He continued to look for books while placing back the ones Evelyn had thrown. Thinking about what she said, saying the librarians probably know spells to automatically direct books in their correct shelves. She already knows about the knowledge of spells and mana. And also thinking about how easy she was dragging Michael into that alley, was she using mana for that?
Remembering what Nasir told him, before Michael could even become an adventurer, he had to learn mana. Maybe Evelyn could help him with that. But, as of right now, he can't manage a conversation with her without insulting her about being a curse. But how could he not avoid that dilemma? A sword capable of its own feelings and mind? Does she even know she's a sword? Is she happy being a sword? Michael thought his mind was on fire.
After placing the books back in the wrong shelves, he looked around even further. He thought about chasing after Evelyn but seeing his face would probably make matters much worse. He didn't think an apology would fix it either.
Reading over and over about actual fairy tales a father would tell their son, he was on the verge of giving up. Michael decided to just look for books based on their appearances instead of titles. He came across a beefy one, just like the students downstairs were marveling at. This one had its own pedestal at the end of the room like it was the index of all books inside.
Michael heaved the heavy book over and placed it on a nearby table. He pulled a chair and opened the cover into a blanket of dust, coughing and spitting away in his mouth.
A familiar laugh startled beside him. She was laughing at him again. Evelyn dragged the book in front of her and flipped through the pages herself.
Michael didn't know if she forgave him yet or if she calmed down.
"Did you find it," she flipped more pages. "Oh, wow, this one actually has some pictures."
He leaned over, scared to touch the book and invade her personal space. She was still a girl and probably still angry over him.
She glanced over and pushed the book in the middle to both of their satisfaction.
"I, uhh," Michael flipped the pages himself. "I thought the biggest book could have more answers."
"Yeah, but this biggest book is one all about actual fairy tales."
Michael frowned.
"Oh, look here," she pointed. "Nightcrawler. A four-legged beast in the uncharted that eats you alive at night."
Michael thought he shouldn't be scared of pictures but this one stood out more than the others. A rough sketch of a total-black figure with skinny arms and legs with sharp teeth. It looked human despite the black fur all around his body. The story says it stalks in trees, watching its prey in shadows before finally striking during the night.
"Must be how they keep kids away from the woods," she said. "I would be scared too if something looked like that stared at me in the dark."
Michael flipped more pages over. "Let's look at something more friendly? Other than beasts that's supposed to scare children from the outside."
"What's wrong?" she snorted. "Are you getting scared?"
"No, I just don't want to stay here until night."
"So, you are scared."
Michael tried to ignore her as he flipped the book into more aspiring fairy tales. The thought of being stuck in the library as Evelyn tossed books around while he chased after her was tiring enough. Though, he somehow wouldn't mind that at all. But he didn't want to let her know about that.
He read along more fairy tales as he flipped more. He didn't know why there was a special book dedicated to fairy tales in general. Michael assumed it was because parents didn't want to be the same as others, telling their children the generic stories. He thought about kids competing with each other for whoever's fairy tale is the scariest and the most unrealistic.
But there was one in particular that caught his eye. A great and ruling king wielding a magical blade that defeated all his enemies. There wasn't even a decent picture, it looked too low effort like shapes drawn together. Michael felt like this was even made up by children.
"The king and his magic sword," Evelyn read after him. "You think that's me?"
Michael looked closely at the poorly drawn sword.
"Are you serious? Do you actually think that's me—"
"No, I'm just," Michael buried his hands in his hair. "I don't think anything here could be close to an ego sword. How can I expect to find information on something that doesn't even exist?"
"I'm right here."
Michael looked into her eyes. He didn't know if she was teasing him or expecting him to kiss her feet and apologize. Either way, she was expecting something out of him.
"Evelyn," he inched himself away. "I really didn't mean to say that you're cursed. It's just—I never have seen anything like you. You know, it's not right for me."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," Michael tried to stop himself. "I was a slave, Evelyn, nothing has been going good in my life. My parents died when I was fourteen and nobody even seemed to care. I thought nothing would ever get better for me ever since."
Evelyn didn't say anything.
"Once you came, I didn't know what to believe. A magical sword transforming into a—pretty girl. I thought I was dreaming, honestly. And I thought nothing good like this would have come for me if I didn't get hurt."
Evelyn turned away, hiding her smile.
"So, I'm sorry for making you mad. I didn't mean to."
Evelyn really wanted to hide her smile.
"If you can just forgive me and I could watch whatever comes out of my mouth, I think we would be fine—ow!"
Evelyn punched him again. "You're right, you wouldn't get someone like me if you didn't get hurt."
Michael was laughing. He was laughing along with her. He thought she was right, he should probably discard all of his doubts about her and just think about her the way she is. She's the prettiest girl he's ever seen, a talking sword, and gave him some magical power. What is there to ask for next?
Evelyn dragged him to the ground and sat on top of him. She held his hand.
Michael unshielded his face.
"I am the ego sword, Evelyn, and you are my master! We are eternally bonded, so that makes you the ego master!"
Ego master. The name reverbed in Michael's head. It made sense. Evelyn has chosen him as the owner for her sword so that makes him the master. Ego master, Michael Velo, repeated the name over and over in his head.
