Evan remained by the window a little longer after the thought settled. The courtyard below continued in its quiet rhythm, guards moving between posts while clerks crossed the open space with documents held close against the afternoon breeze. The world had resumed its ordinary pace, indifferent to the upheaval that had defined the past weeks of his life.
Eventually he stepped back from the stone frame. The room behind him felt calm in a way he had not known for a long time. There were no alarms, no hostile presence pressing at the edges of his senses, no decisions that had to be made within seconds. For the first time since the trial ended, the next step belonged entirely to him.
Evan rolled his shoulders once, testing the quiet strength in the movement. The restored body responded cleanly, muscles shifting beneath the skin with none of the lingering stiffness he had carried through the road and the trial. He bent slightly at the waist, then straightened, letting his weight settle from heel to toe the way he had seen trained fighters do in the past. The motion felt balanced, but unrefined. Healthy, yes. Prepared for a world like this? Not even close.
That realization did not trouble him as much as it might have earlier. It was simply another fact to account for. Surviving the trial had not made him powerful. It had only proven that he could endure pressure long enough to think clearly. Everything beyond that would have to be learned the slow way.
He crossed the room and sat briefly at the edge of the bed, forearms resting on his thighs as he let his thoughts line themselves up. The question of stat allocation returned almost immediately. Fifty unassigned points waited in his status, a decision large enough to shape how he would move through this world for years. He had meant to ask Isera what most people did with their first allocation. The conversation had drifted elsewhere and the moment had passed.
Evan let out a slow breath and dismissed the impulse to decide now. Ignorance made poor strategy. He did not yet understand how combat styles developed here, how different professions trained, or which attributes would matter most beyond the first few levels. Allocating blindly would only lock mistakes into place. Better to learn first, observe how people actually fought and lived, and make the choice once he understood what those numbers truly meant.
The idea took place cleanly once he reached it. Learn first. Decide later. Evan pushed himself upright and glanced once around the room as if confirming the simple order of it. His gaze stopped briefly on the desk where the small transport token rested beside the folded note he had left there earlier. He crossed the room, picked the token up, and felt its familiar, muted weight settle into his palm.
Before leaving he moved to the corner where his travel pack and the hatchet leaned against the wall. The motion of storing them had already become instinctive. With a small gesture and a focused intent, objects dissolved from sight as they slipped into the abstract volume of his Spatial Inventory. Evan turned toward the door after that, token secure and hands empty, and stepped out into the quiet corridor of the Authority Hall.
A guard stood a few paces from the door, posted where the corridor opened toward the stairwell. His armor carried the same restrained Authority markings Evan had seen below earlier in the day. The man acknowledged Evan's appearance with a brief glance, attentive but unintrusive, the sort of watchfulness that belonged to someone accustomed to long hours of routine duty.
Evan returned the nod and continued down the corridor without ceremony. The hallways of the Authority complex were wide enough to move comfortably even during busy hours, though the afternoon had left them mostly quiet. Light from tall windows fell across the stone floor in long rectangles, broken occasionally by the passage of clerks or officers carrying sealed folders toward distant rooms. The building felt structured and deliberate, every motion within it guided by procedure rather than urgency.
The Authority complex had clearly been built with visitors in mind. Directional plaques were fixed at intersections along the corridor walls, each engraved with clean lettering that pointed toward different sections of the building. Evan followed the signs toward reception, turning where instructed and occasionally confirming his direction with a passing clerk when things looked similar enough to cause doubt.
The process did not take long. Within a few minutes he reached the open reception hall he had seen earlier, the same orderly space where arrivals were recorded and inquiries handled. Several desks were staffed now, clerks working through small stacks of forms while a few visitors stood nearby waiting their turn. The atmosphere was calm and methodical, more like a civic office than a place connected to dungeons and awakened fighters.
Evan waited until one of the clerks finished with the visitor ahead of him before stepping forward. The man behind the desk looked up with the practiced attentiveness of someone accustomed to a steady stream of inquiries. His clothing carried the same muted Authority colors Evan had noticed throughout the building, though the sleeves were rolled slightly to allow freer movement while writing.
"Good afternoon," the clerk said, setting his stylus aside. "How may the Authority assist you?"
"I was assigned lodging here after registration earlier," Evan replied. "I wanted to confirm whether I'm free to move through town and ask about the public library. I'm looking for basic information about the planet and the system."
