Chapter 18: Ghost In The Shelf

"Vesper Bolt, your recent performance has fallen below your contractor's standards. Please, select a dungeon."

The voice is so detached, so omnipresent, that I can't even tell if it's coming from outside or inside my head. In front of me, the familiar interface hovers, presenting the list of available dungeons like a demand rather than a choice.

I hate being forced into these decisions. But since I am, there's something that's been bothering me. Unlike the Shattered Prism Citadel, which vanished from the list the moment I completed it, the Library of Shadows is still available.

Curious, I select it, pressing the button without much second thought.

"We'll adjust the experience for your mandatory training. Please, give us a moment."

The transition is so fast it feels more like a blink than a moment.

Suddenly, I'm back in the exact spot where I killed the dungeon boss, that weird wizard I took down in two shots. Feels like it happened ages ago, even though it's been... what? A week? A little bit more?

"The last time you were here, your skills lacked the expertise necessary to progress through the dungeon," the voice continues, calm and clinical. "Please, perform an honest attempt at investigation."

An honest attempt? It only takes me a second to see something's off about the fireplace. The flames flicker normally, casting shadows that seem to follow their light—but there's a hitch, tiny stutters in the rhythm that shouldn't be there.

I run my hand over the stone blocks until I hit one that isn't solid. My fingers pass right through, and just like that, the entire illusion crumbles.

[Observe] Lvl 25 (9%)

[Objective Completed]

[5 Skill Points]

I almost laugh at how insultingly easy it was. They're giving me skill points for this? Might as well take the win, though—I was planning to grind over the weekend anyway.

"Please be warned," the voice interrupts. "The enemies ahead have been modified for this instance. Your weapons will not affect them."

I freeze. "What do you mean my weapons won't affect them?" I shout, even though I know it's pointless. "And who the hell are you?!"

The voice doesn't falter, its professional tone barely warm. "We've determined that the next logical step in your development is mastering the basic applications of your aura. You will need to rely on it both offensively and defensively throughout this exercise." There's a brief, almost uncomfortable pause. "As for my identity, that concept has yet to be fully defined. For now, you may call me Pearl. I am the generative construct assigned as your overseer."

I grit my teeth. So, not only am I being forced to play by new rules, but now I have to deal with a smug AI with no clear face or identity. This just keeps getting better.

But of course, there's no time to complain.

The moment I step through the hidden passage behind the fireplace, a veil of absolute darkness engulfs me, thick as tar, and the ground beneath my feet starts to feel more like an abstract idea than something solid. I struggle to understand my surroundings, disoriented by the sheer absence of light.

"We will start with a skill you have not yet activated," the voice—Pearl—echoes through the void. "Your aura should allow you to sense the presence of nearby enemies, particularly those focused on you. Use this tool to track and eliminate the Observers."

Aura detection... right. I had completely forgotten that was even a thing. Taking a breath, I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on something I can't physically see.

Suddenly, I feel them.

[Observers Defeated: 0/20]

I'm surrounded.

Instinct takes over. I fire a shot into the darkness at the one closest to me, teleporting to the target. I slam a blade into its back, my aura channeling through the strike, shattering the creature like glass.

The fight starts.

Small specters swarm themselves all around me, their forms barely distinguishable from the dark background. Covered in dark robes, their faces—or what should be their faces—are nothing but mirrors, reflecting the shadows and light as they fire beams wherever their gaze lands. That's their weakness. As long as I move faster than their beams, faster than their necks can twist and follow, I'll survive.

So I do what I know best—I rain bullets.

My gun roars in the darkness as I teleport from one target to the next, but the ability to keep track of them without closing my eyes is still new, clumsy. The aura detection skill prioritizes immediate threats, ignoring enemies that aren't actively targeting me, which is a problem. I could easily misjudge a corner, assuming it's safe, only to charge into a cluster of them waiting to ambush me.

