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Chapter 132 - The Book 2

"You don't have to tell me," Aether said, breaking the stillness with a chuckle. It felt misplaced—brittle, cracking in the heavy air.

Ryuji's sharp eyes lifted from the book. "Was that fake?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged.

"What?" Aether blinked, straightening slightly.

Ryuji tilted his head, studying Aether's face. "My katana thinks it was," he said at last. The words fell with unsettling calm.

Aether frowned, caught between confusion and exasperation. "I wasn't fake laughing," he muttered, his tone slower now, almost defensive.

"Good," Ryuji replied. Simple, but something in it—certainty, maybe—made Aether's shoulders tense.

The tension eased slightly as the book closed itself, revealing its unmarked brown cover. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then the cover shifted again. It flipped open, exposing blank pages—but something new was happening. Ink seeped across the parchment, forming lines and curves as though guided by a ghostly hand.

Ryuji's breath caught. The text emerged in a dignified, aged font, like the handwriting of a scribe who'd seen the rise and fall of empires. "Oh, I can see it now..." he murmured, leaning closer as the pages turned on their own.

"Is truth subjective or objective?" the book asked in solemn, elegant script.

Aether tilted his head, brow furrowing. The words seemed ordinary—until they weren't. To him, the word objective gleamed more brightly, pulling his focus. Ryuji, meanwhile, was fixated on subjective.

"It gives answers," Aether said softly, a note of relief in his voice. "That's... reassuring."

"Is that what it's doing?" Ryuji muttered, brushing the page as it turned again.

"Knowledge and guidance often come with the illusion of finality. In truth, it may be incomplete—or absent."

Both boys fell silent, the void around them growing heavier. Aether glanced at Ryuji, who stared at the book, eyes narrowed.

"It's like it knows what we're looking for," Aether said, "but it doesn't want to make it easy."

Ryuji didn't answer. He flipped back to the earlier page. The ink was gone—like it had never existed.

The next page turned with a snap, sharp and startling. New words bled onto the paper. This time, the ink looked darker, thicker—almost like blood.

"Struggle with meaning, truth, and agency," it read. The harsh script pulsed with a kind of violence.

Aether recoiled slightly. "That's... not subtle."

"No," Ryuji whispered. His expression hardened as the book turned another page, this one slower, deliberate.

"What story will you write?" it asked. Silent words, but accusatory.

Aether reached for the pen beside the book. It was heavier than expected—cold, solid in his hand. He turned it over, fingers brushing the metal tip.

"So this is what it wants?" he said quietly. "To write something? Our answers? Our truths?"

Ryuji didn't answer. His eyes stayed locked on the page, but his expression darkened. "Do you see that?" he asked suddenly.

"See what?" Aether leaned in, squinting.

"There's... a bear," Ryuji said, voice low but intense. "Just the eyes. They're watching me."

Aether looked at him, confused. "I don't see anything."

Ryuji didn't blink. The eyes before him shifted, morphing into a sword—a familiar blade bearing the weight of countless battles. His grip tightened. "It's not about what's written," he said distantly. "It's about what's left to write."

Aether frowned, turning the pen in his hand. "What did you expect?" he muttered. "Life doesn't give you answers. It gives you a pen."

The words escaped without thought—a moment of raw honesty.

"You say that, but ask everyone questions..." Ryuji said quietly, but Aether didn't hear him.

Before Aether could write, Ryuji's hand shot out, snatching the pen from him. The movement was fast, almost violent, as if the pen held a power neither of them could afford to misuse. Aether stared, startled.

The book opened again—but now the text was jarringly practical.

What is Trigonometry? it asked in an old-fashioned font.

Trigonometry is a branch of mathematics that deals with the relationships between the sides and angles of triangles. Imagine a triangle—a shape with three sides and three corners (called angles). Trigonometry helps us measure those sides and angles in clever ways, even if we can't measure them directly.

Key Parts of Trigonometry

Right-Angled Triangle:

A right-angled triangle has one angle that's exactly 90 degrees. It's the foundation of trigonometry because the math is simpler here.

Example: Picture a ladder leaning against a wall. The ladder is one side, the wall is another, and the ground is the third.

Three Important Sides:

Hypotenuse: The longest side, opposite the 90-degree angle.

Adjacent: The side next to your angle of focus.

Opposite: The side directly across from that angle.

