In this world, there are the oppressors and the oppressed.
The strong and the weak are always separated.
The strong always dominate the weak—
A balance in the world made to appear just and natural.
The Wielders—blessed and lucky individuals—become strong by possessing ancient artifacts of unknown origin. These relics grant them unfathomable powers.
Because of this, Wielders dominate, gain power, and form leagues of their own.
They are now respected and feared all over the world. Often, they become kings, leaders—those who stand atop every hierarchy.
Normal people cannot fight back against their overwhelming abilities.
This world is split into two continents.
In one of them—the Continent of Dryness—there exists a place where everything is blessed by green nature.
Only villages are built here, each governed by its own chief.
In the farthest village—so distant it takes a month to reach by cart—
The villagers are known for their intelligence and their value of knowledge above all else.
The most in-demand business in this village is the library.
Sunlight pours through the windows of one such library, revealing dancing dust motes in its golden light.
Swish. Swosh.
A feather duster sweeps every corner of the bookshelves.
A man, eyes barely open, is cleaning.
He is the librarian—owner of the library, inherited from his late father and mother, who had only recently passed away due to the war.
In his eyes, the colorful covers of polished books are reflected.
---
"This should be all," he said with a sigh of relief.
His right arm rested on his wrist, numb from an hour of cleaning the entire library alone.
"Since Dad and Mom left me five months ago, I've managed to maintain this library with care. I'll grow old here, then pass it on to my offspring. Generation by generation, it will evolve into a grand library, filled with every collection my parents gathered over decades of traveling."
His voice lowered, his head tilted toward the shiny, glass-like floor.
While he stared downward, a torn piece of old paper suddenly floated down in front of him.
He squatted, supported by his left arm, and picked it up. Then he folded it.
He walked to the left-center of the library, heading toward a wooden trashcan.
His eyes were blank, his thoughts clouded by sorrow.
"Why?... Why am I living like this?... They loved visiting far-off places and never had much time for me... Their only son. And yet, after promising to return for my 18th birthday...? D-Dad... M-Mom...? Why?"
With trembling hands, he threw the paper forcefully into the trashcan.
But instead of falling in—it floated.
His eyes widened. He rubbed them in disbelief.
The paper glowed a deep blue, radiating an unstable energy.
"W-What...?"
His voice trembled. He stepped back, sweat beginning to trickle down his face.
The paper began to unfold itself, each crackling fold echoing in his ears.
Instead of fleeing, he stepped closer, drawn by the mysterious energy.
He squinted at the paper, trying to read the glowing text as it fully opened.
"T-The... The System?"
As he spoke, a blue, marble-like energy swirled around him. His eyes followed it.
"What is this? Some kind of sorcery? I don't even believe in that… it must be—"
The energy stopped mid-air, then slowly descended and sank into his forehead.
He reached up to touch it—but felt nothing.
And then it vanished.
"Am I hallucinating...? No...! I ate two bowls of soup earlier. Madam Merry even gave me three free servings of boar meat..."
He looked around in confusion. The paper was gone.
He scratched his head, bent forward, and muttered to himself.
"A-Albert... what's happening to you...? Arghhh... I can't think straight. What was that?"
He stood up and walked outside. Locking the door behind him, he flipped the sign to CLOSED.
He sighed deeply, put on a hat, and joined the bustling crowd in the street.
"If that wasn't an illusion... they might already be here. I have to report this to the chief. They need to be warned. If anything threatens this village or my library, I'll stop it—no matter what."
His heart, heavy with purpose, burned with a sincere desire to protect.
His parents may be gone, but they would never be erased from his heart.
He walked swiftly toward the chief's manor.
Along the way, the chief's daughter waved cheerfully at him, her smile reaching her ears.
"Al! Hurry up!" she shouted.
Albert raised his hand and gestured for her to wait.
"Lady Lessa...? What is she doing? Hurry? For what?" he wondered.
They soon walked side by side.
Lessa, the chief's daughter, was a charismatic and kind individual.
Albert often felt a hint of jealousy toward her—she always had everyone's attention.
