The Archive

Sol took a hesitant step forward, his breath steady but his mind racing. The Archive loomed over him like a monolith of forgotten knowledge, its swirling cosmic architecture feeling both ancient and impossibly vast. The air itself seemed heavier here, thick with the weight of untold stories and the passage of time.

Peach, still bristling slightly, pressed closer to him, his massive frame providing a reassuring presence. Sol reached out, running his fingers along the surface of the entrance. The material felt like nothing he had ever touched—neither metal nor stone, but something entirely alien, like the frozen essence of space itself.

A deep hum vibrated through the ground beneath him. Then, the grand entrance of the Archive split open, revealing an expanse of shifting corridors beyond. The doors had no visible mechanisms—no hinges, no seams. They simply "parted", as if acknowledging his arrival.

Sol hesitated. He had been waiting for this moment, chasing this mystery since he first heard of it back at the Sparking Den. And yet, standing at its threshold, he felt an odd mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"Well, Peach," he muttered, a small grin tugging at his lips, "looks like we finally made it. No turning back now."

Peach let out a low rumble of agreement. Together, they stepped into the Archive, the entrance sealing behind them as they were swallowed by the endless halls of knowledge.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted. The temperature was neither warm nor cold, but an unsettling in-between, like the still air before a storm. The corridors stretched in every direction, impossibly vast, as if space itself had folded within these walls. The walls pulsed faintly with a rhythmic glow, their patterns shifting like constellations rearranging themselves.

A whisper of movement caught Sol's ear. He turned sharply, but there was nothing—only the vast, empty corridor ahead. Peach let out a low, warning chuff, his body tense, fur bristling slightly.

Then, as if responding to their presence, a row of floating symbols illuminated before them, shimmering with an ethereal glow. The symbols twisted, rearranging themselves into something Sol could understand.

"Seeker of knowledge, state your query."

Sol exhaled slowly, gripping the strap of his bag. This was it—the heart of the Archive. And it was waiting for him to ask.

His mind raced with possibilities. He could ask about affinities, about the nature of time, about the history of the universe itself. But something told him that this place was more than just a library—it was a test. The wrong question could lead him down a path he wasn't ready for.

He licked his lips, then spoke carefully. "What is the Archive's purpose?"

The symbols flickered, reshaping themselves before his eyes. "The Archive exists to safeguard knowledge beyond the reach of time. To preserve what must not be lost. To grant seekers the truths they earn."

Sol narrowed his eyes. "Earn? How does one earn knowledge here?"

A pause. Then, the symbols twisted again. "Through understanding, through trials, through proof of worth."

Peach let out a low rumble of dissatisfaction, clearly not liking the cryptic answers. Sol, however, felt a thrill run through him. This was exactly what he had been hoping for—answers that led to more questions.

He took a deep breath and prepared his next words carefully. "Then, tell me… what is the nature of affinities? Where do they come from?"

The air around him thickened, the walls of the Archive shifting subtly as if reality itself had acknowledged the weight of his question. Then, the symbols glowed brighter, unraveling a response that made Sol's heart pound in anticipation.

"Affinities are echoes of the cosmic weave, fragments of creation imprinted upon mortal souls. They are not learned; they are inherited. Born from the convergence of existence and the unseen forces that bind reality. Some are common, shaped by generations of wielders. Others, rare and mythic, are remnants of celestial upheavals, tied to the very fabric of time, space, life, death, and soul."

Sol's breath hitched. This was more than just an explanation—it was a revelation. Affinities weren't just talents or mutations; they were a legacy of the cosmos itself. He had suspected affinities were connected to something greater, but this confirmed it.

He swallowed. "Then… can affinities evolve? Can they change beyond their initial form?"

The symbols shimmered, almost as if they were considering his question. Finally, they realigned.

"Yes. Through comprehension and mastery, affinities may transcend their origins. Some evolve into greater expressions of themselves. Others fracture, diverging into unknown paths. Few reach a point where they become something entirely new—an affinity untethered from its origin, a force of its own making."

Sol clenched his fists, his mind racing. If affinities could evolve, then what did that mean for his? Was there an ultimate form he could reach? And more importantly—was this why Mythic Affinities were so feared?

