The Library Sit-In Incident (1)
Tianis Academy's library saw over 5,000 visitors a day. And atop its clock tower, with a poof! a certain something appeared.
It was a tiny creature, shrunken down to the size of a mouse compared to a human.
"Hi! I'm Shasha."
Shasha waved a hand smaller than a grain of rice.
"Who am I, you ask? No way you don't know me?"
Shasha brought both hands to its mouth in mock shock. But it quickly pulled them away and continued.
"Ahem. Well, you might not. I'm a pretty secretive existence, after all. So, who am I? Well..."
Shasha cupped its hands around its mouth to keep the secret from leaking out and leaned in close.
"I'm the spirit of the Tianis Library."
It whispered in the tiniest voice.
"Huh? A spirit like that doesn't exist? Of course not. Unlike natural spirits, I'm an artificial one. Made by humans, no less."
Shasha was an artificial spirit born from human hands!
"Ahem! So, don't I seem different now? I can read your mind—no need to say it. You thought I was some rat pup. It's fine. I'll graciously forgive you with my broad mind."
Shasha planted its hands on its hips and puffed out its chest proudly. Then it tilted its head.
"Why make a library spirit, you ask? You really know nothing! Why else? To manage the Tianis Library, duh."
Shasha leaped down from the clock tower. Hovering in midair, it floated toward the library's central hub.
"Know how many books are stored here? Over 200 million volumes. There are more than 5,000 librarians working, but they're human in the end. How could they manage that many? And with thousands of visitors every day."
Librarians were always swamped. Finding books for students, sorting shelves, repairing damaged tomes, and more. Way too much. Magic helped, of course, but not everything could be solved with spells.
That's where Shasha came in—to aid the overworked librarians! Shasha was a great and noble existence!
"Ahem! Impressed now? Huh? Who made such a great spirit? Obviously, the great mage Kiran."
Shasha shot a look that said, Why ask something so obvious?
"Oh, Kiran? The founding emperor of the Tiran Empire. And a total... asshole, no conscience, self-centered idiot!"
Shasha puffed out its cheeks in fury.
"Work too hard? Nah. If I didn't love this job, how could I stick around for 400 years? I'm mad about my name."
Shasha hated its own name.
"As an artificial spirit, I need a name to anchor me to the world. So that idiot Kiran asked if I wanted a specific one. I was born from a 10th-circle archmage, so I had ego and intelligence from the start."
And that name was Kelchatuus Maximilian.
"Isn't it awesome? Totally my style. But that moron was like, 'What trash naming sense is that?' and slapped me with Shasha on his own."
Thinking back to that moment still made Shasha boil. It should've fought harder for the real name.
"Enough gloomy talk. Time for a library tour!"
Shasha flew toward the open central atrium.
"I said there are 200 million books, right? All kinds, from everywhere. Not just the empire—knowledge from the entire continent."
Everything from current events to ancient history. Theology from the Holy Kingdom, lost records from the barbarian north, secret theses published only by Parun's Magic Tower. Deeper in, tomes of mysteries and magic. And forbidden books sealed away somewhere.
"There are books unrelated to learning, too."
Shasha hovered beside a student pulling a book from a corner shelf. As he opened it—poof!—smoke billowed out, shrinking him to child size. The book vanished.
"The Dwarf's Curse. Forces you smaller. Don't worry—back to normal in 30 minutes."
Shasha flew past the student.
"This library's full of Kiran's pranks. Like that."
Shasha pointed to a lost, wandering student.
"Kiran twisted space with mana and shelf layouts. Dozens get lost daily."
Shasha waved a hand. The panicking student was ejected outside. As manager, Shasha controlled the library's magic.
"Pranks don't end there. Kiran hid weird stuff between books to scare students. Something about 'opportunities' or whatever. Anyway!"
As long as books weren't damaged, Shasha didn't care.
"Next, the visitors."
Shasha headed to the second floor, where earnest first-years studied.
"Fresh Tianis newbies. So cute at this stage. But second-years? Different story."
Shasha pointed to second-years with soulless eyes.
"That's when they start cracking. Third-years reach enlightenment. Not cute anymore—just pitiful. And the most pitiful are..."
Shasha zipped to the seventh floor, packed with zombies shuffling through books, drafting theses. Graduate students.
"Zombies! They're the future leaders of the empire! Just made a slight career detour! Okay, not cute—they just moan uuuugh all day."
Still, some stayed cute forever. Like Kiran's descendant.
"Ariel's adorable. Wanna squeeze her tight."
There she was, elegantly reading in a single-seater chair. Her black hair and eyes resembled Kiran's. And Ariel was the most special royal.
"What are you doing here, Shasha?"
"Hi, Ariel?"
Ariel noticed it. Artificial spirits like Shasha were hard to sense, even for the perceptive. True to Kiran's blood.
"Touring the library!"
"I see. Thanks as always. I'll bring almond cookies from the palace later."
"Yay!"
Shasha's favorite snack. Kiran used to bake them himself. Nostalgic times.
"See ya later."
"Yes, Shasha. Take care today."
"Yup!"
Shasha grinned, departing Ariel. Talking with her was fun—starting with her noticing it.
