World's Best Protagonist [BL]-Chapter 68: World Tree (3)

I crossed my arms and stared up at the massive tree that just casually decided to have a conversation with me. It said I’m inside it. Did it swallow me? My mind was clearly trying to avoid that topic.

Something tells me that if I know more, I won’t be able to escape this situation. Like I will be forced into doing something, maybe a librarian job...? Well, honestly, it’s a dream of mine, but not in this kind of library.

The joy of watching people’s faces break into many faces while reading a book, the superior feeling you get when you hiss at someone being noisy and see them buried their faces in the book they’re holding, or the feeling of sitting at the highest seat surrounded by books you love, is incomparable.

Wait... is the reason I love reading because it runs in my veins? Being this... what did he call it again?

I grimaced. As an aspiring librarian, I sure have a poor memory. Or, maybe I was just in denial.

It had been a solid five minutes since it dropped the biggest bomb of my life, and I was still standing here, waiting for the punchline.

"...uhm, sorry. Can you repeat what you said?" I finally said, raising an eyebrow.

"You are the Ancient Keeper."

Silence. I stared. Blinked. Then, stared some more.

Once my eyes were dried and strained, I let out a long, tired sigh and massaged my temples. "Yeah, see, that’s what I thought you said, but I was hoping I hallucinated it."

I looked back up. "Because obviously, I’m not an ancient anything. I’m just a regular guy who got dragged into a vortex, nearly killed by my own father, or roasted by a molten rock monster, and now I’m having deep philosophical discussions with a... tree belly. Am I in your belly?"

The World Tree didn’t respond immediately.

It rustled, its branches shifting with eerie grace, like it was contemplating how best to explain things to a complete moron. Then, a deep, ancient voice rumbled through the space again.

"Your body is human. Your soul... is not."

I narrowed my eyes. "I feel like that should’ve come up in a medical checkup at some point."

Ah, no. Who am I kidding? Medical check-ups don’t diagnose what kind of soul you have, do they?

"Your soul carries the essence of the Ancient Keeper—the one meant to guard and guide this place. You were not made the Keeper. You have always been the Keeper. Even if you do not remember."

Okay. Alright. Sure. That was totally fine. Not puzzling or terrifying at all. I’m being passed like a ball in all jobs ending with ’er’ here.

Cashier. Seeker. Minder. Now Keeper! What’s next? Stripper?

I exhaled and crossed my arms.

"And what exactly does an Ancient Keeper do? Because I swear if this is some ’divine janitor’ gig where I have to sweep up fallen leaves for eternity, I’m out."

The lights within the tree pulsed, almost like it was amused. novelbuddy.cσ๓

"The Ancient Keeper is the bridge between knowledge and existence. The one who protects the sacred truths of the world. The guardian of what must be preserved."

I frowned. "See, that sounds fancy and important, but I feel like I need a job description in layman’s terms. What does that mean for me?"

"It means you have been entrusted with the wisdom of ages, the ability to guide and guard the sacred pathways of this world."

"Uh-huh. And... how does that help me not die in my current situation?"

The tree laughed. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like—a deep, reverberating hum through the air, like wind through a hollow cavern.

"You are already more than what you believe yourself to be. You merely need to remember."

I ran a hand down my face. "Great. So, I just have to magically recall my past life as an all-knowing cosmic librarian? No big deal."

The branches shifted again, and I could feel its gaze on me, even though it had no eyes.

"You jest, but the knowledge will come when it is needed. The world does not make mistakes. The Ancient Keeper’s soul was meant to be reborn into you. There is a purpose to it."

I scoffed. "Yeah? And what is that purpose?"

The lights above me pulsed, and then the voice grew softer—almost gentle.

"That, child, is for you to discover."

I stared at the endless expanse of the World Tree’s branches, a strange weight settling in my chest.

Me? The guardian of some ancient, sacred knowledge? The so-called ’bridge between existence and wisdom’? That sounded like way too much responsibility for someone who still occasionally forgot where he put his keys.

And yet...

Something deep inside me stirred. A tiny flicker of something that wasn’t quite a memory, but it wasn’t nothing, either. Just like the faintest whisper of recognition in the back of my mind.

I exhaled.

"...You really couldn’t have picked someone else?"

The tree definitely sounded amused now. "There is no one else."

"Fantastic," I muttered, rubbing my temples again. "Guess that means I’m stuck with this gig."

"You were never stuck. You were chosen."

I sighed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah. Chosen. Like a divine lottery I never signed up for. So, does this Ancient Keeper thing come with a paycheck, or at least a cool sword?"

"No. But it comes with power."

I snorted. "What kind of power? The power I possessed now? Did it come with my job title? Being a Minder?"

"No. The power to turn anything back to what it is rightfully should be. What is originally created must not be changed. Fate is woven in the origin of things, not in their end."

Ah. It speaks like a puzzle, but I somehow understood it.

I’m something that can turn humans into their normal state, in short. That’s why I can cancel their abilities if I want. That’s why I can absorb that invasive, unnatural dark energy in their bodies.

"I still have many questions regarding this. But for now, let me ask you one that has been bothering me."

I grabbed the book titled ’Man in Gorgeous Disguise’, and lifted it up, as if showing the tree.

"On Earth, I met someone who has the same name, same appearance, same story in life, and same secrets as a character in this book. The protagonist. Why is that? At this point, I don’t believe in coincidences anymore. So, tell me, why is a book character walking on my world, acting like he isn’t made out of ink?"

The World Tree’s gaze at me became intense. "Because he is not made out of ink. These books are all records of different worlds."

Absurd. Each is a record of different worlds, but it was focused on one person? How does that make sense?