Ren wasn't sure what was weirder—the fact that a spark of living light just entered his chest, or that Keeri immediately handed him a peach-flavored slime in celebration.
"Eat up," she said. "You earned it."
The slime jiggled ominously.
"…Is this alive?"
"Only a little."
They walked through Taleshore's winding sky-bridges, Ren licking jelly fingers as his new trait simmered quietly in the background. He could feel something subtle shifting—not just inside him, but around him.
People waved. The buildings seemed brighter. The wind played melodies when he passed.
Like the world was paying attention.
And it was.
"Now that you've bonded with a Flicker," Keeri said, "you should visit the Library."
"The what now?"
"The Library That Reads You. It's where Cindale sorts stories. You'll find answers there—probably weird ones. But still answers."
"…Does the library have chairs?"
"More like sentient beanbags."
Ren sighed. "Okay, that's weirdly comforting."
The library wasn't a building—it was a tree.
A massive, glowing, root-bound oak that towered above the village, its branches reaching into the sky like it was trying to tickle the stars. Glowing leaves fell in slow spirals, never touching the ground.
Books hovered between branches, shifting places like birds. A few whispered. One sneezed.
A sign outside read:
"WELCOME. PLEASE LET THE LIBRARY SCAN YOUR AURA BEFORE ENTERING."
Ren squinted. "Is that normal?"
Keeri shrugged. "Depends. The last guy got denied entry because his thoughts were too loud."
They stepped inside.
No doors. No guards. Just a breath of warm, papery air and an impossible space.
Bookshelves twisted up and down in infinite spirals. Ladders led to nowhere. Floors looped. Stairs walked you.
A book floated by Ren's head and opened on its own.
"Ren Vireo – Newly Sparked, Mildly Confused, High Potential for Chaos."
Ren blinked. "RUDE."
The book snapped shut and zipped away.
A librarian appeared—sort of. It was a cloud of fluttering pages shaped like a person, with glasses perched on where a nose would be.
"New traveler?" the librarian asked, voice like rustling paper.
"Y-yeah. Just touched my first Flicker."
"Excellent. The Library has been expecting you."
They were led to a glowing study nook. The moment Ren sat, books started flying in from every direction.
One landed in his lap.
Title: "So You Accidentally Became a World Catalyst."
"…Okay," Ren muttered. "I'm sensing a theme."
Another book opened by itself and displayed a moving image—Ren himself, touching the Flicker in the forest.
He leaned in. "Wait, how is this recorded?"
"Cindale's narrative threads," the librarian said. "This world watches key story points. Some are archived. Others… haven't happened yet."
"Haven't happened—?"
Another book flapped open.
"Potential Futures of Ren Vireo"
❖ Option 4: Accidentally Overthrows a God While Trying to Find a Bathroom
❖ Option 12: Teaches Mushrooms to Sing, Starts Accidental Cult
❖ Option 33: Makes Friends with a Sky Whale, Causes Dimensional Rebalance
Ren stared. "…I'm going to die, aren't I?"
Keeri patted his shoulder. "Probably. But in a fun way."
Suddenly, one book refused to open. It vibrated, locked shut with a glowing rune.
"What's that one?" Ren asked.
The librarian turned. "A hidden thread. Not readable yet. You haven't made the choice that leads to it."
Ren reached for it.
The rune flashed.
And a pulse of mana surged into him.
[Improviser's Bond Activated]
✦ You attempted the unexpected.
✦ The Library responds.
✦ Trait Deepened: [Echo Instinct] – You sometimes receive glimpses of what 'could have' or 'should have' happened.
Ren's vision blurred—and for a moment, he saw himself running through a burning field… a shimmering door ahead… someone calling his name—
"REN!"
He snapped back. Keeri was waving a hand in front of him.
"You okay? You spaced out."
"I… think I saw something," Ren muttered.
"Library vision?" the librarian said calmly. "Happens. You're beginning to echo."
"Echo what?"
"Paths. Possibilities. Regrets. You'll see."
Ren looked around at the infinite books. Some open. Some closed. Some glowing faintly.
The world wasn't just reacting to him.
It was writing him in.