Chapter 5: The Endless Library
The path through the shelves twisted and turned in ways that defied geometry. Daryl walked for what felt like hours, passing countless volumes bound in materials he couldn't identify—some that looked like skin, others that shimmered with living light, still others that seemed to be made of pure darkness given form. Each book hummed with latent knowledge, whispering promises of power, of wisdom, of secrets that could reshape reality.
He didn't stop. He didn't look back. The Scribe's questions echoed in his mind, and with them, memories he had barely begun to process.
In your previous life...
The words triggered something. As he walked through the endless stacks, the fragments of his other existence began to cohere, to form a完整的 picture of a man who had lived and died in a world without magic.
---
Memory Fragment: The Man Who Was
His name had been Daniel Park. Not Daryl—that difference was significant, a sign that this new life was not merely a continuation but a transformation. Daniel Park had been thirty-two years old when he died, a mid-level accountant at a firm that no one would remember in a city that existed only in Daryl's increasingly vivid recollections.
He had been ordinary. Painfully, achingly ordinary.
Daniel had grown up in a suburban neighborhood with tree-lined streets and neighbors who waved but never learned his name. His parents had divorced when he was twelve, and he had shuttled between their houses with the quiet resignation of a child who understood that his feelings were less important than his parents' need to be free of each other. He had done well in school—not brilliantly, but well enough—and had drifted into accounting because it seemed stable, because it paid the bills, because it was what people like him did.
He had never married. Had come close once, with a woman named Sarah who had laughed at his jokes and made him feel like he mattered. But she had wanted children, and a house, and a future, and Daniel had looked at his life—his tiny apartment, his mediocre salary, his utter lack of ambition—and had known he couldn't give her those things. So he had let her go, and she had found someone who could, and Daniel had told himself he was happy for her.
He wasn't. But he had learned to live with it.
The self-defense classes had been a fluke. A mid-life crisis, perhaps, though thirty-two felt too young for that. He had seen a flyer at the community center, had signed up on impulse, and had discovered something he didn't know he was missing: the feeling of his body learning to protect itself. The instructor, Chen Wei, was an elderly Chinese man who moved like water and spoke in riddles that only made sense months later.
"The goal is not to win," Chen Wei had said, again and again. "The goal is to survive. Winning is temporary. Survival is permanent. If you must fight, fight to create space. If you must strike, strike to enable escape. The greatest victory is walking away."
Daniel had taken those lessons to heart. Had practiced them in his tiny apartment, moving through forms in the dark, feeling his body grow stronger, more capable. For the first time in his life, he had felt like he was becoming something more than ordinary.
And then a car had run a red light, and Daniel Park had died on a crosswalk, his body broken, his potential unrealized, his name forgotten before the street was cleaned.
---
Daryl stopped walking.
The memory hit him with physical force, doubling him over, forcing him to brace against a shelf of books that rustled in response to his touch. Tears streamed down his face—tears for a man he had been, for a life unlived, for Sarah and Chen Wei and all the ordinary moments that had been stolen by a driver who probably never even knew he had killed someone.
"I remember," he whispered. "I remember everything."
[Past Life Integration: 15%]
Your former self's memories and skills are merging with your current existence. Integration will provide access to knowledge and abilities from your previous life.
The system notification was almost cruel in its clinical detachment. But beneath it, [Overgrowth] pulsed with something that felt like comfort. Like understanding. Like patience for a wound that would take time to heal.
Daryl wiped his eyes, straightened, and continued walking.
The shelves around him had changed. The books here were different—older, more substantial, bound in materials that seemed almost alive. Their titles were written in languages he didn't recognize, but somehow, when he looked at them, he understood.
The Collected Wisdom of Fallen Champions
A Treatise on Core Absorption
The Thirty-Seven Secrets of [Overgrowth]
That last one made him stop. A book about his talent? Here, in this impossible library? He reached for it, but his hand passed through the spine as if it were made of smoke.
"Not yet," a voice said behind him.
Daryl spun, dagger half-drawn, to find the Scribe standing a few meters away. The creature had approached without a sound, without a whisper of movement.
