He continued to strike the vehicles relentlessly for about two hours. Each blow left deep marks on the metal surface. His punches were technically quite weak and uncoordinated. However, despite these shortcomings, behind each strike lay an extraordinary force that defied the limits of logic.

  When he stopped punching for ten minutes, the nanomachines in his body slowly began to withdraw back toward his spine. With this withdrawal, the glow in his hands began to fade starting from his fingers, then his palms and wrists began returning to normal. Within a few minutes, his hands completely returned to their original size and appearance.

  His biggest challenge was that he didn't yet have the ability to strengthen his hands at will. Currently, his hands would only gradually harden and strengthen after striking for a long time. To accelerate and control this process, he first needed to learn how to direct the nanomachines circulating in his body. If he could control the movement of these nanomachines as he wished, he could instantly strengthen and weaken his hands. However, even this limited ability he currently possessed could be useful, at least it should be sufficient for now.

  He didn't yet know how effective he would be against weapons - perhaps he could stop bullets, or perhaps he would fall in the first confrontation. Catching the old man alone was also a problem in itself; the man probably had guards and who knows how many years of combat experience. Moreover, despite appearing elderly, he too might have strange things in his body. Despite so many unknowns, the voice inside told him he could do it. This voice was stronger and more confident than ever before.

  "I saw a library. Let's go there. There's something I want to research."

  "What do you want to research?"

  "Myself. Geminga Spitzer... Who I am, where I came from, why I carry this name... We have plenty of time right now, and there couldn't be a better opportunity to research these matters. Maybe we can find some clues about my past."

  "Since Zeta says you were the best detective who ever lived, your information must be somewhere."

  They started walking towards the city center, to the grand bazaar, to reach the library. It was well past midnight, and street lamps illuminated the city with a pale light. As they walked, the buildings around them became increasingly well-maintained and modern. As they moved away from the decaying structures of the outskirts, they were approaching the area where the city's wealthy lived.

  After a half-hour walk, the library building came into view. It was a magnificent three-story structure. With its wide marble steps, tall columns, and enormous wooden door, it had an impressive appearance. The warm light seeping through the large windows on the building's facade indicated there were still people inside.

  They climbed the marble steps, and when he pushed open the heavy wooden door, the smell of old books immediately hit his nose. Somehow this smell felt very familiar. The entrance hall was high-ceilinged and spacious. The floor was covered with polished marble, and busts of ancient writers lined the walls.

  At the end of the hall, behind a semicircular desk, sat an old man. With his long white mustache and silver-framed glasses, he had the typical appearance of a librarian. He was looking at his computer screen, occasionally nodding his head and mumbling something. He wore a brown vest, a white shirt, and around his neck was a loosely tied navy blue bow tie.

  The man looked up at the newcomer. He peered over his glasses, then returned to his screen. He acted as if this was someone who came here every day. This suited the man; he could conduct his research without drawing attention.

  The inside of the library was quiet, as expected. Only the distant rustle of book pages and keyboard clicks could be heard. Tall shelves extended like a labyrinth, with small study tables and comfortable chairs in every corner. Large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling added a nostalgic atmosphere.

  The main hall was an enormous space. Book shelves rising two stories high were connected by a spiral staircase. There were narrow corridors between the shelves, and brass plaques indicating the subject matter of the books were mounted at the beginning of each corridor. The last daylight filtering through the windows created golden lines in the dusty air.

  The old man occasionally lifted his eyes from the screen to check his surroundings. His hands were in constant motion; either typing something on the keyboard or organizing the papers in front of him. On his desk were an old teacup, several pens, and a small desk lamp. When the lamp's light fell on his face, it made his deep wrinkles more prominent.

  There were several other people inside. A young woman was working on her laptop at a window-side table. A middle-aged man wandering between the shelves would occasionally stop to examine the spines of books. In the far corner, an elderly woman was reading in one of the armchairs. No one was looking at each other; everyone seemed to be in their own world.

