That same night, within a small and unassuming room somewhere underneath the backstreets of Vasileia, the grand Imperial Capital of the Sovereign Nation of Vasileio, a strained meeting between two unsavoury men was taking place.

“This is the next item my client wishes to present,” one of the men said, having been passed a crumbling scrapbook from an enormous man who silently stood in the shadowy corner of the room. The man who spoke was tall and elderly, sported a head of well-combed white hair, and was attired in a pristine black suit. Standing one on side of a shoddy table, he displayed the item in his hands with a practised elegance.

“Old man. I thought I made myself clear. If the next item isn’t something good, then I’m leaving. I have plenty of other contacts to meet with, and unlike yourself, I don’t like to waste the time of those I deem worthy of meeting with.” The man on the other side of the table, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table, spat out these words. Contrary to the elderly man that opposed him, he wore a hard-leather vest and pants; though unusually for attire that would normally only see use in battle, a closer inspection would reveal that this clothing was elegantly inlaid with silver and golden thread, and partially was formed of expensive materials such as silk. His messy black hair and tan skin gave him the appearance of a mercenary, but his fine facial features betrayed that he was of a man of deeper significance.

“I am merely presenting the items of agreed-upon relevance in the order specified by my client,” the elderly man said with an air of authority. With the way he kept his chin raised and heightened the volume of his voice ever so slightly, he made clear his intention not to falter at any sign of indignation.

“I made it clear that I was only interested in items pertaining directly to military and economic superiority. Pray tell, how a mere scrapbook fulfils this necessitation? I was told that your client had in his possession artefacts that could turn a village into a smouldering hole in the ground. Where are they already?”

The older man took a deep breath, an alternative to the deep sigh he wished to give. He was too old to deal with young men of this era, all too eager to bite at anything and everyone like a rabid dog. However, his client had an unquenchable desire for a certain degree of perfection in all business dealings. Bringing his personal feelings into a business transaction wouldn’t end with him being merely disposed of. A much more grave fate would befall him.

“Rest assured that your specifications have been fully accounted for, Master City. This item is not shy of a certain degree of straightforward destruction.”

“If you’re so confident, I’ll give you a final chance, old man. Tell me what these pages are. And let me warn you that if it’s something like theory of heat transfer or some unusable crap like that, you’d best just leave and hope I don’t require compensation for my time.”

How best to describe this item such that his brain will be capable of understanding? The older man pondered this.

“The writings in these notes are said to be direct correlations to a tier of magical competency never before seen in this world. To put it simply, if we can agree that the most accomplished magic-users in our era have reached the level of—to take the discipline of fire as an example—melting a bar of iron into liquid within several seconds, then these notes portray the step required to reach over the current wall and into the next tier.”

“Next tier? What is that? Melting two bars of iron?” the younger man snorted.

“The next tier would be, according to the author, quote: ‘Creating a pinpoint singularity of heat, at such intensity that, in one instance of time, the planet will disperse into gas, and the Sun above will be absorbed into its newly created, more fearsome brother.’”

“… Save the fairy tales for your grandkids. I said that I have no need of unusable—“

“Have you heard the name Seth?”

The young man deigned to not answer.

“So, you’re aware of whom I speak. You have heard the rumour that Seth Ladderspawn went mad and disappeared, only to be discovered dead out in a hole in the middle of nowhere? This was one of his few possessions left behind that managed to be retrieved. Now that I have conveyed the import of this item, please do spend our limited time together wisely and let me know if you are interested in this item.”

The young man rocked back and forth on his chair several times, staring at the gentleman across from him. Then he asked: “So, what’s the gist? ‘Direct correlations’ tells me that this is an interpretation of the base concepts that would allow a reader to immediately perform this magic, no different to the way kids learn to throw wind by being shown… what was it these days, Dart’s Diagram of Wind Control? Keh, and yet clearly nobody has read these pages and destroyed the world, ‘cause we’re still here aren’t we? What’s the catch here?”

“The information we do have on the contents of the notes are derived from the introductory descriptions written by the author. The reason that the contents themselves have been constrained thus far is because all of those who have set their eyes upon the deeper pages have succumbed to an immediate death upon doing so.”

“…”

“Your decision please, Master City? Are you willing to enter negotiations for this item?”

City snorted derisively and looked away. The old man didn’t miss the bead of sweat that had formed on his brow.

“Keh. Interesting fairy tale, I’ll admit. The only reason I’m not cutting your throat this instant after feeding me this bowl of bullshit is because your client has a reputation that can’t be ignored. Give thanks to him for your life, old man.”

The young man stood up and stepped away from the table, towards the door on his side of the room. Scratching his head, he laughed again. “It’s always the crazy fucks who write the best fairy tales.”

“… My client is desiring a minimum payment of seventy-nine thousand Gold Flats or the equivalent there-of. However, I have been given personal—“

“Aye. I’ll pay it.”

With those sharp words, he departed.

The elderly gentleman was torn between two emotions, as he walked down the long sequence of hallways back to his private room.

One emotion was that of dull satisfaction at having concluded a rather significant transaction. However, he was very much used to this success, and so he was not greatly moved by this emotion.

The other emotion was something he had rarely felt—no, he had likely never felt this one before. This feeling was the churning of something deep, deep inside the pit of his stomach. Within an endless pool of stagnant black tar, something disturbed the surface of the vile lake.

Those papers were a fairy tale written by an insane man, whose mind had been touched by God.

Not due to the danger within the text was the scrapbook hidden away in the client’s personal collection for all these years. Rather, it had been forgotten about, and only now that the client was suffering some financial setbacks was the decision made to sell it off; and of course, only to a fool who would buy it at an inordinate price.

The elderly gentleman had lived well for many years, and overcome many hardships. It was not appropriate for him to be shaken by the passing off of some inane writings.

Yet… the black lake bubbled.