"You have passed the trial," the Scribe continued. "But you have not yet earned the right to access restricted sections. The book you seek contains knowledge that could destabilize your growth if accessed too early. Patience, little challenger. All things in time."
Daryl sheathed his dagger, though he kept his hand near the hilt. "Why are you here? I thought I passed."
"You did. But the library is not merely a trial—it is a resource. Those who prove worthy may linger, may learn, may grow stronger before facing the next challenge." The Scribe gestured at the endless shelves. "You have questions. Ask them. I will answer what I can."
Daryl's mind raced. A thousand questions fought for priority, but one rose above the others.
"The other champion. The one who gave me the crystal shard. He said he faced three trials and failed the fourth. What was the fourth?"
The Scribe was silent for a long moment. When it spoke, its voice was softer than before. "The fourth trial is not a place. It is a choice. Those who reach it must decide: ascend to become a guardian of the realms, or return to their world as something more than they were. Your predecessor chose return. The gods honored his choice—but they stripped him of his power first. To prevent imbalance. To protect the secrets he had learned."
"The Collector. That's why he's so weak now. That's why he's trapped in the Fringe."
"Yes. He chose his world over ascension, and the gods respected that choice enough to let him live. But they could not let him keep what he had gained. Power unearned is chaos. Power remembered is dangerous."
Daryl thought about the old man with the milky eyes, the one who had given him the crystal shard and asked only to be remembered. He understood now why the Collector had seemed so sad, so broken. He had been to the summit and back, had seen what Daryl was only beginning to glimpse, and had chosen to give it all up for... what? A life in the ruins? A existence of quiet desperation?
"Why?" Daryl asked. "Why would anyone choose that?"
"Because ascension has a price that some are unwilling to pay. You will learn that price when you reach the fourth trial. Until then, focus on the path before you. The Verdant Maze awaits, and its champion is less forgiving than I."
---
Daryl spent three days in the Endless Library.
The Scribe permitted him access to the general collection, a vast repository of knowledge that would have taken multiple lifetimes to fully explore. Daryl focused on what mattered most: skills, cores, and the nature of the gods' realm.
He learned that skills had tiers beyond rank—basic, advanced, mastery, transcendent—and that most hunters never progressed beyond basic. His own skills, at F-Rank, were barely above the minimum threshold for existence. The fact that he had survived the forge was, by any measure, miraculous.
He learned that cores were not merely sources of power but fragments of living beings' essence. Absorbing a core meant absorbing a piece of the being that had created it—their memories, their instincts, their strengths and weaknesses. This was why [Overgrowth] had pulsed with recognition when he absorbed Ignis's core. The champion lived on within him.
He learned that the gods' realm had existed for longer than recorded history, that countless challengers had attempted the trials, and that fewer than one hundred had ever reached the summit. The vast majority died. A small percentage, like the Collector, chose to return. And an even smaller number ascended to become guardians of the realms themselves.
And he learned about the Verdant Maze.
---
Knowledge Gained: The Verdant Maze
· Champion: Sylvanis, the Root Mother
· Rank: B- (estimated)
· Domain: An endless labyrinth of living vegetation
· Trial Type: Spirit/Willpower
· Known Challenge: The maze reads the challenger's deepest fears and desires, creating illusions that feel more real than reality itself. Many challengers lose themselves in dreams of what they most want, or are paralyzed by visions of what they most fear.
· Survival Rate: 12% (lowest of the first three trials)
· Warning: Physical strength is useless here. The maze attacks the mind.
Daryl read the entry three times, committing every detail to memory. A B-Rank champion—a full tier above Ignis. A trial that targeted the mind rather than the body. A survival rate of only twelve percent.
He should have been terrified. Instead, he felt [Overgrowth] pulse with something that felt almost like anticipation.
The mind is fertile soil, his talent seemed to whisper. Roots grow deepest in darkness. Let the maze come.
---
On the third day, the Scribe appeared as Daryl was finishing a volume on core resonance.
"It is time," the creature said. "You have learned what you can here. Further knowledge without experience will only unbalance you. The maze calls."
