The air was thick with anticipation as Burohagikun led Fheniz down into the basement of his shop. The flickering lightbulbs above them buzzed faintly, casting shadows on the stone walls as they descended the narrow staircase. Fheniz had been pestering Burohagikun the entire way, certain that there was some pressing issue with the shoes.
"Is there any problem with the shoes?" Fheniz asked again, his voice full of concern. "Why did you call me so urgently?"
But Burohagikun remained cryptic, his trademark grin stretching across his face. "Ya'll know when ya'll see, brat," was all he'd say.
When they finally reached the basement, Burohagikun flicked on the overhead lights. The room brightened, revealing a large wooden table draped in a heavy cloth. Fheniz's breath caught in his throat. He could feel something electric in the air, the culmination of nearly two years of effort buzzing just below the surface.
His eyes flickered from the table to Burohagikun, whose grin was now even wider. "Is that…? You mean they're ready?" Fheniz asked, his voice trembling with excitement.
"Why else would I call ya in between work?" Burohagikun chuckled, arms crossed proudly over his chest.
Fheniz's hands shook slightly as he stepped forward, the excitement bubbling up in his chest like a firecracker ready to explode. His heart raced, pounding like a drum in his ears. After two years of endless work, mistakes, and triumphs, the moment had finally arrived. This was the culmination of everything—their blood, sweat, and sheer determination all poured into one final masterpiece.
With trembling fingers, he reached for the cloth, giving Burohagikun a final glance. The old man nodded, eyes gleaming with joy, satisfaction and fascination. Fheniz smiled back, and then, in one swift motion, he pulled the cloth away, revealing the shoes beneath. The shoes reflected in his eyes, his eyes reflected back the joy and satisfaction and all the happy emotions bursting out towards the shoes.
They were glorious.
White shoes, polished to perfection, gleamed under the basement lights. Gold designs danced across the surface, intricate and delicate, winding through the fabric like veins of molten metal. The inside of the shoes, including the sole, was a deep, rich brown, the color of aged leather that spoke of durability and strength. The shoes exuded elegance, a perfect blend of simplicity and grandeur.
But the most striking feature was the infinity symbol that adorned the sides. Unlike any ordinary depiction of infinity, this symbol didn't end where it usually would. It twisted and curved in ways that suggested something beyond the endlessness—a suggestion that even infinity was only the beginning. The infinity symbol was made of carefully shaped metals, crafted so precisely that they seemed like the work of master artisans, as if professional micro-artists had poured their souls into each tiny detail.
Inside the infinity loops were the keenest details imaginable—so small that they could only be appreciated upon close inspection. Tiny stars, nebulae, and planets danced inside the loops, each one a work of art on its own. The symbols seemed to suggest the vastness of the universe, implying that beyond infinity lay something even greater. Every curve, every line, every detail spoke of a journey beyond the confines of reality, pushing the limits of the brain's imagination.
Along the edges of the shoes, the branding was subtly yet proudly displayed: Beyond Infinity. The gold lettering was engraved into the shoes' surface, catching the light just enough to draw the eye but not enough to overwhelm the rest of the design. The shoes were light but solid, the feel of them whispering of power and the promise of something more—a dream encapsulated in rubber grass and metal.
"They're perfect," Fheniz whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "This is amazing! It matches perfectly! I never expected the final product would look this good! To how we originally designed it!" His eyes glistened with joy, satisfaction, and disbelief with even greater intensity. The shoes were not just footwear; they were a vision realized.
Burohagikun's chest puffed up with pride as he clapped Fheniz on the back. "Wing-bing! We got there, kid! And we made it on a low budget, wing-bing-ting-sing!"
Fheniz nodded, still unable to take his eyes off the shoes. "Looking at this," he said, his voice full of emotion, "it boosts my emotions so much that I myself wanna wear these and just keep running with them, till the end of everything!"
"Wing-bing! Not ya size, brat!" Burohagikun barked with a teasing grin.
Fheniz sighed and playfully glared at him. "You surely know how to spoil the mood!"
