Eleven at night is the cutoff for public spaces. In Neo-Aureborn, social hubs like supermarkets and restaurants keep flexible hours; however, others like museums and libraries follow a stricter curfew to prevent vandalism, given their historical value. These establishments are heavily guarded due to their cultural significance and the ancient relics they house—another reason they require high security.

  Axel and Andrew Vance—decked out in their signature gear and headsets—pause for a moment to take in the architecture. It is a far cry from the simplistic, utilitarian style of the residential districts. Standing nearly fifty meters tall, the structure feels more like a fortress than a public library. With its gray facade and automatic wooden doors, the place stirs a sense of longing for the past among the citizens, even while it is closed for the night.

  “Open up, Ugroh,” Andrew says into his phone. “We’re here for the watch.”

  The boys hear the door groan, and a second later, it opens in a three-meters section. A massive silhouette, seven feet tall, is framed in the threshold: a muscular figure in a formal suit and a brown overcoat. He wears glasses that give him an intellectual air—a sharp contrast to the reputation of his race, considered the strongest and most brutal in Neo-Aureborn. His green skin looks wrinkled with age.

  “Get inside.” The adult orc gestures for them to enter.

  Inside, the atmosphere shifts. The floor is made of brown tiles designed to look like wood, and the white walls remain pristine. The small reception area, consisting only of a desk and a few cubbies for personal belongings, serves as a gateway to the massive treasure waiting within.

  Shelves reach twenty feet high, each with twelve rows housing thousands of volumes on history, geography, and literature, all arranged with flawless symmetry. At the far end, a staircase leads to the two upper floors. Scattered across all three levels are tables, chairs, and a few reading sofas.

  “Thanks for hiring us, Ugroh.” Axel pulls a small blue paperback from his blazer. “And sorry we’re late.”

  “Just leave it on any cart, I’ll get it later,” the orc says, leading them down the central aisle. “And I’m docking the late start from your final pay.”

  Axel and Andrew marvel once again at the sheer amount of physical information. Their eyes sweep over the shelves all the way to the top floors.

  “What do you want us to do tonight?” Andrew asks. “Mopping floors, organizing books, pest control?”

  “Guarding the books. You’ll help me with the night shift until dawn.”

  “I thought you were just a librarian,” Axel remarks, stopping to eye some volumes on culinary history.

  “I am. But the Aetherledge Library has suffered some incidents lately. Some of the guards quit out of fear.”

  “Fear of what?”

  “Of being murdered.”

  The two boys go cold at his words.

  “The night before last, one of the guards suffered an armed attack,” the orc continues. “A group tried to beat security info out of him. When he refused, they attacked him with blades and a handgun. They left him in such bad shape he would’ve died if the paramedics hadn’t made it in time.”

  Ugroh checks a notification on his phone and walks toward the back of the library, where the rear exit is located.

  “That’s why I want you helping me keep watch before the police take over the case.”

  “Just out of curiosity,” Andrew says, “did the attackers use that mode on their weapons?”

  Ugroh disarms the back door’s lock from his device.

  “Yes. Some of the wounds he suffered were caused by laser beams with temperatures far exceeding the standard. They used the Forbidden Mode.”

  As he opens the door, he lets in Lewis Vance, who is gripping a rifle.

  “No suspects in the rear for now.” The boy in the hat slings the weapon over his back. “If my presence spooked them, they’ll wait for a better opening.”

  “Good thing they don’t know we’re working until dawn,” Axel comments. “Hopefully they’ll get tired first. Any leads?”

  The orc closes the door and re-engages the lock.

  “Just a simple gang of thieves looking to boost ancient books for resale. It’s not the first time they’ve hit the library.” Ugroh reviews the rest of the security measures on his screen. “Some of these volumes are hundreds of years old; they’re coveted on the black market.”

  The three boys and the orc walk to the center of the library, where a table and four chairs are arranged under the glow of a lamp. They all take a seat to rest.

  “I doubt they’re taking those books to study,” Andrew mentions, “especially in this digital age.”

  “When books become too ancient for general use, they’re donated to museums for better protection,” Ugroh explains. “Several in our collection are about to hit that date.”

