The morning light filtered through the glass panes of the floating tower, casting soft golden hues across the smooth wooden floor. A gentle breeze drifted in from the open balcony, rustling the pages of an old book held in steady hands.
Zarysha Tidescar sat by the window, one leg crossed over the other, a porcelain cup of tea resting in her palm. The steam curled lazily into the air, dissipating as she turned a page with practiced ease. Her abyssal-dark eyes scanned the ancient text with an expression of serene focus. Every so often, she would take a slow sip, savoring the warmth, before resuming her reading as if the world beyond these pages did not exist.
And yet, that illusion was broken by a strained grunt, followed by the dull thud of stone against soil.
Down below, just outside her tower, Geschicht was struggling.
Sweat trickled down his temple as he hoisted a large boulder above his head, his arms shaking under the weight. His legs trembled, his back ached, and yet, the true challenge was not just lifting stones—it was doing so while attempting to decipher two versions of the same book at once. One was written in an older dialect, full of complex phrasing and unfamiliar terms, while the other was a more recent translation. He had to compare them while keeping his balance and lifting.
"Ugh... Why... are these written so differently?" Geschicht muttered, his voice strained as he squinted at the pages propped up on a nearby rock. "One of them says, 'The stars whisper wisdom to those who listen,' and the other says, 'The stars don't care if you understand them or not.'"
He exhaled sharply, wobbling as he tried to shift the weight.
From above, Zarysha glanced down at him over the rim of her cup. "Hmm."
That was all she said. Just a soft, noncommittal hum before she turned another page.
Geschicht groaned. "Are you seriously just gonna sit there drinking tea while I suffer?!"
Zarysha placed her cup down with deliberate care, finally closing her book. She leaned back in her chair, fingers interlaced as she regarded him with a faintly amused expression. "You're not suffering," she stated simply. "You're learning."
"Learning?!" Geschicht barked out a dry laugh before adjusting his grip on the boulder. "Learning what? How to break my spine while reading philosophy?"
"Not quite," she said smoothly, standing up and making her way to the edge of the balcony. "Strength alone is useless without understanding. And knowledge without endurance is just empty theory."
Geschicht exhaled sharply as he finally let the boulder drop to the ground with a heavy thud, nearly toppling over himself. He placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. "I swear... I feel like my arms are about to fall off."
Zarysha tilted her head, unbothered. "Then that means you need to keep going."
Geschicht shot her a look. "Do you ever do this kind of training?"
She smiled faintly. "Of course."
That answer didn't comfort him in the slightest.
Zarysha leaned on the railing of her floating tower, the morning sun glinting off her smooth, lightly scaled skin. "You're struggling now because you're trying to balance two things at once—physical exertion and mental focus. But that's exactly why it's necessary. The mind and body are not separate. If you want to keep up with the world outside, you need both."
Geschicht groaned and flopped onto the ground, stretching out his sore muscles. "You know, back home, I just had to chop wood and carry bricks. That was plenty."
Zarysha arched a brow. "Back home, you weren't aiming to survive as an Ident, were you?"
"...Fair point."
The breeze picked up slightly, ruffling the pages of the books still lying on the nearby rock. The tower hovered soundlessly above them, casting a shifting shadow as it drifted lazily along with the city's floating structures. The distant hum of magical energy, the rustle of leaves, and the distant chatter of scholars in their morning routines blended together into the quiet rhythm of the Sage Association's domain.
Zarysha pushed away from the railing. "Take a five-minute break. Then we'll move on to the next lesson."
Geschicht groaned into the dirt. "I might actually die before then."
Zarysha smirked. "Then at least you'll have learned something before you go."
He glared up at her. "...I'm starting to think you enjoy this."
She didn't answer. Just sipped her tea with a knowing look before turning back to her book.
Geschicht barely had time to enjoy his five-minute break before Zarysha took a step forward, looking down at him with an air of expectation.
"Alright," she said, setting down her now-empty teacup. "Next exercise."
Geschicht groaned. "Please tell me it involves lying down and absorbing knowledge through sheer willpower."
Zarysha ignored that. She picked up the two books he had been struggling with and tossed them to him. He fumbled, barely managing to catch them.
"Start running," she said.
"…What?"
She pointed towards the open space beyond the floating tower—a winding dirt path leading through the city's green hills.
"You're going to run while reading these," Zarysha stated simply. "And you're not stopping until you understand both versions completely."
Geschicht stared at her as if she had just told him to fly to the moon.
"You—you can't be serious," he sputtered. "I can barely focus on one while standing still, and now I have to—"
Zarysha crossed her arms. "If you want to learn anything from me, you'll do it."
