Draven was searching for a way to die. He wasn't looking for a method—he was looking for a guarantee, something strong enough to kill an Ascendants .
Draven looked through the bookshelves once again. All the books were dusty and rusty, as usual.
He had come to this particular library because it was rumored to have the best resources and was known for its unfiltered genres—death, destruction, and more.
He had read almost every single one of them, yet still couldn't find a way to end his misery.
Being part of the Ascendants was the worst decision he'd ever subconsciously made, Draven thought as he moved closer to the shelf, scanning each book one by one.
In this world, Ascendants ...
Now, he had lost everything. And as an F-rank Ascendant, he didn't even know his bloodline.
To make matters worse, he now had a long life ahead—and since he was Ascendants , he couldn't possibly be killed by a normal human.
Ascendants had a 300-year lifespan and could only be killed by higher entities. And though he lived in the mortal realm—where such beings from other realms existed—he wasn't exactly in danger.
But that was Draven's problem. Why couldn't he take his own life? What was he still living for?
His mom was dead. His wife had remarried. Even his child hated him. And to top it off, he'd been betrayed and banished from the very Ascendants clan he had poured his heart into.
Life held no more meaning for him. That's why he was here today—he needed to find a way to kill an Ascendant. This life was too much for him to bear.
All of a sudden, Draven stumbled upon a book on the dusty shelf he was searching through.
He pulled it out slowly.
I've never seen this book before, he thought silently, removing it completely from the shelf.
Dusting it off, he saw it had nothing written on the front or back cover. It was completely blank and clearly very old and outdated.
After cleaning it for a while, he noticed it was sealed with a bind on the side, making it impossible to access the contents.
What? Who still locks books in this age? he wondered as he strode over to the counter where books were borrowed.
"Hello, I need to borrow this book," he said, looking ahead.
The man took the book without looking. But just as he was about to record the collection, he searched for the book's title—and froze.
"Sorry… I think this book is off-limits. I have no record of it, and it definitely can't be unlocked. I don't have the key," the librarian explained, hesitating. He wasn't sure, but if it was sealed, maybe it should be off-limits.
But Draven's eyes burned with quiet resolve. He had read almost every book on that shelf and still hadn't found an answer.
Who knows? This might be the right book—the one I've needed all this while.
And it wouldn't be a coincidence that the book was placed on the shelf labeled Death, Destruction, and Immortality.
Draven sighed. "Just package the book. I'll take it as it is. Forget about the keys."
The librarian looked at him in awe.
"It's off bounds. I'm really sorry. I can't do that." Even if he wasn't sure he had seen the book before, the fact that it was sealed should mean it was off-limits.
Draven's expression darkened. "I've spent over two thousand dollars in this damn library, and I can't borrow one old book?"
"So this is how you treat your loyal customers, I see," he added, turning to leave.
"Wait," the librarian called out. He knew Draven was right. Draven had bought almost every book related to death and destruction.
That made him their most loyal customer. The librarian didn't know what his master would say if he upset such a top-paying client.
Still, the book in question was off-limits—or so he thought.
Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, Draven said, "I'll bring it back first thing tomorrow morning."
With that, the librarian quietly—but reluctantly—handed him the book.
"I hope you keep to your word," he said as he passed it over.
Draven nodded silently, paid, and left.
---
It was a long walk home. That had become normal for Draven these days. He had nothing else to do but think about his life. His savings were almost gone, and in a few more weeks, he'd be completely drained.
Draven looked at the old book in his hands. Why wasn't I at least a D-ranked Ascendants ? Maybe then he might have stood a chance against them.
He sighed. It was too late now. Not knowing his bloodline was already bad enough. All he knew was that he had Ascendants genes.
The loss of his mother had been one of the biggest shocks he'd faced since getting out of jail. That alone made him want to end it all. She had been one of the few things he lived for.
Draven turned the corner and approached his home.
He lived in a small, secluded bungalow with one room, a kitchen, a toilet, and a sitting room.
Upon arriving, he quickly pulled off his clothes, took a bath, and changed into his nightwear.
He switched on the lights as soon as he was done, then moved to the side table where the book now rested. Holding it in his hands, he examined it again, searching for a way to unlock it—maybe a hidden latch or something—but found nothing.
After about thirty minutes, he dropped it in frustration.
I'll just return it tomorrow morning—it's useless anyway, he thought, face twisting in disappointment.
Sensing a resonating bloodline, the book began to glow faintly.
But Draven, lost in thought, didn't notice the soft light emanating from it.
Just as he started to turn toward it, a surge of energy burst from the book, snapping the lock open and throwing him backward with explosive force.