《Erased》


 Prologue

    I opened my eyes.


    The orange glow of gentle candlelight lit my face. Flickering like sunlight through water, dousing the dusty floating motes an orangey hue. Tomes, old and ancient, some beyond repair, others pristine and sparkling. Shelves, glossy as if dusted and shined, but in places irreparable. Ripped books on perfect shelves, perfect books on broken wood.


    The contrast was as startling as I found myself.


    My awakening was nothing more than the gentle sudden awareness I indeed was awake, and the realization thereafter that I was staring at my eyelids, and of course the implied opening of said eyelids.


    And here I was.


    I found my arms wrapped around my legs. My legs tucked into my chest. My eyes inspected my frame before I even considered moving. It took a while for my eyes to catch up with my internal perception, and realize I was staring at robes. They itched terribly, and I was acutely aware of the fact I wore nothing under.


    I turned my head, staring at my surroundings as if expectant to find something that might indicate exactly where in the world I was.


    The thought of returning home triggered an unnerving awareness. It was akin to reaching for something that should''ve been there, only for its absence to be that much obvious, and worse, not knowing exactly what you were expecting.


    I sat there for five minutes more, gleaning nothing of myself save for the fact that it seemed I was particularly methodical. Perhaps well-read given my surroundings, but if nothing else it was the only thing I learned of myself in those five minutes.


    My immediate surroundings were, of course, literature. The few books intact were placed in a neat pile to the side, two, in fact, one was much higher than its opposite, with an open book between the two. Had I been reading through these?


    Odd, some were pristine, others perpetually covered in dust.The Origin of Skills and Abilities.I flicked through the pages, eyes roaming the text. As it turned out, I could indeed still read.


    The book, I can only assume I was in the process of scouring, detailed a function of the world. It was a basic rundown of general knowledge one should already know but chronicled concisely and succinctly, while often delving deeper into theories.


    I put the book down and looked through the rest of the pile. Whatever my interests were, I am most definitely eccentric. There was an entire thick compendium of plant-life, and judging from a bookmark delicately placed, I was nearly halfway through it! And another, one titledOn the Subject ofwhich was quite literally an encyclopedia of books on particular subjects. It seemed even that I had gathered whatever I had been looking for from it.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    While it was true that the fact I was even here most likely meant I was safe, the unknown pressured me to secure myself before delving into any more clues about my past.


    The second I moved to stand, something poked me in the chest. The sensation alone was surprising let alone the fact it came from inside my robe. I instantly reached inside and pulled out what I suspected I might have left for myself.


    Hello,


    Well, I dare say this may be the oddest experience I''ve ever had the pleasure of well, experiencing. Likely, you are wondering exactly who you are, where this place is, and... well I hesitate to even attempt to predict what I - you - might be thinking. Perhaps it is prudent I speak as if we are separate, this is, of course, true for you, but for me... not quite yet. ??To begin, and to omit the process,I have erased myself. You, my friend, are what is left. I know I - you - damn it, are the curious sort, or should be if anything of myself remains so I will concede my reasoning if only for the fact I know it would otherwise itch at my mind for all of eternity. The reason I decided to erase myself was for a self-imposed second chance if you will. We are not good men, you and I, and I have many regrets. I was a man given too much power much too fast, we became something I hated, before we even realized it.


    That is all I am willing to share, save for this consolation. We have no friends, nor family. The only companions we ever had were enemies and regrets. The enemies I am sure will never find you. You are safe in this library. This is a luxury I can afford you, one that the power I have grants me, take this as an axiom, I can afford such promises. I cannot promise the regrets will never find you, should you ever find out who you are. I do not know whether you will feel the crushing guilt if ever upon learning it, I hope you do not. As you are not I, and I am not you.


    I find myself rambling now, to myself no less. What cruel humor. You are in a great library fathoms deeps and nowhere near any sign of sentient life. You are surrounded by dangers if you leave these shelves. I am sorry friend, if you ever make it out of this place, then perhaps I truly do deserve a second chance.


    In truth, I am not even entirely sure you''ll be able to read. But in the case we are lucky, I have compiled a... pile of books you may find pertinent. There is no telling what exactly will be erased in this process, so I apologize if anything I''ve left for you seems redundant.


    Best of luck.


    There was a great feeling of loss that rushed through me. If this truly was me, then I was a desperate man, maybe misunderstood, but nonetheless one who made unforgivable mistakes. The knowledge would''ve been sobering if my mood wasn''t already so solemn.


    My past aside, if at this point I could even claim it as my own, my past self had truly, for lack of a better phrase, fucked me. I tucked the note into my robe once again, unsure what else to do with it.


