“…Am I supposed to kill an Unread with an old kitchen knife?”

  Kasturi stared at him in silence for a moment, most likely wondering from which angle this boy could possibly belong to a great family.

  Then he explained, “That’s a mystical item. Unreads cannot be harmed by any human or mundane weapon. Only a Librarian, one who wields the power of stories, can kill one.”

  “So this is like an artifact?” Lucian asked.

  “No,” Kasturi sighed before continuing. “Unbound Artifacts are literally Unreads that, instead of being sealed within a Codex and used by a single Librarian, are left unsealed and can be used by anyone. A mystical item, on the other hand, is something crafted through Librarian powers, granting it supernatural properties.”

  “What powers do these have?” Lucian asked, looking at the two items in his hands with piqued interest.

  “The headband can resist psychological control to a certain extent,” Kasturi said calmly. “But remember, it only resists. It does not nullify.”

  ‘Of course. This is perfect for this hunt.’ Lucian’s heart relaxed for a moment.

  “As for that knife…”

  Lucian held his breath in anticipation.

  “It’s sharp.”

  ‘Eh, that’s it?’ Lucian was disappointed by the answer, but with no other options, he accepted it anyway.

  “Also,” Kasturi added, “don’t forget, these are not your only weapons. I’m sure you’ve already experienced the immense strength within your body. You can’t punch an Unread, it wouldn’t work, but that strength will still be your greatest asset in a fight.”

  “About that,” Lucian said hesitantly, “just how much stronger is an awakened Librarian?”

  Kasturi folded his arms.

  “More than strength, it’s your vitality that should impress you,” he replied. “Even a newly awakened Librarian can survive injuries that should result in instant death. I once saw one remain alive even after her head was severed from her neck. Though in that state, you could only hope to last half an hour at best.”

  “W-What?” Lucian stammered. “You mean I could survive even then and wait for help?”

  “Indeed.” Kasturi’s flat gaze settled on him. “But I doubt you’ll have that luxury in front of an Unread. You’ll be completely alone. Killing it will be your only path to survival.”

  He then produced a lockless box, one Lucian was all too familiar with.

  “However, in case you survive,” Kasturi said, “this will be yours.”

  ‘Bastard.’ Lucian frowned.

  But anger was useless in this situation. He knew there was no hope of taking that box back by force. Yet, as his frustration simmered, it was quickly overtaken by something else, determination.

  ‘I need to be strong. I have to be strong.’

  Strength was the only path to vengeance. And to obtain it, he would have to reject everything, even his own life.

  At that moment, he understood: only by enduring relentless heat and merciless hammering could a piece of iron be reforged into a blade sharp enough to sever any head.

  After all, how could one be reborn anew if they had not first burned within the flames of their own soul?

  Lucian’s clear sky-like eyes darkened, taking on the hue of an approaching storm.

  He chuckled softly and said, “Don’t lose it until I return.”

  With that, he stepped into the Valenor Grand Auditorium.

  *****

  The moment he stepped onto the ground of the Unread, his vision went completely dark.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  After a while, he had no way of knowing how long, he managed to open his eyes painfully.

  Before his weakened gaze stood a grand, opera-style theater. The stage at its center gleamed beneath a solitary spotlight, as if waiting for its star to shine once more.

  ‘Isn’t it supposed to be dark, hidden behind heavy curtains?’

  Lucian, who had watched various world-class performances, couldn’t help but notice the glaring inaccuracies.

  In front of the central stage, rows of empty seats stretched endlessly into the darkness.

  The balconies were no different, silent, lifeless, and abandoned.

  ‘I really am the only one here.’

  The realization sent a chill through him, his loneliness quickly turning into something far more horrifying.

  Just as he was trying to adapt to the situation, six more people suddenly appeared, occupying random seats throughout the theater.

  ‘Uh… what? How are they here?’

  The hall was dim, and with the spotlight sharply focused on the stage, it was even harder to make out the six mysterious figures.

  However, Lucian was a Librarian. His muscles were not the only things strengthened beyond human limits, his eyesight and hearing were enhanced as well.

  With that, he managed to observe two of them clearly. The remaining four were positioned unfavorably: two behind him, and two at angles that made proper analysis difficult.

  From the two he could see, Lucian understood that although they were surprised and anxious, they were far more composed than he was.