"WING-BING-TING-SING-DING-ZING-PING-RING!!" Burohagikun bellowed, his laughter bouncing off the stone walls. He wiped a tear from his eye before adding, "Ya know what?! Shoes and kings remind me of somethin'."
Fheniz's curiosity was piqued. "What?"
Burohagikun's eyes twinkled with mischief as he began his story. "An old story, brat. Some years ago, in Domiyahn, someone threw a pair of shoes at the king during a speech. Some big occasion in the country. But the funniest part? Those shoes were priced at 20 million Wafferions, and they're still up for sale! Absurd, right?! Wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring!!"
Fheniz couldn't hold back his laughter. "Why did someone throw shoes at him?"
Burohagikun shrugged. "They say he's kinda… ya know, retarded! Must've said somethin' stupid on stage! Wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring!!"
Their shared laughter filled the room, but as it began to die down, something shifted in Fheniz. His thoughts turned inward, his mind drifting back to a conversation with Mr. Palket. A memory stirred—a conversation about the Yahunyens after Reno Ehasor's death, and the horrific implications of what had happened. As the pieces fell into place, a chill crept over him.
The King of Domiyahn... Aorpen Roban... Wasn't he the one who bought 21 billion slaves from Reno Ehasor? Slaves from Mackenas... a "gift" for his son, Nadenai Roban...
The laughter in Fheniz's throat died slowly, and the light in his eyes dimmed as his expression grew dark and somber. He felt a threatening vibe, his mood clouded as the laughter faded into the distance. The weight of the memories pressed heavily on his chest, leaving him feeling hollow.
Burohagikun noticed the sudden shift in Fheniz's demeanor. "What's wrong, kid?" he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with concern.
Fheniz forced a smile, shaking his head. "Nah, nothing," he said, trying to mask his discomfort. "I just need to go back."
Burohagikun scratched his chin, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah! I picked ya up during work. Ya need to go back, huh? No worries. I'll drop ya."
"Thanks," Fheniz said, nodding gratefully.
They left the shop, the brilliant shoes still fresh in Fheniz's mind, though now weighed down by the darker thoughts creeping into his consciousness. Burohagikun and Fheniz reached the repair shop, the earlier joy and excitement fading into something more subdued.
Once they arrived, Burohagikun gave him a friendly wave. "See ya, brat," he said, his voice still warm despite Fheniz's quietness.
"See ya," Fheniz replied, watching as Burohagikun's cart rumbled away. He took a deep breath and walked back into Konpada Repair Works, trying to push the troubling thoughts from his mind. But something gnawed at him, an itch he couldn't quite scratch.
All day, as he worked on radios and clock repairs, that gnawing sensation only grew stronger. The memory of the king, the Yahunyens, and the dark history associated with them played over and over in his head. By the time his shift was over, Fheniz couldn't take it anymore and something struck his mind!
Instead of heading home, Fheniz turned in the opposite direction, running as fast as his legs could carry him toward one of the town's libraries. The building loomed ahead of him, its structure standing tall against the darkening sky.
Fheniz didn't hesitate as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors and entered the dimly lit hall. The librarian glanced up from her desk, but Fheniz barely noticed her. His mind was elsewhere, already deep in thought as he made his way toward the farthest section of the library: the history shelves.
The deeper he went, the darker it became. The lights in this part of the library were old and flickered sporadically, casting darker shadows that seemed to shift with each step. Fheniz's heart raced in his chest, his breaths coming in short, quick bursts as if the very air here was heavier, weighed down by the knowledge contained within the dusty tomes that lined the shelves.
He reached the darkest corner, the one rarely touched by anyone. Cobwebs clung to the shelves, and the scent of old paper and decay filled his nostrils. His fingers grazed over the worn spines of countless forgotten books until his hand stopped on one in particular, the one he'd want to find: Rise of Yahunyens: The Waliyather History Vol. 1. The title was barely legible, obscured by layers of dust and time.
With a trembling hand, Fheniz pulled the book from its place. Dust swirled around him, catching the dim light as it floated through the air like ghosts from the past. The weight of the book was heavy—far heavier than any book he had ever held before. It felt as if it carried the burdens of a billion untold horrors.