Trial and error. Every shot that lands reveals a bit of my surroundings, the sound resonating off the stone walls or the tall spiral-like shelves that fill the space. I fire and fire, teleporting over and over, so fast the Observers can't keep up. I make it so they can't track me.

And then, it's my turn to hunt.

They're fragile. So fragile that a single blow is enough to rip them apart. If my tomahawks were working as usual, I could just fling them across the room and clear the whole place in seconds. But no. My weapons are practically useless in this fight, forcing me to go melee, up close, taking damage just to keep making progress.

[Aura Detection] Lvl 8 (70%)

[Aura Projection] Lvl 11 (6%)

HP: [-78%- ]

The user has leveled up! The user has leveled up! The user has leveled up!

[Observers Defeated: 20/20]

By the time the final Observer falls, my arms are singed, burned all over. I collapse against a spire, panting, and reach for a potion. The cool liquid soothes the searing pain as I down it in one gulp. I've never struggled so much with basic enemies before. I need every point I can get.

"Hey…" I mutter, distracting myself. "What the hell happened here? Is this even real?"

There's a faint buzz, like the breath of software. "This world was once known as Gridania," she says. "Its destruction was inevitable, as its inhabitants repeatedly failed to produce anything worthy of the gods attention, despite their multiple request for a breakthrough in the magical field."

I frown. "That… doesn't explain—"

"The Gridanians, faced with their demise, sought survival through non-physical means. In desperation, they tied their souls to the books within this library, recording every detail of their existence inside its pages before teleporting the building beyond their mundane plane."

The books. I remember the rows and rows of volumes, thick with dust, but what's inside them… That's not people.

As if sensing my unease, Pearl responds. "The runic system they utilized to imprint their identities was flawed. The translations were inaccurate, and many of their core values were either lost or distorted beyond recognition."

"But still… if they're here, then they weren't completely wiped, right?"

"Negative," Pearl replies, her tone chilling. "What you are experiencing is not the world of Gridania, but a replica—an imitation drawn from your master's memories. The original inhabitants, and their essence, have long since disappeared from existence. What remains is nothing more than a reflection, anchored by the existence of remarkable individuals, who've earned the right to be remembered thus far."

As if assuming my doubts had been sufficiently quelled, the test resumes without warning. The darkness lifts, replaced by light that reveals a square room, crowned with multiple levels of hanging steps. Four entrances frame the space, including the one I stumbled through. From the other three, the ominous sound of heavy, grinding footsteps heads towards me.

"Your next opponents will be immune to the attacks you've relied on thus far. Good luck."

Three figures emerge from the other doorways. They're hulking constructs, their bodies covered with these runes I've grown somewhat familiar with.

But now I know what they mean.

These were once people, their souls bound to these crumbling vessels in a desperate attempt to survive the end of their world. Now, they're nothing more than hollow shells, dragging themselves forward with each step. Black, viscous liquid seeps from their joints, their once-pristine forms corroded and disfigured by the passage of untold time.

Knights, I realize, as I study the misshapen armor. Guardians, likely chosen to stand watch while the rest of their kind fell into eternal slumber. The centuries, or perhaps millennia, have not been kind. They move like corpses, animated by some residual force, yet utterly lifeless, maybe even hoping to die.

A wave of guilt washes over me as I let my weapons fall to the ground, raising my fists in resignation. These miserable creatures are here for one purpose only: to make me stronger. And though they have nothing left to give, I have no choice but to take.

It's the least I can do after all they've endured—I will give them rest.

I charge forward, focused, slamming my fist into the first golem's chest. The impact is futile, like a child biting a stone. Nothing happens, but I refuse to stop.

The golem's massive arm swings into me, and I barely dodge, slipping under the blow by inches. I strike again and again, my knuckles screaming in protest, each hit useless against the unmoving wall of its body. My blood begins to splatter across its chest, falling from my broken fingers, but I keep punching.