Geschicht groaned, clutching the books to his chest. "This is cruel."
"This is necessary."
"This is—"
"Start running."
There was no arguing with her. Something about the way she said it—calm, unwavering, like the ocean before a storm—made it clear that there was no room for negotiation.
So, with a deep sigh and the weight of impending suffering pressing on his shoulders, Geschicht started running.
At first, it wasn't so bad. The wind in his hair, the fresh scent of grass, the rhythmic sound of his feet against the dirt—he could deal with this. He even dared to flip open one of the books while keeping a steady pace.
"The stars whisper wisdom to those who listen…"
Easy enough. He moved on to the other book.
"The stars don't care if you understand them or not."
Geschicht frowned. Okay, that was already a little frustrating. He glanced between the two texts, trying to pinpoint exactly where the meaning had shifted, all while keeping his feet moving.
Ten minutes passed.
His breath grew heavier. His grip on the books tightened. The words were starting to blur.
Twenty minutes.
His legs ached. His arms burned from holding the books up. The texts—once confusing but readable—now felt like a cryptic puzzle that was mocking him at every turn.
Thirty minutes.
He stumbled, nearly falling face-first into the dirt. He caught himself, panting, cursing under his breath.
This was unbearable.
He glanced at Zarysha, who stood at the edge of the floating tower, watching him.
As the minutes stretched on, Geschicht's mind waded through the sea of words, pushing past his exhaustion, past the ache in his limbs, past the sweat dripping down his back.
Then—like the sudden clarity of a breaking dawn—it clicked.
The older book was written with the bias of its time. Its words reflected the beliefs and values of that era, bending knowledge to fit its world. Meanwhile, the newer book was no different—just another perspective, another reshaping of the truth to fit the present.
Neither was absolute. They were both shaped by the hands of their writers.
Geschicht's legs finally gave in, and he collapsed onto the grass, arms outstretched, books falling beside him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath ragged, but there was a triumphant grin on his face.
"I got it…" he muttered, eyes half-lidded. "They're both just… bias. Bias shaped by their time."
Silence followed.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Slow, deliberate applause rang through the air. Geschicht turned his head slightly, just enough to see Zarysha standing there, nodding in approval.
"Quick thinking," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her abyssal-dark eyes. "You're right."
Geschicht groaned, tilting his head back toward the sky. "I feel like I lost half my lifespan figuring that out."
Zarysha smirked. "Good. That means you're learning."
Zarysha strolled over, her steps unhurried, the gentle rustling of grass beneath her feet the only sound in the moment. She crouched down beside Geschicht, the sun catching the faint iridescence of her lightly scaled skin as she studied his exhausted form.
"You figured out the main issue," she said, tapping the spine of one of the books with a sharp claw. "But let's go deeper. Why do you think these two versions exist in the first place?"
Geschicht groaned. "Didn't I just answer that?"
Zarysha gave him a pointed look. "You touched the surface. Now dig."
Geschicht exhaled sharply, staring at the sky. "…Because people change. Their beliefs change. So, when someone writes a book, it's influenced by what they think is true at the time."
Zarysha nodded. "Yes, but that's only part of it. Sometimes, it's not just about personal belief—it's about who controls the narrative."
She lifted the older book and flipped through its pages, her dark eyes scanning the words with a keen, knowing gaze. "Look at this version. It was written centuries ago, when the world's understanding was different. This was the dominant perspective at the time, shaped by the rulers, the scholars, the institutions that decided what should be recorded. They set the foundation of knowledge, even if it was flawed or incomplete. It became truth because it was widely accepted."
Then, she picked up the newer book and did the same, holding it up for Geschicht to see. "Now, fast forward to today. We have different rulers, different scholars, different institutions. Their access to information has expanded, their understanding has evolved, and with that, they reframe the past through a modern lens. They correct what was wrong, fill in gaps, but…" She smirked slightly. "They also leave behind their own fingerprints."
Geschicht frowned. "…You're saying that even the corrected version isn't completely true?"
"Exactly." She set both books down between them. "History isn't written in stone. It's written by people, and people are biased. Even when they think they're being objective, they're still influenced by their experiences, their culture, their time period. That's why we have multiple versions of the same book. The way a war is recorded by the victors will never match how it's recorded by the defeated. The way a philosopher's work is interpreted a hundred years later will never be exactly what they intended."
She leaned back, watching him carefully. "It happens even in your time. Have you ever heard of two different historians arguing over the same event? Or scholars debating the meaning of an ancient text?"
