Dimensional Librarian

The Death Knight remained kneeling.

Its black armor steamed faintly, the scent of voidsteel and rot rising from its joints like burnt parchment soaked in grave dust. In its massive gauntlet, it still held the warrior's severed head by the hair, blood dripping slowly onto the polished marble floor.

Levi Warwick gave it a tired glance.

Then turned away.

"Dispose of it properly," he said, retrieving his tea from the nearby shelf. "I don't need blood drying on the floor again."

The Death Knight did not nod. It did not speak.

It simply obeyed.

With deliberate motion, it raised the severed head higher… and opened its helm.

There was no mouth beneath.

Just darkness.

A spiral of teeth and gnashing bone opened in the void inside the armor. The Knight dropped the head into its maw like one might discard a pebble into a well.

A wet crunch echoed across the aisle.

Velgrin, watching from behind a far column, felt his stomach lurch.

He had seen monsters eat flesh. Seen demons drink souls. But this was neither consumption nor ritual. This was… conversion.

The Death Knight shuddered. Its armor cracked slightly at the edges.

And then it bent forward and wretched.

A glob of black bile hit the floor slick, pulsing, shaped vaguely like a skull. As Velgrin stared, it began to grow. Bones formed where there were none. Smoke wrapped itself into limbs. Black plate grew like armor from within the bile, layering itself with sick, wet crunches.

In less than a minute, another Death Knight knelt beside the first.

Identical.

Silent.

Motionless.

Velgrin's breath caught.

Not just summoned. Reproduced.

He pressed himself tighter to the wall, suppressing even the tremor in his robes. His mind began racing. Calculating. Comparing. Remembering.

A Sixth-Tier undead could not be summoned by a novice or an accident. It was not a creature that simply existed it was a weapon crafted by immense skill, rare reagents, and a mastery of necromancy few in any age ever reached.

To control one Death Knight, a caster needed to be at least an Arch Necromancer. A wielder of True Death. A peerless scholar of soul-chains and command glyphs.

He himself had fought one, once.

Barely survived.

And he had come prepared.

Fire was the natural bane of undead the one element that consumed both body and lingering soul. And Velgrin was no mere pyromancer. He was the Spiral Flame. Archwizard of the Third Circle. Flames answered him like old friends.

And even he would only give himself fifty-fifty odds… if caught unprepared.

But what he had just seen… that wasn't control. That was something else.

That was creation.

The Death Knight hadn't just eaten the warrior's head. It had used him. Turned his soul and essence into another vessel. Without ritual. Without time. Without hesitation.

Velgrin's eyes drifted to the figure standing at the center of it all.

Levi Warwick.

The librarian.

Still sipping his tea.

Still reading.

Still… human.

But no human could do what he just did.

No one of flesh and blood controlled a Death Knight with a glance.

Unless

Velgrin's thoughts recoiled.

Unless he was not just an Arch Necromancer… but more.

He looked around now at the seemingly endless halls, the floating lights, the layered silence that bent around every word. This place was not a building. It was a domain. A space torn free from the laws of the world.

A realm cut out of reality itself.

To do that, one would have to master Tenth-Tier Magic the final circle of space-warping arcana, the domain of legends and myth.

In all of known magical history, only one name had ever been recorded to do such a thing:

The First Wizard.

The progenitor of all human magic. A figure so old, so steeped in contradiction, that half the academies in Velgrin's age debated whether he had been real at all. A man said to have created a pocket world inside his own shadow, taught dragons to weep, and carved the first rune from a thought.

To even suggest that this unassuming librarian with his cardigan, mug, and paperback novel held mastery over both death and space at that level…

It was madness.

It had to be madness.

And yet.

Velgrin had felt power before. Had stood before deathlords and archdevils, before tyrants with a thousand souls chained in rings on their fingers.

This was worse.

Because there was no pressure.

No aura.

No heat.

No cold.

Just a man sipping tea.

A man the library listened to.

A man two Death Knights now stood guard over, as if he were a king of the old dead empires.

