Albion shivered as the freezing, calf-deep water filled his feet and swirled around his thighs, making every step a slow, heavy drag.
He did not know where this corridor led. It was situated just outside the library doors.
Pausing, he focused his gaze on the dark wall, noting a jagged, fist-sized crater in the masonry.
"What happened here?" he murmured in a low, level voice. He glanced down at the dark, rippling surface. "This water is cold. Is this the source of the vibrations from earlier?"
Gajeel had dragged him to the library while he was still unconscious, leaving him without a map of the layout. It was an inefficient arrangement; had Gajeel waited for him to wake up fully, Albion would have known the route back to the guildhall.
He wanted to return there simply because he was tired. He had processed a massive volume of information today, and though his body remained functional, his mind wanted rest.
He resumed walking, his small feet splashing softly as he observed his surroundings. The walls were constructed from massive blocks of dark stone, uneven and nearly black beneath the poor lighting. Deep, hairline cracks ran through several surfaces.
Thick iron support beams ran along the ceiling and walls at irregular, structural angles. Albion stopped, his eyes narrowing as he examined a section of the metal.
'There are teeth marks on the iron,' he noted. 'The metal has been compressed and bitten through.'
He looked up. Several exposed pipes dangled from the ceiling, their edges jagged as if they had been forcefully torn from their brackets. The lighting in this section of the corridor was sparse; only a few dim lamps hung from blackened chains, spaced far apart.
Their pale, sickly glow barely reached the floor, leaving long portions of the hallway submerged in heavy shadow.
The floor consisted of dark stone tiles, reinforced with iron plating near the library entrance. The metal bore heavy scratches and deep dents.
Albion flared his nostrils, attempting to catch a scent that might explain the damage.
'The water is too cold,' he thought, his brow twitching slightly. 'It masks the scent. The low light limits my vision.'
He walked for several more yards before stopping. A strange, sharp hissing sound cut through the quiet, followed by the low murmur of voices.
'Someone is there,' he thought.
He stood perfectly still, letting his heightened senses analyze the sounds. Ever since his awakening in the library, his physical composition had changed. His facial structure felt different, his strength had increased, and his five senses had become significantly sharper.
He did not know the exact cause of these physical changes, though he suspected it was tied to the awakening.
About a dozen feet ahead, two voices drifted through the dark. One was young and soft; the other was older, dry, and level.
Suddenly, the older voice grew slightly louder.
"Who is there?"
Albion's fuchsia eyes widened slightly, though his face remained still.
'They detected my presence,' he analyzed. 'My movements were quiet, but the water made noise. They are likely wizards. There is no reason to hide.'
He stepped forward. The water splashed against his shins, the sound echoing in the narrow corridor. Because of the shadows, he had to walk for nearly a minute before the two figures came into view. He stopped roughly five feet away from them.
They stood side by side, their eyes fixed on him.
"Yo," Albion said. His greeting was flat and direct.
The first person he examined was a girl close to his own size. She wore a deep navy-blue varsity jacket that hung loosely from her shoulders, its soft silver-white sleeves and ribbed cuffs lined with thin, faded light-blue stripes. Beneath the jacket, she wore dark gray shorts that rested just above her knees, paired with chunky navy sneakers with white soles.
Small, silver snowflake earrings glinted faintly in her earlobes. Clutched tightly in her arms was a plush seal—soft gray, white, and pale blue—held close to her chest.
Her midnight-blue hair was thick and faintly wavy, tied into high pigtails with pale blue ribbons, with uneven bangs framing a porcelain-pale face. There was a faint, purple bruise near the left corner of her mouth. Her azure-blue eyes were large, calm, and watchful.
'She is small,' Albion observed. 'I assumed Gajeel and I were the only children in this guild. I was wrong.'
His gaze shifted to the woman standing beside her. She was strikingly tall, with a slim, graceful frame and remarkably pale skin. Her long black hair fell well past her waist in immaculate, silky waves, contrasting sharply with her pale complexion.
Her face was beautiful in a cold, aristocratic manner, defined by high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Her lips were painted a muted crimson. Her eyes, however, were entirely dull and lusterless—a faded, washed-out silver-gray that held no warmth. When her gaze landed on Albion, he felt as though he was being measured.
She wore a tailored black-and-white business suit, a crisp white dress shirt, and a perfectly tied black necktie. Her hands were covered in fine black leather gloves with subtle silver accents along the knuckles, and she stood poised in polished black high heels.