Daryl closed the book and stood. His body felt different after three days of rest—his ribs had healed, his arm was functional again, and the constant low-grade hunger that [Overgrowth] produced had settled into something manageable. His dagger's evolution had completed during the second day, and he had spent hours familiarizing himself with its new capabilities.
[Thorned Dagger]
Quality: E
Attack: 9-14
Durability: 32/32
Effects:
· Moderate Bleed: 12% chance for +6 damage over 5 seconds
· Thorned Return: 5% chance to reflect melee damage
· Rooted Strike: 3% chance to immobilize target for 2 seconds (new)
· Bonded (71%): +1 attack per 20% bond strength (currently +3)
The blade was beautiful now—dark steel shot through with veins of green, the thorns along its spine grown into an organic pattern that seemed to shift when viewed from different angles. It felt alive in his hand, responsive, almost eager.
"I'm ready," Daryl said.
The Scribe nodded and gestured toward a section of shelves that had not existed moments before. Between two towering stacks, a doorway had appeared—not of light this time, but of woven branches and living leaves, pulsing with green energy.
"The Verdant Maze. Remember what you have learned. Trust your roots. And when the maze shows you what you most desire, ask yourself: is it real, or is it a trap?"
Daryl walked toward the doorway. At the threshold, he paused and looked back at the Scribe.
"Thank you. For the answers. For the time."
The creature's featureless face somehow conveyed warmth. "Go, little challenger. Grow. And when you reach the summit, remember that knowledge is its own form of power."
Daryl stepped through the branches.
---
The transition was nothing like the forge. Where Ignis's realm had been heat and fire and violent transformation, the maze was cool, damp, and eerily quiet. Daryl found himself standing in a corridor of living walls—thick hedges that rose twenty meters high, their leaves a dozen shades of green, their branches woven so tightly that not a sliver of light penetrated between them.
The sky above was grey and featureless, neither day nor night, neither sun nor moon. The air smelled of earth and flowers and something else—something sweet and slightly rotten, like fruit left too long on the vine.
And the maze was moving.
Not visibly, not in any way Daryl could point to, but he felt it nonetheless. The walls shifted when he wasn't looking. The path behind him changed when he turned away. The very ground beneath his feet seemed to breathe, to pulse with a slow, organic rhythm.
[Environmental Effect: Maze's Breath]
The Verdant Maze actively adapts to challengers. Paths will shift based on emotional state. Concentration is required to maintain orientation.
Daryl took a deep breath and began to walk.
---
The first hour was uneventful. He followed the path as it twisted and turned, always choosing the forward direction, never looking back. The walls loomed on either side, their green expanse broken only occasionally by flowers of impossible colors—blues that hurt to look at, reds that seemed to bleed, purples that whispered in languages he didn't understand.
He didn't touch them.
The second hour, the whispers began.
At first, they were faint—barely audible murmurs that could have been wind through leaves. But as he walked, they grew clearer, more distinct, until he could make out words.
Daniel...
His previous life's name. Spoken in a voice he hadn't heard in decades.
Daniel, why did you leave me?
Sarah. It was Sarah's voice, the woman he had loved and let go, now echoing through the maze with an accusation that cut deeper than any blade.
Daryl kept walking.
You could have fought for me. You could have tried. But you just let me go, like I meant nothing. Like I was nothing.
"I didn't," Daryl muttered, his voice rough. "I let you go because I couldn't give you what you deserved."
That's a lie. The voice was closer now, almost beside him. You let me go because you were afraid. Afraid of failing. Afraid of not being enough. Afraid of trying and losing, because then you'd have to admit that you actually wanted something.
Daryl stopped walking.
The wall beside him had changed. Where before there had been only leaves, now there was a window—a opening in the hedge that looked out onto a scene he recognized. A small apartment, warmly lit, with a couch he had bought at a thrift store and bookshelves he had built with his own hands. And on the couch, sitting as if waiting for him, was Sarah.
She looked exactly as he remembered. The same dark hair, the same warm smile, the same eyes that had once looked at him like he mattered.