  “And that’s the perfect window for raiders to strike,” Lewis concludes. “Once they’re moved to the museums, it’ll be impossible for criminals to get to them—unless they have military-grade demolition gear.”

  “Even if it’s for illegal collecting,” Axel says, “at least they appreciate the value of the books.”

  No one refutes his words.

  “Always looking on the bright side, just like Allen.” The orc adjusts his glasses. “Those of us who love books don't know what to think of those black-market collectors.”

  “They’re just criminals feeding the market, nothing more,” Andrew says. “They’re stripping the city of its cultural wealth.” He pauses, listening to his AI sister through his headset. “Right... Ugroh, LENA is requesting access to scan the library’s security measures.”

  “The AI Allen created.” The orc leans back in his chair. “He always called her his first daughter. Let her ask for it herself.”

  Andrew pulls a holographic projector from his trench coat pocket. When he switches it on, the figure of a woman with long brown hair, looking to be in her thirties, appears.

  “I didn't want to be a nuisance,” LENA’s avatar says, crossing her arms.

  “It’s not the first time you’ve visited this library. Stop being modest. You already know the security system better than the engineers do.”

  “And that’s not a good sign,” Lewis interjects. “When you rely on public funds, help isn’t immediate. That’s the price of having such a vast territory.”

  “Remember, sometimes those funds ‘magically’ go missing along the way,” Andrew adds. “Have they tried to breach the security systems?”

  “They’re doing it right now.”

  At LENA’s words, Ugroh checks his phone. A warning pops up on the screen: someone is attempting to bypass the database and is requesting authorization.

  “They’re harmless attacks for now.” The orc shuts off the screen. “When they realize they can’t hack their way in, they’ll try brute force. We need to be ready.”

  “You’re anticipating a direct confrontation,” Lewis says. “We like that mindset.”

  “I’ll stay on the cameras and the system. You three—watch all three floors.”

  It’s three in the morning. Every light in the Aetherledge Library is out, and silence reigns. The group of figures dressed in black, equipped with night-vision goggles, knows this well as they hover sixty meters above the building. Judging by their pairs of translucent wings, it’s clear they belong to the Fae race.

  One of them, an adult with a mustache and beard, drifts down the facade to peer through a reinforced window; he probes the lock with his fingers. A second figure, more heavily built with a steel gauntlet on his left hand, prepares to shatter the glass, but his companion stops him.

  “It’s open,” the deep-voiced fae whispers, sliding the window sideways with a faint creak.

  “Are these librarians daring us?” a third figure, taller and leaner, asks as he descends.

  “Maybe they didn't even know we were coming,” the last one adds, a short, stocky fae.

  “Let’s play along for now,” the leader orders.

  The four fae enter and drop to the first floor. There are no emergency lights, no surprise ambushes. The leanest member of the group walks toward a side wall where a simple door with a metal bolt stands. He pulls out his phone and a device that emits a horizontal green light. After syncing both, he begins analyzing the data on the screen to breach the system.

  The burly fae and the stocky one patrol the first floor among the bookshelves. They can’t believe that, after the assault on the previous guard, the place is this unprotected. That tension is felt most by the one about to hack the decommissioned book vault.

  A sharp beep echoes through every corner of the library.

  “Lock deactivated,” the tech-fae reports.

  “Go to the window and check for anyone outside,” the leader orders, his eyes never stopping their sweep of the shadows.

  The fae flaps his translucent wings, his body rising until he’s suspended halfway between the floor and the ceiling.

  A new sound rings out: a rifle shot. The fae has no time to react before a violent shock hits him. A red bolt has just impacted his left wing, and the subsequent electromagnetic pulse paralyzes his body. Unable to stay airborne with only one functional wing, he plummets. He manages to glide just enough to avoid a lethal impact, though the fall is no less painful.

  The other three fae snap to attention, drawing pistols from their belts.

  In that instant, the lights on all three floors flood on at once, blinding the intruders. As their vision clears, they see their fallen comrade struggling to stand and someone walking toward him. It’s a brown-haired boy in a blazer, armed with a sword.