    I began by gathering all the books at a study table. He had truly left an enormous amount of material. Comparing the books he had compiled with the ones I randomly had plucked off the shelf, I was glad for his efforts. The first book I examined from a nearby shelf wasThe Life of a Newtwhich detailed the life cycle of, you guessed it, a newt. And not any spectacular breed or species of newt. Just, very simply, a newt.


    The desire to explore my unknown surroundings was tempting, but in this, I decided to trust my old self. There were too many blank spaces in my mind that needed to be filled with something substantial. I was completely clueless to the world and that fact became painfully obvious as I skimmed the titles of the books. I wasn''t even familiar with any of the subjects.


    In the process of setting up the table, I had no idea why I wasn''t in the first place, I found a sizeable stockpile of food and drink all wrapped up nearby my initial spot I awoke in.


    That entire day, I read.

 Chapter 1 - Library

    ASkill is an ability. Perhaps there is a better way to describe it, as those terms are nearly interchangeable. ASkill is the capability to do something. It is a powerful tool. One that can produce any number of effects that, to this day, and however far into the future you are reading this, are still being discovered. My mind blanks for an example, which only attests to the sheer number of evenbasicSkills. Take[Perfect Posture], this one does exactly as it states wherein whoever possesses it holds their body perfectly. Useful for a[High Noble]in a social setting wouldn''t you think? Here lies the wonder ofSkills; a[Bladesmaster]might make much better use of it. Usually, aSkill is inherently tied to aClass though often they appear through a number of unrelatedClasses. It has, however, been proven thatSkillscan be obtained without aClass, though these appear to be more difficult to acquire. Test too, I haven''t met aClassless individual in decades, at least none that were not children.


    - The Origin of Skills and Abilities, The Untethered Tomes


    Skill Obtained: [Basic Knowledge]


    I frowned, blinking drowsiness away. Had I imagined that? My mind caught up to itself and I browsed through the books until I came across the very first one I had seen. Scattered across the study was a smattering of books that any passerby might deem foolishly broad of whatever poor soul had decided to commit such a compilation to memory. This poor soul, of course, was me. The mess was carefully organized, however, and I found the pertinent book immediately.


    The Origin of Skills and Abilities


    No, I had obtained a Skill. Likely, one born from this terrible undertaking. A Skill was no small feat, such things were useful and potentially powerful. They allowed growth. They were the result of an individual seeking growth or identity. [Basic Knowledge] seemed surprisingly broad, to me, that hinted at either immense utility, or utter uselessness.


    I flipped through a small compendium of Skills. I was not lucky enough to be assigned any large set of data to peruse through by my past self. This list of Skills was small, considering, although it did in fact list [Basic Knowledge].


    It was an apparent truth that Skills, despite their names, held uniqueness to the individual. Some other bookish scholars might attain the exact same [Basic Knowledge] and still, it would not function the same. It was also true therein lied a possibility one could attain something of a similar vein, say [Preliminary Information]. Or some such name. The point was that they differed. For some odd reason, this was stressed in my readings and the tone of the author suggested frustration at the mystery.


    I, however, didn''t need [Basic Knowledge] to infer its function. I was, however, at a loss on exactly what basics I may now know. I searched through my memories, painstakingly delicate with newness, and found some inkling of information. Not in any past memory or epiphany, but from something else entirely. A font of information, a small one mind, but one nonetheless.


    It was odd not knowing what I knew, but the feeling was true that if I were to think upon something I knew, I would know it. Again, an odd thought, but true. It was simply too great a task to think of all things I thought I might know, thus my mind naturally drifted towards my entire situation.


    The thought that came to me was analog to the things I''ve read. Particularly a few encyclopedias containing entries of hundreds of monsters. Some frightening enough to spawn in my nightmares.


    It seemed that creatures became more dangerous the deeper they are found. If it was true I was fathoms - and I use the term vaguely, not as a real concrete measure - deep, my life was forfeit less I find a way to the surface. At this depth, nothing was safe for me to encounter. Skills could only get me so far, and it was doubtful anything useful would come to me. My life was in my hands.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I briefly pondered the conundrum of erasure - what my counterpart had done to me - and questioned the absence of whatever Skills he had. Perhaps even what Class. The fact I was my own person, completely blank, was baffling. But no, there was no time for such speculation. My food would last me only a few more days. He had not given me much room to plan.


    Exploring the library was a task done in good faith. I would never have been so brazen if not promised by my past self. True, my trust could easily have been misplaced, yet I doubted he would go through so much trouble only to sabotage me once I awoke. If this entire thing was a farce, I had not been the least protected in my slumber, whatever power had less than savory intentions against me could easily have ended me there.


    It was with that mindset that I found what marked the end of the library.