He found a small space on the cold, stone floor and sat down, the thick book resting on his lap. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, as though the library itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to uncover something long forgotten.
Slowly, Fheniz opened the book. The pages were yellowed with age, brittle at the edges, and the ink had faded slightly, but the words were still legible. As he began to read, a strange sensation washed over him. It was as though the shadows around him grew darker, closer, as if the very walls of the library were closing in.
The further he delved into the pages, the more unsettling the content became. His eyes scanned line after line, and with each paragraph, his chest tightened. There was no sound but the soft turning of pages, yet an oppressive silence filled the room, a silence so deep that it pressed against his ears, suffocating him.
A creeping chill snaked its way up Fheniz's spine. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, his breaths growing shallow. The words before him seemed to twist and contort in his mind, each sentence hinting at something darker, something that made his skin crawl, too horrifying to speak aloud.
Fheniz's eyes widened as he read on. It was as if the book was drawing him into an abyss, pulling him deeper and deeper into something far more sinister than he could have imagined. His fingers tightened around the book, his knuckles white, but still, he couldn't stop reading. His body tensed, his mind raced with questions that had no answers. A sense of dread hung over him like a shroud, and for the first time in his life, Fheniz felt truly afraid—afraid of the beyond, but the beyond was exactly where he wanted to go.
His breathing quickened. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, and the room seemed to spin. His heart pounded so loudly that it drowned out the sound of the world around him. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples as the darkness encroached, and for a moment, Fheniz wondered if he would be swallowed whole by the terror that gripped him.
What he was reading was unknown for the people, fragmented, yet undeniably dark. Fheniz couldn't quite place it, but it was there—something dancing behind the words, something deeply unsatisfying, yet addictive. He felt a shadow creeping into him, not just from the book but from the very air around him. He closed the book with a trembling hand, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.
He felt the weight of everything pressing down on him, suffocating him, pulling him further into a void of fear and confusion. His skin crawled with an unshakable feeling that something was watching him, something unseen but undeniably present. He looked around, half-expecting to see the shadows shift, to find eyes peering out from that void.
But there was nothing in that nothingness as he realized where he was and what was happening, just the stillness of the library and the faint flickering of the lights.
Fheniz sat there for a long moment, trying to steady his breathing, to calm his racing heart. He felt the sweat on his skin, the chill in the air, and the oppressive weight of the mysteriousness bearing down on him. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, trying to push away the fear that had settled deep in his bones.
"Reading this requires a lot of courage," he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the suffocating silence. He continued as shivers flowed from his body to his hands and legs, "It's not for the faint-hearted at all."
But even as he said the words, his lips wiggled and his vest was wet with sweat. He knew that whatever was hidden in those pages—whatever darkness danced within—had only just begun to show off. And Fheniz wasn't sure if he was ready to watch that show. But he also knew that ready or not, going beyond was his only way of doing things and that required courage and total determination.
He scanned the shelves again, his eyes falling on several more volumes in the series, each one thicker and dustier than the last. Without hesitation, he grabbed them all. He also picked up another set of books called, Beyond The World, in search of other history books, but instead he found these that were based on the cosmos, the universe and the beyond. Of course he was always interested in these too. He could feel all the books' weight pulling him down as he carried them to the librarian, his legs shaky and weak.
The librarian's eyes widened when she saw the stack of books he had chosen. She looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "Boy, these aren't for you," she said quietly, almost as if she feared the very books themselves. "These aren't for anyone. No one wants to learn this history. Why are you taking them?!"
Fheniz looked at her, his expression serious and determined. "Because I like to take in knowledge," he replied, his voice steady despite the fear still gripping his heart.
The librarian hesitated for a moment, but finally, she relented, handing him the books. Her gaze lingered on him as if she was waiting for him to change his mind, but Fheniz just nodded his thanks and left.
By the time he returned to his stone house, it was well past midnight. Though the town wasn't quiet, the streets not deserted, filled with people and vehicles. Fheniz sat down on his bed, kept all the books aside and picked the book he was reading before. He opened the first volume and as the hours ticked by, with not a sign of sleep in sight, Fheniz continued to read, his mind diving deeper into something he didn't want to come out from.... or perhaps couldn't.
