Dimensional Librarian

Velgrin stood near the reading alcove, straight-backed and composed, his hands folded neatly behind him. The Library's silence draped around them like a curtain. Levi stood a few paces away, expression unreadable, the black Library Permit in hand.

Velgrin inclined his head.

"Mr. Levi," he said respectfully, "if I may make a request regarding our destination."

Levi didn't speak right away. His gaze remained forward, fixed on the smooth southern wall of the Library. When he did respond, his voice was calm and firm.

"Speak."

"My office at Henderson Academy," Velgrin said. "It is registered as a private arcane sanctum under my authority. Designating it as our anchor point will ensure a secure and uninterrupted arrival."

"You have full access?" Levi asked.

"Yes," Velgrin confirmed. "No students enter. It is shielded against scrying and dimensional interference. The location is insulated and isolated. It is where I returned from when I entered your Library."

Levi finally turned his head, dark eyes steady. "You're affiliated with the Academy."

Velgrin gave a measured nod. "Archwizard of the 6th Circle. Senior Lecturer in Flame Theory. I also serve as tactical consultant for the Council's dueling curriculum. at Handerson Academy"

"And you're allowed to open external gates into the premises."

"With pre-registered anchor codes," Velgrin said. "Mine are already set. No alarms will trigger."

Levi considered that for a long moment. The silence didn't feel heavy — it felt controlled. He projected no emotion. No hesitation.

Only stillness.

Then he nodded once.

"Your request is accepted," he said. "We'll use your office as our anchor point."

Velgrin bowed with precision. "Thank you, Mr. Levi."

Levi turned to face the southern wall fully, raising the Permit between two fingers. The obsidian-black card shimmered faintly in the Library light.

"Remain behind me," Levi said without looking back. "Do not follow until I verify the integrity of the threshold."

"Understood," Velgrin said.

Levi stepped forward, the long coat shifting behind him. He walked without hesitation, each movement precise and efficient. When he stopped before the blank stone wall, he raised the card to eye level.

No flare of power. No chant. Just a slow, deliberate swipe through the air.

The Library responded.

Thin cracks of light webbed outward across the wall's surface — not fractures, but seams. Seamlines. Scripted runes glowed faintly, forming an arch.

Then the stone dissolved inward.

And the doorway opened.

Behind it, a ripple of still, colorless magic hovered — stable, quiet, waiting.

Levi turned toward the southern wall of the Library, retrieving the black Permit from his coat. It gleamed faintly between his fingers.

He didn't rush.

Each step was deliberate.

Measured.

He stopped before the smooth stone wall, eyes focused. No show of tension. No wasted movement.

"You will step through only after I confirm the anchor," he said.

"Understood."

"If the space is breached, you fall back and wait. Do not follow."

Velgrin bowed again. "As you command."

Levi raised the card.

The air around him responded instantly. Pressure shifted. Silence grew taut.

From behind, Velgrin watched a figure of authority in motion — cloaked in black, radiating stillness, no excess gesture or speech. A presence that altered the room simply by existing.

Levi didn't glance back.

No need.

"Prepare yourself," he said. "We enter your world on my signal."

Then he swiped the card through the air.

The wall split.

A portal began to bloom.

And reality bent to the will of the Librarian.

There was no flash.

No sound.

Just a shift.

A tug behind his sternum, like someone yanked a thread through his chest and forgot to tie a knot.

Then gravity caught him again, and he stepped onto solid stone.

Levi didn't stumble. Didn't flinch. On the outside, he moved with the same slow grace he'd practiced in front of a mirror back when social media clout paid his rent.

Internally?

Okay. I didn't vomit. That's a win. Step one: don't puke. Step two: don't die. We're halfway to victory.

The room was plain. Surprisingly plain.

A single desk—broad, dark, spotless. Two guest chairs straight enough to qualify as interrogation equipment. A bookshelf lined with scrolls and manuals, all sorted by subject. He clocked battle magic, planar law, a few policy codices… and Arcane Ethics: Revised, with what looked like angry margin notes in red ink.

To the right, a tall window offered a view of a courtyard below. Robed students drifted past in silence, probably on their way to set something on fire in the name of education.

And then… the far wall.

Seven skulls.

Just hanging there.

Mounted with the kind of precision that said, "This is not a threat, it's just how I catalog murder."

