In the center stood a massive statue of a knight in full armor. His crown was carved from stone, his blade planted in the ground before him. The plaque at its base read:
"King Arthur, the First of the Knights."
Levy's eyes widened. "Woah... this is the library."
Braxill's voice was soft with awe. "It looks so different from the Library of Wonders."
Levy admitted quietly, "I've... never been in anything like this before."
Braxill ran his fingers across the endless rows of spines. "The Library of Wonders had pictures, light, even moving images... but here, it feels older."
Levy's gaze shifted behind the King Author statue, where another stood: a woman in armor, her eyes sharp, her sword raised high. The plaque read:
"Joan of Arc."
"These must be the knights of the past," Levy whispered.
Braxill stepped up beside him, nodding. "See that one? She's a woman. Joan of Arc. She fought for her people when no one else would. Everyone doubted her, said she couldn't be a knight. But she proved them wrong. She reminds me of your mom, Naggi. She's a Knight too. Brave enough to carry the weight, even when no one believes she should."
Levy's eyes shimmered. He turned away quickly, wiping at his face. "Yeah, like I care." His voice cracked, and he marched off stubbornly into the rows.
Braxill watched him go, sighing. He understood.
Alone, Braxill wandered deeper. The shelves stretched like an endless maze. Each section bore carved signs: War, Medicine, Trade, Faith, Histories. He paused at a row titled:
DINOSAURS.
His heart leapt. "No way... Dinosaurs?"
He skimmed through the thick volumes. Engravings of long-necked beasts, winged predators, and towering lizards filled the pages. "The Library of Wonders didn't have much about them. But this... this is huge."
His eyes glowed faint green, transferring the images into his imagination. He closed the book, whispering, "Someday... I'll imagine all of you."
He moved on. Another sign: HORROR. In front was a large statr of the horror creature Skin Daddy
He stopped at a thick, cracked spine. Skin Daddy: The Monster. The title intrigued him. He placed the book back carefully.
SKIN DADDY
Then another sign caught him: AFRO HISTORY.
He flipped through pages of warriors, inventors, poets. His fingers slowed on a title that made his heart pound:
The Ninja Way.
His breath hitched. "Ninja..." he whispered, hand trembling as he reached for it. His heart raced as if the book itself called to him.
Meanwhile, Levy had found a side room tucked between shelves. Inside hung a faded banner:
Women's History.
He froze, hesitated. Then he stepped in. One by one, he skimmed through the books: queens who led kingdoms, inventors who reshaped medicine, warriors who commanded armies. Women who carved legacies into stone despite the chains of their times.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Levy's hands shook. His father's words rang in his ears: "Women are weak. Women are less."
He slammed the book shut, his chest heaving. "No... but Dad said..."
He shoved the book back, storming out, and slammed the door behind him.
Back in the main hall, Braxill opened The Ninja Way.
The pages glowed faintly as he pulled it apart, green light flickering against his face.
Meanwhile the battle of Artist and Artimancer continued. Jett staggered back, his chest heaving, as more electro Abi arms shot out from the ground. They lashed toward him like lightning-chains, ripping trenches into the dirt. He twisted, evading with desperate precision, sparks burning his armor.
But Asteroy extended his staff forward, his grin cruel.
"Abi Art: Wasp Swarm."
From his staff, crackling electro-shaped wasps burst forth. Their wings hummed like saws, their needle stingers glowing with venomous sparks.
They shot through the air at breakneck speed, surrounding Jett in a deadly halo.
"Damn it—!" Jett snarled, swinging his Moon Sword. He cut one clean in half as it dived, sparks exploding.
But another zipped past his guard. Its stinger pierced into his back.
"GAHH!" Blood sprayed onto the dirt, dripping down his armor. His knees buckled.
Asteroy smirked. "What's wrong, Knight? Is your art not good enough?"
Jett grit his teeth. "Don't... underestimate me!"
Abi energy flared, wrapping his sword in blazing light. Another wasp darted for him, wings shrieking. He roared, stepping forward, and cleaved it apart with one furious slash, electric sparks scattering like fireworks.
But as he exhaled, relief short-lived—
CRACK!
Levin was suddenly behind him. His staff raised, a portal opened and a hand slammed across Jett's face, knocking him sprawling into the dirt.
"You're slow," Levin said coldly. He weaved his staff with elegant ease, each strike battering Jett down. Jett slashed wildly, but every attempt missed by inches, Levin gliding, parrying, tormenting him with surgical grace.
"No matter how many times you swing, you can't touch me," Levin sneered. "That is the fundamental difference between us Artimancers and you artists. You can afford to be lazy. We cannot."
His staff cracked against Jett's ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. "You've been a Zoner Knight all these years... and this is all you can show?"
Behind them, a scream tore through the night.
"Roberta!" Jett's head whipped around.
Pita had driven his staff straight through Roberta's chest. Her body convulsed, then collapsed lifelessly onto the ground.
"Guess that settles the gender war," Pita sneered. "Hahahahaha!"
Jett's world froze. His eyes widened, blood dripping down his cheek.
"ROBERTA!" His scream tore his throat raw.
Levin's voice cut like steel. "This is the end for you artists."
Jett's grip trembled, then tightened. "No... Lonnie was right. You're all monsters. And blood—blood is the only way to make this right. All I ever wanted was to honor our Founding Mother. But I was blind. Blind to reality."
He staggered to his feet, rage boiling in his voice. "You don't see us as equals. You don't see us as human. You could have helped us fight the parasites. Instead..." His eyes burned. "...you chose to watch us die."
Levin's eyes narrowed. "Practicality. The Artimancer descends from the tradesmen. And the tradesman does not take risks. It is more logical to kneel under royal rule than to perish against it. Even if the Zoners are erased, Artimancers will endure. We will find a place in this world."
His words dripped with cold calculation.
Jett's whole body quaked. "Then... you will never understand what it means to protect!"
Abi burst from Jett's body, burning white, wrapping around his arms, his chest. His cloak shredded away as plates of energy-forged armor crawled over him, layer by layer. His Moon Sword glowed, the blade reshaping, expanding with radiant patterns.
Levin's eyes widened. "Pita! Asteroy! Fall back!"
But it was too late. Jett raised his blade skyward, power roaring like a storm.
His voice cracked through the battlefield:
"Art of the Knight... Achilles Sword Series II!"
The air split with the sound of steel and thunder.
To be continued...