  “You can’t fly.” Axel points his steel just centimeters from the fae’s face. “Your race’s wings are ultra-sensitive; any damage disables them. It’ll take you several minutes to recover.”

  “You waited for us to lower our guard…” the infiltrator mutters.

  “And you walked right into the trap.”

  Axel is cut off as every light in the library suddenly goes black again.

  “Don’t underestimate us,” the fae hisses, pulling out his phone to send a command to his team's devices. “You shouldn't have let me access the security system.”

  The boy doesn't move. Beneath his feet, he hears heavy footsteps, but he doesn't flinch. He knows who they belong to.

  “They’ve disabled the cameras,” Ugroh says, moving in to cover the swordsman's back, “but the secondary lockout system should already be active.”

  “Your only choice is to flee through the windows,” Axel adds, “but the moment you’re in the air, Lewis will take you down.”

  Without the boy noticing, the hacker is already firing off a warning message through his terminal.

  “If we fly too high, we become sitting ducks,” the stocky fae says, ducking behind a bookshelf. “We have to take out the shooter, but if we move toward him, he’ll pick us off.”

  “Don’t make so much noise,” the shortest fae hisses, crouching on the floor. “Someone else is moving out there.”

  “There’s no way out!” Andrew shouts, his twin pistols ready as he descends the stairs toward the first floor. “Surrender now!”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “What’s the call?” the burly fae asks through his phone.

  “Neutralize the ones on the ground floor,” the leader says. “Then we go after the shooter together. He can’t stun all three of us at once.”

  “They’ve got an orc with them,” the shortest fae warns, adjusting his night-vision goggles. “This won’t be easy.”

  “Strength isn’t the only way to win,” the leader declares.

  “You picking up anything?” Lewis asks LENA, his sights still trained from the second-floor railing.

  “Murmurs. They’ve disabled the ambient mics too, so I can only hear them through your headsets.”

  “Axel, Andrew, stay as quiet as possible. They’re armed, and it looks like they have night vision.”

  “We’re in the dark. Is this where our other senses are supposed to sharpen?” Axel asks. “Like hearing or smell?”

  “If only it were that easy for humans,” Andrew replies. “Fae don't have a sensory advantage over us, so this is going to be a battle of wits. LENA, patch Ugroh into our comms channel.”

  The two fae and their leader scatter to cover more ground on the first floor. They hover thirty centimeters off the ground to remain silent; their tactic is to flank the swordsman and the orc, take them hostage, and free their comrade.

  Watching from above, Lewis spots a suspicious movement through his scope. The burly fae is advancing toward Axel and Ugroh, weapon in hand. Without hesitation, Lewis fires to halt his advance and signal his position.

  The other two fae break cover and open fire toward the source of the laser bolt. They are about to move in when they sense a new threat. Andrew appears from behind another shelf, pistols blazing. The intruders scramble for cover, flying at high speed. Andrew takes the chance to regroup with his brother and the orc. The fae who attacked first vanishes back into the shadows.

  “They’ve pinned my location. I’m moving,” Lewis announces.

  “Copy that,” Axel says, holding his guard. “They’re masking their footsteps, but you can still hear the fluttering of their wings. If they get close, we’ll hear them.”

  The three fae peer out again toward the railing and the stairs. They stop hovering and aim toward the center, where the boys and the orc stand watch over the hacker.

  “If we step out into the center, there are no shelves for cover,” the leader thinks aloud. “They picked an excellent spot to avoid a direct assault... but it has one flaw.”

  Suddenly, Axel feels a sharp tug on his blazer. Ugroh jerks him back just in time to avoid a laser bolt coming from the side. The orc spotted the attacker’s silhouette stopping to fire and anticipated the shot aimed at the back of the boy's neck.

  “They’re not going for a head-on assault,” Ugroh warns. “They’re going to snipe and hide.”

  “Those pistols have a maximum range of thirty meters,” Andrew analyzes, moving through the aisles. “If they’re generic models, they can’t just fire from anywhere; they have to get close.”

  “Confirmed,” LENA interjects. “If your assessment is correct, they can only fire from the eight closest bookshelves. That is their limit.”

  “I’m going after them.”

