“Damn it,” Claire muttered, slamming a book shut. “All these books are blank. Not a single drop of useful information.”

  She had scoured every shelf, pulling anything remotely valuable, but each time she flipped through a page—nothing. Just crisp, empty paper.

  With an irritated sigh, she tossed another useless book onto the growing pile beside her.

  “Maybe they’re all fake,” she grumbled, yanking the next one off the shelf.

  “The books will only reveal their contents to those who seek knowledge with genuine curiosity,” said a voice right beside her.

  Claire spun instantly, fist already flying.

  Her punch connected—And stopped dead.

  It was like hitting solid stone. No, worse—like striking reality itself.

  The Librarian didn’t even flinch.

  Claire’s breath hitched slightly. Her body remained rigid, muscles still coiled to strike again.

  “Combat instinct,” the man observed, entirely unfazed. “One of your greatest strengths… but also a weakness. You can’t just punch everyone who catches you off guard, can you?”

  “Survival instinct,” Claire corrected, narrowing her eyes. “And if you ever sneak up on me again—”

  “What?” The Librarian’s voice was calm, measured. “Will you fight me? Intimidate me? You rely on strength to solve every problem, because it’s all you’ve ever known. But that strength has also made you indifferent. Arrogant.” His gaze sharpened. “Keep going down this path, and you will lose them. And then, you’ll be alone again.”

  Claire stiffened. Something ugly twisted in her chest.

  “So what?” she shot back, stepping closer. “Who needs them? I can handle myself. I don’t need anyone to help me or protect me. I can master this tou—”

  “You’re wrong.”

  The words cut through her like a blade.

  “Individuals only shines when supported by collective strength,” the Librarian continued. “You are no longer in the First Ring, holding back rebels and carving your path alone. This is the Chaos Tournament. There are people here whose power you can’t even begin to imagine—not in this lifetime, nor a hundred more.”

  His voice dropped slightly.

  “That’s why you need your team. You need them to grow.”

  A tense silence settled between them.

  And for the first time in years, she didn’t have a response.

  Claire’s fists tightened, nails digging into her palms.

  “And what the hell do you know about my goal?” she snapped. “I’ve spent years watching my own back. I don’t need to rely on anyone ever again.”

  The Librarian tilted his head slightly. His green eyes gleamed under the dim light.

  “I know that betrayal leaves wounds that never truly heal.”

  Her breath caught. The words hit too deep, too precisely.

  No one knew. No one should know, as she made sure to eliminate the ones who did.

  Her body tensed, her mind racing—how? How could he possibly know that?

  She had never spoken to him before. Never.

  “But just because you were betrayed once,” the Librarian continued, “doesn’t mean everyone else will do the same.”

  His voice remained steady, unwavering, like he wasn’t offering a possibility—but a certainty.

  Claire’s breathing was uneven now.

  He was right.

  And she hated it.

  “And you know full well that you won’t succeed alone.” His gaze sharpened. “You won’t find her.”

  Her entire body locked up. A sharp, cold spike of emotion slammed into her chest.

  He knows.

  “I…” Her throat felt dry. “You… you don’t know anything about me.”

  Her voice had lost its fire.

  The Librarian shrugged. “Believe that if it makes you feel better.”

  He turned slightly, taking a step back.

  “But one thing is certain—if you don’t change, you’ll be left behind. Keep my words in mind.” He glanced at her one last time.

  “You might just find something more valuable than what you’re looking for.”

  And then—he was gone. Not a sound. Not a shift in the air. Just… gone.

  Claire stood frozen, staring at the empty space where he had been.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Her hands, still clenched, were shaking.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there, her pulse pounding in her ears, trying to convince herself that he was wrong.

  But deep down, she knew he wasn’t.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” Nyx muttered, running a finger along the spines of the books.

  Most of them were useless—technical manuals, outdated history books, and literary works she had no interest in. But then, one particular book caught her eye.

  A black leather cover, adorned with three identical white and red circular symbols.

  Her fingers hovered over it.

  Something about the design felt… wrong.

  She pulled it from the shelf, reading the title.

  "The Homogenization of Species, by Joseph W. Whites."

  Her brow furrowed.

  The name wasn’t familiar. But the weight of the book in her hands—solid, heavy, deliberate—told her that whatever was inside had been meant to last.

  With a flick of her fingers, she cracked it open.

  The pages were crisp, untouched. The text was dense, bloated with unnecessary rhetoric, but years of extracting information from walls of pointless fluff made it easy to skim straight to the core message.

  […] Life on Earth is diverse. Throughout history, we have coexisted with thousands of species. We have played a role in the survival of some… and the extinction of many more.

  Unfortunately, the latter is far more common.