Even his late parents used to compare him to her cheerful nature.
Unlike her, he was quiet and easily bored.
"Umm, Lady Lessa? What can I do for you?"
He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Lessa looked at him with a bright smile.
"Al..." she held his hand.
"Dad said I could choose the man I want to marry. Do you know what that means?"
Her eyes sparkled with joy.
Albert understood immediately.
He turned away, speaking quietly.
"So... you chose me. That's... great. I can continue managing the library, and my children will be protected from discrimination, being of the chief's blood. They'll have a good life. There's no reason for me to refuse... maybe..."
But his heart remained unchanged.
Though he accepted her proposal, she felt no emotion from him.
Her smile faded. Tears welled in her eyes.
Albert hadn't noticed—he wasn't looking at her.
Then, she suddenly hugged him tightly.
He froze, unsure of what to do.
"I... I love you, Al. I always have. Even if it's one-sided... but I'll open your heart someday. I promise."
She sobbed, her voice trembling.
Albert didn't return the hug. His fists clenched.
"It's not that I don't... I just... I can't accept this reality. Losing my parents left a deep wound. And I think... I don't—"
"What do you mean 'I don't'? You don't love me?"
She asked.
"It's okay, Al. As you've heard, I'll make you love me!" she smiled bravely through tears.
"That's not what I meant. I don't hate you. I don't dislike you. I love your smile—it eases the sadness inside me. I think... I've felt the same for a long time now."
His words were sincere, and she could feel it.
"So the reason your heartbeat didn't change... was because it's always loved me?"
She smiled and hugged him tighter.
Pulling his hand, she said:
"Hurry! Al, I want you to meet Father."
"Right. I also have something to report to your father," he said.
"Forget that for now. Today is about us—our wedding. Save that for later!"
She beamed and twirled joyfully as she led him toward the manor.
Albert smiled faintly, following her pace. But guilt clouded his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Lessa... I lied. I still can't feel love right now."
When they arrived, the chief's butler stopped them.
"My lady, I apologize. Your father is attending to something urgent. He ordered not to be disturbed."
Lessa ignored him and barged in anyway. The butler—frail and old—couldn't stop her.
"We're sorry, sir!" Albert apologized as he followed.
Lessa knocked on the chief's door.
"Father! Your beloved daughter has chosen her husband! He's here!"
No response.
Worried, she tried to open the door, but it was locked.
Albert stepped forward.
"May I?"
She stepped aside.
With one strong push, he forced the door open—a trick he'd learned as a child.
But as he entered—
Unexplainable fear and overwhelming rage flooded him.
The chief's body lay lifeless on the floor.
A hooded man stood nearby.
Albert froze.
Then, he slammed the door shut.
Lessa, confused, assumed he was just shy.
"Aww, are you embarrassed?" she teased.
But Albert grabbed her hand and ran.
"L-Lessa, brace yourself! I know how painful it is to lose your parents. But you must live—for them!"
She didn't understand—until she saw his face. Fear and heartbreak etched into his every feature.
Then her own tears began to fall.
"Who!? Who killed him!?" she screamed in rage.
But at the exit stood the hooded man.
Albert shielded Lessa.
"Who are you? A Wielder?
If you intend to kill, then show us your legal order. Without one, we have no reason to surrender. This village follows order. So you must be a rogue."
His voice was firm—trying to give Lessa strength.
She sobbed behind him.
The man didn't move.
Then he pulled a black knife from his back and threw it at Albert's feet—offering him a chance.
Albert didn't hesitate.
He picked it up and charged.
"RARGHH! I'll kill you!"
He felt the blade stab into flesh. Blood poured out.
But when he looked up—
It wasn't the man.
It was Lessa.
She stood motionless, eyes wide in shock.
Albert dropped to his knees.
"No... NO!"
He screamed, his voice cracking.
He was sure—he saw the man standing there.
But somehow...
The one he struck was Lessa.
She collapsed to the ground.
Albert wailed in anguish.
Then—he saw it.
That same floating paper from earlier.
Glowing.
And on it, in bold letters:
[One Soul Collected Successfully]