"C'mon, Uncle! Let me into the restricted section!"
Augustus whined at the orange-haired man, who simply laughed, then shook his head.
"Sadly, not all information can be given out so simply. There are parts of our history that are too dark and grisly for even I to know…"
He hadn't intended to come off in any way but pleasant; however, the young man beside him froze in place.
Cauron's brow furrowed as he faced the youngin.
"Augustus?"
The man's expression was clouded in a faint, irritated mist, and his voice was low and gravely.
"Why is it that knowledge can't be shared so easily… You always said that our history is what makes us whole, so shouldn't it all be shared?"
His eyes, the same ones that he had inherited from his great-grandfather Marcus Twynam, gazed into the Sea King's with a burning passion that could not be stifled.
The orange-haired man paused for a moment, not quite sure how to respond.
Even as he mustered his thoughts and prepared to speak, he was interrupted once more.
"If I were in charge, I'd share all this knowledge with the entire world. It's not our job as researchers to hide the truth just because we think it is horrific. It should be the choice of the people."
His words stopped Cauron completely for one simple reason.
It was that in all honesty, the King of Mystery agreed with the sentiment but didn't dare say so aloud.
That rule, that some knowledge needed to be restricted by barriers, was the manifestation of his patron's existence.
If he were to utter the words that Augustus did now, he would be saying that in the domain of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, the Knowledge Barrier shouldn't exist.
And that, of all things, was not possible.
…
They did not speak for a few minutes as they continued forward, their thoughts returning to the present day.
After passing into a newly renovated section of the library, Augustus stopped again, but this time with awe plastered across his face.
"Who is that?"
It was as if he were starstruck by the image, his eyes glazing over as he reached his hand out, attempting to touch it despite clearly standing too far for that.
"That would be a portrait of who we assume to be the Queen of the Architects."
Augustus's brows raised high while excitement streaked across his face at the words of his mentor.
"Didn't you tell me we know nothing of their hierarchy?"
Cauron's lips curled up again as he summoned a small ball of fire into his palm, its light reflecting like a cinder within his student's eye.
"It was what I took from the Vault of Nautilus in my youth. While it is possible that this is a random woman of the Architect Age, it is unlikely due to the richness of the fabric and the rarity of the coloring."
He paused, pushing the glasses on the bridge of his nose higher and fully embracing his scholarly side.
"During their time, while being far more advanced in almost all technological aspects, their textile production was weak. They used terror scales for clothing, and therefore, the fabric industry was not very developed, or so we thought."
Not even acknowledging his apprentice's presence anymore, he continued his tale, which, while seemingly holding no importance, had a great impact on the place of women in society throughout the whole world.
"This is the only relic of the Architects with a trace of their fabrics, and it was discovered in pristine condition, a rare find indeed. Believing that the usage of textiles was very uncommon in the civilization, we came to the conclusion that this piece was commissioned by a member of the royal family, or of high noble status."
He pointed upward towards her head.
"The small laurel upon her head is a traditional garb of Architect nobility as well, and given her age and the fabric, we can assume her to have held one of, if not the highest position within the nation."
Augustus nodded slowly, digesting the long-winded response of his teacher with careful deliberation.
"I've been wondering something for a while now…"
Pursing his lips tightly, he stared straight into the eyes of his great-grand uncle
"This knowledge… Why is this of all things being hidden?"
Cauron's expression darkened, his smile fading quickly.
While his previous comments were already blasphemous enough, if he were to answer the boy carelessly, then it could cost far more than just a banishment from the island.
Casting a barrier of mana around them that would prevent the prying ears of the researchers occupying the surrounding halls, he began to speak.
"Throughout my life, he only revealed to me one fact that he remembered. Something that even left a mental scar on a god."
Inhaling hard, he began to recount the god's admission, the words flowing out naturally.
"It was said that when the world was overcome with Devils, the people of that era were known to not simply pass on into the Great Beyond, like it is customary today. It was said that these Devils could entice humans to open gateways to their home dimension, allowing them to pass to our world and possess their victims, similar to contracted gods."
Staring straight into the eyes of his student, the great Cauron J. Thorn, spoke from his heart.
"Therefore, my teacher told me this one thing to remember above all. 'There is nothing less trustworthy than a mortal's greed.' Reminded daily of this fact, I put together my own hypothesis that is likely related to the end of the Age of Architects."