  Hundreds—if not thousands—of species have fallen victim to human greed. Whether through relentless urban expansion or the grotesque desire to mount the head of an exotic beast on a wall, we are the architects of death for countless living creatures.

  But recently, we have reached a turning point in history.

  Through the advancements of TSM (Time-Space Manipulation) technology, we have ventured beyond our world. We have discovered alien civilizations—living, breathing societies across the cosmos.

  And we have discovered something else.

  They are inferior.

  Their technological progress lags behind ours by centuries, sometimes millennia. Some exist in what we would compare to our Middle Ages, others in a state akin to the Industrial Revolution. Some have not yet even discovered fire.

  What does this tell us? That humanity is the pinnacle of evolution.

  Until proven otherwise, we stand as the most advanced civilization in the known universe.

  But now, these newly discovered species face a dire fate.

  They risk falling to the same tragic end as many species on our home planet. A malevolent force could descend upon their worlds, subjugating them, bending them to their will. Worse still, someone with even greater cruelty could seek to erase them entirely.

  But there is a solution. We have conquered space. We have conquered technology.

  And now, we must conquer biology.

  Our advancements in medicine—specifically genetics—allow us to reshape, mold, and refine species as we see fit. We have already cured diseases once thought impossible to eradicate. We have revived the extinct.

  Now, it is time for the final step.

  We must reshape them in our image. If not identical to us, then at least close enough.

  For their survival. For the survival of all.

  Imagine a universe where all species are one.

  No division. No disparity. No inequality of fate.

  A unified galaxy, moving toward a singular goal—an unstoppable force, marching in perfect harmony.

  […] It is for this reason that I have founded an institution dedicated to this cause.

  Any who share my vision are welcome to join.

  Welcome to the Church of Homogenization.

  "Nos omnibus homogeneis."

  Nyx’s grip on the book tightened.

  Her pulse was steady, but her hands were not.

  She had read plenty of propaganda before. Plenty of lunatics had made their way into history books, claiming they had the answers to "fix" the world.

  But this?

  This was something else. This wasn’t just delusion. This was a doctrine.

  Her eyes flicked back over the text.

  "Life on Earth is diverse."

  Earth.

  The word stood out like a splinter lodged in her mind. She had seen it before—buried in obscure records, whispered in fragments of lost history. But no one knew what it truly meant.

  A place? A myth?

  A long-dead civilization?

  She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to move past it. Whatever Earth was, it had been important enough for this Whites guy to base his entire twisted ideology on it. And if his beliefs had survived this long, if the Church of Homogenization was still operating today…

  Then this wasn’t just ancient history. This was still happening.

  Her fingers traced the emblem on the cover—three identical circles, perfect and uniform.

  Perfect.

  Uniform.

  Indistinguishable.

  She clenched her jaw.

  “Of course,” she muttered. “There’s always another cult.”

  But this time, it felt different.

  This time, she had a sinking feeling she hadn’t just stumbled onto something old—

  She had stumbled onto something alive.

  Nyx snapped the book shut, her grip firm as she turned.

  The Librarian stood behind her, calm, unmoving, his green eyes gleaming beneath his black shemagh. He didn’t look like he had walked up to her. He looked like he had always been there—watching, waiting.

  “This book has a fascinating premise, doesn’t it?” he mused, glancing at the cover as if it were a casual topic of conversation.

  Nyx’s jaw tightened.

  “But personally,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen far too much, “I always found it to be a little too extreme for my taste.”

  Nyx narrowed her eyes. He knew something.

  She barely had a second to speak before the Librarian reached into his coat, pulling out a black wristband. Without hesitation, he tossed it to her.

  She caught it instinctively, feeling the cool weight of it in her palm.

  Frowning, she turned it over in her hands. It was identical to the ones Nigel and the others wore—the official tournament wristband. The proof of a legitimate competitor.

  “How do you know I don’t already have one?” she asked, slipping it onto her wrist despite the unease curling in her stomach.

  The Librarian let out a low chuckle. “Because you and your silver-haired friend skipped the first stage.”

  Nyx stilled.

  “And without this little thing,” he continued, tapping his own wrist, “you’d have a much harder time moving forward.”

  Her stance shifted, shoulders squaring. There was always a catch.

  “And?” Her voice was even. “Are you planning to report us?”

  The Librarian merely smiled, amused. “Now, why would I do that?”

  A pause. Then, his head tilted slightly, his next words sinking into her like a knife.

  “You didn’t come here just for the tournament, did you?”

  Nyx didn’t react immediately.

  But her fingers twitched slightly.

  He knew. Of course he knew.

  He knew why she was here. Why she had truly come.

  And if he knew that—then he knew far more than she was comfortable with.

  “Who are you?” she asked, her voice lower now.

  The Librarian’s smile didn’t fade.

  And the answer…