After a quiet dinner, Ren retreated to his room, hoping that the comfort of silence might wash away the questions haunting his mind. But the memory of the strange men—and the unsettling book authored by that mad scientist—lingered in the corners of his thoughts.
As he lay back, pulling the dim light off with a swipe of his hand, a faint creak echoed from the hallway. It wasn't loud, just a whisper of movement. For a moment, his eyes opened—then closed again. Just the wind, he told himself.
He let sleep take him, unaware that the sound would return every night—and soon, it would no longer be so quiet.
Morning arrived like it always did, indifferent and distant. Ren sat up with a sigh. The day ahead seemed ordinary, even dull.
He prepared for school, never suspecting that today would be the first ripple in the calm—a day that would leave a mark far deeper than he could yet imagine.
_____________________________________
Far in the north, where the air was dry and the sun felt sharper, the region of Martha echoed with the sound of gears and hammers. In a dusty garage, lit by hanging lamps and scattered daylight, a girl moved among machines like she was one of them.
Her black hair was tied back loosely, her eyes like polished obsidian—calm, deep, and observant. Elaria wore a grease-streaked mechanic suit that suited her better than any polished uniform ever could. Around her, wires coiled like serpents, engines hummed, and sparks occasionally flared in defiance.
A voice called from behind, soft and familiar—"Dinner's ready!"
It was her mother. Elaria wiped her hands on a nearby cloth and walked into the modest house attached to the workshop. At the table, they shared western-style curry, warm and rich. Between bites, her mother glanced up, trying to sound casual.
"Have you decided where you'll study? You've only two months left."
Elaria didn't pause. Her voice was calm, nearly rehearsed: "Ariella University of Artificial Magic."
The spoon clinked against the plate. Her mother stared.
"Why there? It's halfway across the continent. We have better universities here—safer, cheaper, and more prestigious."
Elaria's eyes didn't waver.
"Because… that's where Dad studied."
The room fell into a gentle silence. Nothing more was said.
_____________________________________
The day dragged, but school eventually gave way to the freedom of evening. Ren, still restless, decided to wander. Sometimes walking helped.
let the city distract him with its noise and movement.
He passed the usual corners, the flickering neon signs, and then… there he was again—the homeless man. The same one from before with same black eyes that have a lot hidden.
Ren tried to walk past, eyes ahead, heart steady. But the man turned slowly and said, "So, you came back."
Ren hesitated. "I'm just passing through," he replied, his voice tight.
The man laughed. Not cruelly, not kindly—just knowingly.
"Still in denial, are you? Accept it. Move on."
That touched something raw in Ren. His voice sharpened.
"Forget? How can I forget that day? How can you forget those men? The one who gave his life to save this world? And now you all sing songs for a madman—hailing the lunatic scientist as if he were some hero."
The man leaned forward slightly. "Then read it," he said softly.
"Or walk away. Either live in the past or uncover the truth."
Ren stood frozen, a thousand thoughts in his head but no words forming. Five minutes passed—then he reached out and took the book.
"I won't take it for free," he murmured, pulling out a worn note worth 10 korp. A small fortune for many. He handed it over and turned to leave.
He didn't know why he paid that much. Maybe for the mystery. Maybe for guilt. Maybe… for the truth he was afraid to face.
____________________________________
The man, now alone, returned to the dim-lit library behind the alley—a place forgotten by time. He sat down in a worn chair beside an empty shelf, its wood chipped and grey.
Placing his hands gently on the armrests, he stared at the space where the book once lay. And then, quietly, with a half-smile:
"So, someone still seeks the unwanted."
Dust swirled gently in the air, catching the glow of a flickering light. Outside, the city moved on, unaware that a story long buried had just been stirred again.
_______________________________________
Ren came home silently, his mind echoing with questions. Skipping lunch again, he walked straight into his room. Without a word, he shut the door behind him.
His face was flushed, not from heat but from thoughts he couldn't untangle.
He stepped toward the futuristic water terminal—an embedded panel on his wall that let him adjust water temperature by voics. A cool rinse later, his face was clearer, but his mind wasn't.
He dried his hands and settled onto his floating chair—no legs, no base—just suspended magnetically in perfect stillness. A small sigh escaped his lips as he reached for the object that had been haunting his thoughts since morning.
A real book. Ink-stained pages. A rusted edge, almost metallic. It looked and felt old. It smelled of forgotten archives and unslept nights.
He carefully opened to the first page.
"The Experiment 7 of WR-1"
Ren's eyes narrowed. The title stared back at him like a half-opened door. He noticed immediately that some pages were missing, but his curiosity pushed him onward.
"What is WR-1?" he murmured. "And what... was experimented on?"
He tried not to spiral, but the questions came anyway. The term wasn't common. It sounded classified. Still, he turned the page.
--- Experimentation 7---
Status: Failed
Reason of failure: Human emotions submerged.
Project status: Destroyed
Date: 12th May 2043
Report: It failed again. The subject lost control. The lab is now in flames. Operation MAYDAY CODE RED initiated.
Ren's spine tingled. May 2043 — that was the same year as the Calamity. Not the same day... but close. Very close.
He flipped to the next page. A torn edge. Barely readable.
---Experimentation 8---
Status: Unknown
Project status: Overdriven
Date: 27th May 2043
27th May!!
He froze. That was the day. The day it appeared.
"Overdriven… what does that even mean?" His chest tightened. Unknown status, torn page, and no summary.
"If only I had the rest of this," he whispered.