'She is very tall,' Albion thought. 'Like a tree. A very pale tree.'
He had no memory of either of them from his brief time in the guildhall.
The three of them stood in silence for a long moment, the water rippling between them. Finally, the little girl turned her head slightly toward the woman.
"I did not realize there was another child in the guild," Juvia said softly. Her voice was polite and measured. "I assumed it was only Gajeel and I."
Sheila gave a slow, single nod of her head, her empty gray eyes never leaving Albion.
"Indeed," Sheila said, her tone level and dry. "If he had been present, I would have saw him during my time in the guildhall."
Albion remained still, staring back at them.
"I joined today," he said. He kept his explanation brief. "That is why you did not see me."
Juvia and Sheila exchanged a brief look, then nodded. The little girl stepped slightly forward, clutching her plush seal tighter.
"My name is Juvia Greywater," she said, tilting her head to the left. On the pale skin below her ear, a deep indigo-blue Phantom Lord mark was clearly visible.
The tall woman beside her spoke next.
"The name is Sheila," she said, her voice completely devoid of emotion. "I am the doctor of this guild."
Albion looked at them, his mind cataloging the new information.
'A doctor,' he thought. 'And the girl is a wizard, like Gajeel. Since I have awakened, I am also classified as a wizard.'
After another long, quiet stretch, Albion raised his hand and pointed to the left side of his own neck, just beneath his ear. He pulled his hoodie down slightly to reveal his guild mark—a deep indigo-purple crest with faint, glowing fuchsia undertones.
"Albion," he said. "Pleasure."
Sheila watched him carefully.
"Just your first name? What about your family name?"
Albion's fuchsia eyes met hers. He did not blink.
"I do not have a family," he said. His voice was flat, stating a fact rather than asking for sympathy. "I reject my last name. I do not use it. I could ask you the same question."
Sheila studied the small boy. He was exceptionally short—even Juvia, who stood at 135 centimeters, towered over Albion's 102-centimeter height.
"The situation is identical," Sheila replied, her voice remaining professional. "I was an orphan. I grew up in this guild. I have been here my entire life."
Albion looked at her.
"Sucks to be you."
Sheila's eyebrow twitched. She slowly bent down, bringing her lips close to Juvia's ear, though she did not attempt to whisper.
"Is it just me, Juvia, or does this child possess an incredibly irritating manner of speaking?"
Juvia nodded her head in agreement, her blue eyes fixed on Albion.
"I agree," the girl said softly, her voice polite but frank. "He is very sassy. I do not believe anyone has taught him proper manners."
A tiny, involuntary twitch appeared near Albion's eyebrow, though he kept his posture rigid.
'They are speaking loud enough for me to hear,' he thought. 'They are doing it intentionally.'
He decided to redirect the conversation.
"Why are you here?" Albion asked. His voice remained calm and quiet. "What is the purpose of this hallway? How do I return to the guildhall?"
Sheila straightened her spine, her black-gloved hands resting at her sides.
"You know, Albion," Sheila said, her voice dropping into a quieter, reprimanding register. "Instead of demanding directions, you could attempt to ask politely."
Albion did not answer. He simply stared at her, his fuchsia eyes completely blank. Sheila stared back for several seconds before letting out a slow, dry sigh.
"It is regrettable," Sheila murmured, taking a long pause. "An adorable child like you should not have such a bratty personality."
After a small pause, Sheila spoke, her voice dropping into her characteristically level, measured rhythm.
"Allow me to clarify. This passage is simply referred to as the corridor. To reach the guildhall, you only need to proceed straight ahead. The path is direct. If you continue walking, you will arrive."
Sheila gestured with a single black-gloved hand toward herself and Juvia.
"A physical altercation occurred here recently. The current state of this area is the aftermath of that conflict. However, when wizards engage in combat within these premises, the use of magic is strictly prohibited. We prefer to keep the structural integrity of the building intact."
Juvia spoke up next, her tone soft, formal, and precise.
"As a consequence of violating that rule, I have been instructed to clear the water," she said, clutching her plush seal slightly closer. "Sheila is supervising. As my senior."
Albion, however, was barely listening. Their explanations faded into background noise as a completely different detail arrested his attention.
Extending from both Sheila and Juvia were pale blue strands.
Information Threads.
But it was the quantity that made his eyes widen in silent shock.
