Contrary to Gaius’ expectations, the inside of the Library of Ancients didn’t smell like wet moss. A fragrance that reminded him of sandalwood entered his nose, and the sense of danger that had constantly nagged at him weakened. The walls around him were clean and dustless, as though as they had been cleaned regularly by cleaners here.

The silence was deafening, but there wasn’t an intimidating quality to it. The boy walked down the long hallway silently, enjoying the peace and tranquillity inside the place. On the way, he’d passed open rooms with shelves of books inside, each of them occupied by shadows looking through books to read.

He couldn’t sense any life or presence from them, which meant that these shadows were what they looked like. Maybe they were spectres, or illusions to create an environment of liveliness. Flames were crackling merrily in the fireplace of every room he passed, but Gaius couldn’t feel any warmth from them, even deactivating the Climate Control ability on his Stellar Core.

Unperturbed, he took a left turn at a crossroads. Gaius was following his instincts, the call he’d felt inside of him ever since he heard about the Library of Ancients. Some shadows walked past him, while others went through him directly without any trepidation. But that was the extent of it. No dangers, nothing.

Just a sanctuary for those who were lost.

Gaius took another turn, and found himself facing a wooden double door. Something inside him trembled as his brain registered the appearance of the wooden door. The boy could feel it — the source of this compulsion was right after this door — and his hand trembled slightly as he pitted his strength against the entrance.

The door opened, revealing a pillar that glittered faintly. Small alcoves filled the surface of the pillar neatly, like honeycombs, but most of these alcoves were empty. Intrigued, Gaius stepped closer to inspect the pillar, or to be more accurate, the exact source of the compulsion.

His face paled as his eyes fell upon an occupied alcove, the very source of whatever that had been calling to Gaius’ subconscious. It was a standard, white envelope, one that was used commonly on Earth. But that alone was enough. Hand shaking, the boy reached out to the envelope inside, where the name ‘Gaius’ was printed out in a handwriting that sent ripples through his heart, for some reason.

Seconds passed in agonising stillness as Gaius stared at the envelope, his mind blank and empty, before he opened it.

A wave of power spread out from the envelope, and the room glittered gold. The Library trembled, and the piece of paper written inside burst into flames.

“The Last Star has been usurped.” A voice, brimming with gentleness and rebuke all at once, spoke from within Gaius’ mind. It was oddly familiar, as though as Gaius knew the speaker, but before he could dwell on this matter, more words followed.

“The contract has been breached.” A hint of anger could be discerned from the voice, but for Gaius, his vision had abruptly clouded over with red, which vanished as swiftly as it came. “Retribution...Restitution. Behold, rootless one.”

His vision blurred, and Gaius felt a flutter in his heart as the room he was in melted away, replaced by what seemed to be an open field. To his left and right were entire armies, a sea of soldiers poised to swamp the city before them.

A siege was ongoing. Every so often, flaming balls would batter the walls, sending a resounding quake through the ground of the battlefield. Men struggled with each other, cutting down those who fell, as lightning and ice battered attackers and defenders alike. As Gaius took in the scene, he was beginning to understand what was going on.

The war between the Southern Continent and the East-West alliance. His eyes had picked up on the distinctly different styles of command, as well as unit formation. The Western Holdings, for instance, used legions of around five thousand men each, while the Eastern Territories favoured the organisational profile of Earth’s modern militaries.

And having identified these two entities, Gaius could naturally guess that the city in front of them was that of the Southern Continent.

His senses had been brought here somehow. Not his body, but his senses. Perhaps it was his soul, but Gaius didn’t really have the mental leeway to go into shock at the prospect of someone plucking out his soul and sending it to a place so far from Ark City.

High in the sky, Gaius could make out beings of dreadful power fighting each other. Sigils trailed the ten-plus combatants, and whenever one of them blinked out from existence, vast swaths of power would shroud the skies, blotting out even the sun for entire minutes. Men — Knights or Lords, by Gaius’ estimate — would fall from the sky every time power of such a scale manifested. Some were lucky to be caught or saved; others died as they smashed onto the ground unprotected.

Stray shots obliterated men by the hundreds, and even from afar, Gaius could see the Southern Paragons, evident from the space that warped around them, struggling to protect the crumbling city walls. His eyes widened as he took in the sight behind the city walls.