"Come home, Daniel," she said. "Stop this foolishness. Come home, and we can try again. I'll wait for you. I've always waited for you."
The maze was showing him what he most desired. A second chance with the woman he had loved. A life of ordinary happiness, free from danger, free from hunger, free from the constant pressure to grow, to evolve, to become more.
Daryl looked at the window, at Sarah, at the life he could have.
Then he closed his eyes.
"You're not real," he said. "Sarah is gone. She found someone who could give her what she needed, and she's happy. I hope she's happy. But she's not here, and she's not waiting, and even if she were..." He opened his eyes. "I'm not Daniel anymore. I'm Daryl. And Daryl has work to do."
The window shattered.
Not into glass, but into leaves—thousands of leaves that exploded outward and then settled, becoming once again an unbroken wall of green. The voice faded, taking Sarah's memory with it.
Daryl walked on.
---
The third hour brought new visions.
His parents, together again, asking why he never visited. His friends from the accounting firm, laughing at inside jokes he had long forgotten. Chen Wei, the self-defense instructor, standing in the middle of the path with his arms crossed.
"You did well to resist the first illusion," Chen Wei said. "But are you sure you're ready for what comes next?"
Daryl knew this was another trick. But the old man looked so real, sounded so much like the mentor he remembered, that he found himself responding anyway.
"What comes next?"
"The maze doesn't just show you what you want. It shows you what you fear. And you, Daniel—Daryl—you fear failure more than anything. More than death. More than loss. You're afraid that no matter how hard you try, you'll never be enough."
The words hit home because they were true. Two lifetimes of being ordinary, of being dismissed, of being told he didn't matter—they had left scars that no amount of growth could erase.
"You're right," Daryl said. "I am afraid of failure. I'm afraid that I'll reach the summit and find out that I'm still the same trash I always was. That [Overgrowth] is a fluke, that my victories were luck, that I don't deserve any of this."
Chen Wei nodded slowly. "And if that fear is true? What then?"
Daryl thought about it. Really thought about it, for the first time since his reawakening.
"Then I'll keep going anyway," he said finally. "Because the alternative—stopping, giving up, accepting that I'm nothing—is worse. At least this way, I'm trying. At least this way, I'm growing. Even if I fail in the end, I'll have become more than I was. And that has to count for something."
Chen Wei smiled. It was the same smile the old man had worn when Daniel had finally understood a difficult lesson, years ago in a community center that probably no longer existed.
"That's the right answer," he said. "Hold onto that, and you'll survive."
He faded, and the path continued.
---
The fourth hour brought the trial's true challenge.
Daryl emerged from a corridor into a clearing—the first open space he had seen since entering the maze. It was perhaps fifty meters across, its floor carpeted with soft grass, its center dominated by a massive tree.
The tree was beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Its trunk was wider than a house, its bark the color of old silver, its leaves a thousand shades of green that shimmered with inner light. Roots spread from its base like frozen rivers, disappearing into the earth in every direction. And in its branches, hanging like fruit, were cores.
Dozens of them. Hundreds. Each one pulsed with its own light, its own energy, its own piece of a being that had died in this place.
And at the tree's base, watching him with eyes that held the wisdom of millennia, sat Sylvanis.
The Root Mother was humanoid only in the loosest sense. Her body was made of intertwined branches and living wood, her hair a cascade of silver leaves, her skin the texture of smooth bark. She was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with human standards—beautiful as a forest is beautiful, as a mountain is beautiful, as anything ancient and powerful and patient is beautiful.
[Champion of the Verdant Maze: Sylvanis, the Root Mother]
Rank: B-
Threat Level: Extreme
"You have come far, little seed," Sylvanis said. Her voice was the rustle of leaves, the creak of branches, the whisper of wind through a thousand forests. "Farther than most. Farther than any F-Grade in recorded history. The gods watch you with interest."
Daryl's hand rested on his dagger, but he didn't draw it. Something told him that weapons would be useless here.
"What now?" he asked. "Do I fight you?"
Sylvanis laughed—a sound like rain on leaves. "Fight me? Child, I have existed since before your world had life. I have watched civilizations rise and fall. I have absorbed the cores of champions who thought themselves invincible. You could no more fight me than a seedling could fight the sun."
