Asternius wrote an entire sheet of paper and hardly needed to stop and think. Looking at him, it makes people feel as if his thoughts are flowing from his head to the pen and then to the paper, which is why he can write so fast. Only when he dips the quill in ink does the fluid movement be interrupted. But even this movement seems so natural, as if it has become part of the stroke.

The door to the study creaked open. Although the door didn't open often as he worked, Asternius didn't look up. The historian could count with his fingers how many times the door was opened. One of them was at the time of the Cataclysm. That time did interfere with his writing, and he recalled with displeasure the ink that had fallen on the paper.

The door opened, and a shadow fell on his desk, and then there was silence, and though the man took a breath and was about to speak, the offending act made him tremble.

It was a biography of Bey, and Asternius wrote it down, and like he wrote down all other things, he wrote it down in many small areas of his mind for future reference.

On this day, twenty-nine minutes after lunch, Bei Chuan entered my study.

The quill pen writes steadily and continuously on the paper. Reaching the end of the paper, Asternius picked it up fluently and laid it out on a neat pile of papers on the table. Later that night, when the writer had finished his work and gone to rest, those who served him would reverently carry the papers into the Great Library. Inside, these smooth, easy-to-read texts will be grouped into huge volumes with the inscription: Chronicles: The Chronicles of Claes by Asternius, City of Paranzas.

"Master......" Bei Chuan said in a trembling voice.

On this day, thirty minutes after lunch, Bechuan spoke, and Asternius jotted it down on a piece of paper.

"Sorry to bother you, master. Bei Chuan whispered, "Because there is a young man at your door, and he is dying." ”

On this day, about twenty-nine minutes before nap time, a young man died at my door.

"Write down his name. Asternus continued to write without raising his head, "so that I can record it." Make sure the spelling is correct. If he can still speak, ask him for his age and where he was born. ”

"I asked for his name, master. Bei Chuan replied. "His name is Leslin. He came from the town of Solas on the continent of Abenisia. ”

On this day, twenty-eight minutes before the cow went to bed, Leslin of Solas died - Asternius stopped his pen and looked up.

"Leslin of Soras?"

"Yes, master. Bei Chuan replied, and couldn't help but bow his head because he felt honored. It was the first time Asternius had seen him in the face, and although he had been working in the Great Library for more than a decade, it was his first time. "Master, do you know him? That's why I have the audacity to interrupt your work. He wants to see you. ”

"Reslyn ......"

Asternius's pen drips a drop of ink on the paper.

"Where is he?"

"On the stairs, the host, where we found him. We thought maybe those new healers we had heard of, those priests who served Mishakai could help him......"

The historian looked at the ink on the paper with exasperation. He took out a pinch of fine white sand and carefully sprinkled it on it, making sure that the paper that was placed on it would not be cleaned. Then, Asternius lowered his head and continued his work.

"No healer can heal the young man's body. The historian said in a voice that seemed to come out of a deep history. "But bring him in and give him a room. ”

"Bring him into the Great Library?" Bei Chuan said incredulously. "Master, no one has ever been allowed to enter except us-"

"If I had time after today's work, I would have gone and seen him," Asternius continued, seemingly completely unresponsive. "If he's still alive. ”

The quill continues to move on the paper.

"Yes, master," Bei Chuan replied as he muttered and exited the room.

He closed the door and walked briskly through the cold, silent marble hallway of the ancient library, his eyes wide at the uncanny condition. His heavy satiety was held behind him, and beads of sweat were glistening on his shaved head as he ran, obviously not used to such strenuous exercise. His companions watched in amazement as he ran towards the library door. Quickly glancing through the glass, he could see that the young man was still lying on the stairs. "The master ordered us to take him in. Bei Chuan told the others. "If he is alive tonight, Asternius will receive him personally. ”

One by one, historians looked at each other in amazement, not knowing what kind of catastrophe was in sight.

I'm dying.

It was difficult for the mage to accept this fact. Reslyn lay in the white, cold room of the library, cursing her weak body. He cursed the test that shattered it, and cursed the gods who arranged this fate. He cursed and cursed until he used up all the vicious words in his head, until he was too tired to think. Then he lay helplessly under the white linen sheets, feeling his heart beat like a trapped bird in his chest. For the second time in her life, Leslyn felt lonely and scared. He had only spent three days alone, and that was three days when he was tested in the Archmage's Tower. Even then, was he really alone? He didn't think so, though he couldn't remember. The voice...... The voice that sometimes spoke to him, the one he would never recognize, but something familiar...... He always associated that sound with the Archmage's Tower. It helped him over there, and has been there ever since. Because of that voice, he passed countless tests.

