Chapter 74: Horror Story

Sen’s fist flew toward the dean. Seven identical blue copies formed around his strike. The punch landed on a spectral barrier around Withershade. A barrier that cracked. The dean flew backward, splitting through the fancy table he’d been sitting at when Sen arrived. He slammed into a bookshelf and was lost in an avalanche of falling books. 

That brought a smile to Sen’s face. He eyed the specter, who floated there impassively. 

Tutor, begin the search. There was opportunity in this place, but he’d have to be strategic. 

Unsurprisingly, the pile of books shifted as the dean pulled himself from underneath the mess. 

He rose with a sneer on his face. Withershade waved a hand, and the three books still floating behind Sen shot towards the man. A light formed around them, and copies of humans formed. The Shield Lord was a bright blue that towered over the others. A gigantic metallic shield appeared in his hand. In the same way Sikar’s staff had been perfectly replicated, apparently the weapons of others could be as well. The Queen of Gardens was unsurprisingly green. A staff with a rosebud atop it appeared in her hand. Finally, the Lord of Sickles appeared as black as night. He carried twin sickles in each hand that radiated dark energy. Shadow magic, or something similar enough. 

[Though one has the abilities of a Queen, they are all actually around the level of Lord.] 

Sen nodded. That was good. He didn’t want to fight a queen-class mage alongside two lords and whatever the dean and this specter were. His gut told him the specter was at least a lord. The fact that Tutor hadn’t told him meant he couldn’t confirm. 

The worst part was that the dean could summon more of these if he wanted to. How many more books containing at least lord-level knowledge were housed within this library? Sen scanned his three new opponents.

The Dean smirked. “I have a proposal for you, Sen. You could fight a battle you’re guaranteed to lose. Or, you can give your powers up willingly. In exchange, I’ll allow you to save one of your friends. Pick carefully. There won’t be any retakes on this exam.”

Sen looked around. A dreadbeast tore through the knights and charged at Ilm. To his right, Sikar’s copy kicked Samara and sent her flying across the room. Milim fell to her knees and clutched her head, screaming. All of them were in danger. 

Sen sighed. He reached up and cast quickly. “Gate Destruction Maxim.” 

The effect of his spell gave off the impression of shattered glass bursting forth from each of the portals. He hadn’t destroyed the visual itself. Only the physical connection itself. Now, neither he nor the dean could step through and intervene. 

The dean stared in disbelief. A jagged mouth emerged from the darkness of the specter’s hood and smiled. “Why would you—you’ve doomed them. Do you care that little about your friends? About your siblings?” The dean demanded. 

Sen chuckled. “I trained them. I’ve prepared them as much as possible. They’re stronger than you realize. They’re stronger than they realize. When we walk through fire, when we face an impossible opponent, and it seems like there’s no way out. That’s when we find our real strength. I haven’t doomed them, Withershade. I’m believing in them. This is their moment, and I wouldn’t dare deprive them of it. Now, let’s see how you face your moment. Will you stand proud at the end of our duel? Or will the fire consume you?”

The dean snorted. “You think you’re my fire? Sen, you’ve grossly overestimated yourself. The power in this place will be your downfall. If you’re a simple flame, my power is an inferno.”

“I warned you, Dean Withershade. You’ll wish you’d heeded it.” 

The power of his hybrid stats clicked into place like puzzle pieces connecting. The smooth feel of a wind flow encased him as his hybrid speed stat whispered into existence. A rage of mana burned through his veins as his hybrid strength stat filled him with power. He turned his attention to the book spirits. 

[Nice name!]

Well, I needed to call them something. 

He shot forward, and the book spirits did so in kind. The Shield Lord was the first to reach him. In Sen’s periphery, he saw a massive wall crashing down on him. He returned with a force of his own. A fist met the dense shield, and it felt like punching a building. Behind him twin sickles slashed through the air. He released the pressure on the shield and rolled to the side. Sickles met shield. Both opponents turned to give chase. A flurry of tendrils rose from the ground like the dead. Each of them sought to wrap around Sen’s legs. He slammed a foot into the ground. “Mana Kindling Maxim!” The tendrils slithered away at the threat of fire. Embers spread around the library ground in a fifteen-foot radius around him. Mana Kindling would seek nearby mana. Setting any spell ablaze, regardless of element. 

The dean’s eyes widened, and even Remias frowned in disapproval. Sen raised a brow. If they were so concerned about books, they really shouldn’t have attacked him here. That gave him an idea. Though one that pained him. As two book spirits charged him, with sickle and shield in hand, and a third prepared some ranged spell. He turned and aimed a hand toward the bookshelf to his left. “Fireball Maxim!” he shouted. 

The fireball formed, and he poured mana into it. He instinctively switched to Mana Protection, abandoning Aggression in its favor. Then he released the technique. Twin sickles met his wards and slammed into him, but the blazing ball of fire had already set forth. Moments before it met the bookshelves, the Shield Lord intercepted it, catching the spell on his shield. Despite the spirit’s defenses, the raw force of the spell sent it flying backward. It smashed through five or six rows of bookshelves before coming to a halt, leaving a Shield Lord sized hole in them. Books tumbled to the ground. Pages bent and spines broke, but at least they weren’t on fire. 

That didn’t seem to make Withershade or Remias feel any better about it. And it was in that moment that Sen learned they’d been holding back. Hundreds of books flew off the shelves, and a mass of book spirits formed. They weren’t lords, luckily. That much he could tell on his own. He waited for Tutor to analyze them. It took a moment longer than usual since there were so many, and he’d been in the middle of another task.