"Then what's the trial?"
"The trial is already happening." She gestured at the clearing, at the tree, at the cores hanging from its branches. "You have walked through the maze for four hours. In that time, it has shown you what you desire and what you fear. It has tested your spirit against memories that would break most beings. And you have passed."
Daryl blinked. "Passed? That's it?"
"That is it. The maze does not require combat. It requires survival—survival of the self against the self. You have survived. Therefore, you may proceed."
She rose, her branch-body unfolding with fluid grace, and walked toward him. Up close, she was even more imposing—towering a full head above him, her presence filling the clearing with an almost physical weight.
"But before you go, I have a gift. A choice, really. Two of them, in fact."
She held out her hand, and in her palm, two seeds appeared. One was dark, almost black, pulsing with shadow. The other was bright, almost golden, glowing with inner light.
"The dark seed contains the essence of every fear you have ever felt. Absorb it, and you will gain the skill [Fear Eater]—the ability to consume the fears of others and convert them into strength. But the fears you consume will become yours to carry. Every terror you take will live in you forever."
Daryl looked at the dark seed and felt its pull. Power, offered freely. Power that could make him stronger, faster, more capable. But at a price that sounded like damnation.
"The light seed contains the essence of every hope you have ever held. Absorb it, and you will gain the skill [Hope Bloom]—the ability to inspire others, to strengthen them with your belief. But the hopes you inspire will bind you to those you save. You will never be able to abandon them, never be able to put yourself first. Their survival will become your survival."
Daryl looked at the light seed and felt its warmth. Power to help others, to be the kind of person who made a difference. But at a price that sounded like losing himself entirely.
"Or," Sylvanis continued, "you can choose neither. You can walk away with only what you have earned, carrying no new burdens, gaining no new powers. The choice is yours."
Daryl stared at the seeds for a long, long time.
---
Choice Point
The dark seed: [Fear Eater]
· Consume others' fears for strength
· Carry every fear you consume forever
· Path of solitary power
The light seed: [Hope Bloom]
· Inspire and strengthen others
· Bound to those you save
· Path of shared burden
Neither seed: Continue as you are
· No new skill
· No new burden
· Path of patient growth
---
Daryl thought about the Collector, broken and alone in the Fringe. He thought about Sarah, happy with someone who could give her what she needed. He thought about Chen Wei, who had taught him that survival mattered more than victory.
And he thought about [Overgrowth]. About its patience, its hunger, its endless reaching for more. His talent didn't want him to take shortcuts. It wanted him to grow naturally, to earn his power, to become something that could withstand any burden without breaking.
"I choose neither," he said.
Sylvanis raised what might have been an eyebrow. "Are you certain? Few refuse such gifts."
"I'm certain. My talent... it doesn't work that way. It grows through patience, not quick fixes. Taking either seed would be like... like grafting a branch onto a tree that needs to grow its own. It might work for a while, but eventually, it would break."
The Root Mother smiled. It was a terrifying expression on her branch-face, but also strangely beautiful.
"You understand more than most. The maze has taught you well." She closed her hand, and when she opened it again, the seeds were gone. "Go, then, little seed. Grow at your own pace. Become what you were meant to become."
She gestured, and behind her, a path opened through the trees—a path that led not deeper into the maze, but out of it, toward a light that shimmered in the distance.
"The final trial awaits. The Trial of Choice. Go with my blessing, Daryl Ramsay. You have earned it."
Daryl walked past her, toward the light. At the threshold, he paused and looked back.
"The cores in your tree," he said. "The ones who failed. What happens to them?"
Sylvanis's expression softened. "They become part of me. Part of the maze. Their fears and hopes feed the trials for those who come after. In death, they serve the same purpose they sought in life: growth."
Daryl nodded slowly. Then he turned and walked into the light.