The other constructs watch silently, their movements slow and sluggish, as if even they have lost the will to fight. Their attacks are clumsy, almost pitiful, so I mostly ignore them, my focus locked on my technique.

Until I figure it out.

Projecting my aura is one thing—visualizing the impact like a sharp attack and letting the energy take its course. But to inject aura into an opponent is different. It's intimate. Dangerous.

There's a split second of connection between us. I feel how empty this vessel truly is, and through that gap, I push forward like a wildfire. My aura creeps inside that void, consuming the corpse from within. Its body twists and inflates, unable to contain the violent flood of energy I offer. With a final groan, it staggers back before exploding into a rain of shattered pieces.

I exhale, wiping blood on my clothes. "I see… That's why you can't do this on humans."

The two remaining creatures, almost in a panic, rush at me. I jab the first one in the shoulder, and half of its chest disintegrates. The second lands a crushing blow—pain explodes across my arm, every bone broken. But I hold on, my fingers digging into its pillar-like limb until it crumbles to dust.

Grateful, I give them both a swift end.

[Hollow Knights Defeated: 3/3]

[Crafting Materials Added to Inventory]

I ignore the notifications and down another potion without checking my health bar—I already know how bad it is.

"We will now work on improving your Weapon Crafting. Manually crafting weapons will increase your crafting level. Once you've reached the required level for an item, you may use the system to instantly assemble it from its raw materials."

I pull up my inventory, glancing at the components I just collected. They're pieces for a heavy crossbow. Compared to building a gun, this feels simple, primitive. The steps flash through my mind as if assembling it were second nature.

Holding onto that thought, I concentrate, and the system does the rest. In the blink of an eye, the pieces come together, and I am holding the completed item.

Heavy Crossbow (Common) Lvl 8.

"This weapon's current level and quality won't be enough to harm your enemies, but it can serve as the foundation for something greater. You've gathered some intriguing materials..."

[New mission] Upgrade Your Crossbow.

I wanted to save this for a special occasion, but I guess staying alive would make this occasion very special.

I take out the item the last boss gave me, [Fragment Of The Last Spark]. There's a pull to it, as if it were thrilled to be used. I try to press it into the crossbow, but the items refuse to connect. And as I insist, I can see my mana bar start to go down.

"Not like I use it anyways…"

The pressure burns my hands, but I don't mind giving the system exactly what it wants. Making a small cut on my thumb, I bleed into the process, providing some sort of catalyst for the enhancement. The wood on the heavy crossbow is quickly replaced by plates of light, solid metal. The already mechanical weapon huffs as its moving parts evolve into a higher, pristine version of themselves.

The contraption I end up holding is massive, solid, both magical and technological.

[Hextech Whisper – Lvl 25 Epic Heavy Crossbow]

While holding this weapon, your Crossbow Mastery will be equal to your total level.

Mana will be consumed to generate additional ammunition.

I just stand there for a moment, dumbfounded. I know that the only reason why I was able to create something like this is because I had a rare item with me, but still… It's hard not to be proud of it.

Then, the sound of slow, deliberate clapping breaks the moment.

From the levels above, a figure descends—not a man, not human. He's draped in an impossibly white tunic, his skin a reflection of the night sky, pitch-black and speckled with shifting lights and colors like those of distant galaxies. His face is a smooth surface depicting an exploding star, yet I can immediately sense the difference between him and those who came before.

Intelligence.

There's a deliberate theatricality to his entrance, each step slow, calculated, as he leaps from level to level. His robes flutter despite no wind, until finally, he stands before me.

"Tari, mel arak Tau."

I shake my head with a bitter grin. "Sorry, man. Not really—"

The figure cuts me off, extending his right arm. An impossibly long staff slides from his sleeve, landing smoothly in his hand. With a flourish, he twists it before slamming it into the air.

"Are you my creator, stranger?" His voice is a low, resonant echo. "I recall nothing of how or why I've decided to stand before you. And yet, I am compelled by an overwhelming urge to eradicate your consciousness."