.....
The dawn broke with an unusual stillness, the sky tinted in soft pinks and golds as the sun peeked over the horizon. But in Fheniz's small stone house, the usual energy of the morning was absent. He stirred on his bed, his body sluggish as he finally awoke. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, the remnants of a disturbing dream fading into the ether of his subconscious. He realized with a start that he had fallen asleep with the book in his hands. His heart skipped a beat as the weight of realization struck him—he was already late.
His mind was a tangled mess, groggy and sluggish, still caught in the web of thoughts from the night before. The history book had wrapped its tendrils around his mind, pulling him into a darkness he couldn't escape, and now, even the light of the morning seemed dull. With a groan, he sat up, glancing at the clock. Time had slipped away from him. The newspapers still needed to be delivered, and he was far behind schedule.
Cursing under his breath, Fheniz quickly splashed water over his face, the cold shock jolting him awake. He pulled on a fresh vest and his ¾ pants in haste, his movements fast but clumsy. The weight of the history book still lingered in his mind, a shadow that hung over him even as he tried to shake it off. It clung to him, a nagging feeling that gnawed at the back of his thoughts.
He grabbed the newspapers, stuffing them under his arm, and dashed out of his house, racing through the streets to make up for lost time. The usual tranquility of the morning felt like a distant memory as he rushed from house to house, shoving newspapers into mailboxes with an almost mechanical precision. His mind wasn't fully in the task at hand—it was still trapped in the pages of that accursed book.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the last house on his route: Mr. Palket's. The elderly man stood by his gate, his usual patient smile plastered on his face. He had been expecting Fheniz and was used to his occasional tardiness. But today, there was something different—something darker behind Fheniz's eyes that Mr. Palket couldn't ignore.
"Ah, there you are, my boy," Mr. Palket greeted, his voice gentle but tinged with curiosity. "What happened? Were you lost in seeing another star that perhaps slowed your speed?"
"Good morning, Uncle Palket," Fheniz replied, his voice strained, the weight of his thoughts pulling him down. "No, actually, this time I truly overslept."
Mr. Palket chuckled softly, though his eyes remained fixed on Fheniz's face, searching for something beneath the surface. "I see, that's not like you," he said, his tone softening. "But alright, as a living being, it happens. It happens with me too. Though today, you were much later than usual."
Fheniz felt a wave of unease wash over him. He tried to push it away, but it lingered in the back of his mind like an unwelcome guest. "Yeah, I guess it's still because I overslept," he said, forcing a smile. "Yesterday, I was reading a book for a long time, and I lost track of time."
"Ohkay, that's fine," Mr. Palket said, nodding thoughtfully. "Not like I am complaining. I was just worried."
Fheniz tried to keep his tone light. "I totally understand, Uncle Palket. Thank you."
But even as he spoke, there was a heaviness in his chest. The darkness from the history book still clung to him, poisoning his thoughts and making his words feel hollow. He couldn't escape the feeling that something was wrong—something far worse than just being late to deliver newspapers.
Without another word, Fheniz turned and left, his pace quickening as he tried to distance himself from Mr. Palket's concerned gaze. He didn't even look back. His mind was too clouded by the strange thoughts that had consumed him since the night before. He couldn't shake the images that had flooded his mind while reading, the shadows that had seemed to crawl from the pages into his very soul.
Once he returned home, Fheniz made a quick decision. He couldn't let himself be consumed by the darkness of those history books. Not right now. He needed to clear his mind, to refocus on something else—something that would take him far from the grim thoughts that had haunted him since he first opened those dusty volumes.
He grabbed the history books, feeling their weight in his hands, the ominous pull they had on him, and shoved them deep into a dark corner of his small house, where the shadows were thick and the light barely reached. He needed to put them away, to bury them where he wouldn't be tempted to return to them. For now, at least, he needed to let them go.
Instead, he reached for a different set of books he had picked from the library, he picked Beyond The World, Vol. 1. This series narrated the mysteries of the cosmos, the universe, and everything that lay beyond the known. His heart lifted slightly as he opened the pages, the words taking him on a journey far beyond the darkness that had gripped him. The stars, the planets, the unknown—the very things that had always fascinated him—offered a refuge from the grim realities of the history books.