The clerk gave a short nod and turned the slate toward himself, fingers moving across the surface in a practiced sequence. A narrow band of metal circled his wrist, the same device Evan had noticed earlier during registration. When the clerk tapped it lightly against the edge of the slate, a faint pulse of light ran across the page before fading again. The man's eyes moved over the ledger entries that appeared there, confirming the details.
"Evan Cole," he said after a moment, glancing back up. "Registration completed earlier today. Temporary lodging assigned within the Authority complex for the next six months unless otherwise arranged." He lifted the stylus again and made a brief notation. "You are free to move within Dornhaven as you wish. Your status carries no movement restrictions."
"Thank you," Evan said. "And the public library?"
The clerk inclined his head slightly, as if the question was one he heard often. "Dornhaven maintains a civic library in the eastern district," he replied. "It is open to the public and contains introductory material on imperial structure, local governance, awakening theory, dungeon fundamentals, and general planetary knowledge. Advanced archives remain restricted to Authority clearance, academy scholars, or duchy officials." He turned the slate slightly and traced a short route across a small map that appeared on its surface. "The building is within walking distance from here. Follow the avenue east from the Authority gate until you reach the market square. The library stands along the northern edge."
Evan studied the small route the clerk indicated, committing the landmarks to memory. The directions were straightforward enough that he doubted he would lose his way once outside. "That should be enough," he said. "I'm mostly looking for basics right now."
"That is precisely what the civic library provides," the clerk replied. He tapped the slate once more, dismissing the map display before resting his stylus beside the ledger. "If you require deeper materials later, Authority archives may be requested through formal channels. For now, the public collections should answer most introductory questions."
Evan nodded once in appreciation. "Understood. That's exactly what I need."
The clerk returned the nod with the same professional calm he had shown since Evan approached the desk. "The Authority gate remains open through the evening," he added. "If you leave the complex, simply return through the same entrance and present yourself to the guards if asked. Registered guests are permitted passage." He then lowered his attention back to the slate, signaling the quiet conclusion of the exchange while the next visitor in line stepped forward.
Evan stepped away from the desk and crossed the reception hall toward the main exit. The interior doors opened onto a broad stone threshold where two guards monitored the steady movement of people entering and leaving the complex. Outside, the late afternoon light had shifted slightly warmer, casting long reflections across the paved avenue that ran along the front of the Authority grounds.
The street beyond the gate was wider than he had expected, divided into clearly marked lanes that guided both pedestrian and vehicle traffic through the district. Carriages moved alongside compact mechanical transports whose quiet engines hummed softly as they passed. Elevated signal lamps regulated the crossings at major intersections, changing color in measured intervals while streams of citizens followed the patterns without hesitation. Evan slowed his steps for a moment just beyond the gate, taking in the order of it all as the scale of the place began to come into focus.
Evan paused just past the Authority gate, letting the flow of people move around him while he watched the avenue for a moment longer. The order of the street was familiar in ways he had not expected. Painted lane markings divided traffic with clean precision, and pedestrian crossings were marked clearly enough that even the busiest intersections moved without confusion. Overhead signal lamps shifted from one color to the next in steady intervals, guiding vehicles and walkers through the junctions with a pattern he recognized instinctively.
Yet the details within that order were not quite what he knew. Some of the vehicles rolled on smooth mechanical wheels powered by compact engines that emitted only a low electric hum. Others moved with a different motion entirely, gliding forward without visible exhaust while faint bands of light pulsed beneath their chassis. Couriers rode narrow transport boards that balanced themselves automatically as they weaved through the outer lanes, carrying sealed containers strapped behind them. Evan stood there longer than he intended, quietly absorbing the scene as pieces of familiarity and unfamiliarity overlapped in ways that left him both reassured and unsettled at the same time.
The buildings lining the avenue rose in clean tiers of stone, glass, and reinforced metal, their fronts arranged in neat rows that followed the curve of the district. Many carried illuminated signs that shifted between colors and symbols, advertising services, shops, and offices to the steady stream of pedestrians below. The technology behind them was obvious enough to understand at a glance, yet the scripts woven into the displays moved with a fluid precision that hinted at systems more advanced than the simple electronics he remembered from home.