    Not fifty feet away I stared at rock. Cavern, ominously empty and bathed in candlelight. The entrance of which lurked at the very end of the library light. A section of the said library having been knocked down to rubble, whatever had caused the damage did nothing further as the shelves around the breach were perfectly intact.


    The moment I turned to explore the other end of the library I felt something looking at me. I whirled around eyes wide with suspicion and fear. Nothing. In that moment, I felt the absolute crushing reality of my position. Somehow, I found my next step, trying and failing to prevent my flinching at the stare on my neck that followed my motion as I turned.


    When the pressure faded, a sigh of relief escaped me in a shiver. My heart raced and my mind jumped immediately to the hundreds of monstrosities that could''ve been. I wracked my brain for any tangible reason it would not enter the library and found nothing in explanation.


    It appeared, from my exploring, that aside from the breach there was a very obvious set of tall wooden doors that acted as a regular entrance. I did not open them. I did not approach them. I did not know how my body worked through its fear, I felt as if a machine.


    Some parts of my mind tickled and I realized that I found the interior of the library to be quite fetching. It was grand, fantastical, and the appreciation of its architecture rooted away the fear lurking in my mind. It was a large structure, ten minutes walk from one side to the other. Two floors, though only one staircase existed in any state of repair.


    The central room was my favorite. Artful statues decorated a more personable atmosphere. Here was where people went for directions, or simply to read and rest. They were, in a way, my first encounter with a person. They were military, somehow I knew they were knights not just any swordsman. Well regarded, and dangerously skilled, despite their armors.


    With a start, I realized the knight-statue''s weapons were not carved of the same glossy marble. They were real. When I grabbed the sword I felt something protest, not by any morals of mine, but the library itself. A small buildup of power, no, mana. And then I pulled away, sword in hand.


    It was magnificent. There was no other way to describe such an item. It was all I could do to appreciate it. To wield it? I frowned, the sword was much larger in my hands. In fact, the man who held it must''ve been a giant. The sword, even by holding it alone, was beginning to weigh on me.


    While the process was slow, I decided to move my things to the central room. This amounted to me dragging a chair full of books across the library tile. I was relieved the sound of the wood on the tile was nowhere as loud, echoey, and disruptive as I thought. In fact, the chair all but glided seamlessly across it.


    My things in place, I did more exploring. The sword weighed me down more than anything else, additionally, I severely questioned my own skill at the blade, so I left it in place, returning it to the statue. He did well to hold it, after all.


    The goal was food. Scavenging. Though I doubted terribly I would have any luck, I knew some small plants from the books in which the condition of the library might be perfect. There was no telling if they were native to this area, depth, or even if the library did not forbid their entrance as it did the cavern''s inhabitants. Yet I looked all the same. More food meant more days planning, gaining knowledge and learning. Time. I needed more time but the supplies I had afforded barely any.


    The central room held nothing for me. Rummaging through the receptionist desk left me nothing of value save a map of the library as it should''ve been. From the documents I found, it seemed this place was as much a practice, as it was a study. People worked here, researched and toiled, experimented. There were grants here, promises of money to fund research. Was this a school as well?


    Frustratingly, I could not for the life of me find the simplest of information. Nowhere had the library been named. It irked me, but I assured myself it was unavoidable that I eventually come across it.


    Research, experimentation, the pursuit of knowledge. People toiled away at their craft here, their studies. I knew where I was heading.


    The botany section.

 Chapter 2 - Supplies

    The feint is a deceptively powerful technique despite its apparent simplicity. The ability to train your opponent into expecting an action of yours means you''ve already seized control over the flow of an encounter. The moment before to the moment after, you''ve effectively narrowed down your opponent''s moves. Many combatants acquire a mind for this combative flowchart, able to trace a bout with the effectiveness of a[Seer]. The problem lies with those that rely on reflex and reflex alone, or those with powerful intuition. Gods forbid one with[Battle Intuition]. They have more time to react, thus more choices, and therefore the flowchart becomes large and messy. I will teach you to create this sequence of actions and reactions in your mind, teach you what to expect, teach you how to respond, and teach you to forget it all and simply react. I will teach you combat.


    -The Art Of Combat, Coby Tuuli


    The botany section was located on the second floor. While it wasn''t bogglingly large, it was quite sizeable given the proportions of the library. It occurred to me that, while large, this library could not have been sufficient enough to house entire schools of study. It was yet another mystery at the back of my already worked mind.


    A word came to my mind as I considered myself fully entering the botany section. Hydroponics, small indoor farms without the use of soil. I had read of it. In fact, I was inclined to believe the book from which I gleaned that bit of information came from this very section. My feet slapped lightly on the clean tile, inspecting each container as I came across them.