For the next month and a half, Fheniz immersed himself completely in the Beyond The World series. Every day after his newspaper deliveries and his work at the shop, he would return home, eager to dive back into the pages. His mind soared across galaxies and distant worlds, his imagination expanding with every new discovery, every theory about the origin of the omniverse.
The more he read, the more his determination grew. The darkness from the history books faded into the background, replaced by a bright, burning passion for the stars and the mysteries of the cosmos. He became consumed with a singular goal—a goal that filled him with hope and excitement rather than dread.
"My goal is to find the Origin of Everything!" Fheniz declared one night as he closed the final volume of Beyond The World. The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion and aspiration. It was a grand dream, one that reached beyond the stars themselves, to uncover the very beginning of existence.
But even as he basked in the glow of this newfound purpose, something nagged at him. He had completed the entire series of Beyond The World, but there was still one thing left unresolved—the history books. They still sat in the dark corner of his house, waiting for him, calling to him in a way that made his mind rush.
He didn't want to go back to them. He had buried them for a reason. But he couldn't escape the pull they had on him. It was always an addiction, a dark allure that beckoned him despite his better judgment. Every time he passed by the corner where they were hidden, he could feel them there, their presence like a shadow on the edge of his mind.
And so, one day, unable to resist any longer, Fheniz found himself standing in front of that dark corner. He reached into the shadows and pulled out the history books once more. As he held them in his hands, a chill ran down his spine. He didn't want to open them again. He didn't want to plunge back into the darkness.
But he couldn't help himself.
With a deep breath, Fheniz opened the first volume to where he had left off. His hands trembled slightly as he began to read once more, his eyes scanning the pages with a mix of dread and fascination. The darkness welcomed him back, wrapping its tendrils around his mind as the words pulled him deeper and deeper into their world.
He completed the first volume in a matter of days, the pull of the history too strong to resist. It was the darkness that danced around him once again, enticing him to continue even though he hated every moment of it. He felt like an addict, drawn to something he despised, yet unable to break free.
And so, he began the second volume.
.....
One evening, as the sky turned a deep shade of purple and the stars began to twinkle faintly overhead, there was a knock on Fheniz's door. He had just returned from his errands, his mind still swirling with the darkness of the history book he had been reading. The sound startled him, pulling him out of the fog of his thoughts.
When he opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of Burohagikun standing there, his usual grin plastered on his face. The old man had some luggage with him, a large sack slung over his shoulder and a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Oh, Uncle Burohagi, how are you?" Fheniz asked, trying to shake off the dark mood that had settled over him.
"Ask me my well-bein' later, brat," Burohagikun said, his voice full of excitement. "For now, pack up! We're goin'!"
"Where to?" Fheniz asked, confused by the sudden command.
"Kharsa!" Burohagikun declared triumphantly. "The harvest season is here! I sent the shoes to the capital long ago, with all the details about the design and the ideas behind 'em, and guess what? The king loved our idea! We're nominees for one of the prizes in the shoemaking competition!!"
Fheniz's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow! That's awesome! Did they tell you which prize?"
"They'll announce the prizes on festival day!" Burohagikun continued, barely able to contain his excitement. "And that's why we're goin' to Kharsa! To claim our prize!"
"That's amazing, Uncle Burohagi," Fheniz said, a smile creeping onto his face. But then, his expression faltered slightly. "Wait, the festival day is in, what, three days? The capital is way too far from here. How are we supposed to get there in time? You should have told me sooner, and we could've left earlier!"
"Wing-bing!!" Burohagikun laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "I was busy runnin' errands, that's why I couldn't come and tell ya. But don't worry! The king was able to purchase some of those large flyin' ships from the Yahunyens for faster and convenient public transport!"
Fheniz's face went pale. "Flying ships... from... the Yahunyens?" he repeated, his voice almost a whisper. A cold chill crept down his spine at the mention of the Yahunyens. Images of their conquests, their experiments, and their dominance flashed through his mind.