  “Don’t forget there was one shot,” Lewis says. “We don’t know if the other two will follow the same strategy.”

  “I’ll do a quick sweep. If they run, I’ll catch them.”

  “I’ll alert you if the headsets pick up any noise, Andrew,” LENA adds.

  “Good thing you three handle the tactics,” Axel sighs. To his right, he spots a silhouette with its hands extended. “Danger at two o’clock! Eight o’clock for you, Ugroh!”

  The orc gets the message instantly and pivots to his left. His hand glows with digital magic, and he fires a bolt toward the top of the shelf. The fae lurking there flinches, its offensive cut short.

  Axel seizes the opening and lunges with a long leap, his sword igniting. The intruder spins around to flee; he knows the boy can’t reach him at long range unless he uses digital magic himself.

  Axel chases him through the aisles without losing sight of him, and when the shadows swallow the intruder, he follows LENA’s precise directions. The fae, unaccustomed to being hunted on foot, runs blind-firing over his shoulder, but the boy gives him no breathing room.

  Simultaneously, the other two fae attempt to flank the orc to free the hacker.

  “Don’t even think about it!”

  Behind them, the burly fae feels the pressure of Andrew Vance, who already has him cornered with his twin pistols. The assailant imbues his wings with digital magic, using them as a glowing shield against the burst of laser fire before vanishing behind the furniture again.

  The group leader manages to land a shot on the orc, who protects himself by crossing his arms. Ugroh doesn't use magic, letting his thick skin dampen the effect of the electromagnetic pulse. Meanwhile, the hacker on the floor tries to use the distraction to hover low and escape, but a blunt impact to his back brings him down.

  Ugroh fired a pulse of digital magic from his index and middle fingers, hitting a strategic point on the spine to neutralize movement in his legs.

  “Don’t underestimate a librarian who used to be a soldier,” the adult orc declares, his eyes locked on the leader. “And don't think for a second that orcs are just brute force. We left that behind centuries ago.”

  Unable to get up, the hacker sends one last voice message to his companions.

  “Go. I swear I won’t say a word when they interrogate me.”

  “The typical empty words of someone trying to play the hero. None of your friends are walking out of here.”

  Axel continues chasing the stocky fae, who is starting to struggle with running through the narrow aisles. The fae has avoided crossing open spaces to stay out of the shooter’s line of sight, but at the next intersection, he makes a desperate move. He veers right and kicks a bookshelf, toppling it toward the boy.

  Axel skids to a halt as the massive unit, heavy with books, leans toward him. He catches it with his arms, bracing to prevent the disaster, but a second later, he feels an extra weight. The fae has pushed the adjacent shelf, which now leans against the first one. The combined weight of wood and paper is immense. Axel watches as a few books tumble to the floor.

  “To your left,” LENA warns after detecting footsteps through the headset.

  Axel turns his head and sees the fae peeking around the leaning shelf, pistol aimed straight at him.

  “That’s the problem with people who have a protective instinct.” The fae cants his weapon toward Axel’s head. “You want to save everything. If you’d just dodged and let the shelf fall, you wouldn't be trapped.”

  “LENA, survival probability,” Axel says.

  “You will survive,” the AI responds. “At this range, you’ll suffer a severe headache, but you’ll recover in seconds.”

  “Seconds he’ll use to get away,” the boy mutters.

  A laser blast cracks through the library, followed by the thunderous crash of dozens of books hitting the floor.

  Meanwhile, the burly fae breaks cover and flies toward the second floor. From his position, Lewis can’t decipher his intentions, but he’s not going to waste the opening. He pulls the trigger, firing a laser bolt. The fae throws up his forearm to take the hit, accepting the stun just to keep moving forward.

  Lewis notices a flash heading his way. The leader fired at the exact moment Lewis exposed himself to attack. All three fae take advantage of the distraction to converge on the second floor. With the shooter pinned and under fire, they intend to overwhelm him with numbers.

  Andrew also leaps from his hiding spot, letting loose a burst of laser fire from his left pistol at the three targets. The fae shield themselves with their digital-magic-imbued wings, but the stockiest raider begins to lose altitude. The previous energy drain is exhausting him faster than anticipated.