Crowds flowed through the sidewalks in steady currents, people moving with the confidence of those who had lived their entire lives inside this rhythm. Some wore ordinary clothing suited to office work or trade, while others carried equipment that marked them as something different. Protective vests, reinforced gloves, compact tools clipped to belts. A few individuals passed with the unmistakable bearing of trained fighters, their posture balanced and alert even in casual movement. Evan watched them silently as he began walking east along the avenue.
Shops and offices occupied the lower levels of most buildings, their entrances opening directly onto the wide sidewalks. Glass fronts revealed interiors arranged with quiet efficiency: repair workshops where technicians worked over mechanical parts beneath bright lamps, cafés where patrons sat at compact tables speaking over steaming cups, small storefronts displaying tools, clothing, and travel gear. The variety of trades gave the district a constant, low hum of activity that blended easily with the flow of traffic outside.
Evan walked slowly enough to take it in without appearing lost. Screens mounted along certain storefronts cycled through notices and advertisements, some projecting small three-dimensional diagrams that rotated gently in the air above their bases. The effect was subtle rather than dramatic, more like an extension of the information panels he had seen earlier in the Authority complex. Each new detail added another layer to the picture forming in his mind. The place operated on technology he recognized, but it had grown in directions he had never seen before.
Evan kept walking, letting the movement of the crowd carry him forward while his eyes moved from storefront to storefront. The district stretched farther than he had first assumed. Blocks of buildings extended in orderly grids, intersected by broad avenues that carried steady traffic in both directions. Even the side streets showed the same careful planning, with pedestrian lanes, lighting systems, and public terminals spaced at regular intervals. It did not feel like the small settlements he had imagined when he first heard the word town.
The thought settled slowly as the scale continued to unfold around him. If this place was considered a town within the duchy, then the cities must be something far larger. Capitals even more so. Whatever waited in those places would operate on a level he had not yet begun to picture. The idea lingered in his mind as he crossed another intersection and continued east toward the market square the clerk had described.
The avenue widened as Evan approached the next district, and the steady flow of office workers began to blend with smaller clusters of shoppers and pedestrians lingering near storefront displays. The buildings here stood a little taller, their ground levels set back beneath shaded arcades that sheltered rows of polished shop windows. Inside those windows rested carefully arranged displays rather than bulk goods: precision instruments laid out on velvet trays, sleek communication devices mounted on angled stands, and tailored clothing displayed on articulated mannequins that shifted posture every few minutes to show different cuts of fabric.
Food vendors occupied the corners where the arcades opened toward the street. Instead of shouting over the traffic, they worked behind compact counters fitted with glowing preparation surfaces and neat ingredient stations. Steam rose in soft curls from shallow cooking pans while customers waited in orderly lines, selecting meals displayed on small illuminated menus. The air carried a mix of aromas that changed as he passed each stand, roasted meats giving way to citrus spices and then to the warm scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery that had arranged loaves in a geometric tower behind its glass front.
Beyond the food stalls the avenue opened into a broad plaza that formed the center of the district. The paving stones shifted here into lighter patterns arranged in sweeping arcs that guided foot traffic toward different corners of the square. At the far side stood a multi-level structure whose curved fa?ade carried large projection panels mounted along its exterior wall. One of the panels was active now, its surface displaying the interior of a circular arena where two figures faced each other.
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Clusters of people had gathered around the screen to watch. Office workers stood beside street vendors, a few cyclists had stopped near the edge of the crowd, and several teenagers leaned against the railings that bordered the plaza. The group simply watched with quiet attention as the fighters inside the arena began to circle each other, their movements sharp and deliberate even through the filtered projection. Evan slowed as he approached, drawn in despite himself by the precision of the motion unfolding on the screen
The screen flickered once as the broadcast shifted to a closer angle. A narrow banner along the lower edge of the display listed two names and a small set of details that changed too quickly for Evan to read fully. The camera stabilized, revealing the interior of the arena more clearly now. It was not an ornate battlefield. The space looked simple and functional, a wide circular platform of worn stone surrounded by low walls and rising stands packed with spectators.
The crowd around Evan adjusted slightly as the image sharpened. A few people leaned forward while others lifted drinks or food containers, settling in as if they had seen many matches like this before. One man beside him murmured something to his companion about the fighters' previous record, the words casual and unexcited. For most of them this was a routine entertainment. For Evan, it would be the first time he saw combat in this world.
The screen showed two figures stopping several paces apart on a worn stone floor.
