In the end, that librarian from the entrance of the Library had managed to convince me to check out the film part of the exposition. He told me that it was being projected in a room with plugs and that I could borrow his charger if I attended.

Of course, I asked if I couldn’t simply borrow a charger and use it in a different room while consulting a skills dictionary, but my request had been denied.

Hence, I found myself strolling a well-marked, but clearly not well-treaded part of the reserve of the National Library. I stopped before a small wooden door, marked as ‘R-G-2003’, on which a colourful brochure told me that this room held a looping 1h film projection about the War.

With my phone almost dead, and nothing much better to do, I pushed the door open.

Dragon Eye

S+

War Priest

Spatial Manipulation (earth affinity)

Blade of Tyr [Ac]

Adaptive Foresight [Pa]

Flat well [Ac]

Silver Dragon Scales [Pa]

A tingly sensation in my eye made me leap a good meter backwards, before I had had the time to register anything. I barely had had the time to notice a red ribbon, a manifestation of my ‘environmental awareness’ skill, vanish before my eyes.

“The fuck was that?” I yelled, still confused as to what has happened.

The door to the projection room shut closed from inside, confirming my suspicion. Someone had just tried to attack me. But who would attack me in the middle of a library? And what kind of skill would cause my ‘environmental awareness’ skill to manifest?

I shook my head, and turned away, hastily heading towards the staircase. My new destination was the ground floor, where I’d report to a librarian that a dangerous person has just locked themselves in the projection room, before heading home. I didn’t know what kind of nonsense this was, and I sincerely hoped the librarian who’d given me his charger hadn’t sent me here on purpose.

As I was walking down the stairs, a sudden realisation hit me. If ‘Dragon Eye’ did what I think it did (ie display the highest skills of the person it activated for), then what was one of the skills crossed out? I paused. I could run back to the dictionary section and look it up. Or … I should go downstairs and report this individual before they’d have the chance to harm anyone.

Or –

There was a character in the book, whom when he first was introduced on-page, I thought there must have been some defect in the print of my book. Half his skills were smudged as if someone had tried to erase them, while others were covered in thick black boxes as if redacted. That character was Acalan “Alan” Michaels, a vanguard, no, a war priest –

But this couldn’t be him. Alan was the gently giant archetype. Always quick to defend his friends, but he’d never start a fight like this, especially with a stranger whom he hadn’t even seen, and even more so in a public space. And he was American. Born in America, lived in America, and had absolutely no reason to be in Paris.

Out of all the characters from the novel, he was one of those least likely to cross my path.

“Maybe I’m imagining all this…” I muttered.

There was a way to make sure.

Memoire

Dragon Eye

S+

War Priest

Spatial Manipulation (earth affinity)

Blade of Tyr [Ac]

Adaptive Foresight [Pa]

Flat well [Ac]

Silver Dragon Scales [Pa]

MP-1

The blue system notification from before appeared before my eyes once more

Yes, this did look like his system window (the novel did not differentiate between ISW and ESW), but it could have also been some random person with similar skills, similar rank, and a similar curse placed on him. But I was pretty sure that curse was a unique skill of one of the other party members in the novel; the father of Alan’s girlfriend had forced her to place this curse on him, which severely limited the number of skills he could use. Said girlfriend and Alan ended up joining the main cast before she decided to betray them, and they were both eventually killed by the main party.

I shook my head. Now was not the time to think about that. I needed to go back and confirm if it was him. And if it truly was some dangerous person, well, at least I’d end up at home where my phone charger was.

On that note, I left the charger the librarian had given me on a nearby reading table and headed back upstairs.

“Hi.” I knocked at the door.

No reply came, but when I tried to push it open, I was met with resistance. As if someone was leaning against it.

“Um, you tried to attack me earlier, but no harm was done, so no hard feelings,” I spoke again.

I wasn’t really sure how to proceed. I could tell him the truth, but I doubted he’d believe me. Or I could make something up. And there was always the possibility that this was not Alan, since, once again, he had no reason to be here that I could think of. I decided to go with the second option:

“Is your name Alan by any chance?” I said and felt as if I was firing shots in the dark, “I’m actually an Oracle who specialises in curses. And I’ve had a – I’ve had a vision, about some of your skills.”

“I will trust you,” A deep male voice came from the other side of the door, “But just as a form of atonement for the earlier misconduct.”

The door opened once more, and that same System notification popped up, as I made eye contact with the man standing before me.

Alan was over a head taller than me, with broad shoulders, and green-blond hair. He wore a stern expression over his rectangular face and an oversized hoodie over what looked like a formal shirt. Strangely enough, our eyes were almost the exact same shade of green.

“You seem surprised.” He spoke.

