KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess Chapter 207: [207] Please Mind the Disappearing Floors

Margaret hunched over her horse, the creature’s white breath mingling with her own in the frigid night air. The Shadow Woods lived up to their na, dense pines casting deeper darkness beneath a starless sky. Old Ren’s map lay open across her saddle horn, though she could barely make out its markings in the ager light from their single, covered lantern.

She’d always been the responsible one at the academy—the one who took notes, who rembered birthdays, who made sure everyone got ho safe after parties. Now that sa instinct made her hyperaware of every sound in the woods, every shift in the wind. Death surrounded them in these woods, and she felt it.

"Xavier," she called softly. "The compass?"

Xavier rode alongside her, his face half-hidden by the high collar of his coat. He pulled out the Resonance Compass, its needle glowing blue in the darkness, pointing steadily northwest.

"Still active. Getting stronger." He closed his fist around it. "We’re close."

Behind them, Naomi kept her horse close to Ashley’s, both won scanning the trees. Ashley’s golden fractures pulsed dimly beneath her clothing, providing just enough light to avoid the worst roots and holes in the path. Calypso rode beside Xavier, her purple eyes seeming to pierce the darkness.

"There," Calypso said suddenly, pointing ahead.

The trees thinned, revealing a vast clearing against the mountainside. Even from a distance, Margaret could see the ruins sprawled across the landscape—broken columns, half-collapsed dos, and what looked like a massive sinkhole in the center.

"The Imperial Library," she whispered. "It’s huge."

"Was huge," Naomi corrected. "Now it’s a death trap."

They dismounted at the edge of the clearing, tying their horses to a sturdy pine. Margaret grabbed her healer’s satchel, double-checking its contents by touch—herbs, bandages, tinctures. The weight against her hip offered little comfort.

"Everyone stay close," Xavier said. "Naomi, take rear guard. Ashley, keep your interference field tight around us. Margaret and Calypso in the middle. I’ll take point."

They approached the ruins cautiously. Moonlight broke through the clouds montarily, revealing the devastation in stark relief. The library had once been a masterpiece of architecture—multiple dos connected by columned walkways, grand staircases leading to terraced gardens now wild with overgrowth. Everything was dusted with crystalline growths, glittering coldly in the dim light.

The main entrance was a maw of broken marble, the grand doors long since rotted away. Xavier paused at the threshold, compass in hand.

"Nolan’s in there, sowhere," he said. "The signal’s stronger, but... diffuse. Like it’s coming from everywhere at once."

Margaret stepped forward, running her fingers over the door fra. Her two years as Margot had taught her to recognize the signs. "The ruins are saturated with unstable magic. Look."

She pointed to the crystalline growths sprouting from the marble. Under close inspection, they pulsed faintly, each crystal containing swirling mist.

"Gate crystals," she explained. "Not like the ones from our world. These ford from the tear in reality during the Collapse. They’re... leaking."

"Leaking what?" Naomi asked.

"Possibility. mory." Margaret pulled her hand back. "Stay away from them. They can cause hallucinations, especially if you touch them."

They entered the ruins, stepping carefully over fallen columns and chunks of ceiling. The air inside felt thick, heavy with moisture and sothing else—a hum just below the threshold of hearing. Margaret’s skin prickled. Every shadow seed deeper than it should be.

The entrance hall opened into what had once been a grand foyer, now open to the night sky where the central do had collapsed. Multiple corridors branched off in different directions, each dark and uninviting.

Xavier held up the compass, but the needle spun erratically.

"Sothing’s interfering," he growled.

"It’s the crystals," Margaret said. "They’re refracting the signal."

They chose the largest corridor, moving deeper into the ruins. Their footsteps echoed strangely, sotis returning too quickly, sotis delayed by seconds. Margaret tried to focus on Xavier’s back, but her vision kept swimming, edges blurring.

"Is anyone else seeing..." Naomi began, then stopped. "Never mind."

"We’re all seeing things," Ashley said flatly. "The crystals are affecting our perception."

They pressed on. The corridor widened into what must have been a reading room, with rotted shelves still clinging to the walls. Books lay scattered across the floor, their pages turned to mold. More crystals here, larger ones, growing from the ceiling and floor like alien stalactites.

"Wait," Margaret said, kneeling beside a pile of debris. "Look at this."

She brushed away dirt to reveal markings on the floor—a complex equation written in chalk, surrounded by smaller notations. The chalk was still white, not yet degraded by moisture.

"Nolan," Xavier said imdiately.

"These are fresh," Margaret agreed. "Days old, at most."

They continued, finding more evidence of Nolan’s presence—a makeshift bed in a forr librarian’s office, stacks of notes written on scraps of parchnt, and a plate with the picked-clean bones of so small creature.

"He’s been living here," Naomi said, examining the bed.

