The next few hours until full night falls, or maybe a bit longer. Who's going to count now if the clock hands seem to have run away from us along with common sense?
We'll be trying to find a suitable book that will help us translate these lines. Well yeah, that's all there is to it — find one book among thousands. One. The only one. The right one. What's so difficult?
If not for everything that happened, not those murders, not those awakenings, not that witch, not that library, perhaps we would have already known what these symbols hide.
But... didn't I know from the start that it would be exactly like this? Can it be that she... really doesn't want us to learn the translation? Does the witch have a taste for drama?
Options aplenty, answers zero. I'm not a fortune teller, of course, but I'm certain she wrote them after she killed Gerudo with her own hands. And if I want to exonerate Enua, the first step is decryption.
Simple, right? Almost like "finding a needle in book hell."
Though... if this is her move, the witch's move, then I must admit, it's very elegant. Not for show, but with intent, and behind intent may hide a trap. A trap for the mind, for logic, for us.
While the participants crowded near the library, waiting for the servant who was searching for the key to the door, I... pondered.
About details.
About grimoires.
About how long we'll be searching.
Now, of course, everything's simpler. I'm the only one whose memory isn't erased after a reset.
The others? They're victims. Cyclical, reborn victims who don't even know they died. Not too inspiring, right?
While I drowned in thought, Morgana and Cheryl approached. Key in hand.
"Here, we brought the key," Morgana pronounced with slight anxiety, clutching the key as if it weren't metal but a secret.
And indeed, a secret. Because, as mentioned before, one key isn't enough. The door is shrouded in magic, between the 10th and 11th dimension.
"Alright, let me take the key, I'll open it," Yahweh said, already extending his hand.
"Wait, let me try to open the door."
Aragi's voice cut through the tension. All gazes on him.
(What, surprised?)
Such a feeling, as if he'd suggested not opening the door but slicing reality.
"Huh? Is there a difference who opens it?" Yahweh asked.
"Of course there's no difference, but let me do it."
Words without argument, but with subtext. Yahweh looked at Hov, he, in response, without words. And everything became clear.
"Alright, here," Yahweh extended it.
Handed it over.
Stepped back.
Yielded.
Now my turn, I inserted the key. Turned, pushed. The door felt like it weighs a ton, but I opened it anyway. At this moment I and the other I separated.
The witch spoke the truth. The vampiress's power is real. Thank you, big chest.
We're in the library again. Now with us is Enua, help at minimum. Alibi at maximum.
He won't leave the room, that's the plan. We agreed back in the bedroom. The other participants don't believe, but tolerate, because at night what's important isn't truth but safety.
"And remember, not all grimoires are safe," Morgana's voice sounded. "Some of them emanate energy..."
Yes, we remember. Some books seem to hiss when you touch them, some whisper. And some look back at you.
Teams work separately.
Me with Enua.
Morgana with Cheryl.
Hov and Yahweh together.
Kamiki and Tiamut separately.
"Listen, I have a question for you..." Yahweh began. "Why did you decide to let Aragi open the door? Is there a difference?"
"Maybe there is, maybe there isn't. I can't give you an answer. But... I felt it."
Yahweh glanced, with a gaze that asks instead of words.
"Surprised you understood from one glance," Hov said with a light, barely perceptible smile in his voice.
"It's... from those times. There, where language doesn't work and hands are silent, feelings remain," Yahweh's voice sounded with slight optimism.
"Reeks of the past. Not good, but important."
They fell silent. Immersed themselves, as if into a deep pool of memories.
"Answer me... for what did you agree to participate in this game?"
An unexpected but quite understandable question from Yahweh.
...
"The witch couldn't force us, only resurrect."
"Hard to disagree with someone like you, Yahweh. I'm here... for an answer. For the sake of saving my wife."
"Guresu... died?"
"After childbirth."
Words.
Pain.
An attempt to understand the impossible.
"I didn't stop. Came here to get what I wasn't given then," Hov said, and in his voice a sense of guilt. "And you?"
"You already know why I'm here," Yahweh conveyed briefly but clearly.
"Then... let's promise each other we'll return alive!"
"Of course. I am the Hero of the past, after all!Aha-ha-ha!" Yahweh pronounced with a smile evoking past memories.
Time: 10 at night.
Several hundred books everywhere.
Every face tired, every heart uncertain. Me? I just want a drink.
But leave? No way.
"You alright?" Enua asked.
"I'm fine," I answered.
Morgana, hearing this, immediately approached.
"Are you really alright?"
"Really. Honestly, almost."
She still went for water, together with Cheryl. I wanted to stop her... but didn't. Why? Because I believe, because I'm foolish. Because I trust her fists.
And meanwhile I'm thinking all sorts of nonsense. Here it is, the trait the vampiress hates in me. However, Morgana brought water. I drank and poured some on myself.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
Her face reddened, maybe from gratitude, maybe from water. If someone asked me what happiness is... I would answer: happiness is when you're surrounded by beauties with ample chests.
Night.
Thousands of books, still not the one. Some grimoires. Others — textbooks on medicine, geography, God knows what.
But suddenly a shout.
It was Yahweh.
"We found the book we need!"
And as if everything else vanished.