Reincarnated as a Background Character — Boss Fell in Love With Me
Chapter 3: Of Fire, Fevers, and an Unexpected Visitor
Morning crept into the aged library like a hesitant traveler, its light slipping through the cracks of the stained-glass windows that had seen better days. The once-vibrant colors of the glass now appeared muted and tired, casting thin beams of golden light that danced delicately across the dust-covered marble floor. Each shaft of sunlight seemed to take on a life of its own, creating shifting mosaics that played hide and seek among the shadows. High above, in the shadowy rafters, a crow cawed sharply, its sound echoing through the cavernous space — a noise so intelligent-sounding that it felt almost uncanny. This was clearly no ordinary bird; it had the presence of a creature accustomed to being a harbinger of change.
Raze, a solitary figure amidst the towering shelves of forgotten tomes and spells, slumped at a crooked wooden desk that groaned menacingly under the weight of its age. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of restless dreams that lingered in the corners of his mind. His fingers curled tightly around a cup of tea—though he couldn't recall ever brewing it—its warmth a meager comfort against the chilly air of the library, which smelled faintly of old parchment and lingering enchantments.
Across the room, nestled beneath a frayed velvet blanket on a rather dilapidated couch, Velzeria lay in a deep slumber. Every now and then, a soft snore escaped her lips, a sound that somehow managed to be both oddly comforting and profoundly terrifying to Raze. The fierce reputation of the being slumbering before him—a destruction incarnate capable of devastating nations—was juxtaposed starkly with her quiet, almost delicate state.
She had shown signs of stabilization overnight; the dramatic blood loss that had rattled Raze during the previous evening was no longer an issue, and the wild surges of erratic magic that once erupted from her were thankfully absent. Yet, her skin retained a ghostly pallor, the color drained from her cheeks, and a persistent low-grade fever simmered beneath the surface like a covert threat. Raze had left no stone unturned in his attempts to combat her illness; he had applied cold cloths to her forehead, brewed an assortment of potent herbal concoctions, and even pored over volumes labeled with titles such as "Intermediate Mana Weaving for Healers." Yet none of it bore fruit, as the system stubbornly refused to respond positively to his efforts.
In truth, he had no healing abilities to speak of, and he was painfully aware of his limitations. He felt insignificant, a mere bystander in a world fraught with magic and mystery. Yet there lingered a strange, unfathomable bond between them — he was her anchor. Whatever that entailed.
[System Tip: Unique Trait — Anchor of Narrative Stability]
Proximity to fate-bound entity prevents corruption, regression, and destabilization.
This effect cannot be transferred or replicated.
Note: If distance exceeds 100 meters for extended periods, the subject may become unstable.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in the groaning chair, its wood creaking in protest under his weight.
"So basically," he said to no one in particular, "I'm her emotional Wi-Fi router."
"...What is a Wi-Fi router?"
Raze nearly dropped the cup in his hands, the hot liquid spilling dangerously close to his lap.
Velzeria's eyes were open—crimson and inscrutable, fixed intensely on him. Her voice reached him softly, still laced with raspy exhaustion that reminded him of a distant storm.
"You're awake," he stammered, scrambling to straighten himself as he adjusted to her gaze.
"You speak strangely," she observed, sitting up with a regal, albeit sluggish, grace. Her signature crown lay neatly beside her on a precariously stacked pile of books, a sign that she had shed the weight of her regal persona, if only temporarily. Her magnificent wings quivered slightly, a barely perceptible motion that hinted at a readiness to take flight, yet they remained folded close to her body.
"So do you," Raze retorted, momentarily bold before the magnitude of her potential power crashed into his thoughts. A lingering fear crept in — he might be talking back to the very being who could incinerate entire civilizations in a heartbeat.
She blinked in surprise, her expression shifting momentarily before she tilted her head thoughtfully.
"You stayed."
"I said I would."
Most people, Raze mused darkly, would have been turned to ash for speaking so casually to her. Yet Velzeria simply continued to study him with an unnerving calm—her interest piqued, the tension between them electric.
"Your presence stabilizes me," she stated matter-of-factly. "That is a rare occurrence."
"I'm aware," he replied, taking a tentative sip of his lukewarm tea, the flavor bland against his tongue. "I received the pop-up notification."
They lapsed into silence, the immense library surrounding them seeming to hold its breath, each moment stretching indefinitely.
Suddenly, a knock echoed from the massive wooden door, reverberating through the dusty air and shattering the stillness.
Startled, Raze felt a chill race down his spine. It was unusual, bordering on eerie, for anyone to visit the forsaken outer-library annex, especially at such an early hour when dawn had barely begun to stretch its fingers across the sky.
His heart sank.
He shot a wary glance at Velzeria, whose demeanor instantly shifted—her whole being coiled with tension, magic rippling through the air around her like an almost tangible force.