Four hours passed. He didn't even realize how fast the time had gone. The suns had shifted and moon had risen by now, casting faint violet glows into his room.
He had read the entire book. It wasn't a narrative—it was a log. A manual. A trail of experiments, both public and hidden.
Lev-Bus: the floating transport model.
Underwater bubble habitats.
The adaptive Reverend Road, which bent to accommodate disabled citizens.
And in between, things that never saw the light of day.
Among the failures, one stood out:
Elements Control: Code Black.
He leaned back, thinking aloud.
"Artificial Magic, AM... it's tech-based. It lets you simulate elemental control through devices—fire, water, glass, metal, wind... they're all accessed through circuits, not the soul."
But Code Black... it felt different. Not just in theory, but in warning. It wasn't listed under official AM protocols. It wasn't even clear if it was meant to be used.
On the last page, things got weirder. A set of scribbles—encrypted lines—written in a language he'd never seen before. It wasn't digital. It wasn't online. He'd searched for an hour straight. Nothing matched.
Ren's jaw tightened.
This was real. Too real.
He closed the book and locked it inside his security box—biometric print access only.
Falling back onto his bed, he stared at the ceiling. The same thought kept returning, louder every time.
The Calamity. WR-1. Code Black.
They're not separate events. They're echoes of the same core.
If I can understand that cryptic language... I might understand what really happened that day.
_____________________________________
In the dim glow of the workshop garage, the girl with black, pearl-like eyes tightened the last bolt of her prototype. Sparks hissed gently from the half-assembled device on the bench.
To its right, beside a dusty photo of her late father, lay a half-torn page— its faded ink scrawled with instructions. She didn't yet know it, but what she was building, would unravel everything she thought she understood.
She flicked off the overhead light. The garage fell into silence.
In her room, the soft hum of wall-bound temperature adjusters accompanied her as she lay down. Above her bed hung a portrait of Rudd Velion, flanked by scattered notes filled with theoretical models and sketches—some hers, some his.
As she closed her eyes, memories surged. Her father's voice echoed in her mind— the warm, certain tone of a senior technician.
She remembered the day they met Rudd, back when she was just a child. Her father had whispered to her then, "This project will change the world, little spark. You'll see."
He taught her how to think like a technician, to solve problems not just by logic, but by listening to what machines couldn't say. But then... the lab. The explosion.The screams. Her father never made it out.
His last words often returned to her like static in her dreams:
"The world is a mystery, but science can read its silence. One day, you will too. I believe in that."
She exhaled slowly, a tremble in her breath, fighting tears.
That's why she chose Arielle University—the same place he studied. She needed answers. Not just to honor his legacy, but to uncover the truth that had buried him.
Suddenly a message appeared in a hologram. " Miss. Elara Selena, graduated from Martha mechanical school, Your application for 'Ariella University of Artificial magic' is accepted".
_____________________________________
A man in his forties, clad in a black tuxedo, paced slowly along a cracked, moss-covered path. A red wooden cane tapped rhythmically beside his polished shoes. In his other hand, he twirled an outdated, gold-foil pocket watch—its hinges creaking like old memories.
He stopped at a quiet cemetery, standing before a weathered stone marked:
Dr. Aryln Selena.
A soft smile touched his lips.
"A lot has changed, hasn't it?"
His voice, though aged, carried something sharp beneath the melancholy.
"The buildings once lost in fog now scrape the stars. Roads that roared with engines are silent now—just polished paths for walkers and drones. The birds? Gone. Replaced by machines with metal wings. Trees turned into stories, rivers emptied of fish and filled with robotic crawlers."
He chuckled bitterly.
"Mountains reduced to stepping stones. Oceans turned into weekend destinations."
He paused.
"But people… people haven't changed. Gossip just travels faster through holograms. Children's laughter replaced by AI simulations. Crime evolved from fists to firewalls."
A long silence. Then:
"It's not the future we dreamt of. Just the past… dressed in shinier tech. But today—"
He clenched the watch.
"I saw a boy. With eyes like his. Eyes that believe before they calculate."
He placed a small can of old-world beer at the grave's foot.
"To those who dreamed."
And turned to leave.
______________________________________
Ren sat with his family at the dinner table. The rich aromas of steak, perfectly seared, vegetables infused with spice, and fluffy, steaming rice filled the air, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.
His brother, Rude, nudged him playfully.
"So, have you made up your mind yet?"
Ren set down his fork, his gaze drifting for a moment before meeting his family's eyes. The room fell quiet, awaiting his answer.
"I want to study Artificial Magic. At Arielle University of AM."
The words hung in the air. For a beat, no one spoke. His mother blinked, a puzzled look on her face. "But… you've never really liked AM. Why now?"
Ren's father couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Pride flickered in his expression, while Rude stared at him, wide-eyed.
Ren shrugged lightly, his tone casual yet resolute. "I don't know… something just clicked. It's time I stopped avoiding it."
A soft silence followed, but it wasn't one of tension—more a quiet acknowledgment. Nods of understanding and silent support filled the room.
Later, as Ren slipped under the covers, the shadows on his ceiling flickered in the dim light. He lay still, his mind swirling with uncertainty, but there was a calmness in the quiet—the kind that only came from a decision finally made.
_____________________________________
Beneath the ocean's surface at far east, a structure slept.
A dome of translucent alloy stood still, deep in the blue abyss. Inside, machines hummed in rhythm. And at the center, a towering figure—part-human, part-unknown—rested within a crystalline pod.
Etched on its metallic right arm, in characters barely legible through the algae-glazed glass:
WR-2.
And its pulse had just started blinking..