I’d picked up the habit years ago, long before the Library, before demon lords and ruined worlds.

  A surgical mask.

  Back when I still lived in my old apartment, there’d been a butcher shop on the ground floor. The kind that never quite cleaned the drains properly. The smell of old blood and rot would crawl up the stairwell every morning, sinking into everything. Wearing a mask wasn’t about health back then.

  It was about survival.

  So walking around without one now felt… wrong. Like I’d forgotten something important. Like I was naked in a way I couldn’t explain.

  Apparently, that habit was also the only reason I wasn’t getting swarmed.

  The moment news spread that a newcomer had cleared a ruined world, and on his first dive, no less, the atmosphere in the Library shifted. People stared longer. Conversations paused when I passed. Some faces lit up with excitement. Others with calculation.

  Opportunists.

  I’d seen that look before in my old world. People who smiled too fast, asked too many questions, and only ever talked about mutual benefit when they were the only ones benefiting.

  I had no intention of letting myself get used again.

  After grabbing breakfast from the cafeteria, a surprisingly decent spread considering it was completely free, I slipped out before anyone could corner me. The food itself tasted better than it should have, but I ate quickly, head down, mask firmly in place.

  The viewing room was impossible to miss.

  It was massive, tiered seating, couches, open tables, and countless floating screens suspended in midair like windows into other lives. Bookkeepers lounged everywhere, some talking animatedly, others silently watching footage with hollow expressions.

  Several screens were already playing highlights.

  My highlights.

  I recognized the scenes immediately.

  The fight against Izanus, fragmented, cut for drama, stripped of context. Giselle’s battles, sharp and calculated. And Izanus himself, tearing through armies, divine beasts, heroes, and kings alike like they were nothing more than obstacles in his way.

  One clip replayed Izanus casually shattering an entire formation with a single redirected shockwave.

  “…Yeah,” I muttered under my breath as I sank into an empty couch. “I get what Giselle meant now.”

  A translucent screen flickered to life in front of me, responding to my presence. After a bit of fumbling, tapping icons, swiping wrong menus, accidentally pulling up ranking charts, I figured out the basics.

  The first thing I searched for was the ruined world I’d just cleared.

  The entry alone was intimidating. Red warning markers. High fatality rates. A clearance percentage that barely scraped past zero.

  When I accessed the footage files, a system notice appeared:

  NOTICE:

  Certain personal events occurring during a story dive are restricted from public viewing.

  This includes but is not limited to:

  – Sexual activity

  – Private conversations between bookkeepers

  – Internal monologues

  – Unrecorded deviations

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  “…Thank god.”

  I’d had plenty of chances in that world. Power, influence, proximity. But the thought that someone, anyone, might be watching had been enough to shut that down entirely. Knowing those moments were never recorded in the first place made me feel slightly less exposed.

  Still, when I opened the full archive and saw the timestamp, I immediately closed it.

  A full year’s worth of footage.

  Nope.

  I skipped straight to the highlights.

  Watching myself from the outside was… uncomfortable.

  Every mistake stood out. Every hesitation. Every moment where I’d survived not because I was skilled, but because circumstances had lined up just right.

  I leaned back, arms crossed, replaying the key moments in my head.

  If Calderon hadn’t been the demon king of that castle, I would’ve died.

  If Izanus had fed me a slightly stronger demonic core, my body would’ve collapsed.

  If a single fight had gone even a little differently...

  “I really need to learn how all this works,” I muttered, rubbing my face through the mask.

  I straightened when movement caught my eye.

  Philip had entered the viewing room.

  And immediately got mobbed.

  Bookkeepers crowded around him, voices overlapping, some congratulatory, some probing, some already pitching ideas. He looked overwhelmed but polite, smiling and nodding as if he didn’t quite understand what was happening.

  Honestly, aside from his kindness back in the ruined world, nothing about him stood out to me. I hadn’t even seen him near the end.

  Curious, I pulled up his footage.

  It didn’t take long to find the answer.

  Philip died off-screen.

  Caught in the chaos when Izanus began destroying the capital. No dramatic final stand. No last words. Just… gone.

  I stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary before closing it.

  Then, on impulse, I searched for Zoey.

  Her footage was the opposite.

  Direct. Brutal. Efficient.