"Yeah, yeah!" Burohagikun continued, oblivious to Fheniz's discomfort. "One ship came to pick up passengers from Venlores to Kharsa. It leaves today! So pack up quickly!"
Fheniz hesitated, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. "Actually, Uncle Burohagi... I think I'm kinda sick today," he said slowly. "I can't come."
Burohagikun blinked in surprise. "Wha'cha say?!! Me alone?! We both worked hard for this! Ya askin' me to go alone?! What happened?! What happened to ya health now?!"
Fheniz sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just feel weak, and I have a severe headache. I can't travel today. And you said today is the last flight to Kharsa from Venlores, so don't miss it. Just go without me."
"Come on! Brat!" Burohagikun groaned, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Man up! Don't let some headache bother ya!"
"I'm sorry, Uncle Burohagi," Fheniz said, his voice firm but sad. "It's not just a headache, it's my whole body. I really can't go."
Burohagikun's face softened, his concern growing. "Ahh, want me to get ya some medicine?" he offered.
"Nah, nah, it's fine," Fheniz said quickly. "When my body feels better, I'll go myself. But you can't miss the flight. Just go, for my sake too."
Burohagikun frowned but nodded reluctantly. "No problem. My donkey's fast!" he said, a grin returning to his face as he turned to leave.
"No need, Uncle Burohagi," Fheniz called after him. But Burohagikun was already off, his ass-kart trundling away down the road.
Fifteen minutes later, there was another knock on the door. Fheniz sighed as he opened it to find Burohagikun standing there once again, this time with medicine in hand. "Here ya go, kid. Thought it'd help ya."
"There was no need for this, but thank you," Fheniz said, accepting the medicine with a grateful smile.
"It's fine," Burohagikun said with a wave of his hand. "But now ya have the medicine, wanna come along?"
Fheniz shook his head. "Nah, I'll pass. Really."
Burohagikun sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, alright. I thought it'd be a good trip for ya. You've never even left the town. But I can't force ya no more."
"Thanks for understanding," Fheniz said softly. "Just go, it's already late."
Burohagikun nodded, though he seemed a little disappointed. "See ya after some days, kid."
"Sure, goodbye. Have a safe trip!" Fheniz called as Burohagikun climbed back into his ass-kart.
"Thank ya!" Burohagikun called back with a grin, before heading off into the distance.
As the door closed behind him, Fheniz placed the medicine on the table and exhaled deeply. His face darkened, his eyes narrowing with anger. "I'm completely fine," he muttered under his breath. "I just won't sit in that ship!"
Even though his hatred for the Yahunyens burned in his chest, he tried to push the thoughts away. But something compelled him back to the dark corner of his home. Slowly, as though drawn by an invisible force, Fheniz walked over to the history books, his fingers brushing against the cover of the second volume. His mind screamed at him not to do it, but he couldn't help himself. The darkness was calling him again.
That same evening, unbeknownst to Fheniz, something far darker was unfolding in the world. A message was broadcast across radios and televisions, a message that sent shockwaves through every corner of the globe.
The Yahunyens had announced that their Death Ray experiment would take place three days from now. They had chosen the nighttime for their demonstration, ensuring that everyone—from the elderly to women and children—could witness the full power of their creation. The experiment was a display of dominance, a declaration of their supreme control over the world. It was not just a scientific endeavor; it was a show of force, meant to instill fear and awe in all who watched.
The world was abuzz with anticipation and dread, the news spreading like wildfire. Everywhere, people tuned in, eager and fearful to see what the Yahunyens were capable of. The media was flooded with talk of the Death Ray, with analysts and experts speculating on its power and potential consequences.
But Fheniz knew nothing of this. He had no radio, no television, no means of hearing the news. He was isolated in his small stone house, consumed by the dark history books he had once feared but now couldn't resist. He spent that night reading, unaware of the catastrophe that was to come.
Had he known what was about to unfold, he would have done anything to stop Burohagikun from leaving. But he didn't know.
The festival day in Gerwanis and the Death Ray experiment were set for the same day—an event that would forever change the course of history.
Pronunciations:
Waliyather: [WA]+[LEE]+[YA]+[THER]