her death details were blurry, but some hints point towards an enemy she fought.

While the family history was useful to know, what interested Morena more was the history of the Kingdom. Morena paused when the text mentioned dates—barely three centuries old. The Brightburn Kingdom was merely three centuries old, much younger than she expected.

Her eyes narrowed at the details.

The church.

It had a history since the foundation of the Kingdom. Older than the Kingdom itself, stamped with seals from dynasties long gone. They had survived the collapse of the last throne.

In fact, some historians believed that they played a part in the fall of the last throne.

She lingered on the information for a second.

"AI. Flag all references to the church predating the kingdom. Cross-link with wars and dynasties."

[Flagged. Cross-linking complete. Probability: Church involvement in regime change exceeds 73%.]

Morena bit down on her teeth as she read the information. If what the books were saying could be trusted, the Church was much more dangerous than she had previously thought.

For now, she took note of it and moved on.

Maps. Drawn on thin parchment, some warped by moisture. None were greatly detailed, all hand-drawn, some barely held the semblance of a map, but they helped get a lay of the land.

One showed the capital before it was called Brightburn, over four hundred years ago, its streets marked with older names. A note scrawled near the palace grounds read: sealed catacombs beneath foundation. One note where the church stood, and yet, it was the same place where the current church’s headquarters were located.

She brushed her thumb across the ink.

"AI."

[Cross-reference: probability high that it is the same building.]

If the church had truly remained untouched for over four hundred years, then the church’s roots might be deeper than anyone realized.

She continued.

Theories came next. There were over a dozen of them, some useless, some dangerous. Charts of energy veins in the body, sketches of circles that spiraled endlessly, notes on channeling elemental energy into weapons.

Most ended in warnings: unstable, fatal, unsuccessful. It was clear that the collection was a mere reference, maybe even for the sake of getting them off the streets. Almost all of them had some hidden dangers; the ones that didn’t had little use.

One folio described binding fragments of the soul into objects to preserve them. Another mentioned an experiment with fire and darkness, creating a false sun said to sear both body and mind.

Morena’s hand stilled on the page. It wasn’t anything she had read before; it reminded her of some of the ramblings from the journal, but this time it was a warning.

Morena closed the book she was skimming through and moved on to the other.

"Noted. Continue."

Then came the methods. Warrior manuals, thin and battered. Breathing patterns scrawled half-complete, many pages missing. Some promised power but demanded reckless practices—overdrawing veins, burning life force, mutilating the body.

She skimmed them, but she planned to use them later on to further expand on her current method. While her progress was faster, it was nowhere near enough; she would do anything needed to grow quicker.

Finally, the miscellaneous.

She flipped through a scroll of children’s tales where a hero slayed a beast of shadow with words instead of steel. Another book held recipes for alchemical mixtures—one to strengthen bones that required venom, another to numb pain but risk madness. A fragment of a poem described a man who wore a crown of glass, his empire burning around him.

Useless on the surface. But even nonsense held kernels of truth.

"AI. Cross-link miscellaneous with history. Flag any overlap."

[Done. Three matches found. One tale references a city’s collapse corresponding to a recorded war. One recipe aligns with primitive warrior method. One poem shares phrases with church liturgy.]

She frowned.

"A poem and liturgy?"

[Yes. Phrase detected: ’light unbroken, shadow cast aside.’ Appears in both sources, centuries apart.]

The same phrase used by the church now. Morena’s eyes narrowed.

It was no coincidence.

She kept working. Hours passed until the candles had burned low. Her table was buried in parchment and notes, her body ached faintly, but she ignored it.

By the time the last book was shut, the AI had sorted everything into order. One very interesting piece of information she came across was about the Empire, the enemy of the Kingdom, but it was hearsay, a folktale that held little truth.

She wasn’t sure if it was worth believing, but it was worth looking into. The issue was that all information relating to the Empire was banned. Possession, sharing, or even retelling of such information was seen as heresy, and one could be killed for it.

This was a rule that both the Kingdom and the Church enforced very heavily.

Morena stood still for a long moment.

’The church... the kingdom... and even the Empire. None of it is simple.’

She closed the last tome and stacked it neatly.

At the very bottom of the final pile, something caught her eye. A torn page slipped loose, its edges blackened as if singed. Faded letters scrawled across it.

The interesting details weren’t the words on the paper, but the letters that made them: after all, they weren’t the common language of the Kingdom, but the very letters that made up the journal she held.

Her fingers tightened around the parchment.

"AI. Store this separately. High priority."

[Stored.]

The candles guttered. Morena exhaled, straightened, and gathered the keys at her belt. When she finally left the archive, the air outside was colder, and night had already fallen.