I noticed that he was speaking rather slowly, and I quickly realised, by looking at the dark bags under his eyes, that it was caused by a lack of sleep.

“Yes, sorry.” I returned my attention to him. “What are you doing in Paris?” I asked.

“You sure ask a lot of questions for someone who claims to be an all-knowing oracle.” He said, as his eyebrows frowned ever so slightly.

“I never claimed to be all-knowing.” I shook my head. “Had I been, I would not have come to see this particular exposition today, knowing the dangers surrounding it.” I added, not without a touch of sarcasm.

He ignored my comment, and silently stepped aside, revealing the interior of the projection room.

Desks had been pushed aside to make space for half a dozen wooden chairs. A projector mounted on the ceiling was playing footage from the trenches on one of the baren walls. One of the desks had been taken out of the pile, and was used to store several books, as well as an open notebook. It was clear from this display that Alan had been researching something, probably something related to the film.

“Earlier, I mistook you for someone else. I apologise.” He said, as he closed the door behind me.

“It’s nothing,” I waved my hand dismissively. “So, about the curse,”

I paused, hesitating if I should tell him this or not. A scene from the book flashed in my mind, where Alan desperately tried using one of his healing skills that had been blocked off by the curse, to save his girlfriend’s life. That was right before one of the party members had sliced his head clean off. Even though I hadn’t tried to find or communicate with any of the characters from the novel, there was no harm in helping Alan now. Plus, this was the right thing to do.

“This curse is being placed on you by someone close to your heart, by no will of their own.” I said.

A hint of a smile flashed over his face.

“You can’t break it through blood.” I quickly added, thinking once again to that scene. Even after his girlfriend’s death, his skills did not return to normal.

“Then how do I go about breaking it?” He asked.

I was surprised by his calm reaction. I had expected he’d ask me who that person was. That’s what I would have done at least. Unless he already knew –

“Do not take this the wrong way, but you seem oddly unfocused for an oracle, and seemingly surprised by every word that comes of my mouth.” He added, evidentially unhappy from my lack of response.

“Your French is quite fluent indeed. I wasn’t aware the American education system had improved so much in the past years.” I retorted half-amused.

I didn’t imagine him being so passive-aggressive. In the book, he was a very mild and well-mannered man. And quiet as well. He’d never call someone incompetent to their face.

“Anyway.” I continued before he’d had the time to comment on my ‘lack of focus’ again, “Using an anti-spell skill should help get rid of the side effects. But, the curse requires close proximity or physical contact, and I don’t mean to sound like an ass, but you should avoid doing that for a while.”

He nodded. I couldn’t help but get the feeling that he already knew that. But it didn’t make sense. If he had, why didn’t he get away from the person causing him such harm?

“I’m actually surprised you believe me.” I said.

He gave me an odd look before saying:

“Truth be told, I wouldn’t have, had you said that you had the ‘anti-magic’ skill.”

“Oh, god forbid – I mean, have the five lords forbid I have a useful skill like that.” I giggled. “I don’t do useful, you see. I do mysterious and creative.” I added with a dramatic hand gesture.

He smiled but quickly covered his mouth with a hand. At least the atmosphere seemed to have lightened up. Although, it was really never tense, to begin with.

“There is something I would appreciate your opinion on.” He said, before heading towards his desk.

“Me?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“Well, although we are yet to be properly acquainted, you seem to know a great deal about me, and your opinions are, how to put it, sound.”

I frowned. I wasn’t sure how I felt about getting involved with characters from the novel.

“No not worry, I won’t ask for your real class, not even your name.” He said, looking away, at his notebook. “But there is a subject I would appreciate a second opinion on. That is, if you are willing to overlook the incident from earlier.”

He really did talk a lot. It wasn’t a bad thing, nor did it bother me, but the man before me seemed to be very different from the Alan in the novel. Although, perhaps, I simply wasn’t paying enough attention to his character when I was reading it. I couldn’t be sure.

“Alright, sure.” I agreed.

I had already gotten involved anyway.

He looked up from his journal. For the first time since our recent acquaintance, his eyes seemed to have lightened up with life.

He was about to say something, but a phone ringtone interrupted him.

We both reached for our pockets. I was annoyed, but not surprised, to find that my own phone had run out of battery. When I looked up, I saw Alan’s expression darken as he read the name of the caller.

“I must go.” He suddenly said. “I will contact you again.”

“Wait-” I tried to stop him, to give him my number at least.

But, with almost inhuman speed, he had picked up his journal, and a few books before dashing out the door.

“Come on!” I complained as the door closed shut behind him.

I wasn’t going to chase after him, like some creepy stalker, but I was definitely disappointed that our conversation had been cut short. I had gotten the feeling that I could have gotten along with him quite well.