  After a brief exchange, the firing stops. The fae think the boy has run out of charge or surrendered. But a second later, the burly fae feels multiple impacts on his back, arms, and legs.

  Andrew used that split second of silence to aim with surgical precision and discharge both pistols at once. The target collapses to the floor, without the strength to stand.

  “Subconsciously, you stopped protecting your wings with magic.” Andrew strides past his fallen opponent as he heads for the second floor. “Turning your back and focusing only on what was in front of you was your undoing.”

  The two remaining fae land on the second floor, fingers on their triggers. They have a clear plan: if the shooter opens fire, they’ll split up to surround him. Noticing the boy in the trench coat approaching from behind, they duck into separate bookshelves.

  Andrew advances until LENA confirms she detects no immediate danger. As he peers across the floor, the darkness is nearly absolute; only residual light from the outside allows him to distinguish the outlines of the shelves. He doesn't rush, aware that a barrel could be aimed right at him. As he moves toward the next row, a laser bolt grazes him, forcing him back into cover.

  Lewis springs into action to flank the source of the shot, following LENA’s coordinates.

  “Thanks for falling into the trap!” Andrew shouts, leaning out to bait the enemy.

  The fae leader aims and fires again. From another direction, the stocky fae hovers, attempting to circle around Andrew. He doesn't expect a red laser bolt to streak right in front of his face—so close the heat sears his skin.

  Lewis sprints toward the shorter fae after identifying him. His target chooses not to fly, avoiding becoming an easy mark, and opts to return fire. His pistol's rate of fire is superior to Lewis’s rifle. The fae fires, exposing only his arm from behind the shelf and relying on his spatial memory.

  Lewis activates his bracelet’s shield for protection and keeps advancing without ceasing fire. The fae, still hidden, tries to calculate the rhythm of the shots by ear. When he thinks he has the distance pegged, he steps out and ducks to aim for his legs. However, the boy in the hat is much closer than anticipated. The rifle's barrel is less than a meter away.

  Lewis fires at his chest. The impact staggers the fae, and with two more bolts, he leaves him unconscious on the floor.

  “Calculating the rhythm of my shots based only on sound was a massive mistake,” Lewis declares. “You didn't account for me closing the distance. At a shorter range, the bolts take less time to reach the target. I only had to adapt my cadence to confuse you and make you believe I was still in the same spot.”

  “Lewis, behind you!”

  At LENA’s alert, the marksman pivots and fires at the fae leader, who is charging toward him mid-air. The assailant imbues his wings with digital magic and pulls a forty-five-degree maneuver to position himself right above Lewis. The boy tries to aim, but at such close range, the rifle is cumbersome. By the time he manages to point upward, the fae has already moved behind him.

  “Shit…”

  Lewis takes a laser hit to the back of the neck and two more to his upper back. His hat flies off, and he drops face-first, slammed against the floor.

  “Being a long-range attacker, you’re weak in close-quarters combat,” the leader mocks.

  The fae jerks away as a flurry of laser bolts streaks toward him. The last Vance standing wears an expression of pure rage as he fires both pistols with relentless force.

  “Calm down, Andrew. If you lose your cool, they’ll take you down too,” LENA warns.

  “I know,” the boy mutters through gritted teeth. “I just wanted him away from Lewis.”

  The fae leader opens fire to force the boy to move, seeking not only to wear him out but also to clear an escape route toward the window. He’s confident that if he reacts faster than the human, he can gain enough speed to fly out of the pistols' range.

  Andrew charges toward his target, firing continuous bursts with his right hand. The fae, startled by the aggressive advance, returns fire. Andrew allows one of the bolts to hit him head-on. His knees buckle from the pulse, but before collapsing, he manages to squeeze off a precise shot aimed at his opponent's head.

  The fae dodges the projectile by mere centimeters and rises, lining himself up with the window. As soon as the boy goes down from the impacts, he’ll fly at the maximum speed his digital magic allows.

  Andrew falls forward, and the fae spreads his wings, eyes fixed on the ceiling, ready for the ascent. However, after rising only a few centimeters, he feels a laser impact square in his chest. The shot comes from the same direction as the boy. Looking down, the fae realizes his mistake. Andrew fired with his left pistol—a weapon he didn’t detect in time.

