He tore at the bindings of the neatly organized books lining the shelves. Left, right; left, right. He pulled volumes with frantic rhythm until they scattered across the table, burying the wood beneath a chaotic spread of open pages.
A dim light glinted off the smooth curves of the wooden centerpiece hanging from the string around his neck.
Where is the designated volume?
The stories insisted that the forbidden texts were hidden here, obscured by secret ciphers, waiting for the worthy to decode them.
One hundred and sixty-eight hours expended within these archives. My class attendance is currently absolute zero, and the data yielded remains null.
The Academy Requalification Exam was only a week away.
Expulsion precedes objective completion if this examination is failed. The variable remains: does my maximum psychological and physical exertion guarantee a passing metric?
He hesitated, his gaze drifting to the lone book sitting isolated on the table, far from the mess he had created.
A phantom shock pulsed through him. It wasn't a quick strike, but a slow, creeping invasion that saturated every extremity his veins reached. He shuddered as the sensation left him, grounding itself into the floor.
He carried that book everywhere—Sinclair taught him everything he knew—yet ever since the incident, he could not bring himself to open it.
Is the data within still a reliable metric, or has the asset been compromised?
Even now, his mind dissected the dilemma with cold precision: Does continued adherence to its directives, or the outright rejection of them, indicate a higher metric of intellect?
He arrived at the right answer, though his method was far from intelligent. In the back of his mind, he simply flipped a coin. His terrible luck led the way.
Denial of established variables is a symptom of cognitive deficiency. I lack the parameters to pass the exam in my current state. Therefore, I must synthesize an extension of time.
He opened the book.
The God of Death grinned its wicked grin. It was a setback, yes, but minor. Death would not have to wait for another vessel to be born. One—this one—had walked willingly into its grasp.