Strands of golden light weaved with each other, forming a thread that connected the heavens and earth. Up close, it would be gigantic, but even at this distance, the golden cord was already imposing enough. Gaius, for some reason, could feel an incredibly nebulous connection between him and the threatening, golden presence, and every time the thread pulsed, he could sense eleven other presences grow stronger.

And there was one more. One, standing at its side, who should not be connected, yet was there. One, who he should not know, yet filled his heart with anger and hate the moment Gaius saw him.

“In the distant past,” said a voice, “we had an agreement. But the Human God chose order, bias. He will have nothing but war. You, who have been abandoned, raise your hand and spark it off.”

Gaius, in his ethereal, soul-like state, pointed at the golden thread. He could feel power within those words, something like an incantation to muster strength. Black light blazed outwards from his hand, and in that instant, he knew what he should do next. Even his instincts were uncharacteristically silent, and that was enough.

“Retribution,” Gaius whispered. In that instant, the golden thread — the Divine Ladder that connected the gods to the mortal world — snapped.

Lightning churned the skies, as power boiled over and swamped the entire city with a deafening roar. Men and mortar alike crumpled on the spot, unable to bear the surging, overwhelming might that had released the moment the thread had broken. Black cracks spread out from the point of destruction, severing all that it touched.

The sky churned madly, and giant patches of blue darkened into an ominous black hue. The earth wasn’t spared either, as the once-smooth ground rippled and opened up gaping holes, dooming all who fell inside. The grasslands turned yellow as one, turning to ash within the matter of seconds, while pillars of rampaging flame slammed down onto the Southern forces and city.

The boy watched impassively, his emotions sheltered from his actions by some immense power, as destruction tore apart what used to be a bustling city, and then something inside his heart throbbed as a small sun emerged from the point of destruction. The collapsing world turned gold, and men turned into ash where its light touched. Again, Gaius raised his finger and pointed at it, his mind oddly calm and composed, as though as he had planned everything.

A single whisper came from his lips. “Restitution.”

But this time, everyone heard it. From the soldiers to the battlefield, to the civilians cowering as buildings crumbled, to even the senators at Ark City and the battlefront at the Central Circle. All heard Gaius’ single whisper, bolstered by a strength that challenged the world itself.

The small sun glowed brightly, burning all in its immediate vicinity to ashes, and then vanished to reappear in his heart. Gaius could feel an enormous presence from it, one that compelled authority and worship, and a comfortable warmth enveloped his entire body as the miniature sun dissolved into power that permeated his entire body.

With that, the scenes of destruction faded away, leaving the young boy alone in the Library once again. This time, he wasn’t alone.

A teenager stood in front of him, clad in a white shirt and pants. A black jacket that blurred his looks adorned his simple top, and a black-rimmed pair of glasses finished the look. An air of death surrounded him, despite his youthful features, and shattered black fetters littered the ground. His features were oddly familiar, and a smile appeared on Gaius’ face unconsciously as he glanced at the teenager.

“G-Gaius.” His voice was the one that had spoken in Gaius’ mind, but there was now a tinge of excitement and happiness to it. “The Divine Ladder has been destroyed. The Human God will no longer be able to influence the world directly, short of descending personally. This game is over and you, the executor, are now free to enter the new game as a player.”

The teenager’s body began to fade, but his eyes never strayed from the boy in front for him. “From here on, the limits that fate has placed of you will begin to waver. If you so feel like it, you can now take your first steps into the world of Orb.”

“As for me…” The teenager looked at his crumbling body and smiled. “When the game ends, the current players must get up and leave for the new players. Just as how I did all these years ago.”

Gaius looked at the dying teenager, his heart dull and aching for some reason. “I want to know—"

“I know what you want to ask, Gaius. Anything is possible if you’re a god.” The teenager replied. “As for my name…I can finally remember it, the last piece of everything. A long time ago, my name was Yong Yue.”

He repeated his name again. “It truly has a nice ring to it. Thank you, teacher. For everything. Make Orb a gentle place like you did on Earth, ok?”

Shock ran through Gaius as he registered these words, but in the moment that the two locked eyes, the teenage boy turned into ashes entirely, leaving nothing but a single name tag on the ground. A black, glossy nametag.

[End of Book 1: First Light]