  She stormed Demon Lord Harath’s territory alone, slaughtered everything in her path, and confronted him while he was still injured. The fight was short. One-sided. She took his demonic core without hesitation and vanished before reinforcements arrived.

  The final clip showed her staggering toward me, bloodied but unbroken, pressing the core into my hands.

  “…Impressive,” I murmured.

  “So this is where you were.”

  The voice came from behind me.

  I turned to find a man in a neatly pressed blue suit standing just a little too close for comfort. His posture was relaxed, his smile polite, but his eyes were sharp. Evaluating.

  “And you are?” I asked.

  “My name is Tarican,” he said smoothly. “But you may call me Taric.”

  Something about the way he said it told me he expected me to remember that name.

  “Please,” he continued, gesturing subtly toward the exit, “follow me. There’s a matter regarding your claims that we should discuss.”

  “Claims?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

  He chuckled softly. “You may think of them as… early supporters. Individuals who saw potential in you before the results justified it.”

  That didn’t make me feel better.

  But curiosity, and the understanding that ignoring someone like him might be worse, won out.

  “Alright,” I said, standing. “Lead the way.”

  As I followed Taric out of the viewing room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that clearing a ruined world hadn’t just changed my rank.

  It had painted a target on my back.

  The meeting room felt… softer than I expected.

  Warm lighting replaced the cold glow common in most Library spaces, and the walls were lined with shelves, not books, but small decorative objects. Trinkets from countless worlds. A cracked teacup repaired with gold. A rusted sword reduced to a ceremonial dagger. A child’s wooden toy carved into the shape of a dragon.

  At the center of the room sat a low coffee table.

  And beside it, a woman.

  She was beautiful in a way that didn’t demand attention. Mature, composed, with black hair tied loosely behind her head and faint smile lines at the corners of her eyes. She radiated warmth, motherly was the only word that fit, like someone who listened more than she spoke, and remembered things people wished they hadn’t said aloud.

  For some reason, that made me more nervous than if she’d looked intimidating.

  Taric entered first, perfectly at ease. “This is Katherine,” he said, gesturing toward her. “One of the two individuals who placed a claim on you.”

  “Placed a claim on me?” I echoed, eyebrows knitting together as I stepped inside.

  Taric glanced back at me. “Think of it less as ownership and more as early investment,” he explained. “Support offered before success is guaranteed. In exchange for a favor later.”

  “…Okay,” I said slowly.

  That didn’t sound right. Not even a little.

  “Hello,” Katherine greeted gently, folding her hands in her lap.

  “Hello…” I bowed instinctively, the habit lingering from a dozen occasions that punished poor manners.

  She smiled, amused but not mocking.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “The other individual who placed a claim was Edwin,” Taric continued as I sat down across from her. “You’ve already met.”

  “Yeah…” I muttered, remembering being thrown into a ruined world with a laugh and a shove.

  Katherine reached into a small pouch at her side and placed a coin onto the table.

  It was gold, warm to the touch even from where I sat, embossed with the symbol of a torch held high. Beneath it was a flowing signature etched so finely it almost looked handwritten.

  “This is my token,” Katherine said. “You may use it as currency within the Library, or you may exchange it for a favor from me.”

  I picked it up cautiously, turning it between my fingers. It felt… heavy. Not physically, meaningfully.

  “Do I give you one of these as well?” I asked, remembering Taric’s explanation. “Since you mentioned favors.”

  Katherine shook her head immediately. “No,” she said. “You don’t need to.”

  I blinked. “You don’t want my token?”

  She smiled again, softer this time. “I’ll cash in my favor now. I want you to do your best moving forward. That’s all.”

  The words landed heavier than any obligation.

  “I…” I hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll try.”

  Taric cleared his throat and held out a second token. “This one is Edwin’s.”

  I stared.

  The token was diamond, not plated, not decorated, but carved entirely from it. A phoenix spread its wings across the surface, etched with brutal precision. The signature beneath it radiated arrogance even without context.

  “That one,” Taric added dryly, “is extremely valuable. Use it wisely.”

  “Thanks?” I said, unsure how else to respond. “But… can’t other people just give me tokens too? What’s the point of making a claim?”

