"Wake up! Wake your sleepy ass now!"
A sharp, insistent voice shattered the void, yanking me from an eternity of slumber. My eyes flickered open to… nothing. A boundless expanse of pure white stretched infinitely in every direction, a stark, unsettling emptiness that mirrored the hollowness in my mind.
"What the...? What happened?" I mumbled, my voice swallowed by the oppressive silence.
"You seriously don't know? You, the librarian—the one meant to manage the Library—vanished for millennia!" The voice accused, its tone sharp and grating, laced with a disbelief that bordered on contempt.
"Millennia? I… I remember someone else managing the Library. Wasn't it… her?" I replied, my mind reeling from the sheer scale of the statement. The enormity of the claim pressed down on me, a weight of incomprehensible time.
"Yeah, her. She's dead. Killed by the Guardians the moment she stepped outside your door." The words struck me like a physical blow, a wave of shock and grief washing over me. The image of her, the previous librarian, flashed through my mind, a fleeting glimpse of a face I couldn't quite recall.
"What? The Guardians killed her?" Anger flared, a burning injustice igniting within me. The Guardians, protectors of the Library, had murdered the one who held the mantle before me.
"Yeah, wild, right? But more importantly, what the hell happened to you?" The voice pressed, its impatience palpable, its tone laced with a hint of frustration.
"I… I remember being in the world of Gamma. It was night. I went to sleep… and now I'm here," I stammered, struggling to piece together the fragmented memories, the disjointed timeline that stretched across an unfathomable expanse of years.
"Well, you slept through a few millennia. Plural. Millennia." The voice dripped with sarcasm, a mocking undertone coloring its words, highlighting the absurdity of my situation.
"Wait. Millennia? With an 's'? You mean… more than one?" I questioned, still struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of time that had passed.
"Duh. That's basic, Racshak. You really are slow, aren't you?" The voice sneered, its contempt unmistakable.
"Unbelievable… But what about the Library? What happened to it?" I ignored the taunts, focusing on the fate of the institution I had dedicated my life to, the place that held my memories, my purpose.
"Gone. Wiped from existence." The words hung in the air, heavy with finality, the weight of loss pressing down on me.
"And the Tower?" I pressed, anxiety clawing at me, the thought of the Tower's destruction adding another layer of devastation to the already overwhelming reality.
"Also gone. Poof." The casual dismissal of such significant structures sent a chill down my spine.
I stood there, the silence amplifying the turmoil within me. If the Library was gone, and she was dead… then how had I survived for so long? A suspicion began to form, a seed of unease taking root in my mind. I turned, my eyes narrowing, focusing on the unseen entity behind the voice.
"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice firm, demanding answers.
"Me? I'm… something too powerful for Heaven and Hell to handle. They pretended to wage war, but they were just trying to seal me. Heaven barely won, Hell was just for show." The voice revealed its identity with a chilling nonchalance, its power evident in the casual dismissal of celestial entities.
"And the 'Day'? The celestial armies?" I asked, suspicion lacing my voice, questioning the narrative presented to me.
"A lie. They kill souls, pretending it's for balance, feeding them to the cage they trapped me in. Your coma kept me caged. Now you're awake, I'm free. Got bored, erased everything. Library, Tower—gone. But you survived." The voice's explanation was both shocking and terrifying, painting a picture of cosmic manipulation and casual destruction.
"So what do you want now?" I asked, bracing myself for the inevitable request.
"Make me a world." The voice's request was simple, direct, yet laden with the weight of its power.
I hesitated, my mind spinning. What did it mean to create a world? A place born from nothing? My fingers twitched, and my thoughts began to drift back to what I knew, what I had been taught in the Library. How stories were woven, how worlds were structured. I was the librarian—maybe that knowledge could guide me now.
"Three continents," I began, gathering my thoughts. "The first will have towering mountains, ancient forests, and mist-shrouded lakes. The second will be meadows of flowers, with a grand waterfall cascading into a crystal lake. Finally, deserts of shifting sands, hiding vast underground caverns filled with bioluminescent plants."
The void around me began to shift, responding to my words as though they were commands. The air hummed with power, the raw force of creation bending to my will.
The mountains rose, vast and imposing, their peaks lost in the mist. Ancient trees spread their roots deep into the earth, casting shadows over the land. The lakes shimmered in the growing light, their surfaces reflecting the beauty of the land, their depths hiding secrets of ages long forgotten.
The meadows bloomed next, the scent of flowers wafting on an unseen breeze. The waterfall, grand and mighty, tumbled from a cliff, its waters crashing into the lake below with a deafening roar. The crystal-clear water sparkled, alive with the movement of the land.
And then the deserts took shape, their golden sands stretching as far as the eye could see. The sun beat down harshly on the barren landscape, but beneath the surface, something else was alive. Caverns opened, and bioluminescent plants illuminated the dark with their ethereal glow, casting strange, shifting shadows on the walls.
The world was beginning to take form. It wasn't perfect—far from it—but it was mine. A world born from the ashes of the old.
"This… isn't bad," the voice said, surprised, though a hint of approval lingered in its tone. "Keep going. Make it interesting."
I didn't need another command. My mind was alight with possibilities, and I continued to shape the world, adding mountains, oceans, forests, and skies. Each stroke of creation carried a weight, a responsibility. I was building this world from the void, from nothingness, but the more I created, the more I felt connected to it.
The task ahead was immense, but the exhilaration of creation drove me forward. The weight of millennia fell away, replaced by the challenge of building something new, something lasting.
The void that had once swallowed everything was now a canvas for me to shape—a new world, a new Library, rising from the ashes of what had been lost. And as I stood there, feeling the hum of the world I was creating, I knew I had found my purpose once more.
I was the librarian. And I would build a new world.
..Help i dont want any more work..