Example:

For a triangle with a 3-unit base, 4-unit height, and 5-unit hypotenuse:

Hypotenuse = 5

Adjacent = 4

Opposite = 3

The Three Magic Ratios:

Sine (sin): Opposite ÷ Hypotenuse → 3 ÷ 5 = 0.6

Cosine (cos): Adjacent ÷ Hypotenuse → 4 ÷ 5 = 0.8

Tangent (tan): Opposite ÷ Adjacent → 3 ÷ 4 = 0.75

Find Missing Sides or Angles:

If you know one angle and one side, these ratios can reveal the rest.

Ryuji froze, staring at the page as the explanation unfolded.

Aether tilted his head. "Wait… you came here for this?" he asked, incredulous.

Ryuji didn't answer at first. He stared at the book, then turned away.

"Not just math," he said quietly. "It's the foundation of something bigger. You wouldn't understand."

Aether had never heard the general term math. He knew of spherical trigonometry—same formulas, different context.

"But really? Spherical trigonometry?" he sighed to himself.

Aether scoffed, slumping back into his chair. "Yeah, well, enjoy your triangles," he muttered. He touched the pen again. The first word appeared on the page:

What is Rasvain energy?

The lamp flickered, casting sharp shadows before settling again. Aether leaned in, grip tightening, as tension returned to the room.

Key Parts—

The book closed itself with a soft thud, like it needed to breathe. Then it reopened. The ink bled across the pages with mechanical precision—but it moved with strange, organic life.

Rasvain energy has five manifestations. Everyone falls under these categories—no exceptions, the book began. Its tone was exacting, yet oddly personal. An individual can have two manifestations simultaneously. No exceptions.

Aether leaned forward, chin in hand. "Yeah, I've heard that," he muttered, unsure.

The text continued:

All skillsets align with these manifestations. However, they are divided:

Attachment Skills:

These skills amplify or complement the user's primary manifestation. If someone has two, one skill typically serves as the focus or enhancement.

The words faded briefly, rising like smoke before vanishing. Then, more appeared above the book:

The tour guide didn't explain this in such detail.

Aether snorted. "No kidding. This is… a lot." Despite himself, he sounded intrigued. He ran a finger along the page's edge. "It's like you're trying to teach me something I should've already known."

He turned to Ryuji, only to realize he was talking to himself. A sigh escaped him as he noticed Ryuji was similarly lost in his own monologue.

The book turned the page as if shrugging off the remark.

Title Skills:

Tied to reputation—not skillsets or manifestations. Only one may be possessed at a time. Rare.

Aether read aloud. "Being known in your neighborhood doesn't earn you a title skill. Neither does being popular at work. Reputation must be earned in extraordinary circumstances."

The next line appeared in thicker ink, like it had been carved in:

A soldier in war may gain a title skill. The Second Layer's savior, like the one in the Central District, might earn one.

Aether froze. "Second Layer?" His voice sharpened.

Yes, the book answered.

He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his hair. "Didn't need to know that, but... thanks for the heads-up, I guess."

The book flipped again, slowly.

Story Skills:

As varied as the individuals who possess them. They reflect the person's essence—who they are at their core. Even the unhinged may possess one. All must align with the six recognized stages.

The stage defines the strength and uniqueness of a skill. Higher stages are rarer, sometimes uniquely held.

New text appeared, warmer:

Manifestations are closely linked to story skills. Scholars have noted patterns in personality and alignment.

Navigators are the most common manifestation, often paired with a secondary type like an Amplifier.

The ink shimmered slightly for emphasis.

Navigator-Amplifier is the most prevalent double manifestation.

Aether felt something stir. The book's tone was robotic, but there was warmth—like it anticipated his thoughts, his questions.

"This is insane," he murmured. "You're practically alive, aren't you?"

The pages fluttered, no words appearing.

Aether chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, thought so. You've got more personality than most people I've met."

Ryuji, silent until now, placed a hand on the book.

"It's not alive," he said softly. "It's just doing what it's meant to do. Nothing more."

Aether raised a brow. "And what's that? Teach us? Or mess with us?"

Ryuji didn't answer. He touched the pen again, glancing at Aether.

"It's giving us the pen," he said at last. "Not the answers."

The lamp flickered as Aether picked up the pen once more. His grip tightened. He stared at the page, questions racing.

Ryuji leaned back, arms crossed. "What did you expect?" he asked, echoing Aether's earlier words. "Life doesn't hand out answers."

Aether laughed, quiet and breathless, the pen heavier than ever. "Yeah, well… maybe I wasn't looking for answers. Maybe I just wanted to know where to start."

The book's pages fluttered again, stopping on a blank one. As Aether lowered the pen, a single line appeared in elegant script:

What story will you write?

The words lingered, daring him to begin.

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