But he knew he wouldn't survive this once. The transformation he had just experienced was too much of a burden on his frail body. He succeeded, but at a price he was not willing to afford, and the librarian found him wearing a red robe, vomiting blood at the bottom of the stairs. When they asked, he struggled to say Asternius and his own names, and then lost consciousness. When he woke up, he was here, lying in his room. As soon as he woke up, he knew he was going to die soon. He was drawing too much strength from his body. The Dragon Balls may have saved him, but he didn't have the power to use magic anymore. The spell that summoned the power of the Dragon Balls had disappeared from his mind.

He realized that I didn't have the strength to control its power anyway. As soon as it knew that I was weakened, it would destroy me immediately.

No, he only had one chance, the books in the big library. Dragon Ball had promised him that those books contained the secrets of ancient, great wizards who never appeared on Crane again. Maybe he can find a way to prolong his life. He's got to talk to Asternius! he's got to get into the big library, he screams to the staff. But they just nodded.

"Asternius will receive you. They said, "Tonight, if he's free." ”

If only he had time!!, Leslin cursed viciously. If I can get through it, he can feel his life draining from his fingers little by little, and there's no way to stop it.

The librarians looked at him sympathetically, not knowing what they could do for him, and they gave Leslin food, but he couldn't swallow it. He couldn't even drink the sour and bitter herbs that could stop his cough. He angrily drove the idiots away. Then he lay on a hard pillow and watched the sunlight slowly crawl through his room. Leslin struggled to survive with all his strength, forcing himself to relax, knowing that this anger would allow him to burn out the fire of life sooner. His thoughts drifted to his brother.

Reslyn closed her eyes wearily, fantasizing about Calamon sitting beside him. He could almost feel Calamon's arms wrapping around him, lifting him up so he could breathe more easily.

He could smell the familiar smell of steel, leather, and sweat on his brother's body. Calamon will take care of him, Calamon will not let him die......

No, Leslin thought in a daze. Calamon is now dead. Those idiots are dead. I had to fend for myself. Suddenly, he realized that he was slowly losing consciousness again. He struggled desperately, but it was a war that could not be won. Finally, he struggled hard, reached into his trembling hand, reached into his pocket, and grasped the dragon ball, which was now shrunk to the size of a marble, and slowly fell into the darkness. He heard a voice and knew someone was in the room, so he woke up. Struggling with the darkness of the encirclement, Reslyn struggled to clear the clouds and wake up from her dream.

It was already evening, and Nurintari's red light shone through the window, staining the room blood-red. There was a candle lit next to his bed. By the faint light of the candle, he saw two men standing in front of him. He recognized one of them as the librarian who had discovered him. The other is, he looks familiar......

"He's awake, master. The librarian said.

"He woke up. The man said calmly. He bent down, surveyed the young mage's face, and then nodded, smiling, as if the long-awaited visitor had finally arrived. It was an unusual situation, and both the librarian and Reslyn noticed.

"I'm Asternius. The man said, "You are Reslyn of Soras." ”

"Yes. Leslin leaned into the shape of her mouth, her voice only a little louder than her breathing. Reslin looked up at Asternius, anger rekindled, remembering his contemptuous attitude: if only he had time!

As Leslin glared at him, he suddenly felt calm. He had never seen such a cold, emotionless face, a face completely devoid of any mood swings, completely unaffected by time.

Leslin was taken aback. With the help of the librarian, he struggled to sit up and glared at Asternius.

Asternius, noticing Reslin's reaction, questioned it. "You look at me strangely, young mage. What do your leaky pupils see?" "I see...... A man who doesn't age......" Leslin said in pain.

"Of course, what do you think you'll see?" replied the librarian, gently lifting the angry young man back onto his pillow. "The master is here to record the birth of the first man on Claes, and he will also record the death of the last man. This is what Gillian, the god of books, taught us. ”

"Is this true?" asked Resling, hoarse.

Asternius shrugged noncommittally. "My personal experience is nothing compared to the history of this world. Say it, Leslyn of Soras. What do you want from me? I'm wasting precious time writing history speaking to you. ”

"I demand...... I beg ...... Do me a favor. The words were barely squeezed out of Reslin's body, and the blood was still on his lips. "My life...... Within a few hours!

It's almost over. Let me...... Take that time ...... Spend on ...... In the Great Library!