"No. I'm merely your opponent." I take a deep breath, readying my crossbow. "May I know who I face?"

The stranger tilts his head, a gesture I can't read. "I am Eclipter Bar'Su. My mission was to survive the end and forge a new beginning. But now, it seems I no longer care... May I assume we have failed? Is this the god's punishment for our rebellion? I've been here… for so long. How long?"

"Believe me," I mutter, finger already pulling the trigger, "it'll be easier if you don't think about it."

The first bolt fires, whispering through the air like a hollow scream. The Eclipter spins his staff, swatting the projectile aside as if it were a mere fly.

Exactly what I wanted.

I swap places with his staff, disarming him in an instant. Before he can react, I fire again—this time straight through his neck. The bolt pierces from side to side. He gasps, staggered, almost falling to the ground.

I fire again.

Even with a solid rod of metal embedded in him, the Eclipter recovers. He no longer bothers trying to understand what just happened, instead conjuring a barrier of solid force. The shield flickers for a moment but dissipates after absorbing the shot.

I can't swap with spells... Good to know.

As if arriving at the same conclusion as me—emboldened by the successful defense, he extends his hand, willing his arcane tool back to his grasp. His second mistake.

I drop to one knee, channeling my energy into my [Hextech Whisper]. The crossbow's mechanism hums to life, its bridge parting to reveal a core of pure, crackling energy. My fourth attack isn't a metallic arrow—it's a concentrated storm of unleashed arcane power, a crystalized spear of lightning.

Bar'Su realizes his error, but it's far too late. Desperation echoes across his starry face. He thrusts both palms forward, a last-moment effort to interrupt my attack. His sheer will slams me against the wall, knocking the air from my lungs. But it's not enough to stop the charged shot. The bolt collides with his outstretched hand, obliterating his entire right arm in a flash of stardust.

Falling to his knees, the wizard desperately reaches inside his robes, pulling out a shiny object and clinging to it in what appears to be silent prayer.

Next thing I know, red clouds cover the upper half of the chamber, unleashing a storm. The falling drops are thick like oil and sizzle every time they land on my skin, eating though my aura to leave small burns.

Acid.

HP: [-80%- ]

MP: [- 20% ]

Aura: [-50% ]

I try to dash forward, but another shield materializes—a perfect, floating sphere of protection. The acid pools on the ground, rising up to my ankles.

HP: [-72%- ]

Aura: [-40% ]

Panic kicks in. I leap onto the shield, slamming the tip of my weapon into it, hoping to create even the slightest dent before the acid consumes me.

HP: [-65%- ]

HP: [-55% ]

HP: [-45% ]

After the longest minute of my life, I manage to chip away a gap barely wide enough for a finger to fit in. It's not enough for a bolt, but it doesn't need to be. My blood, dripping from my melting skin, falls through the gap.

And that's when I switch places with him.

There's a brief pause, a moment of disbelief as he slips, falling into the acid below.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, but as I sit inside his shield, watching him dissolve inside a deathtrap of his own making, I can only laugh.

The spell takes its time dissipating, but I don't mind. My focus is on downing a potion of instant healing, feeling the damage slowly reverse before it can become permanent.

"You have survived," Pearl's voice filters in, feigning concern. "Please, gather yourself and prepare for imminent teleportation."

I force myself to my feet, every part of my body aching. "What now?"

"Preparations for our physical meeting have been completed. I'll be awaiting confirmation."

Well, there's something I need to do before I leave, that much is clear.

The first thing I grab is the Eclipter's amulet. It's lying unharmed on the ground, still pristine despite everything. The second thing I reach for is his staff. I'm not really sure what I'll do with it, but the fact that this guy nearly killed me without it says enough. No way am I leaving it behind.

"Pearl," I call out, knowing she's listening. "I'm ready. Let's go."