  They were Librarians, there was no doubt about that. And judging by their expressions, it was obvious they were well prepared for this Unread.

  ‘Eh, Mr. Tigerman… you paid for the entry, right?’ Lucian mocked inwardly, a trace of panic seeping in.

  From the files he had read, he recalled multiple documents verifying Black Index approvals for entering this auditorium. It had to be a system designed to ensure that official organizations did not interfere with one another.

  Which left him with only one conclusion.

  These were unofficial Librarians, criminals, in the government’s eyes.

  ‘But most unofficial Librarians can’t operate solo,’ Lucian thought. ‘And judging by their identical composure, they’re part of an organization.’

  His expression darkened.

  ‘This is bad. They must be Librarians with real supernatural abilities.’

  “Who is that?” one of them whispered. “Is he one of us?”

  With his enhanced hearing, and the oppressive silence of the hall, Lucian could hear their conversation almost clearly. And the opposite was also true. They could see him and observe him equally.

  “I don’t think so,” a second voice replied.

  “Is he from the official organizations?” the first man said coldly. “We should kill him first.”

  ‘Hey, no need to be so hasty,’ Lucian muttered inwardly.

  “No,” the second man interrupted. “The Unread is about to appear. We need to be prepared to use that item.”

  The two nodded, signaling to the remaining four.

  ‘Looks like I am stuck in the middle of a dangerous act.’

  At the same moment, Lucian sensed something approaching the central stage.

  From the gate reserved for performers, hidden behind the stage, a figure slowly emerged.

  It was a beautiful woman in her late twenties, or rather, she had once been a beautiful woman.

  Standing nearly 170 centimeters tall, her unnaturally lustrous golden hair cascaded down to her wrists like a waterfall of molten gold. Her face, however… no. What had once been beautiful was now withered like a rotting lotus, smeared with filth and mud.

  In her hands were an ornate violin and a wooden bow.

  Reaching her position with a measured, almost ritualistic rhythm, she raised the bow after drawing a long breath, one that seemed to release all her fear.

  “Here it comes. Be prepared,” one of the six mysterious figures said quietly, causing Lucian to hold his breath.

  The air thickened.

  The spotlight at the center of the stage flickered.

  Then the music began.

  A single note rang out, soft, almost tender. It echoed through the vast theater, reverberating off the empty seats and lifeless balconies. The sound was beautiful. Too beautiful, so much so that Lucian let his guard down.

  He found himself humming along, nodding unconsciously as the divine melody resonated within his heart. Even for him, this was the greatest sound he had ever heard.

  It was easy to lose himself in the tune. Easy to let go of his pain, to forget the shame of the courtroom, the terror of that night, the rage, the thirst for revenge.

  And that realization jolted him.

  ‘This is bad. I can’t control myself.’

  The violinist paused.

  After releasing a long breath, she increased the speed at which the bow scraped against the strings.

  The melody of madness began.

  Lucian bit his lip and clamped his hands over his ears, yet the music still echoed inside his head.

  It wasn’t visible, but he felt it press against his skin, seep into his lungs, and coil around his thoughts like invisible fingers tightening their grip.

  His instincts screamed danger, yet his heart betrayed him, slowing as warmth spread through his chest. The melody wrapped around his mind, coaxing forth memories long forgotten: quiet evenings, lost laughter, a sense of safety that no longer existed.

  The comfort was overwhelming, so much so that Lucian found himself wishing the performance would never end, a strange smile creeping onto his face.

  At that moment, the headband pulsed faintly against his temple, a dull pressure grounding him just enough to remain himself.

  ‘No… don’t listen.’

  His eyes turned bloodshot, his fingers twisting at unnatural angles. A deep discomfort welled up in his abdomen, as if something inside him were tearing itself apart.

  The music grew more violent.

  His breathing became shallow as sweat poured down his body. His nails cracked, blood seeping from beneath them.

  ‘I’m going mad…’

  Then he heard a sound, something that pulled his attention away from the music.

  Munch—Munch! Crunch—Crunch!

  One of the two men he had been observing closely was chewing on something with disturbing fascination. At first, Lucian thought it might be food, chips, perhaps, even his fingers shoved deep into his mouth. Thick, red liquid sprayed into the air, splattering onto the man beside him, who began to scream.

  Only then did Lucian realize the truth.

  The man was eating his own fingers.