Keon took a deep breath and walked straight through the entrance, stepping past the towering statues that guarded the doorway. Nothing happened. No alarms, no reactions, not even the faintest hint of resistance. It was as if the security enchantments didn't even acknowledge his existence.
Keon paused mid-step, glancing around in mild confusion. Shouldn't something have happened? A scan? A flash of light? At least a weird hum? But no—just silence.
He was completely undetected.
A realization dawned on him, but he pushed it aside for now. His gaze shifted forward, finally taking in the vast interior of the tower.
The Library was immense.
Towering bookshelves, so high they nearly touched the ceiling, stretched across the hall like endless pillars of knowledge. Floating lanterns hovered in midair, illuminating the space with a soft, golden glow. Rows of robed scholars, their garments embroidered with mystical runes, were deeply immersed in their studies. Some scribbled on parchment, others chanted under their breath, and a few controlled floating books that flipped open by themselves.
Keon's eyes scanned the interior, looking for something that would take him to the upper levels.
That's when he froze.
At the center of the hall, a massive stone platform stood tall—an obvious elevating mechanism. Keon's eyes lit up for a brief second. A lift!
But then—
His excitement shattered instantly.
Because right beside it, another route became painfully clear—
A spiraling staircase.
Keon deadpanned. His entire body went rigid as he stared at the winding torment of steps leading up into the unknown.
"Of course…" he muttered under his breath. His eternal enemy had returned.
The stairs loomed before him, stretching endlessly upwards as if mocking his very existence. How many times had he suffered under their cruel reign? How many times had they forced him to exert effort he didn't want to?
Keon clenched his fists.
Was this world truly against him?
Keon stared at the stairs. The stairs stared back.
It didn't matter that he couldn't be physically exhausted—the weight of climbing stairs was more than just a physical burden. It was a mental war. And right now? He was already mentally drained.
Keon sighed, running a hand down his face. "This world really wants to break me, huh?"
For a brief moment, he considered turning back. Maybe he'd find another way up—maybe some hidden teleportation circle or a gravity-defying device who could just float him to the top.
But no.
He knew how these things worked. If he ignored the stairs, fate would somehow force him to climb them anyway.
Keon took the first step.
Then the second.
Then the third.
The spiral seemed never-ending, twisting upward in a cruel illusion of progress. The worst part? He wasn't even tired. His body didn't ache, his breath didn't quicken—yet his mind was already screaming at him.
With every step, his thoughts grew heavier. Why was this place built like this? Why couldn't magic handle something as simple as vertical travel?
He passed by other scholars, some descending, others climbing with tired eyes. At least they had an excuse—they were actually getting tired.
Keon? He was just annoyed beyond belief.
After what felt like an eternity of mental suffering, Keon finally reached the second floor.
He stepped forward—and immediately froze.
Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched before him, filled with countless tomes bound in leather and inscribed with glowing symbols. Some books even floated midair, flipping their own pages as if searching for something. The scent of old parchment and faint traces of mana lingered in the air.
A library.
It was undeniably, unmistakably a grand archive of knowledge.
Keon exhaled, a mix of relief and frustration. So it really was a library.
He had been wondering if this was some kind of wizard tower, considering the overwhelming presence of scholars, magical security, and an ungodly amount of stairs. But no—it was a place of knowledge.
That meant—
If Aban was here, he'd likely be somewhere deep inside.
Keon took another step forward, his eyes sweeping across the massive chamber, searching for anything that stood out. The presence of scribes and researchers made it clear that this place held secrets. Perhaps even answers about this world.
But before he could think further—
A cold, watchful gaze settled on him.
Keon stiffened.
Was it his imagination? Or had someone just—
He turned his head slightly, scanning the library's interior with wary eyes. Something— or rather, someone— was observing him.
But how?
No one should be able to see him.
Keon push the thought away and decides to wander deep into the library, rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched into the distance, filled with ancient tomes emanating faint magical auras. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and something else—something ancient, like the lingering whispers of knowledge long forgotten.