For a moment nothing happened. There was no signal to begin. Yet even from a distance the tension was obvious. Something about the way they stood made it clear that stepping back meant losing something neither of them could afford.
The taller man, identified on the lower corner of the display as Kade, shifted his weight first. The movement looked small, almost casual, but the change drew Evan's attention immediately. His shoulders loosened, his left hand lowering slightly while the right drifted higher as if the position had happened by accident. Even without understanding the finer details of combat, Evan could tell the motion was deliberate. Kade was waiting for the woman to react.
She didn't.
Lysa held her stance with quiet control, her heels barely brushing the stone beneath her. Her breathing appeared slow and measured, her eyes fixed on him with a focus that made the stillness feel heavier. The camera angle allowed just enough detail for Evan to notice how carefully she watched him. It looked almost like she had already studied every piece of him before the fight had even begun. His long reach. The strength in his shoulders. The old scar along his forearm that hinted at past injuries and habits. Kade's gaze stayed low, tracking her feet.
So she gave him nothing to read.
The silence stretched while a gust of wind moved through a broken arch behind them, pushing a thin ribbon of dust across the floor. Kade's mouth curved into a faint smile.
Then he moved.
Even through the screen the lunge looked sudden. Fast and direct, a straight punch thrown with the confidence of someone who expected the fight to end quickly.
Lysa stepped forward instead of retreating. The punch passed so close to her head that Evan felt his shoulders tense instinctively. Her elbow drove upward into Kade's ribs with sharp precision. The hit landed solidly, though Kade twisted just enough to absorb some of the force. Even so, the reaction showed the strike had hurt.
Kade grunted and pivoted, bringing his knee upward in the same motion.
To Evan's untrained eyes the movement seemed fast. Lysa reacted faster.
She caught the rising knee with both hands and shoved sideways, forcing Kade off balance. His boots scraped loudly against the stone as he stumbled a half step before recovering. The recovery came quickly, almost impressively so, and his forearm swung down toward her collarbone in a heavy strike.
Lysa rolled with the blow.
The impact still forced her down to one knee, stone biting into her skin as the momentum carried through. Before Kade could press the advantage she swept her leg across his ankle.
This time he fell.
The camera angle shifted slightly as both of them hit the ground almost together. Kade landed on his back while Lysa moved immediately, reaching for his throat with ruthless speed. Kade blocked with his forearm and their arms locked together in a tight struggle.
For a heartbeat they remained frozen in that position, their faces inches apart while breath and effort mixed with dust rising from the floor.
Kade laughed.
Even through the screen it sounded breathless.
"Thought you'd be faster," he said.
Then he drove his head forward.
The headbutt snapped Lysa backward. Her body recoiled as if the impact had detonated behind her eyes, and a streak of blood appeared along her brow. Kade rolled over her instantly, his weight pinning her down while his forearm pressed across her throat. The stone beneath her back looked unforgiving.
Lysa twisted and bucked beneath him, trying to break the hold. Kade adjusted his balance smoothly, shifting his weight to hold her in place. The pressure against her throat increased until even Evan could see the strain in the way she struggled to breathe.
Kade leaned closer.
"You hesitate," he said.
Lysa's hand moved.
For a second Evan couldn't tell what she had reached for. Then the knife appeared.
She had hidden it until that moment.
The blade flashed upward in a short, brutal motion that sliced across Kade's side beneath the ribs. The wound was shallow but clearly painful. Kade hissed and instinctively pulled back.
The pressure on her throat loosened for half a second.
That was enough.
Lysa twisted free, rolling out from beneath him and kicking hard enough to send him sprawling away across the stone. Both fighters scrambled back to their feet at nearly the same moment. Their breathing had grown heavier now, and both carried fresh blood across their skin.
Kade's smile was gone.
"Again?" he asked.
Lysa wiped the blood from her eyes and settled back into her stance. Even through the screen Evan could see the strain in the way she moved. Her arms trembled slightly and her ribs tightened with every breath.
Yet she stayed upright.
"So long as you keep getting up," she answered.
This time the distance between them closed quickly.
Whatever discipline had guided the earlier exchange vanished as the fight turned rough and desperate. Elbows, knees, and sudden grapples replaced the careful testing from before. Hands reached for joints and balance. Fingers clawed for leverage and advantage. Every movement looked chosen for survival rather than technique.
To Evan the struggle felt chaotic and mesmerizing at the same time. There were no graceful movements to it. Only two exhausted fighters pushing themselves past their limits in an effort to remain standing longer than the other.
