Everyone followed Uta out of the passage into an enormous underground chamber.
The whole chamber smelled damp, but the countless books lining its walls still spoke of its former splendor.
Kuta took down a book, blew off the dust, and read its title: Golden's Complete Guide to Music.
He opened it to page after page of sheet music.
Looking at the scores, Kuta could almost see an elegant musician in a tailcoat seated at a piano beneath the moonlight, pouring his life, everything he had seen and experienced, into his music.
Snap!
Kuta closed the book and looked up. Every shelf around him was thick with dust, and a faint blue glow rose from the countless books packed inside, each much like the one in his hand.
From a perspective no one else could see, the library seemed to come alive before Kuta's eyes.
A tiny figure appeared on every book, performing with abandon.
They refused to sleep here forever in this sunless chamber. They yearned for the light, for the warmth of a musician's hands, for the chance to let the world hear their voices.
This was no ordinary underground chamber. It held the history of a great kingdom. It was one of the world's
treasures, and every book here contained the life's work of a musician who had poured heart and soul into it.
They were not swords to be left in a sword graveyard, nor antiques meant to be shut away in a museum or someone's private collection for people to admire.
So when Kuta looked at them, they looked back. Then came a current of Seven-Colored Energy.
It connected every book and drifted through the air like blossoms on the wind. It was beautiful—and, at least to Kuta's eyes, powerful.
But this energy of desire was