Kaelen woke up to the sound of thunder.
His eyes snapped open. For a split second, panic seized him—the primal fear of a prey animal caught sleeping in the open. He scrambled backward, his hand automatically grasping for the knife he kept under his makeshift pillow.
But his hand hit soft grass.
The air didn't smell of the metallic, ozone stench of the Void. It smelled of old paper, leather, and dry dust.
The memory washed over him like a cold bucket of water. The factory. The dead man. The Silencer. The infiltration.
He was in the Sanctuary.
He pushed himself up, his joints popping. Sleeping on the ground—even the soft, overgrown grass of the library atrium—hadn't done much for his exhaustion. His body felt heavy, leaden. His shoulder, where the Silencer's needle-limb had grazed him, throbbed with a dull, hot ache.
He rubbed his eyes and checked his status.
[ SYSTEM STATUS ] [ NAME: Kaelen ] [ CLASS: Observer (Level 2) ] [ HP: 65% (Slowly Recovering) ] [ AUTHORITY: 40% (Regenerating) ] [ FATIGUE: High ]
He wasn't healed. He wasn't refreshed. He was just slightly less dead than yesterday.
BOOM.
The thunder sounded again. Deeper this time.
Kaelen scrambled to his feet, ignoring the protest of his stiff muscles.
It wasn't thunder.
He ran to the massive wooden doors of the main entrance—the ones the Cultists were attacking from the outside. He didn't dare open them. He pressed his ear against the cold stone of the wall next to the frame.
He could hear it. The muffled, rhythmic sounds of chanting. The heavy thud-thud-thud of something massive striking the outer energy barrier.
The golden light dome outside was holding... for now. But Kaelen could feel the vibrations traveling through the floor, shaking the dust from the high shelves.
"They aren't stopping," Kaelen whispered.
He backed away, his mind racing.
He was safe inside, yes. But he was also trapped. The service tunnel he had entered through was sealed shut by the rusted grate. The main gate was under siege.
He was a rat in a very expensive, very beautiful golden cage.
He needed to understand his cage if he wanted to survive in it.
Kaelen turned and looked at the Library properly for the first time since his arrival.
In the daylight, it was even more colossal. The central atrium was a forest of knowledge. Bookshelves rose three stories high, connected by intricate wrought-iron bridges and spiral staircases. The ceiling was a masterpiece of glass and steel, filtering the dead gray light of the apocalypse into a warm, artificial amber glow.
But now that he was awake, he saw the cracks in the paradise.
A pile of books in the corner had turned to gray dust—evidence that the Void had leaked in here before. The "sunlight" from the glass ceiling flickered occasionally, stuttering like a dying lightbulb, revealing the true gray sky behind it. The illusion was failing. The vines climbing the pillars were dry and brittle near the roots, crumbing when he brushed past them.
This place wasn't immune to the apocalypse. It was just dying slower than everything else.
Kaelen began to explore. He moved cautiously, checking corners, keeping his profile low. He treated the library not as a home, but as a hostile environment.
He found a desk near the entrance that looked like a reception area. A massive, leather-bound book lay open on it, covered in a thick layer of gray dust.
Kaelen wiped the dust away with his sleeve.
It was a logbook. The entries were written in elegant, flowing ink, but the last few pages were frantic scrawls.
Entry 4,019: The external sensors are detecting high entropy levels. The Silent Ones are gathering in the ruins. They know we are here.
Entry 4,020: Supplies are critical. The hydroponics bay has failed.
Entry 4,022: The Keeper has entered hibernation. Barrier output reduced to 20% to conserve energy. I am... fading. The silence is getting louder. If anyone reads this... wake her only if the sky falls.
The handwriting trailed off into a meaningless scribble.
Kaelen touched the page.
[ SYSTEM NOTICE ] [ ITEM FOUND: Archivist's Log ] [ INFO: Records of the final days before the Library went dark. Contains clues about the facility's layout. ]
"Hibernation," Kaelen muttered.
So there was a Keeper. But they were asleep. Or dead. And "wake her only if the sky falls" didn't sound like an invitation; it sounded like a warning.
He moved deeper into the library, following the signs engraved in the stone walls. He found a row of heavy iron doors marked Armory, Infirmary, and Vault.
His heart leaped. Weapons. Medicine. Answers.
He ran to the Armory door. It was reinforced with glowing blue runes that had gone dim. There was a hand scanner next to it.