When the fight finally ended there was no dramatic moment announcing it.
Kade lay on his side with shallow breaths rising and falling through his chest. His eyes stared forward without focus.
Lysa stood nearby, her knife hanging loosely in her hand while she watched him for any sign of movement.
None came.
After a long moment she turned and walked away without looking back.
The screen held the image for several seconds before shifting back to a wider view of the arena floor and the crowd cheering Lysa's name. Around Evan the gathered crowd released a quiet ripple of conversation, people discussing the match with the casual interest of those already thinking about the next one.
"Good thing it's a sim arena," someone near Evan remarked. "That knife would have gutted him for real."
"Yeah," another voice replied. "Hurts like hell in there, but you wake up afterward."
Evan did not move right away. His attention remained fixed on the screen even as the broadcast began introducing the upcoming fight. What stayed with him was not the violence of the match but the precision behind it. Every movement he had seen carried intention. Balance, timing, positioning. Even exhausted, both fighters had known exactly what they were trying to do.
And both of them, judging from what he had overheard around him, were still unawakened.
The realization took place quietly.
He had a great deal to learn.
A pair of men standing a little ahead of Evan continued the conversation as the broadcast shifted to highlights from the match. One of them shook his head with a low whistle. "If they keep training like that, both of them will clear the tests before long," he said. "Authority's requirement isn't easy, but fighters at that level usually make it through."
His companion nodded in agreement, arms folded as he watched the replay of Lysa's escape from the chokehold. "They're close already," he replied. "Once they pass the government assessment and the Authority signs off, that's it. They'll be registered to be awakened and then they will start climbing the tiers."
Evan listened without turning his head, letting their words fill alongside what he had just watched. The fight replay continued above them, the screen slowing certain movements so the audience could see how the exchanges had unfolded. When the moment of Lysa's escape from the chokehold appeared again, someone behind him muttered a quiet appreciation for the timing of the blade. To most of the crowd, the match was simply a display of skill. To Evan it was something closer to instruction.
If fighters like that were still unawakened, then the gap between his current level and the standard here was wider than he had imagined. Surviving the trial had demanded everything he could think and do under pressure, yet the movements he had just seen carried a different kind of discipline. Technique built through years of repetition rather than instinct and desperation. Evan watched one last replay of the exchange before the screen shifted to a new announcement, then stepped away from the crowd and continued toward the library the clerk had described.
The plaza thinned again once he left the crowd behind. The noise of conversation faded into the background while the wide avenue resumed its steady rhythm of traffic and pedestrians moving between districts. Evan followed the direction the clerk had indicated earlier, keeping to the eastern side of the street while the buildings gradually shifted from office towers and polished storefronts toward quieter civic structures.
The library announced itself before he reached the entrance. The building stood slightly back from the road behind a broad stone forecourt lined with low trees and long benches where several people sat reading or speaking quietly. Its fa?ade rose in layered tiers of pale stone and glass, tall windows stretching from one floor to the next so that the interior shelves could be seen even from outside. Through the glass he could make out rows of tables, reading lamps, and long aisles of books arranged with the same careful order he had seen throughout Dornhaven.
Evan crossed the forecourt at an unhurried pace, stepping past a pair of students seated on one of the benches with open books balanced on their knees. The glass doors opened automatically as he approached, sliding aside with a soft mechanical whisper that let the cooler air of the interior spill outward. Inside, the quiet of the building settled around him almost immediately, the distant sounds of the street fading behind thick walls and the soft rustle of pages turning somewhere deeper in the hall.
The main reading chamber stretched wide beneath a high ceiling supported by slender metal beams that allowed light to filter down through long skylights above. Rows of bookshelves ran in measured lines across the floor, broken occasionally by study tables where readers sat beneath small desk lamps. Most of the people inside looked ordinary enough, students, office workers, and a few older patrons who moved slowly between shelves while scanning the spines of books with patient attention.
Near the entrance a long reception counter marked the point where visitors could request assistance or locate materials. Behind it sat a woman working through a stack of returned books, scanning each cover before placing it neatly onto a rolling cart beside her chair. A small brass plaque fixed to the edge of the desk identified her simply: Marin Vale – Library Reception.