  “They can,” Katherine answered before Taric could. “But without a claim, there’s no exchange. They give support freely. With a claim, they receive your token while you’re still low-ranked, then use it later, when your name carries weight.”

  My grip tightened slightly around the coin.

  “And you didn’t take mine,” I said, looking back at her.

  “She does that,” Taric said with a sigh. “Katherine has a habit of supporting new bookkeepers who get overlooked. Especially those who would’ve fallen through the cracks otherwise.”

  Something in my chest shifted.

  I bowed again, deeper this time. “Thank you.”

  She waved it off gently. “You reminded me of someone,” she said. “That’s all.”

  The room fell quiet for a moment.

  Then Katherine leaned back slightly, eyes glinting with curiosity.

  “With that settled,” she said, “would you like to watch something interesting?”

  I tilted my head. “Sure?”

  Taric smiled faintly.

  And for the first time since I’d returned to the Library, I had the unsettling feeling that I wasn’t about to learn something.

  Katherine led me away from the main viewing halls and deeper into the Library.

  The corridors narrowed as we walked, the usual background noise of chatter and floating screens fading until the silence felt deliberate. The air here was heavier, not oppressive, but focused, as if even sound knew better than to linger too long.

  We stopped in front of a door marked only by a faint geometric sigil.

  “This is a private viewing room,” Katherine said, pressing her palm to the symbol. “Not many newcomers are brought here.”

  The door slid open without a sound.

  Inside was a single, massive screen that curved along the far wall like the inside of an amphitheater. Instead of one image, it was divided into multiple panels, each showing a different angle, a different perspective, a different possibility.

  At the center of all those views was a structure that looked like a dome.

  Smooth, metallic, and faintly translucent, it pulsed with shifting runes that crawled across its surface like living script. The ground beneath it was marked with concentric rings and intersecting lines, forming a massive sigil that hummed with restrained power.

  Two figures stood inside.

  One of them, I recognized instantly.

  “Giselle,” I muttered.

  She stood straight-backed, her expression utterly focused, the playful sarcasm I’d come to associate with her nowhere to be seen.

  Across from her stood another woman.

  She had long brown hair tied back into a tight ponytail and wore a fitted combat coat reinforced with metallic threads.

  “What’s going on?” I asked quietly.

  “You can think of this as one of the sports of the Library,” Katherine replied.

  I blinked. “…Sports?”

  “We duel,” she said simply. “Using records gathered through our dives.”

  My gaze flicked back to the screen. The dome pulsed brighter, reacting to the presence of its occupants.

  “How does it work?” I asked.

  “To put it simply,” Katherine said, folding her hands behind her back, “each participant prepares multiple loadouts beforehand. During the fight, you may deploy only one weapon, one support gear, one skill, and one summoned creature.”

  “That sounds… restrictive,” I said.

  “It’s meant to be,” she replied. “Creativity thrives under limits.”

  I let out a small chuckle. “I didn’t expect the main pastime of a library to be so violent.”

  Katherine smiled faintly. “You’d be surprised how important it is to know how to fight here.”

  The screen shifted.

  Three images of Giselle appeared side by side.

  Each version of her was armed differently.

  One wielded a radiant spear etched with holy script, her armor glowing faintly with defensive enchantments. Another held a spellbook chained to her arm, magic circles hovering at her fingertips. The third stood with empty hands, but behind her loomed a massive, golden presence.

  Aurelion.

  Even through a screen, the divine beast radiated authority. Its mane burned like liquid sunlight, its eyes calm and ancient, as if the duel before it barely qualified as entertainment.

  Three images of her opponent appeared beside Giselle’s.

  Different weapons. Different gear. Different stances.

  One carried twin blades that left afterimages when she moved. Another rested a hand on a long rifle-like artifact covered in runic barrels. The last stood with eyes closed, a shadowy entity hovering faintly at her back.

  “This battle is three-on-three,” Katherine explained. “Each loadout must use entirely different records. Only one loadout may deploy a pet or summoned creature.”

  The panels rearranged themselves, the screen animating smoothly as the images slid into position. Two matched pairs faced one another, while the third set hovered slightly apart, forming a horizontal diamond formation.

  Each pairing felt deliberate.

  Calculated.

  “They look… serious,” I whispered.

  “That’s because this is a token match,” Katherine said.