Geschicht nodded slowly.
"It happens everywhere. Even something as simple as a biography—written by different authors—can have wildly different accounts of the same person's life. Some will portray them as a hero, others as a villain. Some will focus on their achievements, others on their failures. The truth is somewhere in between, but no single book holds it all."
Geschicht furrowed his brows, processing her words. "…So what's the point, then? If everything is biased, then how do we know what's real?"
Zarysha's smirk widened slightly. "That's the right question." She tapped a finger against the side of her temple. "The answer isn't to find a book that tells you the absolute truth. The answer is to learn how to think critically. To compare, analyze, and understand why different accounts exist. To recognize patterns, see through the biases, and find the thread that connects them all."
She exhaled, stretching her arms. "That's why your training is important. Not just physically, but mentally. If you're going to seek knowledge, you need to understand how knowledge is shaped. Otherwise, you'll just be another fool repeating what someone else has written without questioning it."
Geschicht let out a long breath, staring at the sky. His mind buzzed, his body ached, but something about Zarysha's words settled deep inside him.
"…I think I hate how much sense that makes," he muttered.
Zarysha chuckled, standing up. "Good."
Zarysha watched him for a moment, her sharp gaze unwavering. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she asked, "Do you have a Singularität?"
Geschicht, still lying on the ground, turned his head slightly to look at her. He blinked. "No." Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he patted the leather cover of his journal beside him. "But I have this."
Zarysha's finned ears twitched slightly. She crouched down again, resting her elbows on her knees as she studied the book. "Is it a Seelen?"
Geschicht shook his head. "No."
Her dark eyes flicked up to meet his, assessing. "So it's a Gesegnete."
There was a pause before Geschicht hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Zarysha exhaled through her nose, standing back up with an air of finality. "Then, since you don't have a Singularität, your training will be harsher."
Geschicht let out a long, suffering groan, dragging a hand down his face. "Of course it will."
Zarysha smirked, folding her arms. "Complaints already?"
He let his head fall back against the grass, staring at the sky in resignation. "No, no. Just mentally preparing myself for the worst."
"That's good," she said, turning on her heel. "Because I assure you, it'll be worse than you expect."
Zarysha clasped her hands behind her back, her tone cool and methodical as she began listing off Geschicht's new daily routine.
"Since you lack a Singularität, you'll need to train your body and mind beyond the limits of an ordinary person. Therefore, your schedule will be as follows."
She raised a single finger. "You will wake up before sunrise. The moment your eyes open, you will begin with a five-kilometer run. But not just any run—you'll be carrying weighted books in each arm. And you will read them while running. No exceptions."
Geschicht groaned, but Zarysha continued without mercy.
"After your run, you'll immediately move on to endurance training. Carrying stones—yes, heavier than the ones today—up and down the hill outside my tower. This will improve your physical strength, posture, and breathing control. If you drop a stone, you restart from the bottom."
Geschicht opened his mouth to protest, but Zarysha wasn't done.
"After that, you'll have your first reading session of the day—two different books with opposing perspectives. You will summarize their arguments and explain their biases before breakfast. If your analysis is lacking, you do push-ups until you get it right."
Geschicht stared at her, horrified. "Before breakfast? What if I get them wrong?"
"Then you will have a very strong upper body and an empty stomach," Zarysha said, smirking. "Moving on."
She ticked off another point. "Midday training consists of memory and reaction exercises. You will be tested on information from the books you read in the morning while simultaneously dodging incoming attacks."
"What—?!"
"Nothing lethal, of course," she added, waving a hand. "Most of the time."
Geschicht buried his face in his hands. "Most of the time?!"
Ignoring his suffering, Zarysha pressed on. "By late afternoon, you'll engage in practical writing exercises. You'll rewrite historical accounts from different perspectives, changing details to reflect various biases. This will help refine your ability to perceive truth from illusion."
"I see no part of this where I'm allowed to rest."
Zarysha tilted her head in mock thoughtfulness. "Ah, rest. Right. After dinner, you'll meditate for an hour to clear your mind. Then, before sleeping, you'll read a book of my choice and summarize its key points in your journal."
Geschicht flopped onto his back, staring blankly at the sky. "This is unreasonable."
She smirked down at him. "That's because you're weak."
"I'm going to die."
"You'll get stronger first."
He groaned dramatically. "At this rate, I'll die a very strong corpse."
Zarysha crossed her arms, grinning. "Then don't die."
"Oh, and at night, you're free to do whatever you want."
Geschicht cracked one eye open, suspicious. "Whatever I want?"