'Three threads,' Albion thought, his mind racing. 'There are three distinct strands on each of them. I have never seen that number before.'
He watched their faces. Neither the woman nor the girl showed any awareness of the glowing blue lines brushing near their skin.
'They cannot see them. This confirms it. The ability to perceive these threads belongs to me alone.'
'They are invisible to everyone else.'
Albion stared at them, completely frozen. Juvia and Sheila, unable to read the boy's sudden rigidity, exchanged a quiet, puzzled glance.
Sheila took a slow step toward him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her empty gray eyes scanning his face. "Your face is pale."
Albion did not answer. He did not even register that she was closing the distance between them. His mind was entirely occupied by the logical puzzle in front of him.
'My magic… Codex Magic is an information-based system. It is designed to analyze and understand. It allows me to see invisible data strands extending from objects.'
His gaze locked onto the three threads drifting from Sheila's shoulder.
'But if they are attached to them, it means my magic is not limited to inanimate objects. It functions on living organisms as well.'
According to the rules he had known, the volume of data he acquired depended entirely on the complexity of the target and the duration of the contact.
If extracting information from a two-threaded magic item had caused him physical pain, what would a human do to his mind?
Analyzing a wooden chair and analyzing a living, breathing human body with a complex nervous system and active magic origin were two entirely different concepts.
'I am already near my mental threshold,' Albion reasoned, a cold sweat forming on his brow. 'If a double strand causes a severe migraine, what will happen if I make contact with three?'
'Will the pain increase? Or will the feedback be worse?'
A firm, black-gloved hand settled onto his shoulder.
"Albion," Sheila's voice cut through his thoughts, quiet but direct. "Answer me. Are you injured?"
The physical contact was a sudden, jarring shock.
Instantly, his mind did not conjure the rules of his magic. Instead, a violent, unbidden memory from his past tore through his consciousness, loud and suffocating.
"[It's your fault. You are the reason he left me. Those fuchsia eyes… they are identical to his.]"
His mother's voice. Shrill, unstable, and terrifying.
"[So now… you will experience the exact same pain.]"
Albion's breathing hitched. His pupils dilated.
For a fraction of a second, the phantom sensation of a hot, sharp blade slicing through the flesh of his arms flashed through his body.
"Don't touch me!"
Smack.
With a sudden, violent reflex, Albion struck her hand away. The sharp sound of his small palm hitting her leather glove echoed loudly in the damp corridor. He scrambled back two quick paces, his chest heaving as he stared at her with wide, wild eyes.
He forced his lungs to take a ragged breath, desperately trying to clamp down on the sudden panic before his expression could crumble.
"I am… I am sorry," Albion whispered, his voice trembling slightly before he forced it back into a flat, controlled register. "I would appreciate it if you did not touch me."
He hid his hands behind his back, squeezing his fingers into tight, rigid fists to stop them from shaking.
"I do not like physical contact," he said, his voice quiet, measured, and hollow. "Especially from adults."
Sheila remained perfectly still, her gloved hand hanging in the air for a moment before she slowly lowered it to her side. Her pale, expressionless face gave no indication of what she was thinking. Behind her, Juvia watched silently, clutching her seal a little tighter.
"I see," Sheila said. She took a slow, deliberate pause, her voice quiet and even. "I apologize. I did not intend to cause you discomfort."
Albion lifted his hood, pulling it over his head to cover his face. He began to walk away, choosing a random direction down the stone corridor.
"Do not mind me," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "I require a moment."
The water splashed heavily around his feet as he retreated. Arriving at a nearby stone wall, he leaned his covered head directly against the cold, damp masonry.
He took slow, deep breaths, trying to anchor himself.
'Calm down, Albion. You must stabilize.' His thoughts were frantic, colliding against one another. 'What is happening to me? What is this sensation?'
He wrapped his arms tightly around his own torso, holding himself together.
'I feel sick.'
The persistent, high-pitched ringing in his ears, the thumping headache, the sudden wave of nausea—the sensory overload refused to subside. He had assumed the symptoms would be temporary, but they lingered, clawing at his focus. It was the true reason he had struggled to speak clearly moments ago. He was in immense discomfort, though he would sooner die than admit it aloud.
Remembering the vivid, phantom pain of the blade, Albion slowly began to peel back the damp sleeves of his hoodie.
'Why did I not notice this earlier? Mother struck me repeatedly. Yet... there are no permanent marks.'