Suddenly, his system panel flickered to life, flooding his vision with a rapid succession of notifications:
---
[Book Identified]
Title: The Arcane Weave: A Study of Mana Threads
Category: Advanced Magic Theory
[Book Identified]
Title: Mana and its Variants: The Lost Powers
Category: Historical Magic
[Book Identified]
Title: Eldertree Chronicles: Legends of the Sacred Forest
Category: Mythology & Folklore
[Book Identified]
Title: Forbidden Rites of the Eclipse
Category: Restricted Knowledge
[Book I.....]
---
The stream of book identifications didn't stop. More and more titles flooded his screen, stacking upon each other until his vision blurred from the sheer volume of information.
"Enough!" Keon hissed under his breath, forcing himself to look away before his head started spinning. His breath came out in a quiet huff as he rubbed his temples.
His system was useful, sure—but sometimes, it was too useful.
Keon wandered deeper into the vast library, his steps silent against the polished wooden floor. The space was far larger than he initially thought—endless rows of towering bookshelves stretched toward the high-arched ceiling, where glowing orbs of light floated like captured stars. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and something faintly floral, as if the scent of the enchanted tree outside had seeped into the very walls.
As he moved, his system persistently flashed book titles in his vision, overwhelming him with information until he had to look away. "Enough already," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head to clear the clutter of texts flooding his mind.
Here and there, elves sat at long wooden tables, engrossed in books. Some scribbled notes with feathered quills, while others whispered in hushed tones. Their robes—flowing and embroidered with intricate runes—marked them as scholars, researchers, or perhaps even mages.
Keon kept his pace steady, his presence undetectable, yet a strange sensation crept over him. Something—or someone—was watching.
Keon's gaze locked onto the cat perched in the middle of the table. Its orange-and-white fur looked almost too pristine, its eyes staring directly at him—not with the curiosity of an ordinary animal, but with something deeper.
No one else seemed to notice it. The elves nearby continued reading, flipping pages, lost in their own world.
Keon narrowed his eyes. Just like him, the cat had no presence.
It wasn't just ignoring the laws of attention—it was bypassing them entirely.
The cat slowly opened its sleepy eyes, its golden irises gleaming with an eerie depth—as if it had seen something beyond Keon's understanding.
A strange chill ran down Keon's spine. For the first time in a while, he felt truly watched.
Then, the cat moved.
With a small, effortless leap, it descended from the table, landing silently on the floor. It didn't run—it drifted, weaving through the towering bookshelves, slipping past oblivious elves.
It wasn't trying to be unseen. It simply existed outside their notice.
Keon, despite himself, followed. A deep sense of curiosity and instinctual unease pushed him forward.
The cat vanished into a dimly lit corner of the library—a space visible to no one but him.
It wasn't trying to be unseen. It simply existed outside their notice.
Keon, despite himself, followed. A deep sense of curiosity and instinctual unease pushed him forward.
The cat vanished into a dimly lit corner of the library—a space visible to no one but him.
Keon stepped forward, his movements cautious yet deliberate. The cat's presence felt unnatural—not in a hostile way, but as if it shouldn't exist within normal perception.
Its tail flicked once before disappearing behind a tall, shadowed bookshelf.
Keon followed.
The moment he rounded the corner, the sounds of the library—the soft rustling of pages, the faint murmurs of elves—dulled.
The space before him was dim, untouched by the warm glow of the lanterns hanging throughout the library. Bookshelves stretched high, the scent of aged parchment filling the air.
And in the center of it all, the cat sat, waiting.
It gazed up at Keon, eyes half-lidded, as if amused that he had followed at all.
Keon followed the cat's trail, his curiosity outweighing his caution. The feline had moved with an unnatural grace, slipping through the bookshelves and vanishing into a dimly lit corner where no one else seemed to notice its existence.
As he stepped closer, his system abruptly activated, flooding his vision with a notification.
---
[Creature Identified]
Name: Mike
Race: High Spirit (Feline Form)
Rank: ???
