Chương 111: Chapter 109: The Eighth Author

Silence consumed the Library of Origins. Not even the countless floating books dared to move. The Librarian stood motionless, his wrinkled hands carefully holding the ancient journal. For the first time since the four heroes had entered the Library, the calm old man looked... uneasy. Rayan's gaze remained fixed on the weathered cover.

"The Eighth Author..."

"You said there were only seven." The Librarian slowly nodded.

"That is what every world has been taught."

"But history..."

"... is not always truth." The old man gently brushed away centuries of dust from the journal. An emblem became visible. A dragon with seven wings circled a single star. Unlike the symbols of the Seven Authors, this one carried an unfamiliar warmth. Not authority. Not judgment. Hope. Kael stepped closer.

"So this Eighth Author..."

"What happened to them?" The Librarian remained silent for several moments. Finally... He answered.

"They disappeared." Caelum frowned.

"Disappeared?"

"Authors cannot die."

"They cannot." The Librarian agreed.

"But they can be erased." Those words sent a chill through the endless Library. Even Aster instinctively tightened his grip on his silver key.

"Erased..."

"Like a story?" The Librarian looked at him sadly.

"Exactly." The journal suddenly trembled. Golden light escaped through the edges of its pages. Ancient letters floated into the air before slowly assembling themselves into moving images. The four heroes watched in silence. They were witnessing memories older than the world itself. A brilliant white realm appeared. There was no sky. No land. Only endless light. Eight figures stood together. Seven wore robes matching the colors Rayan had already seen. The eighth... Wore deep crimson.

Unlike the others, the crimson figure held no book. Instead... They carried a quill made from living starlight. The Librarian whispered,"Before stories could be written..."

"Someone had to imagine them."

"The Crimson Author possessed that gift." The vision changed. The Eight Authors argued. Although no sound emerged, their emotions could be felt. Six stood together. The Violet Author remained uncertain. The Crimson Author stood alone. Finally... The crimson figure raised the glowing quill. Countless new worlds bloomed into existence. Some peaceful. Some tragic. Some beautiful. Some terrifying. Infinite possibilities spread across reality.

"The others opposed it." The Librarian continued quietly.

"They believed every story required a fixed ending."

"The Crimson Author believed..."

"... that every soul deserved the freedom to choose its own ending." Rayan slowly lowered his head.

"So..."

"They believed the same thing I do." The old man smiled faintly.

"Perhaps." Without warning— The journal snapped shut by itself. A violent shockwave erupted through the Library. Every floating book crashed onto nearby shelves. The Forgotten screamed together. The marble floor cracked beneath the heroes' feet. High above them... The ceiling of the Library split open. Silver threads poured downward like rain. Aster looked upward in horror.

"No..."

"They found us."

"The Editors?" Rayan asked. Aster shook his head.

"Worse."

"The Seven Authors know the journal has awakened." A deafening voice echoed across the endless Library. It came from everywhere. And nowhere. > "Librarian." > "You have revealed forbidden history." The seven portals slowly reopened above the Library. Golden... Blue... Emerald... Silver... Black... Violet... White... The Seven Authors had returned. This time... They weren't observing. They had come to reclaim something. The Librarian quietly handed the journal to Rayan.

His voice remained calm despite the overwhelming pressure filling the Library.

"Whatever happens..."

"... do not let them take this book." The ancient journal felt surprisingly warm in Rayan's hands. It wasn't the warmth of fire. It was the warmth of a beating heart. Golden light seeped from its worn pages, illuminating the cracks spreading across the marble floor of the Library of Origins. Above them, the seven portals expanded until they covered the endless sky. One by one, the Seven Authors stepped through. Unlike their previous appearance... Their divine presence was no longer calm.

The Library itself trembled beneath their authority. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Millions of books flew from their shelves. Entire galaxies trapped within the pages flickered violently. The Golden Author looked directly at Rayan. Its voice echoed across every corner of existence. > "Child of Dharma..." > "Return the journal." There was no anger. Only absolute command. As though refusal had never existed. Rayan tightened his grip on the journal.

"I'll return it..."

"... after I learn why it was erased." The words shocked everyone. Kael instinctively stepped beside Rayan. Caelum silently unsheathed Fimbul. Aster's silver threads wrapped around the journal like a protective cocoon. The four stood together. Not against an army. Against the beings who had written reality itself. The Emerald Author sighed. > "Curiosity has always been humanity's greatest strength..." > "... and greatest weakness." The Silver Author extended a hand.

Thousands of glowing threads spread across the Library. Unlike the Editors' attacks... These threads carried no hostility. They sought only one thing. The journal. Before the threads could reach Rayan— BOOM! The Librarian struck his wooden staff against the marble floor. Ancient golden runes erupted beneath every bookshelf. The Library answered its guardian's call. Millions of books opened simultaneously. Their pages fluttered like wings. Words escaped into the air, forming rivers of glowing light.

The Silver Threads collided with the rivers of stories. Neither side advanced. The Violet Author smiled faintly.

"So..."

"You still choose to protect free stories." The Librarian met the Author's gaze.

"I made that choice long before this world existed." Suddenly... The journal opened on its own. No one touched it. The pages turned rapidly. One... Ten... A hundred... Until they stopped at a single illustration. It depicted the Eight Authors standing together beneath an enormous tree whose branches stretched across countless worlds. At the center stood the Crimson Author. Smiling. The image shimmered. Then... It came alive. The Crimson Author slowly stepped out from the page. Not physically. Only as a memory.

A lingering echo left inside the journal. Unlike the overwhelming aura of the Seven Authors... This figure felt comforting. Its crimson robes moved gently in an invisible breeze. Its face remained hidden beneath a hood. Yet everyone could sense the kindness radiating from it. The memory spoke softly. > "If someone is reading this..." > "... then hope survived." Rayan listened without blinking. The memory continued. > "The others feared endless possibilities." > "I feared a world without choice."

The Seven Authors remained silent. None interrupted. It was as though even they respected the final words of their forgotten companion. The memory raised the quill of starlight. > "Stories are not beautiful because they are perfect." > "They are beautiful..." > "... because imperfect people continue writing them." Golden tears formed in Aster's eyes. For the first time... He remembered.

"I know that voice..." He whispered.

"It was the one..."

"... that created me." The Crimson Author slowly turned toward Aster. Even though it was only a memory... It smiled. > "No, little Weaver." > "I did not create you." > "I gave you the freedom..." > "... to create yourself." Aster fell to his knees. Centuries of loneliness. Centuries of confusion. Finally... He understood why he existed. Not to maintain destiny. But to protect possibility. The memory began fading. Before disappearing completely, it looked toward Rayan.

> "When the World Tree reaches its final leaf..." > "Seek its forgotten root." > "There..." > "... the truth behind the Final Eclipse sleeps." The image dissolved into countless crimson lights. The journal slowly closed. Silence returned to the Library. Even the Seven Authors remained motionless. The Violet Author quietly lowered its head.

"The prophecy..."

"... has awakened once again." Far beyond the endless shelves... Something ancient stirred beneath the Library. A single root... As vast as a continent... Slowly pulsed with crimson light. And from the darkness below... A pair of ancient golden eyes opened for the first time in ten thousand years. To Be Continue....