[They range from Squire to Knight Commander Class.] 

At these numbers, they’d pose almost as much of a threat as the Lords. Sen brushed himself off, staring at the Lord of Sickle that glared at him nearby. He thought through his arsenal, searching for something to wipe out as many of these creatures at once as he could manage, but the dean moved first. 

“Shift Institution Academia!” 

Sen tilted his head. “What?”

The ground underneath Sen’s feet rose to encompass him. He threw his arms out to stop the walls from crushing him. But this spell didn’t seem to do that. He was surrounded on all sides, and the ground shifted rapidly underneath his feet as if he were moving. He traded speed for strength and punched his way out. When he emerged, he was in a different part of this strange library. Book spirits still surrounded him, but the dean, Remias, and the three lord-level book spirits were gone. They’d sent him away. When he looked around, he realized why. The books here were thinner and smaller. 

“These must be the less valuable ones. Or at least the ones they’re willing to part with.” He wished they’d sent him away from books altogether. He didn’t desire to destroy knowledge either, as ill gained as it was. The first spirit reached him; a squire-class, his instincts told him. He punched it and its head fell clean off. It splashed against the ground in what seemed a puddle.

[Finger Spear!] The head said from the ground. Sen blinked at the voice. It sounded just like someone his age. Even that had been copied? The body attacked with sharpened fingers, and Sen ducked to the side. 

With a sigh, he ripped the book from the spirit’s core, but its attack persisted. “Set Ablaze Maxim.”

The book burned in an instant. At that same moment, the spirit dissolved into nothingness. The realization was depressing. He’d need to destroy the books inside to remove the spirit. As the horde of spirits settled in on him, he forced himself to acknowledge what needed to be done. 

Dean Withershade 

He focused on the powerful mana connection tethering him to three former inhabitants of these academic halls. The Shield Lord, the Queen of Gardens, the Lord of Sickle. He sent them only a single instruction. “If he returns, kill him.” 

As one, they acknowledged him. Sen might be an impressive first-year student, but he was still a first-year. He lacked the decades of experience that the dean had built up over a lifetime. Even these book spirits were a perfect match for him. He looked up at Remias. The founder of Brightsail Academy looked displeased with the situation. Though he only occasionally manifested a mouth to express his displeasure, Withershade had learned to read him over the years. There were signs. The way his form wavered more when he was upset. The way his mana felt. Even the general atmosphere of the library shifted with his master’s emotions. Dean Withershade had served Remias Brightsail for far longer than any previous dean had. If anyone understood the enigmatic scholar, it was he. 

“The boy wreaks havoc in this sacred space.”

Withershade frowned at the words. It was true, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. “I sent him to the first-year shelves. It’s a loss, but nothing irreplaceable. Besides, what we gain from him and his friends will be monumental for us. In the end, it’s simply an exchange of knowledge. It’ll take a while for him to return. For now, we should ensure these other battles end quickly. Seeing his friends dead will be quite the morale loss for him,” he said.

The Shield Lord turned his head, and his enormous frame made it too noticeable to ignore. The dean looked up just in time to see Sen crash into the hulking spirit. “What the—” 

A giant wolf emerged from behind a bookshelf and slammed into the Sickle Lord, sending him flying. The wolf spun around and bit the Queen of Gardens by the neck. Her power was magical, not physical. Waves of plants formed around to intercept it, but the wolf ignored them and ran off into the darkness with the spirit trailing in its mouth. 

The Shield Lord grappled with Sen, who had a furious look in his eyes. He punched its face with the strength of a warrior. The dean had always wondered about the first-years’ stat distribution. How could he hit that hard and also demonstrate suchmagical power as well? Not to mention his speed and durability. It was as if he was leveling all of them to unusual heights. That or he’d truly mastered some incredible enhancements. 

The dean lifted a land. He wasn’t sure what monstrous spell Sen was using, but it was too powerful if it allowed him to overwhelm the Shield Lord like this. If he sent him away again, the spell would wear off. This was some sort of last resort; it had to be. Sen wasn’t this powerful. “Shift Institution Academia!” 

Sen looked up and glared at him. The floor rose to swallow both Sen and the Shield Lord. 

“Redesign—” 

Whatever spell the boy had started to cast was quieted as the academy reworked the rules of reality to shift Sen away.

Remias growled. “Behind you!” he warned. 

Withershade whirled around to see Sen emerge from the ground and shoot towards him. In his hand was the book of the Shield Lord. Behind him the Shield Lord’s body was dissolving into mist. He’d killed it. He’d killed a lord-level spirit without destroying its book.

And he was coming for the Withershade. 

In that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and the dean forgot himself. He stumbled back in fear. Sen’s primal rage on clear display. Sen’s fist reared back, ready to smack into the dean’s face. Withershade scrambled backwards. 

The Sickle Lord’s footsteps reverberated off the ground, and Withershade felt a moment of relief when it shot forward to intercept Sen. But the boy’s necklace flew off from his neck and formed into a lance mid-air. It pierced the Sickle Lord’s body and sent it flying away. 

The dean looked up at Remias for assistance. For protection. But the academy’s founder was lost in obsession. He wasn’t concerned about the dean. He cared only to make this power his own. Withershade was on his own. He threw a hand up to protect himself, and his authority forced the floor to rise as well.

In the end, it didn’t matter. 

Sen punched through it and landed a blow directly on the dean’s face. His glasses shattered and his nose broke. He flew backwards, once again, into a row of bookshelves and came crashing to a halt. 

Whatever book might be made from Sen’s magic was nothing short of a horror story.