The run-down mage's library-laboratory hybrid looked like it had been abandoned a century ago… then rented out by a raccoon. Dust coated everything. Half the shelves were leaning at suspicious angles. A cauldron in the corner bubbled with something that hissed whenever anyone got too close, like it was daring people to touch it.
Rex pushed the creaky door open.
Inside, hunched over a stack of glowing scrolls, was Velkohr — a retired war-alchemist, spellwright, and full-time hermit who had perfected the art of glaring at the world as if it personally wronged him.
Velkohr heard the door squeak, looked up, saw Rex's young face and inverted silver eyes, and grumbled:
"Kid, what are you doing in here? This is a library, not daycare."
Rex walked up confidently. "I wanna learn magic."
Velkohr stared.
Then he laughed so loud the dust shook off the rafters.
But boredom was a powerful motivator, and Velkohr, sighing, shuffled to the back room. He returned dragging a stack of books so tall a seven-year-old could hide behind it and never be seen again.
He dropped it on a table with a THUD that shook the building.
Rex stared at the mountain. "Is that for beginners?"
Velkohr smirked. "Everything you need to know. All the basics of magic theory."
That was a lie.
Maybe 60% were beginner books.
The other 40% were intermediate, obscure, or written by mages who clearly hated their students.
Velkohr didn't care.
Let's see how long the kid lasts, he thought. Most quit after book three. Rex would quit after chapter two.
Or so Velkohr believed.
He was wrong. So very wrong.
Every day, like clockwork:
Rex finished his adventuring mission
Walked straight to Velkohr's dusty library
Pulled out a chair
And dove into the stack of books
He brought his own empty notebook — which was quickly filling with formulas, algorithms, and spell theory rewritten in Rex's own hand.
Velkohr watched from the corner, pretending not to care, but secretly impressed.
But still, he snickered to himself.
The kid will burn out eventually.
No one had ever made it through all the books.
Two Weeks Later
The front door opened and Lira, the guild receptionist and — surprise! — Velkohr's sister, walked inside.
"Hello, Velkohr~!" she sang.
"Hello," he answered in his usual gravel voice.
She dragged over the extra chair like she owned the place. "Sorry I haven't visited lately. Guild work has been busy."
"That's fine. You're the front receptionist," Velkohr muttered.
"Also," she continued casually, "no one comes to talk to you anyway. You're lonely, you smell like old books, you have no wife, no kids, no friends, and no close relatives except me."
Velkohr froze. "Damn. Didn't have to go that far, sis."
"Yes I did." She smiled sweetly — in the way a cat smiles before knocking a vase off a table.
Velkohr sighed.
"To answer your question," he said, "I'm not bored. I actually have new entertainment."
Lira perked up. "Really? What kind?"
Velkohr jabbed a finger toward the far table.
A boy with white-and-black hair and inverted silver eyes sat hunched over books, writing fast enough to set the pages on fire.
"That kid walked in saying he wanted to learn magic," Velkohr explained. "So I gave him so many books he looked like they were trying to mug him."
Lira squinted.
She stared harder.
Then her eyes widened.
"WAIT A MINUTE—"
She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled:
"HEY, REX!"
Rex looked up from his scribbling, blinked twice, then waved cheerfully.
"Hi, Lira!"
Lira waved back, then slowly rotated toward Velkohr like a puppet creaking on its strings.
"Velkohr… that kid… is Rex."
"And?" Velkohr asked.
Lira slapped the table. "Velkohr, that is one of the most determined adventurers I know! If he has a reason to do something, he WILL do it. You can't scare him off with books!"
Velkohr crossed his arms. "He's been coming here… like two weeks."
"Exactly!" Lira said. "Two weeks! Every. Single. Day."
She sighed dramatically. "Welp. Guess I better start registering him as a mage already."
Velkohr laughed. "Bet he quits before that."
"Bet he doesn't," Lira shot back.
But Here's the Part Neither Sibling Knew
Rex didn't quit.
In fact…
He had finished reading all the books A WEEK AGO.
Every. Single. One.
Rex wasn't just reading them — he was deciphering them.
Improving them.
Simplifying complex structures and rewriting formulas that senior mages struggled with. He wasn't bored — he was too busy evolving magic theory like a mad scientist.
Now he had moved on to the real problem:
"How do I use magic without a wand and without chanting spells mid-battle?"
He flipped through a book called Inscribing Magic on Objects.
It explained that spells could be carved, embedded, or encoded into physical items.
And the best material?
Pure crystal.
It could:
absorb magic
store it
output it
and waste almost none
Rex looked around the room.
His eyes landed on an old pair of worn leather gloves hanging from a hook.
His face lit up.
A plan sparked in his mind.
A good one.
A dangerous one.
A very Rex one.
And that was exactly when the scene cuts.