Size: 0.4 Meters (Approximate)
Abilities:
Ethereal Presence: Exists partially outside the physical realm, making detection nearly impossible unless he allows it.
Soul Perception: Can see and interpret the true nature of beings, including hidden strengths, weaknesses, and intentions.
Dimensional Step: Instantly moves through short distances by slipping between unseen layers of reality.
Description: A small feline with striking orange-and-white fur, carrying an unsettling aura. Despite his relaxed, almost lazy demeanor, his eyes hold an unfathomable depth—like they have seen through countless realities. His movements are eerily silent, and when he stares, it feels as if he's peering directly into the soul.
---
Keon's breath hitched. A High Spirit? His instincts screamed at him—this wasn't just some mystical pet. The weight of its gaze earlier, the way no one else had noticed it, and now this system revelation... something about this being felt wrong.
The cat—Mike—had stopped just ahead, sitting in the shadow of a towering bookshelf. His tail flicked lazily as if waiting.
Keon swallowed.
Should he really follow?
Keon was still staring at the cat, Mike, trying to process what he had just seen. The cat's gaze had shaken him to his core, and something about it felt off—as if it had seen through him completely.
Then, a playful voice echoed behind him.
"Oh? You've finally arrived, guest! Or should I call you the Cursed One now? Haha!"
Keon flinched, immediately shifting his focus away from Mike. His surroundings had changed.
Just moments ago, he had been in the open library, surrounded by towering shelves and scattered elves reading in silence. But now—there were still books, yes—but this was no longer the same place. The air was different, heavy with an eerie, shifting presence.
He was in a room.
The bookshelves here seemed to stretch unnaturally, packed with tomes that radiated an odd energy. The space felt both vast and suffocating, as if it wasn't meant to be entirely real.
Keon turned sharply, eyes narrowing at the source of the voice.
The man standing behind him was… strange.
His silver hair, slightly messy yet stylish, caught the dim light of the room, reflecting a soft glow. His eyes—sharp, intelligent, and playful—were the kind that seemed to peer straight through a person, as if reading their every thought before they could even speak. His smirk was teasing, bordering on mischievous, like he was enjoying Keon's confusion far too much.
He wore a dark, fitted outfit laced with elegant gold and emerald accents, each intricate detail giving off a faint shimmer. The long, flowing cape draped over his shoulders fluttered ever so slightly, despite the absence of wind. Small, crystal-like ornaments attached to his waist glowed subtly, shifting in color as if responding to his emotions.
Something about him felt… elusive, as if he wasn't entirely bound by reality.
Keon instinctively activated his system's analysis.
---
[Entity Identified]
Name: Aban
Race: ???
Rank: ???
Occupation: Librarian of the Hidden Archive
Abilities: ???
Traits: Playful, Unpredictable, Knowledgeable, ???
Description:
A mysterious librarian who appears to know more than he lets on. His demeanor is lighthearted and playful, yet his presence suggests a deeper, more enigmatic nature. He seems amused by Keon's arrival, implying prior knowledge of him.
---
Keon's brow twitched.
"Really? Three question marks?" He muttered under his breath.
"You look confused," Aban mused, tilting his head. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"
Keon opened his mouth, trying to make sense of the situation.
"What do you mean by—"
Before he could finish, another voice lazily cut in.
"Meh, just looking at our new friend," someone mumbled.
Keon froze. His eyes darted to Aban, but the man's smirk only widened in amusement.
Slowly, hesitantly, Keon turned his head.
There, perched on a stack of books, stretching like it had just woken from a century-long nap… was the cat.
Mike.
The orange-and-white feline yawned, its sharp eyes half-lidded with disinterest. Its tail flicked lazily as it stared straight at Keon.
A long silence filled the room.
Keon's brain stalled. His thoughts ran in circles, trying to process the fact that the cat had just spoken like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Mike the cat, looking far too entertained, tilted his head. "Something wrong?"
Keon's gaze shifted between the cat and Aban, his face completely blank.
"…???"