Status Update: Daryl Ramsay (End of Chapter 5)
Personal Information:
· Name: Daryl Ramsay (formerly Daniel Park)
· Rank: F (Officially) / E (Estimated actual)
· Location: Transitioning from Verdant Maze to Fourth Trial
Talent:
· [SSS-Rank: Overgrowth] - Current Integration: 28% (↑ from 22%)
· Maze trial accelerated integration through emotional processing
· Past life integration contributing to growth
· Passive rate increased further
Core Integration:
· E-Rank dungeon core (Goblin Warrens)
· C-Rank champion core (Ignis the Crucible)
· Past life memories integrating at 15%
Past Life Integration: 15%
· Full memories of Daniel Park recovered
· Self-defense knowledge from Chen Wei integrated
· Emotional processing ongoing
· Future integrations will provide additional skills/knowledge
Skills:
Active Offensive:
· [Dagger Mastery (F-Rank)] - Proficiency: 23% (↑ from 19%)
· Damage increase: approximately +10%
· Handling: near-instinctive
· Beginning to develop personal style
Active Defensive:
· [Thorn Body (F-Rank)] - Proficiency: 32% (↑ from 28%)
· Damage reflection: approximately 12%
· Damage reduction: approximately 7 points
· Thorns now visible even when not activated (faint pattern)
Active Utility:
· [Stealth (F-Rank)] - Proficiency: 7% (↑ from 5%)
· Detection reduction: approximately 10%
· [Light Footsteps (F-Rank)] - Proficiency: 15% (↑ from 12%)
· Noise reduction: approximately 18%
Passive Survival:
· [Overflow (F-Rank)] - Cooldown: 19 days (↓ from 21)
· Cooldown reduced by emotional resilience during maze
· [Flame Resistance (F-Rank)] - Proficiency: 3% (↑ from 1%)
· Fire reduction: 7%
· [Core Sense (F-Rank)] - Proficiency: 5% (↑ from 1%)
· Range: approximately 75 meters
· Can now distinguish core ranks (faintly)
New Skills (Gained in Maze):
· [Emotional Resistance (F-Rank) - NEW] - Proficiency: 8%
· Resistance to fear/hope-based mental attacks
· Gained from surviving maze illusions
· Reduces effectiveness of emotional manipulation by 10%
· [Rooted Mind (F-Rank) - NEW] - Proficiency: 4%
· Grants clarity during moments of high stress
· Reduces panic response
· Complements [Overgrowth]'s patient nature
Equipment:
Primary Weapon:
· [Thorned Dagger] - Quality: E
· Attack: 9-14
· Durability: 32/32
· Effects:
· Moderate Bleed: 12% chance for +6 over 5 seconds
· Thorned Return: 5% reflect melee damage
· Rooted Strike: 3% chance to immobilize 2 seconds
· Bonded (74%): +3 attack (per 20%)
· Evolution complete until 100%
Secondary Equipment:
· [Scavenged Leather Gloves] - Quality: Junk → F- (Evolving)
· Defense: 1 → 3 (in progress)
· Durability: 3/5 → 8/8 (in progress)
· Bond Strength: 12% (↑ from 5%)
· Evolution: 30% complete
· Gained effect in progress: Grip Strength (minor)
Equipment Bonding Progress:
· Thorned Dagger: 74% (Next evolution at 100%)
· Scavenged Leather Gloves: 12% (Evolving to F- at 25%)
Trial Record:
· Molten Forge (C-Rank) - Completed - Champion Defeated
· Endless Library (C+-Rank) - Completed - Three Questions Answered
· Verdant Maze (B--Rank) - Completed - Emotional Trial Survived
Notable Achievements:
· First F-Grade to complete three God's Realm trials
· Refused two potentially corrupting skills
· Integrated past life memories
· Maintained identity through intense emotional assault
· Earned Root Mother's blessing
Current Objectives:
· Face Fourth Trial: The Trial of Choice
· Reach 100% bond with Thorned Dagger
· Continue [Overgrowth] integration
· Prepare for potential ascension or return
Known Limitations:
· Still F-Grade by official standards
· No healing abilities
· [Overflow] on 19-day cooldown
· Emotionally exhausted from maze
· Unknown nature of Fourth Trial
· No information about what lies beyond