"Ahem," someone loudly said. "Quite studious, are we?"
They both looked to the side. It was the librarian again, rightfully suspecting the two troublemakers in some kind of act.
Evelyn stood off and happily waved towards the lady like an obnoxious way of greeting someone.
The librarian loudly sighed and walked away. She was probably drawn to the commotion both of them were making.
Michael awkwardly sat back in his chair, reading the childish fairy tale again. It was already easy to tell how flustered his face became.
"Magic swords," Evelyn traced her hand across. "They aren't fairy tales, right, they're the real thing?"
"I think so, yeah, something like that could be real."
"Then, do you wanna look over there?"
Michael followed after her. She took them downstairs into another section. This time, she was dragging him along the way. He couldn't explain the smell of her hair but he thought it was pleasant.
"Right here," she directed him. "Magical weapons of date."
"You've been here before?"
"I was exploring."
Michael recalled the memory of her storming away when he had called her a curse again. He decided he didn't want to bring it up.
Evelyn looked around for the book she mentioned. Even catching a glance at the group of students next to them. For some reason, they scattered away quickly like she was some kind of criminal.
Michael watched them run. "Where are they going?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
"Are they running from you? What happened down here?"
"I don't know." said the most knowing voice ever.
Evelyn placed the book onto the table where the last students sat. She pulled two chairs and made sure they were as close as possible.
Michael flipped through the book. "Did you find yourself in here?"
"Nope."
"Are you sure?"
"Michael, I'm pretty sure I know what I look like."
Through the book were pictures, old pictures, of what to read of magical weapons. Some had photos torn off and stained of whatever brown liquid Michael couldn't identify but each page was different from the other. Flipping into chapters about magical weapons, there was one that could produce fire, there was one that could summon lightning, there was even one that could extend its blade. These types of weapons were classified as artifacts. None of them came about a sword that can transform into a person. They were still at a dead end.
"Do you…" Michael referred to the pages. "Know any of the weapons here?"
"Why would I be able to know any of these?"
"Umm…"
She turned to him. "Are you asking me because I'm a sword, and I can remember the other swords like they're my family?"
Michael was ready to block her attacks. "You told me that you were a sword. I just—thought you would know."
"I'm an ego sword, don't compare me to these lifeless pieces of metal. It's like comparing a fire-breathing dragon to a chicken that poops eggs."
Michael reluctantly nodded, flipping to another page.
"I'm the dragon, Michael."
"I know."
They kept looking through the book as Evelyn yawned and leaned her head against Michael. It was even overwhelming enough that many magical weapons existed but Evelyn said the majority of them were probably broken or lost. That made sense since they were rare itself. Michael had never even seen an artifact until now. If they were this common, the world would probably have been torn into chaos.
Michael flipped into a ripped page. Practically all of it was gone, like somebody had ripped it off ages ago and none of the people seemed to care. But the title read: the most powerful sword created, Excalibur. Wielded by King Art.
"Excalibur," Michael read. "Where's the picture?"
Evelyn sat up, concerned about the name.
Michael looked at her. "Evelyn?"
"Excalibur…" she said. "I know that name."
"Was…Excalibur a ego sword, too?"
Evelyn was staring off into nothingness, like she was trying to replay memories in her mind. Michael had no knowledge of this whatsoever, nobody from Alanor even talked about magical weapons or anybody that wielded them.
"Evelyn?" Michael leaned in front of her. "You okay?"
"Excalibur wasn't an ego sword," she said. "It was a person."
"A person that made ego swords? That could be where you came from."
"I think…Excalibur was my mother."
Michael wanted to forget the thought of a mother giving birth to a sword then raising it to become someone like Evelyn.
Evelyn was staring at the name. "I can't remember anything. I just feel really angry and sad once I think about Excalibur."
"You said Excalibur created you, and she was a human being?"
She nodded.
"Do you think she could've created—I don't know, more of you?"
She nodded again, this time out of fear.
Michael never thought someone like her would be scared. The thought of hundreds of Evelyn's roaming around this world just didn't work in his mind. Even so, Excalibur had created a threatening reality of swords transforming into girls. Michael thought whoever would encounter any of them would be doomed if they acted any more childish than Evelyn.
"Well, let's not hope that," he nervously laughed. "I really don't want to run into another version of you."
Her expression changed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"No–no," Michael shook his head. "I meant it would be really weird if I saw you again, with another person. Don't you find it weird too, finding yourself in another sword?"
She sighed, closing the book. "Guess I know where I came from."
Michael thought she sounded disappointed about her origin. He thought she wanted her past to sound more heroic or impossible against the odds. Instead they came up with the idea that some mad mage was battling against the idea of immortality and ended up creating swords that can talk. Just so happens that both of them suspect there was more than one talking sword, most likely roaming around this world as they know.
Evelyn rested her head on the table. "Michael."
"Yeah?"
"I'm hungry."
Michael didn't even know swords could be hungry. Matter of fact, he also was hungry himself. It felt like being so determined to find out what Evelyn was made him regard the fact he didn't eat anything today or yesterday. The entire time he was running off one steamed potato. Must have been the struggles as a slave that made him so numb.