Ezra couldn't shake the thought as he continued to silently watch Asli, his mind whirling with questions. The swordplay, the way Asli moved—it was graceful, calculated, and nearly flawless. The precision in each strike, the fluidity of the transitions, it all pointed to someone who had honed their craft over years of dedication. It was obvious now—Asli wasn't clueless. He had the potential to be one of the best fighters at the academy, probably even the best.
Yet, despite all that skill, there he was, allowing everyone to treat him like he didn't matter. Allowing people to walk all over him without a word of protest.
'Why?'
"Why act like you don't care if you can do all this?" Ezra mumbled quietly to himself, almost inaudibly. He shook his head, feeling the frustration build again.
Ezra's footsteps echoed in the hallway as he walked away from the dojo, his mind still spinning with questions he couldn't seem to answer.
'What is he hiding? Why allow others to walk all over you when you clearly have the strength to stand up for yourself ?'
As he walked through the maze of corridors, the weight of the thoughts on his mind grew heavier, and the noise of the bustling academy faded into the background. His destination was clear—the library .
The library doors loomed ahead of him, grand and imposing, their wooden surface etched with intricate designs that spoke of age and wisdom. Ezra pushed them open, the scent of old books and polished wood filling his senses. The room was vast, filled with towering shelves and long rows of bookshelves, each one meticulously organized. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the space, casting gentle shadows on the worn wooden floors.
Ezra's fingers brushed across the spines of the books, searching for something that would speak to him, something that would provide clarity about the strange behavior he'd seen. "No, no, not this… Not this either," he muttered under his breath, frustration rising as he flicked through the titles. Nothing seemed right.
He moved further down the aisle, his eyes scanning each section. Then, his hand paused over a particular row. Something caught his attention. His fingers gently traced the worn spines, feeling the texture of each book, until his hand brushed against something different. A paper, tucked between two books, slipped out and fluttered to the floor with a faint rustling sound.
Ezra bent down to retrieve it, his curiosity piqued. The paper was old, the edges frayed and faded with age. It had a rough texture, as if it had been handled countless times, and the ink was faint in some places, smudged by time.
It seemed to be an old newspaper of some sort as he looked at the paper dating back ten years ago
Ezra's eyes narrowed as he scanned the faded article, the words becoming clearer as he focused. The paper, despite its age, held some unsettling details that piqued his interest further. The headline read:
"Soldier Discharged from Unit, Sentenced to Years in Prison—Resonance Locked, Overseen by Unnamed Authorities"
The article was sparse, the details vague, but enough to stir something deep within Ezra. He reread it, his heart picking up speed. The article described a soldier who had been involved in the Sundering War, a conflict that had devastated many lives as Professor Catherine named it . According to the article, the soldier had murdered his teammates in a deadly massacre , one that was considered too dangerous for the authorities to allow unchecked. They had been discharged from their military unit and sentenced to years of imprisonment, where their resonance was reportedly "locked" or suppressed, monitored by an unnamed person .
He had heard of the Sundering War before, but never anything like this. Resonance locking, an authority suppressing such power—it didn't sit right with him.
' Wait-''
' No , it can't be…'
Ezra's heart skipped a beat as the pieces began to fit together in his mind. The article, the soldier, the mention of resonance being locked away—it all seemed too familiar, too connected to what Shirley had said that night.
He continued reading but nothing gave him a clue . He felt certain for some reason it was all connected to Shirley . He searched frantically where the paper had fallen out from before taking out a hefty book that was filled to the brim
Ezra's hands trembled slightly as he reached for the hefty book, its spine cracked with age and its pages thick with knowledge
Ezra's fingers trembled slightly as he flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the rows upon rows of names. The book seemed to stretch on endlessly, a catalogue of individuals. Each page was filled with columns detailing the names of people, their resonance types, ranks, and the years of imprisonment they had been sentenced to. The pages were dense, cold, and methodical, as if each person had been reduced to little more than a line in a ledger, a statistic to be monitored.
Some of the names stood out, especially when Ezra noticed the columns filled with similar resonance types. the terms jumped out at him, each one a strange and powerful resonance type. Some names were marked with heavy red ink, a notation Ezra couldn't decipher immediately, but it seemed important.
Each name had a number attached to it, like a file—years of imprisonment, conditions of their confinement, and most disturbingly, some had dates written in a separate column, dates that matched with events that had occurred years ago.
His eye caught a name. Marked in red ink. The entry was thin, almost a footnote, as if the records were deliberately incomplete. It didn't make sense.
"Shin Mahiru.Imprisonment: Life. Resonance Rank: Unknown . Ascendant Rank: Unknown.Status: Incarcerated under high surveillance. Must not be approached under any circumstances."
Ezra's fingers tightened around the edge of the paper, his pulse quickening. Ascendant Rank Unknown?That wasn't a rank commonly recorded—at least, not in any of the teachings he had studied.
'What the hell does that mean? And why is this name buried so deep within the registry?'
He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He wasn't here for this—at least, not now. He flicked through the pages, scanning the columns of names with growing impatience.
Finally, his eyes landed on the one he was searching for.
"Shirley Olson.Resonance Rank: Dual-Forged. Acendant Rank: Resonant .Archetype Identity: Echo-Bound.Imprisonment: Classified"