Margaret picked up one of the parchnt scraps. The handwriting was cramped, nervous, filling every available space.

"’The White Ravens circle. They sense but cannot see. The Inquisitor cos with the new moon.’" She looked up. "He knew they were hunting him."

"Keep moving," Xavier urged. "The compass is going crazy."

They entered a long gallery where the ceiling had partially collapsed, allowing moonlight to filter through. The walls here were covered in more writing—equations, diagrams, star charts. At the center stood a pedestal with a massive book splayed open.

Calypso approached it. "This is a map. Of the library."

They crowded around. The book showed detailed floor plans of the library, with sections crossed out in red ink.

"He’s mapped the safe paths," Xavier said, tracing a line with his finger. "Away from the worst of the crystal growths."

A sound echoed from sowhere deeper in the ruins—a scraping, slithering noise that made Margaret’s skin crawl.

"We should—" she began, but her words died as the ground beneath them shuddered.

The walls around them shifted, stonework grinding against stonework. The doorway they’d entered through narrowed, then disappeared entirely, replaced by solid wall.

"What the hell?" Naomi shouted, drawing her knife.

"The ruins are changing," Margaret realized with horror. "The magic is reshaping them."

Another tremor, stronger this ti. The floor beneath them cracked, and Calypso stumbled backward, falling through a suddenly appearing opening. The floor sealed behind her instantly.

"Calypso!" Xavier lunged forward, but Ashley grabbed his arm.

"Stop! You’ll fall too!"

The tremors subsided. They stood in a completely different room now, smaller, with only one exit.

"We’ve been separated," Naomi said, her voice tight with anger. "Was this a trap?"

Margaret closed her eyes, fighting off waves of dizziness. The buzzing in her ears grew louder, forming words, whispers...

Knowledge... preserved... catalogued...

Her eyes snapped open. "It’s not a trap. It’s... sorting us."

"What?" Xavier demanded.

"The Archivist," Margaret said, the realization dawning. "Ren said it collected knowledge. I think the ruins are its extension. It’s separating us based on... I don’t know, what we know? What we are?"

"How do we find each other again?" Naomi asked. "How do we find Nolan?"

Margaret opened her satchel, rummaging through her herbs. Two years as Margot had taught her more than basic healing—it had taught her about this world’s peculiar flora. She pulled out a small cloth pouch.

"Wintermint and crystal sage," she explained, crushing the dried leaves between her fingers. "They counter the hallucinogenic effects of raw crystal exposure."

She mixed the herbs with a few drops from a vial in her satchel, creating a pungent paste that she dabbed beneath each person’s nose.

"This won’t stop the ruins from changing," she warned. "But it should help us see through the illusions, at least."

Xavier nodded, then pulled out the compass again. The needle still spun wildly, but occasionally it would pause, pointing in a specific direction for a few seconds before resuming its chaotic motion.

"There," he said. "Northwest, for a mont. If we track those pauses—"

"We can triangulate Nolan’s position," Naomi finished.

They moved carefully through the ruins, following Xavier’s compass readings whenever it stabilized. The herbal paste helped, clearing Margaret’s vision and quieting the whispers, but the ruins continued to shift around them. Corridors would elongate as they walked, rooms would sprout new doorways or lose existing ones.

"The layout is responding to our thoughts," Margaret realized after their third detour. "Every ti we try to form a ntal map, it changes to invalidate it."

"So we stop thinking about where we are," Ashley suggested. "Focus only on where we’re going."

It seed to help. They made progress, finding more evidence of Nolan’s presence—notes on the Inquisitor’s movents, observations about the White Ravens, theories about the Winter Court’s plans.

"He’s been tracking them as they track him," Xavier said, examining a detailed tiline. "Smart."

They descended a spiral staircase, the steps worn smooth by centuries of scholars’ feet. The air grew colder, damper. The crystal growths intensified, forming entire walls of glittering, pulsing material.

At the bottom of the staircase, they found a narrow corridor lined with doors. Most hung open, revealing small study rooms now overgrown with crystal. At the far end, a single door remained closed.

"The compass—" Xavier began, but Margaret grabbed his arm, pointing to the floor.

A body lay sprawled before the closed door, face-down in a pool of congealed blood. White robes, now stained crimson, marked the corpse as one of the Winter Court’s Ravens.

Naomi approached cautiously, knife drawn. She nudged the body with her boot, then knelt for a closer look.

"Throat cut," she reported. "Single stroke, left to right. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing."

"Nolan?" Xavier asked, skeptical.

"Not his style," Naomi said.

Margaret examined the floor around the body. "No signs of struggle. They never saw it coming."

"Look," Ashley said quietly, pointing beyond the body.

A single set of footprints led away from the corpse, bloody at first, then fading as they continued down the corridor, past the closed door.