She nodded. "Yes. No restrictions. You can read, explore the city, visit the other tower, or even sleep early—though I doubt you'll have the energy to do much."
Geschicht sat up, rubbing his face. "So after a whole day of running, lifting, reading, dodging imaginary death, and rewriting history, I get… free time?"
Zarysha smirked. "Of course. I'm not unreasonable."
He shot her a flat look. "That's debatable."
She shrugged.
Zarysha leaned back slightly, watching Geschicht with that ever-present air of calculated ease. "This is the fastest way for you to get stronger and smarter. If you want to reach Grade 4 Ident anytime soon, you'll have to endure."
Geschicht, still sprawled on the ground, lifted his head. "And what exactly does it take for someone to reach Grade 4?"
Zarysha crossed her arms, her dark eyes steady. "Two things. First, you need to be strong enough to hold your ground against a Grade 3 Ident for a full minute."
Geschicht frowned. "Just a minute?"
Her smirk deepened. "A minute feels much longer when someone like me is trying to take you down."
He swallowed.
"The second requirement," she continued, "is to have an achievement or contribution to your name. Strength alone isn't enough. The Ident Order recognizes those who make a difference."
Geschicht sat up properly now, brushing dirt off his sleeves. "And how am I supposed to do that?"
Zarysha tapped her fingers against her arm. "Simple. You'll go outside with me on weekends and help kill monsters."
Geschicht blinked. "That—" He gestured vaguely. "That escalated fast."
Zarysha chuckled. "Welcome to the Ident Order."
Geschicht let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. "I thought I could just give a ten-hour lecture on forgotten civilizations at the Sage Association and get promoted… but I guess that won't work here."
Zarysha let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, it might get you a few nods of approval, but unless your lecture miraculously stops a war or unearths some lost world-shattering knowledge, it won't be enough."
Geschicht groaned. "So, instead of sharing wisdom, I have to go out and slay things?"
Zarysha shrugged. "Why not both?"
Zarysha tilted her head, a faint smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Aren't you eager to become a Grade 4 Ident soon?"
Geschicht, still sprawled out on the grass, let out a long sigh. "Eager isn't the word I'd use." His body ached from the relentless training, and his lungs still burned from running while reading. He swore the ground beneath him had never felt so comfortable. "If anything, I'd rather not rush things."
Zarysha sipped her tea, unbothered by his exhaustion. "So you'd rather crawl your way up, one painful step at a time, when there's a faster way?"
Geschicht groaned. "That faster way is also the unreasonable way."
Zarysha let out a low chuckle. The golden morning light reflected off her sleek, lightly scaled skin, and her fin-like ears twitched slightly. "You say that now, but when you get stronger, you'll thank me."
Geschicht rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. "You keep saying stronger, but I still don't get why you're so set on it. I'm not trying to be some kind of warrior."
Zarysha tilted her head. "No, you're not. But you are trying to get somewhere, aren't you?"
Geschicht froze for half a second.
Zarysha's gaze was sharp—too sharp. It was like she saw something in him he hadn't meant to show.
"Everyone has a reason for climbing ranks," she continued, watching him closely. "And no one puts themselves through this kind of training unless they need to. So what is it?"
Geschicht looked away, pressing his lips together. "Does it matter?"
Zarysha shrugged. "Not to me. But it should matter to you." She turned, looking over the cityscape stretched out below them. Floating spires, drifting bridges, the hum of a city suspended in the sky. "The higher your rank, the more doors open for you. And doors don't stay open forever."
Geschicht frowned. He hadn't thought about that. Right now, he was just trying—moving forward without knowing exactly how long the path was.
Zarysha glanced back at him. "You don't have a Singularität. That means you have to work twice as hard. You need strength, endurance, knowledge—everything you can get your hands on. Otherwise, you won't last."
Geschicht rubbing his forehead. "So my choices are suffer now or suffer later?"
Zarysha smirked. "Pretty much."
He groaned, dropping back onto the grass. "This is cruel."
"This is necessary."
She walked past him, her arms crossed. "You'll see it for yourself soon enough. Once you step into the world out there, you'll understand why I'm pushing you like this." She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. "We'll start monster hunts this weekend. So rest up while you can."
Geschicht let out a slow breath, staring up at the sky. The drifting clouds above seemed so free—just floating without a care, unlike him, stuck on this hill with aching muscles and a future full of suffering. But despite everything, despite the absurd training and the impossible standards, he knew one thing for certain.
"I don't really care about getting stronger," he muttered, folding his arms behind his head. "I just need to be strong enough."
Zarysha raised a brow. "Strong enough for what?"