  The stun unbalances the fae, who closes his eyes against the imminent counterattack. Two more precise bolts to his arms are enough to bring him down, sending him crashing to the floor. Despite the pain, the criminal isn't unconscious. With one last surge, he could still bolt for the ceiling to try and escape. The fae plants his hands and knees to push himself up.

  “Don't even try it,” Ugroh declares, standing behind the criminal and aiming with the index and middle fingers of his right hand.

  “Were you just buying time?” The fae sits on the floor with a bitter laugh.

  “I never underestimate your race’s endurance.” Andrew also drops to a seated position, letting himself rest. “You got used to me firing with only one hand and forgot I had another. That’s why you didn't react when I used my left right after the first impact. I’m not ambidextrous, but I’ve got a good handle on both.”

  It’s five in the morning. Sirens and patrol lights surround the Aetherledge Library. Four police officers of various races escort the fae who broke into the building. They all walk in handcuffs under the warning that the officers will open fire if they even attempt to take flight.

  The three brothers and the orc librarian sit on the entrance steps. Lewis, who took the worst of the physical punishment, remains lying on his back, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Axel, for his part, massages his head due to the heavy blow he took when the bookshelf came down on him.

  “This is the part where the police take half the credit,” Ugroh comments, watching the night sky with his guard still up.

  “We’re not big on the spotlight anyway,” Andrew responds, fiddling with his pistols. “The old man taught us that fame only brings trouble.”

  An elven officer walks toward the group. He bears the distinct pointed ears of his kin, emerald eyes, and combed silver hair.

  “Officer Eryndor Vallestric,” he introduces himself with a stern tone. “Librarian Legstowar informed us that he hired an independent security group for tonight.”

  “Vance Night Agency. At your service.” Andrew hands his phone to the officer to verify the digital documents.

  “Everything seems to be in order. It’s not my intention to hassle you, but protocol requires this procedure whenever an outside armed group is involved.”

  “The measures weren't this strict before,” Ugroh mentions. “Verifying the license used to be enough.”

  “These are requirements from the Mayor’s office following a direct order from the Council,” Eryndor explains. “With all the recent hacks into the city database, they’re taking every possible precaution. Thank you.” The elf tips his cap in a gesture of respect and departs.

  “When Allen founded the agency, his charisma was enough for the police not to be so demanding with him,” the orc recalls.

  “Our father was a loudmouth who knew how to win people over.”

  Axel and Ugroh turn to look at the youngest Vance.

  “And I think I inherited that from him.”

  “Changing the subject,” the swordsman interjects, “do you think the allies of those fae will come back to try and steal the books?”

  “Most likely. And they’ll go after other ancient treasures kept in the city, too.”

  “Extremists...” Lewis says, recovering from the dizziness. “Maybe... they don’t just want them for a collection.”

  “As a lover of antiquity, that hurts especially bad.” Ugroh checks his phone. “It’s time for the morning shift guards to arrive. I’ll pay for your services as soon as I get home.”

  “I just realized something,” Andrew says, drawing everyone's attention. “Those fae had several clear chances to shoot us... even to kill us. But they didn’t.”

  “They could have killed Lewis and Axel,” LENA adds from Andrew’s phone. “However, they chose to knock them unconscious.”

  “Maybe they weren’t working for the same person as the previous attackers,” Axel suggests.

  “And that implies they had different objectives.” Ugroh casts a look at the building he works so hard to protect. “The ones who nearly committed murder were looking for something more than just books.”

  “What a pain.” Andrew rubs his temples. “One mystery after another.”

  “I suppose it’s part of the 'magic' of this multiracial city,” LENA says. “A lot of things are triggered at night.”

  “Will you be available if the library requires your services again?” the orc asks.

  “As long as there’s money involved, we’ll keep being the guardians of the night,” Axel declares.

  “That sounded a bit generic, but it wasn’t bad,” Andrew jokes, while Lewis raises a thumb in approval.

  The boys, the AI, and the orc fall silent, watching the first rays of sun peek over the horizon, marking the end of their workday.