Evan approached quietly, waiting until she finished noting something in the ledger before speaking. Marin looked up a moment later, dark hair pulled back neatly while a pair of thin reading lenses rested low on the bridge of her nose. Her expression held the calm patience of someone accustomed to answering the same questions many times a day.
Evan offered a small nod of greeting. "Good afternoon," he said. "I'm looking for basic material about the planet and the system. Things like tier advancement, awakening requirements, and how dungeons work."
Marin Vale regarded him for a moment with mild curiosity, then turned slightly to the catalog terminal built into the desk beside her. Her fingers moved across the interface with practiced familiarity while a small display illuminated in front of her. "Those topics are covered in the introductory collections," she replied. "You'll want the foundation sections on the second floor. Tier structure, early training guides, and civic summaries of dungeon operations are all organized there."
She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small rectangular card, its surface printed with a simple floor diagram of the building. With the tip of a pencil she marked a few shelves along one wing of the second level. "These aisles will have what you are looking for," Marin said, sliding the card across the desk toward him. "The materials there are meant for general readers. Nothing restricted, but enough to give you a clear understanding of the basics."
Before giving him the card completely, she glanced back up at him. "Name, please? We keep a simple visitor ledger for new readers."
"Evan Cole," he replied.
Marin noted it quickly in the open ledger beside her, her eyes moving briefly across the entry before she nodded in quiet confirmation. The stylus tapped the page once more as she finished the line. "You're cleared for the public collections," she said, turning the card fully toward him.
Evan accepted the card and studied the layout briefly. The library was larger than it had appeared from outside, its upper floors divided into long rows of numbered sections that branched outward from the central staircase. "That's perfect," he said. "Thank you." Marin gave a small nod in return and went back to her ledger while Evan turned toward the wide staircase rising along the far wall, the quiet rustle of pages and distant footsteps guiding him deeper into the building.
The staircase carried him to the second floor where the atmosphere grew even quieter. Shelves stretched in long, orderly rows beneath soft overhead lighting, each section marked by small metal placards that listed subject headings in clear lettering. Evan moved slowly along the aisles, reading the labels as he passed them. Tier Structure. Civic Governance. Dungeon Fundamentals. Planetary Geography. The categories were straightforward, exactly the sort of foundational material he had hoped to find.
He began pulling volumes from the shelves one at a time, scanning the opening pages before deciding which to keep. A thick introductory text on Tier Advancement went under his arm first. A slimmer book explaining Dungeon Ecology on Varethis followed, then a broader survey titled Foundations of Awakening that appeared to summarize the requirements civilians had mentioned outside the arena. Within a few minutes he carried a small stack that felt heavy enough to promise several hours of answers.
A quiet movement nearby drew his attention before he turned toward the reading area. Along one side of the floor a narrow counter had been set against the wall, attended only by a small self-serve dispenser and a line of simple cups stacked neatly beside it. Several readers passed by the station as they worked through their books, filling cups and returning to their tables without interrupting the quiet rhythm of the room.
Evan paused beside one of them, watching the dark liquid pour into the cup with a faint curl of steam rising above it. The person noticed his curiosity and offered a small explanation without prompting. "It's brinroot brew," the man said quietly. "Keeps you awake while you read." Evan took a cup for himself and tested the first sip cautiously. The taste was bitter and warm, with an earthy depth that reminded him immediately of coffee back on Earth, though the flavor carried a sharper edge that lingered on his tongue.
He carried the cup carefully in one hand while balancing the stack of books against his chest with the other. The reading hall offered dozens of tables, but Evan moved past the larger ones where students and office workers had already settled into quiet study. Instead he followed the outer wall until he found a smaller corner where two armchairs and a low wooden table had been arranged beside one of the tall windows.
The spot felt comfortably removed from the rest of the room. Sunlight filtered through the glass at an angle that softened the lamplight above the table, and the steady murmur of pages turning across the hall faded into something distant and unobtrusive. Evan set the books down one by one, placed the cup of brinroot brew beside them, and lowered himself into the chair. Here, at last, he had time, questions, and a quiet place to begin looking for answers.
Evan wrapped his fingers around the warm cup for a moment, letting the bitterness of the brinroot brew settle on his tongue while his eyes moved across the titles stacked on the table. Each one promised a different piece of the world he now lived in. After a brief pause he reached for the volume on Tier Advancement, opened it to the first page, and leaned forward into the quiet of the library. Survival had carried him this far. Understanding would carry him further.