There was a strange warmth that fell over the hall as if a fireplace had begun to burn.
"The Devils of old will make contracts with mortals to invoke their heavenly realm upon our own. And therefore, at all times, we must be wary. For a Devil is truly the bane of human will."
…
Five months went by in a flash.
Cauron awoke with a jolt, his face covered in sweat and his breathing ragged.
Looking around cautiously, he exhaled in relief, his body slowly relaxing back against his pillow.
"It was that nightmare again…"
For months after taking in the two Twynams for training, he had been plagued with vivid dreams of fire, its all-consuming radiance devouring him whole.
All the knowledge he had spent decades gathering inside his head burned away by the flames of chaos that dared fight against him.
Death did not frighten an immortal; however, for his entire life's work to be lost would mean a greater sin than he could ever repent for.
Closing his eyes once again, he attempted to drift back into sleep, the echoes of his nightmare still haunting him.
Neither of the twins was present on the island at that moment—two weeks had passed since they had been forced to depart after receiving news of their father's accident involving an Apex-level terror.
Cauron had wished to leave as well to check on Tiberius, yet Mr. L was vehemently against the idea.
He had said there was a matter of the utmost importance and that every second counted, but the empty weeks that lacked any of that so-called importance had already begun to wear on the Sea King's nerves.
As he lay in bed, he once again ruminated over the words that the god had said that day.
He believes me to be a child? Does he not understand that I am no longer the lone toddler he found on those steps many years ago?
The man ground his teeth together, his mind gradually slipping into the darkness of night.
Only one thought remained dormant in the back of his head, the possibility that shouldn't be true, one that was too vile to even consider.
The visions and nightmares were connected to the words of his patron, and they foretold a disaster yet to come.
…
December 5th, 3064.
The sun was warm, beaming down onto the swaying surface of the Sea of Mystery like any other day without a drop of humidity in the air.
Cauron Thorn sat beneath a palm tree holding a book, watching the perfectly clear sky as if expecting a cloud to break its tranquility.
Claud had returned to the island recently after tending to their father's condition and helping find prostheses for his legs, the incident that had stolen them still fresh in the King's mind.
Tiberius, a warrior at heart, had been mutilated from the waist down after being attacked by a rare, Apex-level Mythreian off the coast of the Land of Deities.
If the King of Wishes hadn't intervened and executed the rogue beast that had escaped the Abyss, then he wouldn't have survived at all.
On the other hand, his brother, Augustus, had disappeared from the public eye for nearly a year—most speculated that he had entered into secluded training to shake off the tragedy.
Yet, regardless of their beliefs, none could have guessed what would occur on that early December day.
It was a typical day, just like any other.
Until, at exactly twelve in the afternoon, when the sun struck its highest point, an anomaly struck the world.
The invention of the radio was the Sea King's masterpiece of the era, a defining instrument in communication that had quickly spread all around the world.
However, a malfunction occurred at that exact moment.
Whether it be the Sea of Dreams, Curses, Mystery, Souls, Songs, Ancients, Wishes, Chains, Polar Storms, or even possibly the Abyss itself, all transponder systems throughout the seas cut off at once.
Lord Thorn, who did not use his own invention often, was unaware of what had happened until it was already too late.
At 12:01 in the afternoon, the smell of charcoal filled the nostrils of all living humans on the planet.
At 12:02, Cauron Thorn noticed the unusually clear sky, now filling with thick black smoke, and leaped up from his chair.
At 12:03, he ran faster than he ever thought possible, arriving at his destination in mere seconds.
There, as he stood outside the gates of the Library of Nautilus, the pride and joy of the world and the heart of all knowledge, he gazed upon flames so fierce that one could wonder if the God of Fire had incarnated.
He could not think, nor could he process what he was seeing, his mind in disbelief at the sight of that fortress-like building—clad with layers upon layers of protection mechanisms against all kinds of disasters—now facing its demise.
Before he knew it, he had broken through the main entrance, a scene more horrific than he could ever imagine waiting for him within.
Hundreds of researchers screamed in horror as various sections of the library caught ablaze, an endless stream of smog filling the chambers.
Some who had tried to put out the fires had been caught in the inferno, their bodies slowly melting away beneath the heat.