Six were obviously not human—drake, basilisk, wolves with too many teeth. But the seventh? Definitely human. Small. Smooth. Edges charred like it had been roasted, then polished for display.

Levi did not move.

Externally, he radiated cool, silent control.

Internally?

WHY IS THERE A HUMAN SKULL ON THE WALL. WHO FILES THAT UNDER DECOR. WHO GAVE THIS MAN A TEACHING LICENSE.

Behind him, the portal closed with a whisper.

Velgrin stepped through, robes perfectly still despite the motion. Staff tapped once on the stone, more punctuation than support.

"Welcome, Mr. Levi," Velgrin said, calm and reverent. "This space is yours for as long as you require it."

Levi took two steps into the room, coat sweeping slightly behind him. Hands behind his back. Chin high. Entire posture: 'Yes, I meant to do this.'

He didn't respond.

Because the moment he opened his mouth, the odds of blurting out, "Do you keep the rest of the skeletons in a closet?" were dangerously high.

"You bring presence even when you do not speak," Velgrin added, voice low.

Yes. That's because I'm holding back a scream with the power of my liver.

Levi gave a solemn nod.

The room smelled of old parchment, magical oil, and some kind of dried herb that screamed 'wizard meditation starter pack.' The atmosphere was thick with history and mild judgment.

Velgrin gestured toward a chair. "Would you care to sit?"

Levi moved like he'd done this a thousand times. Smooth. Measured. Sat without flinching.

Inside?

This chair is a medieval torture device. This is what happens when ergonomic design is replaced by a moral philosophy.

Velgrin turned away, moving to a cabinet. He retrieved two cups and a tin marked Calming Flame. Levi's nose caught notes of cinnamon bark, citrus peel, and something that definitely wasn't FDA approved.

With a flick of the wrist, Velgrin conjured water, steaming instantly. No chant. No wand. Just wizardry flexing its well-toned muscles.

He poured the tea, then offered Levi one of the ceramic cups.

Levi accepted it with quiet poise.

Scalding. Bitter. Slightly herbal.

He didn't react.

Inside?

WHY IS THIS TEA FIGHTING ME. THIS ISN'T A DRINK. THIS IS A RITUAL SACRIFICE.

Velgrin sat across from him.

"You wear this world well," he said.

"I adapt," Levi replied.

The words landed like marble — smooth, cold, heavy.

He had no idea where that line came from. It just sounded cool. Hopefully Velgrin wasn't expecting an adaptation montage.

Outside, the twin suns of Valen pushed their light through the window slats. The gold rays striped across the stone floor like something from an inspirational cult poster. The skulls didn't move. Just watched silently. Judging. Existing.

"Tomorrow," Levi said, voice calm, "we begin the next phase. I need a location. Quiet. Stable. Properly resonant."

Velgrin nodded. "There are sites that meet those parameters. I will prepare a shortlist. Some lie in zones neglected by the city's planners. Others are hidden—forgotten structures that survived shifts in magical zoning."

"Keep it discreet," Levi said. "No attention. No fanfare."

"Understood."

They both sipped their tea.

Levi's mouth burned again. It feel like the tea is alive and fighting him.

What is this, Liquid Discipline? Does this tea slap you if you complain out loud?

Velgrin tapped his fingers lightly against the table. "Shall I begin preparing routes and contingencies tonight?"

"Yes. Work quietly. I want to move without alerting any circles or city monitors."

"As you say, Mr. Levi."

Another sip.

More burning.

Levi remained motionless.

I swear this tea is judging me harder than the skulls. It probably knows I used to microwave noodles in my old apartment and thinks I'm unworthy of the wizard aesthetic.

Velgrin's eyes briefly flicked to the bookshelf.

Levi caught it.

"Is that Arcane Ethics annotated in red?"

Velgrin blinked once. "Some of its conclusions lacked…practical application."

Levi raised his cup slightly in acknowledgment. "A valid critique."

A long silence passed. Comfortable, for once.

The air cooled as the sunlight shifted.

Levi didn't move. He didn't need to. The mask held. The presence remained.

He wasn't the anxious web novelist who had once panic-quit a job over a bad email thread. He wasn't even the man who'd woken up 48 hours ago alone in an impossible Library with a sarcastic System and a magical death knight.

He was the Librarian.

And this was his first outpost.