808. Librarians on the Floor of Ego

808. Librarians on the Floor of Ego

The last 1,201 Impuritas appeared in a fragmented dreamscape. Floating islands populated by shattered ruins of various eras ranging from several thousand years before the Advent of Civilization to potential future worlds.

And number of biomes were isolated on various islands like miniature terrariums. The breeze of a winter wonderland blew across the precarious world the Librarians and the 200 Impuritas found themselves in. Symbols, voices, glyphs – a myriad of incomprehensible languages appeared and disappeared from the boundaries of the world, where the light above meshed with the abyss below.

Scheherazade, the Expositionist, comprehended these messages as she held out a hand to prevent her Librarians from taking a step further. They found themselves on a large island surrounded by thousands of tiny ones. Crystal thorns protruded from the ground, creating a wall that stood tens of meters high.

“It must look like a bird’s nest from afar.” Scheherazade muttered to herself as her eyes reflected the infinite number of glyphs and voices from beyond the void, reading them like they were muttering in the back of her mind. “... I’ve never heard of the voices so clearly. It’s like the Eternal Library. But the source of information is murkier. Less organized. What is this place supposed to be?”

Expositionists gained their understanding of the world around them through information stored within the Eternal Library. They could harness the Eternal Library’s knowledge from anywhere within the world for the one purpose of narrating the present. The future was not something they could interpret. Neither was the past easily accessible.

Consequently, Expositionists were not always correct as they were but mere narrators.

A sudden chill ran down the woman’s spine as the crystal thorns pried themselves apart like the ribs of a giant. A path leading to a blue, crystal throne was revealed to them. She threw her hand up, drawing an ink-drawn ‘F’ which then fired a grand flare into the sky.

“MOVE!” She howled. “We’re up against one of the Nexus’ monsters! Scrapers! Extract as much knowledge as you can! My tails – Don’t move recklessly! Blood doesn’t come in infinite quantities, so I will not be able to recreate more than a hundred more at most!”

Scheherazade’s knowledge was precise in the Nexus, to the point where she knew the name of this Floor and its owner. It was because of this she was able to foresee an attack that would have caused them to plummet into the abyss beneath.

The flare exploded like a firework seconds before a crack split the mainland in half. It originated from a dull, frozen blade that sat beneath the occupied throne.

“Secondary shockwaves from the outside! Resolve yourself mentally!” Scheherazade commanded, snapping her fingers to create a beautiful, azure magic circle consisting of the letter ‘R’ to increase the RESIST of her companions.

As she foresaw in her interpretations of the voices from this place; a shockwave ripped through the world. It was not physical per say, but an entirely psychological wave that caused the Virtuosos present to clasp at their heads.

“Forgive me! I... who am I speaking with? How many voices are there...?”

“Get out of my head! It’s crawling in my head!”

They were unable to resist a fraction of what the Expositionist dealt with at every living hour as an interpreter of the Eternal Library’s knowledge. Although, it was not like she could blame them. Anyone with a frail mind would succumb to the collective shriek from beyond the void.

Her Librarians moved to opposing islands, gathering into organized clumps as the remaining 200 Virtuosos stumbled and stammered in the wake of the changing world.

“[Protobiotic Guard]? A shield given to the first-born of the Light?”

The Light was not a concept unfamiliar to Scheherazade. The fact that she could create beings revealed that she was closer to an Author than a Librarian, but one could not become an Author of Existentia without the consensus of the established Authors.

Furthermore, it was punishable for a Librarian to dabble in the creation of a tale without their input – a sin that Scheherazade was guilty of.

“Oh. You’re not an ordinary Expositionist, are you?” Finally, a glimpse of entertainment appeared in the eyes of the Archetype of Ego. “So it was written down in the books after all. How could it not be... I see. You were part of the Library to begin with, after all. It’s in your namesakes.”

Like Scheherazade, the Archetype was able to see parts of her psyche as though she was reading from a tale.

“We were always there!” Scheherazade erupted, summoning various bows and arrows, hoping to puncture the Archetype’s defenses. “We tended to the Library before your Archetype of Civilization took over and went into hiding for 300 years!”

But it was futile. The Archetype rose to her feet sluggishly like an annoyed king. Then, she descended from crystal throne with heavy, steep steps. Beneath the sky-blue hair was an expression befitting one who truly saw them as nothing more than insects.

“So it would seem that way to you. I’m more understanding than you may think.” She began, snapping her fingers in a similar manner as the Expositionist.

Only this time, the Archetype of Ego was able to summon far more embellished versions of the Justica Arms to assist her.

“H-How –!”

“These are not Justica Arms.”

“[Antiquated Rifles]. Weapons of a forlorn past or future. The choice of interpretation is yours...? Just what are you –!?”

The silent limitations of the Justica Arms could compare to the raw howls of a smoldering firearm. The Archetype of Ego possessed multiple weapons in what the Expositionst assumed was a [Dimensional Storage]. But these weapons, which took various forms and shot out identical bullets, were something she had ever seen before.

Not only that, but these weapons fired on their own with the precision of a marksman.

“Like you, I was once a guardian of my own sacred place, only to be usurped ad infinitum. Gradually, I grew to learn how to use other weapons aside from my blade.”