  My head snapped toward her. “A real one?”

  She nodded. “When you win five matches consecutively in the same dome, you earn a Library token.”

  I remembered the weight of Katherine’s coin in my pocket.

  “And those can be used for…?”

  “Almost anything,” she replied calmly. “High-grade records. Access to restricted wings of the Library. Priority invitations. Political leverage.”

  “…So people die over this,” I said.

  Katherine didn’t deny it.

  “They don’t die here,” she said. “But they lose things they may never recover.”

  The dome flared.

  A low, resonant tone echoed through the viewing room as the barrier sealed completely. Runes ignited along its surface, cutting off everything inside from the rest of reality.

  A neutral, emotionless voice resonated from nowhere and everywhere at once.

  “Duel initialization complete.”

  “Loadouts locked.”

  “Combatants confirmed.”

  Giselle exhaled slowly and raised her head.

  Across from her, the other woman opened her eyes and smiled, sharp, eager, predatory.

  “Match start.”

  The dome exploded into motion.

  Magic surged. Weapons manifested. The ground itself responded to the presence of power.

  And as I leaned forward, heart pounding despite myself, one thought echoed clearly in my mind:

  This place wasn’t a library that happened to have violence.

  It was a battlefield that pretended to be a library.

  And somehow...

  I was already part of it.

  The dome flared once more.

  Runes along its surface rotated and reconfigured, layers of reality sliding over one another like shuffled pages in a book. The smooth stone floor dissolved into light, and for a brief moment, Giselle and her opponent stood suspended in nothingness.

  Then-

  Round One Environment Selected.

  The world slammed back into place.

  A frozen battlefield stretched out beneath them, jagged ice formations jutting from the ground like broken spears. Snow howled sideways in violent winds, visibility reduced to barely a dozen meters. The sky above was a dull iron gray, heavy with the promise of an endless blizzard.

  The first pair of loadouts materialized.

  Giselle stood clad in reinforced holy armor, a radiant spear forming in her grip, its tip glowing with condensed light. Defensive sigils flared briefly across her body before fading into a steady, muted glow.

  Across from her, her opponent appeared wielding twin curved blades, their edges shimmering with distortion. Her coat fluttered violently in the wind, but her footing never slipped, thin lines of magic anchoring her to the ice.

  The neutral voice echoed again.

  “Round One-Begin.”

  The woman moved first.

  She vanished.

  Not teleported, moved. The space she had occupied collapsed inward as she reappeared to Giselle’s left, blades already crossing in a lethal arc.

  Giselle twisted, spear sweeping up just in time. Steel met light with a shriek that cut through the storm. The impact sent both women skidding across the ice, boots carving deep grooves.

  Giselle didn’t wait.

  She slammed the butt of her spear into the ground.

  A wave of golden light rippled outward, freezing the snowstorm mid-motion. Ice crystallized instantly, jagged spikes erupting upward in a wide radius.

  Her opponent leapt, barely.

  One spike grazed her calf, frost creeping rapidly up her leg.

  “Not bad,” the woman said, voice carrying unnaturally well through the wind. She snapped her fingers.

  The frost shattered.

  Her body blurred, movements accelerating beyond normal perception. She came again, blades striking from impossible angles, each swing leaving afterimages that attacked a heartbeat later.

  Giselle gritted her teeth.

  Holy magic surged through her spear, extending its reach, turning thrusts into sweeping arcs of condensed judgment. Each strike purified the air itself, erasing afterimages before they could land.

  But the woman adapted quickly.

  She let one arc pass, on purpose, and stepped inside Giselle’s guard.

  A blade slipped through.

  Blood sprayed against the snow.

  Giselle staggered back, shoulder screaming in pain, but she didn’t fall. She planted her spear, chanting under her breath as golden sigils ignited beneath her feet.

  The ice cracked.

  A pillar of light erupted upward, engulfing both of them.

  The storm vanished.

  When the light faded, only Giselle remained standing.

  Her opponent lay embedded in the ice, coat frozen solid, twin blades shattered.

  “Loadout One-Defeated.”

  The environment collapsed into light once more.

  I realized I’d been holding my breath.

  “One down,” Katherine said calmly.

  The dome reshaped itself.

  Round Two Environment Selected.

