A land of darkness.
Lioren stood amidst a void.
In his hand was a blood-red spear, trembling softly as if alive.
Without a word of warning, he thrust the spear straight into his chest.
Blood gushed from the wound—not falling to the ground, but rising upward, coiling around the spear.
From the tip of the spear, bones began to grow—vertebrae, ribs, spine—followed by blood vessels, red tendons like threads, pale flesh, then a face, long black hair.
A human was formed.
Lioren (whispering):
> "It will carry ten percent of my strength… enough to handle what's coming."
The body opened its eyes.
Eyes deep red like hellfire, but with an eerily calm gaze.
> "Master, please grant me a name."
Lioren:
> "Your name will be Ravy.
Your mission… is to open a library of magic.
That place will be a spider's web—controlling all those who use magic."
Ravy (kneeling):
> "As you command, Master."
---
A luxurious mansion.
In a room glowing gold from gems and mirrors, Ravy was speaking with a merchant.
Merchant:
> "As you can see, all the good areas are taken.
Only a few abandoned libraries remain—in the slums and the border zones.
The slums? Forget it—filth, disease, death.
As for the border, it's full of factions… looting and sabotage are daily business."
Ravy (pondering):
> ("According to my master's memories, the slums are worthless decay.
But the border… chaotic, risky, yet full of potential.
A magical network needs those drawn in by power…")
Ravy:
> "I choose the border zone."
Merchant:
> "Price is 500 gold coins."
Ravy placed a heavy pouch on the table.
The sound of gold spilling echoed throughout the room.
Merchant (laughing):
> "Deal."
---
Border zone slums.
On both sides of the road lay animal carcasses, corpses, and rotting trash reeking with stench.
In front of Ravy stood a ruined library—wooden frame broken, glass shattered like spiderwebs.
Ravy (sighing):
> "So this is where it begins…"
He stepped inside.
In the darkness, a few men were smoking and laughing.
The smell of alcohol mixed with dried blood and mold.
Guard (nodding):
> "Well, well, look what we got here."
Boss:
> "Ha! Looks like he's got money…"
Third thug:
> "Let's make it quick and find some girls, ha ha!"
Second thug:
> "Girls? You fool. I need a fix."
The first thug rushed toward Ravy—but the moment he touched the air around Ravy, his body was sliced apart, like threads of a spiderweb had cut through him.
The second one screamed and lunged, only to suffer the same fate.
Boss (trembling):
> "Th-That's… thread—"
Thud.
Before he could finish, his head dropped, and his body was torn into pieces.
Ravy stood still.
A blood-thin strand, like a hair, floated around him.
Ravy:
> "Seems like I need to clean up before building…"
---
The library was merely a two-story old house.
Mossy tiles, crooked wooden door.
The signboard out front had half its letters fallen off, dust-covered, bricks chipped and stained like diseased skin.
The smell of mold, dead rats, rotting wood, and corpses.
He just stood there, watching.
> "As long as the frame holds, everything else can be changed."
---
Day two to day five
There was no grand magic.
Ravy did everything by hand and basic spells.
He cleaned, burned trash, buried corpses, removed broken bricks, patched windows, scrubbed off mold using a self-made solution—it smelled like dried blood, but it worked.
He bought old bookshelves, repaired each rotten plank by implanting magical threads—just enough to keep them upright, yet invisible to others.
The first books were brought in—not rare ones.
Mostly low-tier theory books and basic magic texts.
---
Day six
Ravy mounted a new wooden sign on the wall, simply carved:
> "Library of Magic"
No symbol.
No founder's name.
No flowery invitation.
---
Day seven
Ravy sat behind the counter, writing magic into a book.
A boy walked past, glanced at the sign, then ran off.
An hour later, he returned with an older man—likely his father.
They came in, asked a few questions.
Ravy simply said:
> "If you can read it, read it. Costs nothing."
---
That night
With everything cleaned up, Ravy sat alone in the small room, lit by a flickering oil lamp.
He looked around—bricks still chipped, shelves not yet full, mismatched chairs.
But the smell of blood and garbage was gone.
The room now felt oddly silent, clean, and warm—just enough for people to believe they might learn something important here.
Ravy (muttering):
> "This will take a while…
Will Master be pleased?"
---
The West – Territory ruled by the Nine Dragons
The air thick with the stench of opium and dried blood.
The room where the boss sat was lit by paper-thin lanterns made of human skin.
Their dim glow flickered like blades still wet with blood.
On a fur-covered chair sat a woman in a wine-red cloak, dragon-horned hat, her body tattooed from neck to fingertips.
She ran her fingers through glossy black hair that covered half her face.
Her eyes had no whites—just two still black holes, as if they could suck in a soul.
> "Someone's doing business in our territory."
The subordinate knelt, forehead touching the ground. His voice trembled.
> "Is that so?" – she asked, pouring wine from a jug.
> "What kind of business?"
> "A magic library, ma'am."
Her fingers paused.
Not in fear—but in surprise… and slight amusement.
> "Oh. How foolish.
A library… in my turf?"
She laughed.
A dry, short laugh, like the flapping of a bat's wings.
> "Get rid of that library. Burn it if you must.
But remember—bring me all his spellbooks."
> "Yes, Boss!"
He backed away, his back drenched in sweat.
The door closed.
The boss—Queen of the West, Velthra—tilted her head and sipped her wine.
> "To run a business in my territory… without permission? No tribute? Treating me like I'm nothing…"
She glanced to the right, where a man hung upside down—half his skin flayed, yet still breathing.
> "What do you think? If that man resists?"
The man stammered:
> "Th-then… then maybe he's… not normal…"
Velthra smiled, and said slowly:
> "All the more fun.
If he resists… I'll have reason to make him my dog."