  "Which section should we look at, do you think?"

  "Take a look at the history section."

  He entered the corridor where the history section was located. While browsing through the shelves, several interesting books caught his attention: "The Great War and After: Humanity's Technological Transformation", "The Rise of Nanomachines: The Period of 2389-2420", "The Beginning of the Post-Human Era", "Return to Kingdom", "The Evolution of Animals to Humans".

  However, what really caught their attention was a thick black leather-bound book titled "The Most Influential Names of All Time." They took the book from the shelf and sat down at one of the nearby study tables.

  He began flipping through the pages. The book was organized alphabetically, and each section covered a different period and name. The first sections described the leaders before the Great War. Then came the commanders, scientists, and politicians who emerged during the war.

  He paused when he reached the 2390s section. Dr. Volkov's photo and biography caught his attention. Under it was written "inventor of the first successful nanomachine application." Volkov's work had been a turning point in strengthening the human body.

  A few pages later was General Marcus Chen's section. As the military leader of the Eastern Coalition during the Great War, Chen was the first person to integrate nanomachine technology into the army. The concept of "enhanced soldiers" emerged during his time.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  He continued turning pages and reached the 2410s section. Here was a long biography of Dr. James Morrison. Morrison was known for his groundbreaking work on transferring human consciousness to digital media. However, his experiments had led to ethical controversies and were eventually banned.

  "These records are quite ironic actually. The development of nanomachine technology, enhanced humans... I'm also a result of these experiments."

  When he reached the "Notable People" section, he had found the name Geminga Spitzer.

  "Geminga Spitzer - The Detective Who Left No Mystery Unsolved"

  Very little information exists about Geminga Spitzer's life and working methods. However, according to records, the success rate of cases they solved was over 98%. They specialized particularly in complex cases that seemed unsolvable.

  Their most striking characteristic was their approach to cases. In addition to classical detective methods, they had developed unique analytical techniques. They were known for noticing small details that most colleagues overlooked. According to some sources, there were instances where they solved entire cases starting from just a single clue.

  Spitzer's intelligence and analytical abilities were recognized by the most prestigious institutions of the period. However, they always preferred to remain in the background, staying away from media and popular attention. This veil of mystery only strengthened their legendary status.

  "This tells us nothing..."

  "It's your fault for avoiding fame. What should we do now?"

  "While we're here, I have a question. What's the source of this mist? Let's ask that old man."

  "The librarian? Alright."

  He approached the old man's desk. The man was still looking at his computer screen.

  "Excuse me, may I ask you a question?"

  The old man looked up, peering over his glasses and said in a kind voice, "Of course, go ahead."

  "This mist outside... How long has it been like this? Do you know anything about its cause?"

  "Ah... The mist... I grew up in this mist since childhood. There are dozens of stories about it. Nobody knows why the mist is here or why it hasn't disappeared. There are only legends."

  "Could you tell us the most well-known legend then?"

  The old man took off his glasses, slowly cleaned them, and put them back on. Taking a deep breath, he began to tell the story.

  "I'll tell you one of Hatrugar's oldest legends. This story has been passed down through generations, perhaps beginning thousands of years ago. This is the true story of the mist over our city."

  "In ancient times, long ago, Hatrugar was a completely different place. The sky was as deep as an ocean, stars would dance above us at night. When the sun rose in the morning, its light would reach every corner of the city, illuminating everything from the highest tower peaks to the depths of the narrowest streets. People didn't appreciate the clear air and clean sky because they had never seen it any other way."

  "Back then, there was a powerful council of wizards in the city. This council governed the city, maintained order, and shared their wisdom with the people. But there was one wizard among them whose power and wisdom surpassed the others. Their name... This is where the strangest part of the story begins. No one remembers their name. It's not in the records either. As if it was deliberately erased, forgotten."

  "This nameless wizard eventually became consumed by their own power. Their wisdom turned to arrogance, their research curiosity to greed. They began working on forbidden magic. They were searching for the secret of immortality. Other council members warned them repeatedly, but they wouldn't listen."