"Besides Ariel, there's another suspicious student, but I don't wanna talk to him..."
One it suspected noticed it too: Kyle Arden, who reminded it of Kiran's friend.
Shasha recalled him.
"Sharp-eyed punk. How'd someone like that come from Keilon?"
Impossible to believe he descended from that gentle soul. Total opposite. Ariel was the reverse of prankster Kiran, but this was another level.
"He's a total jerk. Half a year ago, he borrowed a book, burned it, tore it—fixing it was hell. Moves like a villain."
Lately, no mischief. He dug up Kiran's secrets sometimes but didn't harm books.
"Whatever. Hate thinking about him."
Even so, as the guy who'd wrecked books, Shasha still despised Kyle Arden.
Shasha turned away. And saw it—a student fiddling with some device.
"Hey! Wait! Don't touch th—!"
Too late. Vwooom!! The library's magic activated.
Two weeks flew by. With expectations high, time felt even faster.
And word came from Orange Forge: pick up the commission.
I bolted there immediately.
"Bro? Heading to the forge?"
"Yeah, it's done."
"Same here. Let's go together."
I ran into Evan en route. Same drop-off day, so finished together.
Evan's steps were light the whole way. Mine too.
Then Evan, buzzing with excitement, turned to me.
"Dwarf-forged weapons... Never thought I'd see the day."
"Tone it down. Embarrassing."
"You're nobility—gold's pocket change. But 3,000 gold! A commoner couldn't touch that in a lifetime!"
Evan grabbed and shook my shoulders, then froze seriously.
"What if... we lose 'em? Or get stolen?"
"Won't happen. Let go. I've got countermeasures. Hurry—I wanna see 'em too."
"R-Really? Okay, trusting you..."
I overtook Evan. Too chatty at crunch time.
Soon, we reached Orange Forge and entered the shop.
"Been waiting. No need for chit-chat. Downstairs."
Brand led us straight below. Greetings were pointless, as he said.
Descending, tension sweat slicked my palms more than forge heat. Neck and forehead too.
"Quiet today. Where's everyone?"
Evan asked. Furnaces roared, but no dwarf smiths. Eerily silent.
"Inspired by your swords—holed up tinkering. All work-no-play made 'em itchy. Dwarves gotta forge what they crave."
"That good?"
"Damn right. Beyond imagination. Way over the price."
We entered Torka's forge. Messier than last time—walls soot-blackened, floor littered with dust and tools.
Center: a drunk chugging bottles. Empties everywhere.
"Here."
"Quit boozing, you old coot! At your age, that's a death sentence!"
Brand yelled, snatching the bottle. Whale-killing amount.
"Swords?"
"Hid 'em—others'd swarm. Check under the anvil."
Brand handled it for exhausted Torka. He rummaged below, pulling a hidden box.
"Heave-ho. Your new blades from today."
He opened the lid slowly. Two swords gleamed.
Evan gawked.
"......"
"Ooooh!!"
One: pure white from hilt to blade. Pristine light flowed nobly along its edge.
The other: jet-black throughout. Inky sheen devoured all light.
Art incarnate. Most shocking: identical shapes. Perfect match, no variance.
"...May I ask why they're the same?"
I eyed Torka. Impossible from dwarf hands.
Fighters vary—styles, grips, builds demand custom fits. Dwarves tailor via trials for that reason.
"Wasn't the plan. Evan's still finding his path, unlike you. His original design differed."
Torka swigged and continued.
"We dwarves, hammering, read the fate and will of the child birthed from our hands."
I knew. Only elite meisters at pinnacle mastery.
"Result?"
"Aye. Both blades willed it—so as smith, couldn't deny. Fates eerily alike sealed it."
Couldn't argue there. Dwarf read it, chose—reason enough. Questioning was foolish.
"Not entirely same, right?"
"Shells match; cores differ utterly. No worries."
I sighed inwardly. Good—that held.
"Hm. But couldn't match forms with your materials alone."
"Meaning...?"
"Used some of yours in Evan's forging."
Explained the fiercer aura. Huh.
"Sorry—no heads-up. Smithly greed led me astray."
"Eh, whatever."
"Won't end in words. Betrayed your trust as smith. If offended, I'll compensate."
Hm? Unexpected.
I hadn't minded. Materials used, that's it. For Evan, fine. Anyone else? Rage. Already used, boosted performance? Win for me.
But compensation from a first-wave dwarf? Different story.
"How far?"
"Max within my power."
"Got it. Need nothing now—I'll collect later."
"Deal."
Done.
"Black's yours; white's his."
I gripped the black sword. Heavy heft surged through fingers. Heavier than expected.
"Evan, yours."
"Yes, sir!"
Evan took the white one.
"Ugh, heavy."
"You'll adapt. Names?"
"Black: Karsa. White: Raman."
"Karsa..."
Murmuring, it vibrated faintly. Responding.
"Wanna swing it? Give a whirl."
"Yes."
I faced an empty path—just in case.
"Hoo..."
Exhaled, relaxed fully. Power drained timing.
Swish!
I slashed lightly.
BOOM!!
Wall cracked with thunder.