Before he could ask another question, the symbols pulsed again, as if warning him.

"Knowledge comes with burden. Seek wisely, lest you find truths you are not prepared to bear."

Sol felt a chill run down his spine at the ominous warning, but he refused to back down. He had come too far to stop now.

Taking a steadying breath, he pressed forward. "What happens when an affinity evolves? What is the highest form an affinity can take?"

The symbols flickered erratically, as if considering his inquiry carefully. Then, they reformed, pulsing with renewed intensity.

"An evolved affinity transcends limitation, reshaping its wielder and the laws that govern it. At its peak, an affinity ceases to be a mere trait—it becomes a fundamental principle, an intrinsic force woven into existence. Few have reached this stage, and fewer still have remained unchanged by it."

Sol swallowed hard. The implications were staggering. If an affinity reached its highest state, would the wielder even remain human? Or would they become something else entirely?

His mind raced with the possibilities, but he forced himself to remain composed. "Has anyone reached that point before? Who were they?"

The Archive hesitated. The space around him seemed to ripple, as if the walls themselves were debating whether to reveal such information. Then, the symbols shifted again.

"The names of those who reached transcendence are lost to time. But their echoes remain—whispers in the fabric of the universe, remnants of those who shaped reality itself. Seek them, and you may find answers beyond knowledge."

Sol exhaled slowly. This wasn't just about power. It was about understanding the fundamental truths of the universe. And the more he learned, the more he realized how little he actually knew.

He glanced at Peach, who had been unusually silent, eyes locked onto the glowing symbols as if understanding their weight. Sol smirked slightly. "Looks like we've got a lot more work ahead of us, buddy."

The air around them remained still, the Archive waiting. Sol squared his shoulders, knowing he had only begun to scratch the surface.

"Alright, then… let's keep going."

He took a breath, considering his next question carefully. Then, he asked, "Are humans the only ones with affinities?"

The symbols pulsed, rearranging themselves before responding.

"No. Affinities are not exclusive to humanity. Many species throughout the cosmos bear their own forms of affinity, shaped by their origins, biology, and the forces that govern their existence. Some wield powers similar to humans, while others possess abilities so alien they defy known classifications."

Sol's brows furrowed. This was something he had suspected, but hearing it confirmed by the Archive made it all the more real. "Then… are there species with affinities beyond what humans can comprehend? Ones that exceed anything we've recorded?"

The Archive hesitated, the space around him vibrating subtly before the answer came.

"Yes. There exist beings whose affinities do not conform to mortal understanding. Some are born of celestial convergence, others sculpted by the universe itself. To categorize them is an impossibility, for their existence transcends definitions."

A shiver ran down Sol's spine. If there were species out there with incomprehensible affinities, then humanity's grasp on power was just a fraction of what was possible. What else was lurking in the universe, waiting to be discovered?

Sol decided to shift focus. He had learned much about affinities, but there was something else that had been gnawing at the back of his mind—his vision. He clenched his fists, steadying himself before speaking again.

"I saw something in a vision," he said carefully. "A being… ascending. Who was it? When did this happen? Where? And why?"

The Archive remained silent for a long moment, the symbols flickering in uncertainty. The air around them thickened, a heavy stillness pressing down. Then, slowly, the response unraveled before him.

"You have glimpsed a moment beyond mortal comprehension. What you witnessed was not a single event, but an echo—one of many ascensions that have shaped the cosmic order. Ascension is rare, but not singular. Throughout history, there have been those who have stepped beyond the boundaries of mortality and into something greater."

Sol's pulse quickened. "So you're saying this has happened before? More than once?"

"Correct. The being you saw was one of many who have reached beyond their origin. Their names are lost to time, but their presence lingers in the fabric of existence. The location and cause of each ascension vary—some sought power, others knowledge, and a few… inevitability. The why is always different, but the outcome remains the same: transcendence."

Sol's mind spun with possibilities. If ascension wasn't a singular event, then that meant it could happen again. Could he reach that level one day? Did he even want to? He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling, but he forced himself to stay focused.

"Then tell me," he pressed on. "What does it take to ascend? What is the price?"