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Chapter 14 — The Library
The next morning, I headed to Bloom's library.
Honestly, I wasn't expecting much. When someone says "library," a very specific image comes to mind — towering shelves, ancient books, dust floating through shafts of sunlight, old scholars arguing in the corners. Considering Bloom's importance, I'd pictured something like a grand archive preserving centuries of knowledge.
What I found completely shattered those expectations.
The moment I stepped inside, I froze. The ceiling stretched several stories up and disappeared into a network of glowing structures and floating platforms. Rows of workstations filled a massive circular hall, with holographic screens everywhere displaying books, diagrams, videos, and three-dimensional models. AI librarians moved silently between visitors, answering questions, providing directions. Thousands of people studied throughout the hall, yet the atmosphere stayed strangely peaceful.
The whole place felt less like a library and more like a living ocean of information.
For a few seconds I just stood there. "This is a library?"
I'd seen impressive technology since arriving in this world, but this still managed to surprise me. Back on Earth, humanity had spent centuries preserving information in paper books. Bloom had apparently decided that wasn't efficient enough.
I found an empty seat near the edge of the hall, and the moment I sat down, a holographic screen appeared. A pleasant voice greeted me. "Welcome, Member Inala. Please enter the subject you wish to study."
The efficiency was a little unsettling, honestly. I couldn't help wondering if this was also Bloom's way of controlling information — if every search passed through their system, restricting knowledge would be trivially easy. Then again, every major organization in history had controlled information to some degree. Bloom was probably no different.
Fortunately, I wasn't planning to search for state secrets. At least not today.
First search: *Meditation Methods.*
Hundreds of results appeared instantly. My eyebrows rose. Apparently there wasn't just one way to meditate — there were hundreds. Maybe thousands.
Hours passed faster than expected. The more I read, the more fascinating it got.
Universal Energy existed everywhere — in the air, in living creatures, in natural phenomena, even in objects. Awakened individuals absorbed it to strengthen their abilities. But not all energy was equally useful. Every power had unique characteristics, so different meditation methods had been developed to maximize compatibility. Someone with fire-related abilities would benefit from techniques designed to absorb heat-based energy. Someone with metal manipulation would do better with methods tied to metallic sources. The closer the method matched the ability, the better the efficiency.
Surprisingly logical.
Then I started thinking about my own ability. Transfiguration — the power to alter matter itself. Unlike fire or metal, it wasn't tied to any single element. In theory, it could interact with almost anything, which meant I probably needed a method that stayed flexible rather than specializing in one source.
After another hour of searching, I found it.
*Universal Method.*
I stared at the name. "Whoever named this had confidence."
The title sounded absurdly grand. The description was surprisingly practical. The method focused on absorbing Universal Energy from all available sources rather than specializing in one — because of that, most awakened individuals didn't rate it highly. They preferred specialized techniques with greater benefits in their element.
For someone like me, though? It seemed perfect. I asked the AI one final question. "If I choose this method now, can I switch later?"
"Yes. Practitioners may change meditation methods at any time. Temporary efficiency loss may occur during adaptation."
Good enough. "I'll take it."
Most people would probably go back to their rooms before attempting meditation. I didn't see the point — the library was quiet, comfortable, and I was impatient.
So I started immediately.
The instructions were surprisingly simple. Meditation wasn't about breathing patterns or strange body positions. The goal was to place the mind into a state where Universal Energy could be perceived — that was the difficult part. Most beginners needed days or weeks before sensing their first traces.
I had an advantage, though. Transfiguration demanded an absurd level of concentration and body awareness, and the mental state the method described felt strangely familiar. I closed my eyes, let the sounds around me fade, let my breathing settle, let my thoughts drift away. The world went quiet.
Then — a faint warmth. Tiny streams of energy drifting through the air, vague at first, then gradually clearer. Countless particles surrounding everything, flowing through the environment like invisible rivers.
Universal Energy. I could sense it directly for the first time.
I carefully followed the method's instructions, and the surrounding energy began slowly entering my body. Warmth spread through my limbs, my muscles relaxed, and then another feeling appeared underneath it — excitement. My Transfiguration ability reacted almost instantly.
If my power had emotions, it would be screaming at me: *use me.*
I smiled. Who was I to argue?
I activated Transfiguration — small changes only, minor adjustments to muscle density, bone structure, reaction speed. Nothing extreme. And immediately, something caught my attention. The energy consumption was different. Before meditation, every use of Transfiguration burned biological energy, exhaustion setting in fast after extended use. Now Universal Energy was being consumed instead, and my biological expenditure had dropped dramatically. Not only that — the efficiency of the ability itself had improved.
The difference was obvious. It felt like someone had swapped a leaking fuel tank for a perfectly functioning engine.
No wonder meditation was considered essential. Without it, awakened individuals were essentially crippling their own growth.
I opened my eyes, excitement bubbling. The Universal Method was exactly what I needed. Stronger methods almost certainly existed, but compatibility mattered more than rankings — and right now, I couldn't imagine a method better suited for Transfiguration.
A dozen experiment ideas immediately appeared in my head. Actually, make that several dozen. I was already looking forward to getting back to my room.
Then another thought surfaced. The Root Civilization — the mysterious civilization responsible for humanity's powers. I'd heard the name multiple times. If Bloom had a library this vast, there had to be something on them.
I typed it into the search bar.
The results appeared instantly. My excitement lasted exactly three seconds.
*ACCESS RESTRICTED — INSUFFICIENT AUTHORITY — CLASSIFIED INFORMATION*
The same message, over and over across most entries. I clicked through several pages. Nothing. Whatever Bloom knew about the Root Civilization, they weren't sharing it with operatives at my level.
Eventually I found a few public records. Brief — disturbingly brief.
According to Bloom, the Root Civilization originated beyond the stars. At the time of their arrival, humanity had only begun exploring space. They infiltrated Earth in secret, kidnapped people, conducted experiments, and over the course of those experiments, millions died. The emergence of superpowers was a direct consequence of their actions.
That was all. No explanation, no details, no conclusion — just a horrifying summary and a hard stop.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds.
Millions. The number felt unreal. Entire nations worth of people had died. And somehow humanity had survived. But what happened after? Did humanity defeat them? Did the first awakened rise against them? Were they exterminated? Driven away?
Or were they still here?
The thought sent a chill down my spine. Hidden somewhere. Watching. Waiting.
The deeper I looked at this world, the more dangerous it became. I'd started thinking my biggest concern was surviving Bloom's training. Now I wasn't so sure. There were forces operating on a scale I couldn't even begin to comprehend.
For a brief moment I'd almost started feeling safe. That illusion didn't last long.
Strength — I needed more. Knowledge — I needed more. And most importantly, time. Time to grow strong enough that whatever secrets lurked in this world's history couldn't simply crush me.
I closed the search window and stood. The library suddenly felt much quieter. Much larger. Much older — like countless secrets were buried somewhere beneath its endless archives.
I took one last look around the hall, then turned away. There were still experiments I wanted to run with Transfiguration. And if today had taught me anything, it was this:
I'd only just begun scratching the surface of what my power could become.
With that, I left the library and headed back to my room.