[Proximity Alert: Named Character Approaching]
Identity: Eira Celestine – Heir of Light | Class: Starblade | Affinity: Prophecy
Threat Level: HIGH
Relation to Final Boss: Hostile
Distance: 20 meters and steadily closing
"Oh no," he breathed, panic carving deep lines across his brow.
He rose abruptly. "You need to hide."
Velzeria narrowed her eyes, an indignant expression crossing her features. "I do not hide."
"You do if you're about to trigger a continent-wide apocalypse because someone saw you alive," he insisted, desperation creeping into his tone.
Another knock resounded.
Velzeria remained unmoved, but the tension in her wings was palpable, poised like a coiled serpent ready to strike.
"Fine," she relented after what felt like an eternity, her voice low and enveloped in shadows. "But only because I'm... tired."
In an instant, she melted into the shadows behind a towering bookshelf, her magic intricately folding the air around her until her presence dissolved completely from sight.
Another knock rang out, firm and impatient.
With considerable trepidation, Raze approached the door and steeled himself before opening it.
Standing there, framed against the morning sunlight that streamed into the library, was Eira Celestine—a radiant figure, embodying both heroism and suspicion. She was renowned as the Heroine of Eternal Elysium, the Sword of Prophecy, and etched in Kazuto's memories as the one destined to slay Velzeria in the game's original timeline. The sheer weight of their fated conflict hovered in the air, thick with unspoken histories.
Eira blinked, her expression a mixture of surprise and caution when she found Raze standing at the door.
"You're… the assistant?" she inquired, her voice a blend of curiosity and unease.
Raze nodded, forcing a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "NPC #112. How may I assist you in this moment of impending doom?"
Eira tilted her head slightly to the side, contemplating the shadows that clung to the thresholds of the doorway, before she finally decided to step inside. As she crossed the threshold, the sound of her footsteps echoed softly against the cold stone floor.
Her armor, a masterful piece of craftsmanship, shimmered faintly with intricate divine symbols etched into the surface, each one telling a story of valor and sacrifice. The moment she entered the room, an almost palpable sensation enveloped the space, as if the air itself responded to her presence; a soft hum of holy magic radiated from her, reverberating against the walls and causing flickers of light to dance across the surfaces. Everything about her carriage was polished to a high sheen, exuding an air of composure and control — meticulously designed for a grand narrative that seemed poised to unfold at any moment.
"This place is supposed to be abandoned," she remarked, her voice steady but laced with a hint of trepidation.
"Guess I missed the memo," Raze replied, his tone light, an attempt to diffuse the heavy atmosphere settling over them.
Her keen eyes swept across the dimly lit room, taking in every detail, and her brow furrowed in thought as she assessed the peculiarities surrounding her.
"There's been… strange readings. Magic spikes. High-level interference," she explained, an edge of concern creeping into her voice that contrasted sharply with Raze's nonchalant demeanor.
Raze, placing his hands in his pockets, gave the best bewildered expression a background character could muster, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape in mock surprise.
"Spikes? Nah. Just old books and older plumbing," he responded, waving dismissively as if trying to brush off her concerns.
She squinted at him, a look of disbelief etching deeper lines into her brow. "You're... surprisingly calm."
"Should I not be?" he countered, tilting his head in confusion but maintaining his relaxed posture.
She chose not to respond to his question, her thoughts preoccupied as they resumed their quiet examination of the room.
It was then that her gaze fell upon a velvet couch, situated in a corner of the room, its elegant fabric catching the dim light. The cushions bore the unmistakable signs of recent occupancy; they still appeared slightly indented, warm to the touch, the fabric bearing the creases of someone who had just been resting there. A single, telltale feather, shining obsidian black, was caught on the edge of a weathered book spine, a stark symbol of recent activity that sent a chill racing down her spine.
Without a moment's hesitation, Eira's hand instinctively moved toward the hilt of her sword, resting at her side, ready for action.
Behind the shelves laden with dust-covered tomes and forgotten artifacts, Velzeria's presence flared momentarily. It was just a whisper of magic — a mere spark — but sufficient to cause Raze's HUD to glitch momentarily, the digital interface flickering at the edges of his vision like a malfunctioning screen.
In that split second, he was faced with a decision that carried weight beyond the current moment.
He stepped forward, deliberately positioning himself directly in Eira's line of sight, the tension thickening in the air. "Can I offer you some tea?" he proposed, the words tumbling from his lips with an air of casualness that belied the seriousness of the situation.
Eira hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered the unexpected offer, the tension in her posture wavering for just a breath.
Then, in a barely perceptible gesture, she lowered her hand — a minuscule movement, but one that suggested a fragile truce as she allowed herself the briefest moment of respite amidst the chaos lurking in the shadows.
To be continued...