  The world reformed into a vast jungle canopy.

  Towering trees stretched endlessly upward, their branches forming a layered ceiling of leaves. Thick vines hung like serpents, and the air buzzed with distant insect cries. Visibility was better, but movement was constrained, vertical, dangerous.

  Giselle reappeared in her second loadout.

  Her armor was lighter now, replaced by reinforced robes etched with arcane scripture. A chained spellbook hovered at her side, pages flipping rapidly as mana poured into it.

  Her opponent materialized opposite her, holding a long, rune-covered artifact, part rifle, part staff. Multiple barrels rotated slowly, glowing with different elemental hues.

  “Round Two-Begin.”

  The first shot rang out instantly.

  A beam of compressed force tore through the canopy, obliterating everything in its path. Giselle dove, branches exploding above her as she fell through layers of foliage.

  She twisted midair, snapping her fingers.

  A magic circle formed beneath her feet, arresting her fall. Dozens more bloomed around her, firing beams of holy light upward into the trees.

  The jungle became a battlefield of ricocheting energy.

  Her opponent didn’t stay still.

  She fired while moving, leaping from branch to branch, shots bending midair, curving around obstacles. Explosions ripped through the canopy, trees collapsing like matchsticks.

  Giselle countered with layered wards, each one shattering under sustained fire but buying her precious seconds. She began chanting louder now, voice steady despite the chaos.

  The spellbook slammed shut.

  A massive magic circle unfolded beneath the entire canopy.

  “Judgment, Descending.”

  Light fell from above like rain.

  Not beams, verdicts. Each strike burned through leaves, branches, and earth alike, homing unerringly toward hostile intent.

  Her opponent cursed, firing wildly as she sprinted. One blast clipped Giselle’s side, sending her crashing into a tree hard enough to crack ribs.

  But the judgment found its mark.

  A column of light swallowed the woman whole.

  The jungle fell silent.

  “Loadout Two-Defeated.”

  I leaned back, heart pounding.

  “She’s terrifying,” I muttered.

  Katherine smiled faintly. “She’s experienced.”

  The dome pulsed again.

  Final Round Environment Selected.

  The world shattered, and reformed into a ruined city suspended in twilight.

  Broken towers leaned at impossible angles, floating debris frozen mid-collapse. Gravity felt… optional. Every step sent Giselle drifting slightly, as if the world couldn’t decide which way was down.

  This time, Giselle appeared unarmed.

  No weapon.

  No visible gear.

  But behind her, Aurelion emerged.

  The divine beast’s paws touched the fractured street, golden light stabilizing the ground beneath it. Its mane burned softly, illuminating the ruins with warm, oppressive radiance.

  Her opponent appeared with her final loadout.

  No weapon either.

  But a shadow rose behind her, an enormous, indistinct entity, its form constantly shifting, eyes opening and closing across its surface.

  The air screamed as divine authority and abyssal power collided.

  “Third Round-Begin.”

  The shadow struck first.

  Tendrils of darkness lashed outward, tearing chunks of reality free. Aurelion roared, solar fire erupting from its maw, erasing the tendrils on contact.

  The two summoned entities clashed, shaking the entire environment.

  Giselle moved.

  She didn’t cast.

  She commanded.

  “Aurelion.”

  The divine beast lunged, every step rewriting space. The shadow howled as claws of light tore into it, purification spreading rapidly through its form.

  Her opponent screamed, blood streaming from her nose as the feedback tore through her.

  She tried to pull back-

  Too late.

  Aurelion bit down.

  The shadow shattered into fragments of nothingness.

  The woman collapsed to her knees.

  Giselle walked forward, calm, composed, eyes unwavering.

  The divine beast roared once more.

  The dome fell silent.

  “Final Loadout-Defeated.”

  “Match Result-Victory: Giselle.”

  The environment dissolved.

  The screen went dark.

  I exhaled slowly, realizing my hands were shaking.

  “…That’s not a sport,” I said quietly.

  Katherine glanced at me.

  “No,” she agreed. “It’s preparation.”

  And for the first time since returning to the Library, I understood something with terrifying clarity.

  If this was how bookkeepers fought each other...

  Then the worlds we dove into weren’t the most dangerous places anymore.

  The Library itself was.