Kaelen placed his hand on the panel.
[ ACCESS DENIED ] [ REQUIRED CLASS: Guardian ] [ REQUIRED LEVEL: 10 ] [ CURRENT LEVEL: 2 ]
"Damn it," Kaelen cursed.
He tried the Vault.
[ ACCESS DENIED ] [ REQUIRED AUTHORITY: Editor ] [ CURRENT STATUS: Observer ]
He kicked the door in frustration. The metal didn't budge. He just stubbed his toe through his boot.
"Of course," he hissed, limping slightly. "Why would it be easy?"
He was a Level 2 Observer. He could see things. He couldn't open the high-level loot boxes yet. He was like a toddler trying to break into a bank vault with a plastic spoon. The System was taunting him—showing him the treasure but keeping it just out of reach.
He tried the Infirmary.
[ ACCESS GRANTED ]
The door clicked open with a pneumatic hiss.
Kaelen let out a breath of relief. "Finally."
He stepped inside.
The room was white, sterile, and smelled of antiseptic. It had been looted, but not completely. Cabinets were open, glass vials smashed on the floor, but in the back, he found a white metal box mounted on the wall.
He tore it open.
Bandages. A bottle of antiseptic alcohol. And a single syringe containing a glowing blue liquid.
[ ITEM FOUND: Minor Stamina Injector ] [ RARE: Common ] [ EFFECT: Restores 20% Fatigue immediately. Removes 'Drowsy' status. ]
It wasn't a weapon, but in his condition, it was gold.
He sat on a dusty cot and stripped off his jacket. He poured the alcohol on his shoulder wound. It stung, sharp and biting, making his eyes water, but he gritted his teeth and wrapped it tight with the fresh bandages.
He ate a handful of the dried fruit he had taken from the dead man. He drank some water.
He felt a little better. A little more human.
But the booming sound from the front gate was getting louder.
CRACK.
A sound like breaking glass echoed through the vast library, sharp enough to cut the air.
Kaelen ran back to the atrium, his boots skidding on the marble floor.
He looked up at the main entrance.
A spiderweb fracture had appeared in the golden dome outside the main doors.
The Cultists had brought something new. Through the translucent barrier, Kaelen could see them wheeling up a massive, rusted machine. It looked like a cannon, scavenged from some pre-collapse military base, but instead of a barrel, it had a focusing lens made of black Void-glass.
A Void Lance.
They weren't just banging on the door anymore. They were going to shatter it.
Kaelen's blood ran cold.
He had maybe an hour. Maybe less.
If that barrier broke, fifty armed zealots would flood in here. Kaelen had a chipped knife and a roll of bandages. He would be dead in seconds.
He looked around the vast library.
He couldn't fight them. Not head-on.
But this was his territory now. He had been here for eight hours. He knew the layout of the atrium. He knew where the shadows were deep and where the floorboards creaked.
He looked at the towering bookshelves. He looked at the narrow, winding staircases. He looked at the heavy chandeliers hanging by rusted chains.
He couldn't win a war. But he could start a guerrilla campaign.
Kaelen ran to the nearest bookshelf. He grabbed a stack of heavy encyclopedias.
He ran to the spiral staircase nearest the main door.
He placed the books on the edge of the railing, balanced precariously.
He focused his Authority on the wood of the railing.
[ DENIAL: FRAGILE ]
He pushed his will into the wood. He denied its strength. The wood groaned, turning brittle and gray under his influence. If someone grabbed this rail for support, it would snap like a dry twig. They would fall twenty feet to the marble floor.
It was a small trap. A weak trap.
But it was a start.
He moved to the next section. He found a heavy rug and pulled it over a hole in the floorboards where the maintenance hatch was missing. He loosened the bolts on a heavy brass chandelier until it hung by a single thread.
He worked frantically, sweat pouring down his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He wasn't a warrior. He was a scavenger. And scavengers survived by being dirty. By being unfair. By using every piece of trash as a weapon.
BOOM.
Another crack in the barrier. The sound was deafening.
Kaelen stood on the second-floor balcony, looking down at the main entrance. The golden light was fading. The cracks were spreading like ice.
He gripped his chipped knife.
"Come in," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly but his eyes hard as flint. "Come in and see what happens."
He wasn't the Keeper of this place. He wasn't the King.
He was the pest. And he was going to make them choke on him.