The library was quiet.
Too quiet.
Most people said that silence was comforting. To Elias Crowe, it was suffocating. It reminded him that, outside these endless shelves, the world was alive with clashing swords, roaring monsters, and shining hunters who risked everything to protect humanity.
Inside, there was only dust.
Elias sat hunched behind the oak counter of the Grand National Archive, spectacles sliding down the bridge of his nose as he copied repairs into the ledger. The quill in his hand scratched steadily, filling neat lines across yellowing parchment. Around him, the towering shelves reached up to a vaulted ceiling shrouded in shadow, filled with centuries' worth of tomes nobody read anymore.
The library had been his home for years. Not because he belonged here, but because there was nowhere else to go. He wasn't a hunter. He wasn't strong. He wasn't even an ordinary worker with a marketable Class.
When the Awakening Wave swept the globe fifteen years ago, people discovered their gifts. Warriors, Mages, Archers, Healers—everyday humans transformed overnight into heroes. They became the guilds that fought back the encroaching dungeons, those twisted tears in reality where monsters poured out like ink from a spilled bottle.
And Elias?
He had stood in line for hours, waiting for the crystal orb to glow. It hadn't. He had left the Awakening Hall with no Class, no power, no potential.
"Unranked."
"Useless."
"Background extra."
Those were the words whispered by the hunters who sneered at people like him. Even years later, Elias could still hear their voices.
He pushed the memory down and turned another page in the ledger. The lamp on his desk burned low, painting the air with a golden haze.
"Better to tend to books," he murmured to himself, "than to die trying to be in one."
It was a philosophy that kept him alive, even if it meant he was invisible.
The clock ticked. Midnight. Outside, the world was probably alive with guild banquets, hunters celebrating another raid cleared, cameras flashing as celebrities wielded their legendary skills. Elias had read the newspapers, the magazines. Every guild leader had their own fan clubs. Their battles were broadcasted like sports.
He wasn't bitter. Not exactly. But sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he wondered what it would feel like to hold power in his hands—to matter.
The ground rumbled.
The ink bottle on his desk trembled. At first, Elias thought it was thunder. But then the vibrations grew sharper, heavier, until the entire counter rattled beneath his elbows. A book slid off the shelf behind him and landed with a dull thud.
Elias sat up straight. His pulse quickened.
"No… not here."
The air thickened, pressing down like a storm front. From the far end of the archive came a sound—stone grinding against stone, echoing through the aisles. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Elias's stomach dropped. He had read about this. Hunters called it a "dungeon manifestation." When space tore open and a gate appeared, reality itself warped around it.
And one was opening in his library.
The polished tiles of the central floor split down the middle, a jagged crack racing outward like lightning. Blue runes crawled along the edges, glowing brighter, brighter, until the entire section caved inward with a deafening crash.
Elias stumbled back, shielding his face as a blast of air swept through the hall. Books tore from their shelves, spiraling into the abyss as though the world itself was being inhaled. The lamp shattered, plunging the room into shadows lit only by the glow of the runes.
He tried to run. His legs wouldn't move. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow.
From the pit, something climbed out.
An armored knight, three meters tall, its frame forged of rusted plates bound with glowing seams of magic. A hollow helm turned toward him, twin blue flames burning inside the sockets. Its halberd scraped against the stone as it rose.
More followed. Dozens. Hollow suits of armor, clambering from the rift one after another, their movements synchronized like a marching army.
Elias's knees weakened. His mind screamed at him to run, but his body was frozen.
"I… I can't…"
The knight's blazing gaze fixed on him.
It raised its halberd.
Elias's life didn't flash before his eyes. No memories, no regrets. Just a single thought: of course. I wasn't even important enough for a proper ending.
The halberd fell.
A book crashed onto his desk.
Not just any book. A tome bound in cracked black leather, older than the archive itself. Its cover burst open with a blinding light, pages fluttering free like wings of fire. The letters rose from the parchment, glowing symbols spiraling around Elias's body.
The knight's weapon froze inches from his face.
Elias's eyes widened as a voice inscribed itself directly into his mind.
> [System Initialization Complete]
Welcome, Reader.
The Librarian's Codex has chosen you.
The tome hovered before him, scattering its pages into orbit like stars. His breath caught as glowing words wrote themselves in midair.
> [Archive Available]
Enemy: Rusted Knight (Dungeon Construct).
Skills: Heavy Swing, Iron Guard, March of Chains.
Would you like to record?
His lips trembled. "I… I don't…"
The knight roared, halberd lifting again.
Elias's heart screamed—say yes.
"Yes!"
The words flared.
> [Skill Page Recorded: Heavy Swing]
[Skill Page Recorded: Iron Guard]
Knowledge flooded his mind. The weight of a halberd. The stance of a knight. The exact angle of a crushing strike. Elias gasped, instinctively grabbing a fallen bookshelf plank. His hands no longer shook. His body moved on its own.
The knight lunged. Elias sidestepped, swinging the plank with uncanny precision. Wood cracked against metal, splitting glowing runes across its chest.
He staggered back, panting. I… I hit it?
The Codex glowed.
> [Annotation Available]
Heavy Swing → Precise Swing.
Apply change?
Elias's voice was steady. "…Yes."
The plank in his hands hummed. His muscles tensed with sharpened clarity, as if the wasted motions of his body had been erased.
The knight charged. Elias met it head-on, swinging once—clean, perfect. The plank shattered through its chestplate. Blue fire sputtered out. The armor collapsed into a heap.
Silence.
Elias stood trembling, sweat dripping down his temples, glasses fogged. Around him, the tome hovered, its pages still glowing.
> [Page Recorded Successfully.]
Welcome, Archivist. This is only the beginning.
The ground rumbled again. Elias turned his head slowly.
Dozens of knights were climbing from the rift, halberds gleaming, blue fire blazing.
Elias tightened his grip on the plank. His glasses caught the Codex's glow. His lips curved into the faintest, most fragile smile.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't just reading stories.
He was inside one.
And the world had just handed him the first page.