  "Finally, the council was forced to take action against them. They captured the wizard and sentenced them to death. But on the day of execution, the wizard cast one final curse. Their voice was so powerful that the city's foundations trembled, the tops of towers swayed."

  "The wizard's last words were: 'I cast my shadow upon those who forget me. I leave my breath upon those who cannot remember my name. Those who forget me shall never see a clear day. Every morning when they wake, the mist that chokes them will be my final breath. Until someone remembers my name...'"

  "And from that day forward, this mist descended upon Hatrugar. At first it was like a thin haze, then it gradually thickened. People tried to remember the wizard's name, searched through old records, but to no avail. It was as if their existence had been completely erased from history."

  "Some say the council members were so powerful that they managed to erase not just the wizard's life, but every trace of their existence. But they couldn't prevent the curse. Others say the wizard is still alive somehow, perhaps in another form, and the mist is a reflection of their presence."

  "The most interesting thing is the nature of the mist. This is no ordinary mist. Sometimes people see shapes in the mist, hear voices. It's as if the mist is alive, as if it has a purpose. Some who get lost in the mist and return days later don't remember their experiences. Others say they've seen another Hatrugar in the mist - perhaps the city as it was before, without the mist."

  "And that's why everyone living in Hatrugar believes the mist is a curse. The final breath of a forgotten wizard, the memory of a lost name continues to envelop our city. Until someone remembers that name... if it can still be remembered."

  The old man fell silent, took off his glasses and cleaned them again. "This is just a legend, of course," he said with a smile, "but they say every legend contains a piece of truth."

  "Well said..."

  "What about the Circle of Unforgetting Flames? What's that?"

  The old man adjusted his glasses again and continued.

  "Ah, the Circle of Unforgetting Flames... This is another legend, but perhaps the most interesting of them all. It's closely connected to the story of the mist. You see, there's a place in Hatrugar where the mist can never enter."

  The old man leaned back in his chair, preparing to tell his story.

  "In the northern part of the city, among the ruins of the old wizards' council, there's a circular area. Around this area burn flames that never go out. These aren't ordinary fires - each one preserves a memory, a name, a story. No one knows how these fires were lit, but according to the most common belief, the surviving members of the wizards' council created this circle as a countermeasure against the cursed wizard's final curse."

  "These flames are the exact opposite of the mist. The mist wants to make forget, the flames make remember. The mist conceals, the flames reveal. The mist whispers and deceives, the flames shout and show the truth. That's why, no matter how hard it tries, the mist can never enter that circle."

  "Some nights, especially when the mist is at its thickest, shapes can be seen in the flames. Some say these are the ghosts of the old council members. Others believe they are the souls of people who got lost in the mist and were forgotten. These shapes sometimes appear to dance, sometimes just stand and watch."

  "The most interesting thing is the behavior of the flames. If someone comes from the mist with a memory, a name, or a forgotten truth, the flames begin to blaze intensely. As if they want to absorb and protect that information... And if someone manages to take a piece from within the flames and carry it into the mist, the mist retreats from that area. But this is very dangerous work. Because trying to remember the names of those lost in the mist can subject one to the same curse. Many brave - or perhaps crazy - people have tried to enter the mist to collect lost memories. Most never returned. Those who did return were usually found having forgotten even their own names."

  "But here's the most important legend: At the very center of the Circle of Unforgetting Flames, where all the flames converge, the cursed wizard's true name is hidden. If someone could gather the right memories, the right names, and bring them to the flames, perhaps they could reveal the wizard's name. And if this happens... Perhaps Hatrugar's curse could finally be broken. The mist would disperse, the sky would become visible again, and the city would gain its freedom. But of course," the old man added with a bittersweet smile, "this is just a legend. Who knows what the truth is?"

  "You said every legend contains a piece of truth... Perhaps the truth in this legend is hope."