Before I could even process the situation, my body was already in motion. My blade was swiftly sheathed as I pulled my cloak over my shoulders with urgency. We had been trained to expect intruders, but the possibility of such an event was always downplayed—something unlikely, a scenario to be worried about in theory but never in practice. Yet, as I stood there, the red flashing on my holo-watch was a stark reminder that theory had just become reality.

Fragments of my training surged to the forefront of my mind—lessons long buried, now resurfacing like phantoms from the past. Our primary mission, of course, was to preserve the delicate balance of knowledge within our subsector, ensuring the safekeeping of the books. However, the secondary mission, which we were all drilled to perform if the need ever arose, was far more critical: neutralize any threat against the library.

I adjusted the weight of my sword, feeling its cool metal settle against my side as I sprinted through the labyrinthine corridors. The sound of my boots echoed in the otherwise silent halls, a rhythmic thumping that seemed to punctuate my every step. My holo-watch flashed red with a rapid, frantic urgency, displaying the most efficient path through the library as if time itself were running out. I cycled through the various applications, briefly reviewing the layout of the library before I silenced the alarms.

At the top of the watch, in bold, undeniable red letters, the words IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED blinked at me. My pulse quickened. There was no need to read it again to know this was serious. Too serious.

The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly before me, each turn pulling me further into uncharted territory. I hadn’t been in this area of the library before. The air felt heavy here, unfamiliar, and I was beginning to feel the weight of the situation bearing down on me. With every step, the burden of my sword seemed to grow heavier, and my cloak fluttered behind me like a shadow struggling to keep pace with my speed.

The blinding light that usually illuminated the library now felt dimmer, as if the very space was holding its breath in anticipation of whatever danger loomed ahead. I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword, wincing slightly as metal clanged against the armor beneath my cloak. My breath became shallow, my lungs working harder to catch up with the increasing pace of my movement. This was unusual. The Counsel’s blessing was meant to keep our bodies from exhaustion, yet here I was, struggling to maintain my pace. Perhaps it was the stress of the situation, or perhaps I hadn’t been training on my own as I should have.

Why was someone in my subsector? What could they possibly be after? These thoughts raced through my mind, their answers just out of reach.

I neared the coordinates provided by the holo-watch, the hum of the library’s stillness broken by a soft, unsettling sound—the flutter of pages. My heart skipped a beat. Was that the sound of someone tampering with the books? My mind flashed to the worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

I paused, breath coming in ragged gasps, and listened. The fluttering sound persisted, faint but distinct.

What were they doing to the books?

I drew my sword slowly, the rasp of metal ringing in the silence like a warning. My grip was firm, but my mind was racing. In one swift motion, I rounded the corner, blade raised, ready for whatever awaited me. “In the name of the Counsel, halt your actions!” I shouted, my voice firm but strained.

The words echoed down the corridor, but they fell into an eerie silence. My sword gleamed in the dim light, but there was no enemy, no intruder, no sign of a confrontation. Only a single book lay on the floor before me, its pages fluttering gently as if caught in an invisible breeze.

I hesitated for only a moment before I approached the book. My sword was sheathed, and I reached down carefully, lifting the fragile thing. It was a strange sensation—the book felt more delicate than any I’d encountered before. The cover was worn, the pages yellowed with age. The title, The Mad King, was emblazoned in bold red letters against the black binding.

It was a simmilar book to the one I’d seen just days ago, the one Eight had warned me about.

I inspected the book closely, turning it over in my hands, but I couldn’t find any immediate signs of damage. However, the more I looked around, the more I realized that several other books nearby had the same tattered, fragile look. Most of them seemed to contain similar, disturbing content, echoing the themes of The Mad King.

Whoever had caused the disturbance was still in the book.

I held it out in one hand, opened to roughly the middle, and spoke in a stern voice, “Find other occupants.”

In response, the pages fluttered once more, shifting toward the front of the book before stopping at page 17 of 267. I had time.

But just as I thought I was safe, something unexpected happened. The pages of the book turned again, flipping through the story as if they were alive, moving on without regard for my command.

I couldn’t let this happen.

With a renewed sense of urgency, I held the book up higher, my voice ringing out in the tense silence. “Deploy!”

In an instant, a bright flash of white light filled my vision, blinding me and throwing me into a state of endless falling. The ground beneath me seemed to vanish, and I was overwhelmed by the sensation of nothingness, as if time itself had fractured.

This was what we were trained for.