"To travel with someone."
Zarysha studied him, her dark abyssal eyes unreadable. "Someone important to you, I assume?"
Geschicht nodded slowly. "He's… he's a hero wannabe." A small smile tugged at his lips. "Doesn't think much, barely plans ahead, and jumps into things without considering the consequences. Carefree, reckless, stubborn—the kind of person who charges into a burning house before realizing he forgot to bring water."
Zarysha chuckled. "Sounds like an idiot."
Geschicht laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Yeah, he really is. But—" His voice softened. "—he's also the closest thing to a hero I've ever seen."
Something in his tone made Zarysha pause.
"He doesn't think much, yeah, but that's because he acts before doubt can take root. He doesn't hesitate. He sees someone struggling, and he moves. Someone's in danger, and he's already throwing himself in harm's way before anyone else even understands what's happening."
Geschicht exhaled.
"Most people wouldn't do that. They'd stop to consider their options. They'd weigh the risks, hesitate, second-guess themselves. But not him. He never stops to ask if it's worth it—because to him, it always is."
Zarysha remained silent, letting him speak.
"He doesn't do it for praise or recognition. In fact, I don't think he even realizes what he's doing most of the time. It's just… natural to him. Like breathing." Geschicht clenched his fists slightly. "I don't know if that's bravery or just stupidity, but either way, he is what people call a hero."
He let his head fall back against the grass.
"But even though he's got all that reckless courage, he's still human. And humans… humans break." His voice quieted. "That's why I have to be strong. Because if I'm not, he'll keep throwing himself into the fire without anyone to pull him back."
Zarysha hummed, considering his words.
"I see." She took another sip of her tea, glancing down at him. "So you're not trying to be the hero. You're just trying to keep your idiot hero wannabe from getting himself killed."
Geschicht sighed. "Pretty much."
Zarysha chuckled. "That's the dumbest reason I've heard to train this hard."
He turned his head, about to protest, but she spoke again.
"—But it's also one of the better ones."
For a moment, the wind carried their silence.
Then Zarysha smirked. "Alright, now I really can't go easy on you."
Geschicht groaned. "That wasn't the point of this conversation!"
She simply grinned. "Too late."
Geschicht sighed, staring up at the sky as if the answer was written somewhere in the drifting clouds. He had already said so much, but it still wasn't enough to explain him.
"It's not just me," he muttered. "He inspires everyone around him."
Zarysha glanced at him, waiting for him to continue.
"I mean, think about it—what even is a hero?" Geschicht said, sitting up. "Most people would say it's about strength, right? About being able to fight, to protect, to stand your ground no matter what." He scoffed. "But I've seen plenty of strong people who aren't heroes. Strength alone isn't enough."
He clasped his hands together, deep in thought.
"But he—he makes you believe."
Zarysha raised an eyebrow. "Believe in what?"
"In yourself. In the idea that you can do more, be more. That no matter how much of a mess you are, you can still do something good." Geschicht's voice grew more fervent. "He doesn't just charge ahead on his own—he makes you want to follow. Not because he asks you to, but because when you're around him, you feel like you could do anything."
Zarysha sipped her tea, considering his words. "That's a rare thing."
"It is," Geschicht agreed. "And it's frustrating because he doesn't even realize he's doing it. He just exists, and people can't help but be drawn to him."
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "And the way he looks at things—he doesn't see limits the way other people do. If there's a wall, he'll climb it. If there's a locked door, he'll break through it. If something's 'impossible,' he'll just do it anyway."
Geschicht let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.
"I swear, he has no idea how the world is supposed to work, and somehow, that just makes everything work for him."
Zarysha smirked. "Sounds like the kind of person who either changes the world or dies trying."
Geschicht's smile faltered slightly. He didn't want to think about that.
"…That's why I need to be strong," he said, quieter this time. "Because he'll keep throwing himself into things without thinking. And if I'm not strong enough to keep up—if I can't be there—who's going to make sure he doesn't push too far?"
Zarysha took another slow sip of her tea, letting the weight of his words settle.
Then she set the cup down and looked at him. "Then I guess you'd better stop lying in the grass and start training harder."
Geschicht groaned. "I knew you were going to say that."
She grinned. "Oh? Were you expecting mercy?"
He sighed dramatically, flopping back down. "Let me have one moment of peace before my suffering continues."
Zarysha stood up, stretching. "Fine. You have until I finish this tea."
Geschicht's eyes widened. "Wait—you're almost done!"
She took an exaggeratedly slow sip, eyes glinting with amusement.
Geschicht sat up immediately, already regretting everything.