Their anguished screams as their flesh peeled away, and the moisture within them dried up, were so gut-wrenching that it made the Sea King fall to his knees.
But he had to get up, he knew he did.
Reaching into his pocket, he placed his glasses upon his face, and an amount of Divine Interference strong enough to kill erupted around him.
The voice of his goddess was silent as the Abyssal Veil was still in place, and only the emotions ingrained into the power she lent him were able to reach him in that moment.
It was an inhuman amount of power, enough to drive a man insane or kill him on the spot.
However, to Cauron J. Thorn, the King of Mysteries and otherwise referred to as The Immortal, such a price was worth paying.
His body threatened to give out, his muscles screaming while his tendons tore in every possible place.
Bones shattered and then melted under the weight of the Divine Interference, the true might of a deity entering the Sea King's form.
The fire around him wavered as if sensing the presence equal to that of a demigod, the air within the room instantly ceasing to exist.
For a moment, the flames stopped, their life source ripped away at the critical point in their development.
At the same time, the researchers collapsed, their breaths stolen and their lungs contracting painfully.
Seeing the scene with shock across his face, he released the hold over the air in the chamber for a moment while trying to reach out to the collapsed researchers.
That, though, was merely a brief moment of peace as only a second later, bright flames burst back to life, threatening to burn away at the library once more.
As he looked between the all-consuming monster that devoured more and more knowledge by the second, and the men and women sprawled across the floor, his breath caught.
There, he was left at a crossroads, one that no person should ever stand between.
He could either eradicate all the air in the chamber, killing the researchers at the same time, or he could allow the flames to burn away at the building and try to save them from the fire.
Cauron Thorn, temporarily blessed with the power of the divine, sensed their thoughts subconsciously, their words echoing through his mind.
Please.
Save it.
Leave us.
Their one wish was the same as his own: the protection of knowledge itself, something that to a researcher was vastly more important than even their lives.
These were scientists, historians, doctors, inventors, engineers, and more—their faith in the preservation of the past, present, and future surpassed their own selfishness.
If it were for the good of the world, then they decided that they would die in peace to preserve that knowledge.
Watching them struggling on the ground, the King closed his eyes.
He would not let them suffer the slow asphyxiation, and so, an eruption of mana from his fingertips ended their suffering early.
With heavy steps, he walked towards them, their last wishes clear within his head as he engraved their expressions into his memory.
One, two, even ten centuries into the future, he would remember their faces as the victims of an unfortunate accident that nearly destroyed the world's history.
That was, of course, if it had been an accident at all.
As he bowed his head to the fallen, those who sacrificed themselves for the place they loved, he felt a sudden jolt of warmth beneath his heart, an unidentifiable pain shooting through his chest.
Opening his eyes wide, he heard the sound of water, no, blood, hitting the ground in a flood.
He whipped his head around to see what had nearly punctured his heart; however, what he witnessed robbed him of all strength to move.
A young boy, descended from generations of children that the Sea King thought of as his own, stood there with a sword in his hands.
His brown hair had been dyed white, his eyes an unnatural gold with a bloodied gash over his neck.
Stitches covered the festering wound, black blood flowing within his veins, and leaking out of the gaps in small droplets.
Cauron couldn't speak; a knot so tight that it threatened to crush him from within formed around his heart, driving away the last bits of his sanity.
Augustus Twynam, the boy that none had seen in months, stood with a blazing inferno of golden flame within his left hand and a blade in the right.
He looked at his great-grand uncle with a frown, his left palm twitching as he turned it towards the center of the library.
The Sea King's eyes bulged as he inhaled to shout with all his might, but it was already too late.
FWOOOOOOOSH!
At the very heart of the Library of Nautilus, a golden tornado of mana burst into existence with enough strength to rival a King.
Ignoring the lack of oxygen within the chamber, it ate away at the very space that it occupied, more akin to Erasure than to a normal flame.
The young Twynam had cast not a single chant, yet the fire spread out anyway, consuming anything and everything it touched.
It had begun—the turning point that would reshape history itself, the day Augustus Twynam would become the most infamous man the world has known and Cauron Thorn would face the greatest defeat of his life.
The day that the Library of Nautilus became a sea of cinder, and the same day that the God of Knowledge and Wisdom vanished from the Dimension of Waves forever.