Velgrin felt sweat crawl down his neck.

His instincts screamed.

Do not draw attention. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not provoke whatever that is.

And still still he couldn't help the smallest whisper from his lips.

"…Who are you?"

Levi turned a page.

He didn't look up.

But he answered.

"Just the librarian."

I am so fucked.

Levi Warwick stood among shattered marble, blood splatters, and the headless corpse of a man he absolutely did not kill. Technically. His fingers curled tightly around a warm mug of tea—the last comforting thing in this entire damned dimension.

The Death Knight, all three meters of void-metal doom, had just eaten a man's head. Then puked up a baby Death Knight.

And now they were both kneeling.

To him.

What the hell is happening?

Internally, Levi was screaming. Externally, he was calm—terrifyingly calm, apparently. According to the look on that old wizard's face, he had become a dark deity with a library card.

And all of this?

Started because Levi tried to run away.

He had heard yelling. Wizard. Warrior. Testosterone and trauma. He did what any sane person would do:

Leave. Hide. Let the plot solve itself.

But the System decided, nope.

EMERGENCY QUEST

Punish the Rule Breaker

REWARD: +300 EXP

FAILURE: DEATH

"Excuse me?" he whispered, looking around for a camera crew. "That's not a quest. That's a hostage situation."

Calculating mission difficulty...…

Result: Exceeds Host Capabilities.

"Wow," Levi muttered. "Thanks, dickhead. I'm glad we agree."

Newbie Bonus Activated.

One (1) Free Gacha Spin granted.

And then the screen transformed.

Like a mobile ad had burst into his eyeballs. Neon sparkles. Happy skeleton mascot. Jingle music in his head. It was as if Satan's marketing team had invaded his vision.

"Are You Weak? Are You Worthless? Spin Now!"

"YES. And YES," Levi snapped. "Also, what the actual shit is this interface?"

He opened the rate chart. His stomach dropped.

• 80% – Absolutely Nothing

• 10% – Beginner Weapon (read: disappointment)

• 10% – Loyal Servant (???)

"Great," he muttered. "So I get an 80% chance to die, a 10% chance to poke someone with a fork, and a 10% chance to befriend Satan."

He looked up.

The wizard and warrior were about to throw down.

No time left.

Levi's eyes narrowed. He hit the button.

Click.

Spin, motherfucker.

The wheel spun. Lights flashed. The cartoon mascot winked. A chiptune jingle that sounded suspiciously like bootleg Pokémon played inside his skull.

"Come on, gimme the demon," Levi muttered. "Come on, daddy needs a meat shield."

The spin slowed.

Slowed...

Slowed...

CONGRATULATIONS!

[Loyal Servant – Tier 6: Death Knight] Summoned

There was a moment of silence in Levi's soul.

The Death Knight now stands at your command.

Levi blinked. "Wait... I'm alive? I'm actually alive?"

MAIN QUEST ACTIVATED

DIGNITY OF THE LIBRARIAN

The Librarian of the Library of Noctis must remain calm, composed, and possess absolute dignity.

Quest Duration: (???)

Reward: (???)

Failure Penalty: DEATH

Levi screamed.

"FUUUUUUUUUCK!"

He clapped both hands over his mouth. The Death Knights didn't flinch.

Velgrin, still hiding behind the ancient geometry section, visibly flinched.

Levi hissed into his palms. "Damn it. If you want me to act, then I'll act. I'll be the greatest swindler in the multiverse, you crusty bastard AI."

He straightened his spine, tightened his grip on his mug, and inhaled slowly.

Then he stepped forward into the aisle and spoke, loud and clear.

"Shhh. You're too loud. This is a library."

His voice echoed.

The warrior froze. The wizard went pale. The air itself seemed to recoil.

The Death Knight fell from the ceiling.

Levi didn't flinch.

Because panic had left the building. All that remained was a man with a mug of tea and a gacha addiction.

He would die later. Probably screaming.

But for now, the mask stayed on.

He was the Librarian.

He was the Law.

And holy shit he hoped nobody asked him any questions.