He looked down at his bare forearms for the first time since arriving at the guild. There were no scars. No jagged lines, no rough tissue. His skin was entirely smooth, pale, and small.
But he remembered the knife. He remembered the blood. The agonizing memory was too precise to be a hallucination.
'Was I so desperate to receive her affection that I chose to ignore the violence?'
No. That explanation lacked consistency. Albion knew with absolute certainty that his body possessed an anomalous healing power. Despite bleeding heavily from his head and taking direct physical punches during his encounter with Gajeel, he had awakened in the library completely fine.
The analytical part of his mind demanded an answer: Why?
'I am human. I must be.'
Yet, the echoing words of the Hidden One crawled back into his mind, cold and mocking.
["You are not human.]"
"You are wrong," Albion whispered to the dark wall, his voice trembling. "I am human."
He gripped his left forearm with his right hand, his fingers digging into the flesh. A dark, desperate hypothesis formed in his thoughts.
'If I fracture my own bone... and it fails to heal instantly... then I am human. The anomalous theory will be disproved. I have to know.'
His grip tightened.
In response to his rising panic, his eyes began to change. The fuchsia light within his irises gave a violent glow. He remained entirely unaware what was happening to his eyes.
'If I am not human... Then what value do I possess as the King? Do it. Break it. Do it. Do it—'
Before his fingers could snap the bone, a small shadow fell over him. He had been so consumed by the internal noise that he hadn't heard her approach through the water.
Albion looked up.
Juvia stood beside him, her large, watchful blue eyes meeting his frantic, flickering fuchsia gaze. They stared at one another in silence.
Eventually, Juvia looked down at her plush seal, tracing its soft fabric before her gaze drifted back to him.
"You do not have a family," Juvia said softly. "That sounds... very lonely. I thinks that would make me go crazy if I had no one. I cannot imagine being entirely by myself."
Albion's expression slowly flattened, the frantic glowing in his eyes settling back into a dull, controlled glow. He released his grip on his arm. His gaze remained fixed on the water pooling around his feet.
"It is not a problem," Albion replied, his voice level. "I have been alone from the beginning. I do not understand why I should care. I do not need a family. I dont want one. Not again."
Juvia paused, considering his words. She tilted her head slightly.
"But does the quiet not bother you?" she asked. "To have no friends. To have no family. I do not know which is correct. Is it better to live by yourself to keep others from being harmed? Or is it better to live with people you care for, even if being near them means holding them back?"
Albion looked up, his fuchsia eyes locking onto hers.
"I prefer to be alone," Albion said. His answer was immediate. "If I form a bond, I will protect it. That bond has value to me. But if my presence endangers those people, being alone is the better choice. Even if it is sadder."
He took a small, quiet breath, his young voice carrying an unsettling weight.
"People do not always understand you. Even if you open your heart, they will fail to understand. If I opened up to someone, and my existence put their life at risk... I would rather the bond never existed at all. It is better to be alone than to hold others back. Is it not?"
Juvia stared at him for a long moment. A small, sad expression touched her porcelain face, and she nodded her head once.
"I agree with you on that," she whispered. "I would make the same choice. I care for others more than I care for myself. I do not want to see them suffer. Especially because of me."
She looked down at her damp shoes.
"I was... careless once. I made a grave mistake a long time ago. I will have to spend the rest of my life atoning for it."
Albion observed her quiet posture.
"I do not know about atonement," Albion said.
As he spoke, his fuchsia eyes gave another sharp glow—a brief, frantic shutter of light that quickly stabilized back into a dull glow. He didn't seem to notice.
"But I was also cursed. By the only person I wanted to form a bond with. I intend to find them. And I intend to return that curse."
His gaze softened just a fraction.
"We are different. But it seems we are both searching for something. We both want someone to pay for what happened."
Juvia looked up, her blue eyes reflecting the faint fuchsia of his own.
"I think so," she said quietly. "In a way, we are very similar."
Albion turned his head, looking down the dark corridor toward the distant, muffled sounds of the guildhall.
"I will stay here for a while," Albion decided. "I am in no hurry to reach the guildhall. The environment sounds chaotic. And besides... I am curious about someone."
Juvia hugged her plush seal a little closer to her chest, a very tiny, gentle smile appearing on her face.
"Well then," Juvia said. "I hope that someone is able to feel your curiosity."
Albion turned back to her, his small hands resting at his sides.
"I hope so, too."