    Dirty water filled with dead plants. I wrinkled my nose. The smell was not pleasant and trying to come up with comparison was painful in the sense that I had no memory to draw from. It smelled rotten. And of that, I would''ve been sure from looks alone.


    There were seeds. Packets of them. At first, I didn''t recognize any of the names. Somehow my readings must''ve skipped over these particular plants. But then, something filled in the gaps and I came to recognize a few. These were regional plants, niche. Hardyet and greyrice. As the former''s name might imply, hardy vegetables.


    And that was it, a small flash of intuition. I smiled, perhaps [Basic Knowledge] would be useful. More so since that pearl of knowledge allowed me to assume some things. They would probably flourish in arid environments.


    In the meantime, I examined the area. There was a stone basin, no doubt for meant for waste. I dumped out a single bin of dirty water, the rest I would grudgingly drink if I was forced. As it turned out there was a small blue gemstone hovering over a separate basin.


    The sight was odd enough that I froze. When it became apparent that one; the gem wasn''t a threat, and two; my Skill wasn''t kicking in, I moved to approach. I hadn''t the slightest clue what this was, but the color and placement gave me context clues.


    I positioned the basin under it, and lo and behold, clear running water spurted forth. It came into being as if flowing from the gem itself, bursting and gurgling forth in a small controlled torrent. The basin was full in but a minute. I tempered my eagerness for a sip and cleaned the bin of everything beforehand.


    It tasted divine. Fresh. Perfect. I could check the "water source" off my mental list of things to secure. I was overjoyed since it was one of the highest priorities. An essential to survival.


    I emptied and cleaned every basin. The gem did not seem to wear at all at the amount of water it was producing. I determined that the power came from the gem itself rather than the library since there was a small cabinet full of such gems.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Setting the bed for the seeds was slow going and meticulous. The process involved suspending a bed of seeds right at the waterline, not submerged but not entirely dry. The goal was for the seeds to reach down and drink up the nutrient-rich water. I found the powdered nutrients near the seed packets. They were categorized so I hoped I had chosen the correct type for hardyet and greyrice. There was no telling how long food-wise these plants would last me, but if nothing else, they would pad my supplies.


    That would not matter if I couldn''t find a temporary food source until then.


    Exploring the library became a quick past-time. There were many devoted sections, machinery, magic, combat. The specificity could be entirely broad or narrowly niche. I memorized each and every section. The map of the library might as well have only existed in my mind at this point. The one I had found in the reception desk was severely outdated.


    There was a combat hall. I let out a large sigh of relief when I peeked through a dusty room. Rations. Combat rations. The type meant for energy and not for taste. The type that was unperishable. My past self didn''t make this easy, he could easily have accumulated these supplies or let me know, in fact, he could''ve simply stocked my things with much more, but he didn''t.


    I gathered everything, brought a chair around, and used my patented hauling technique to get it to the central room. I dragged a table nearby and took out my books. The Art of Trapping, The Art of Magic, The Art of Combat. They were all by the same author, one Coby Tuuli. The encyclopedia On the Subject of routinely recommended Tuuli and quickly I realized why. He was a very technical and engaging author who despite the range of subjects seemed to have an innate understanding of them all. He was quick-witted and concise, he didn''t cover subjects he wasn''t confident on and instead recommended other authors when the need arose. The fellow seemed to truly devote himself to disseminating knowledge.


    Reading through the rest of my self-recommended books was mind-numbing. It was a large information dump, but it did help me catalog the effects of [Basic Knowledge]. There were random subjects I knew the bare minimum in that I could hold a passing conversation in. While not a powerful effect, it definitely helped someone in my position who was lost to the world. For instance, math. I knew nothing initially, but as I began I realized that wasn''t entirely true, I had been supplemented with the most basic operations.


    This cataloging of effects was something that The Origin of Skills and Abilities noted people often did naturally. That, to me, seemed the obvious conclusion, but nonetheless. During my tangential reading wherein I took a mental breather and perused more interesting topics, I realized something as I read through The Art of Combat.


    Coming up from my seat, I bookmarked my spot and closed the book thoughtfully. My eyes found the marble statue, admiring the captured knight''s magnificence, but staring at his sword with all the curiosity in the world. I approached the knight and in what might''ve been a terrible breach of respect if he were real, reached for his sword. Again, there was a hum of power, of mana, but I pulled away with sword in hand.


    It was heavy still, much too large for my hands. And yet, when I closed my eyes my body eased into itself. I knew my grip, I knew how to slash and how to stab. Nothing else, just that, but confidence in those basics. My eyes sparkled with intrigue and I returned the knight his sword.


    That, admittedly, was not the most useful in my current predicament. A sword would do little to help me fend off whatever creatures existed at this depth. My eyes drifted to the breach in the library against my better judgment. I could not see the breach, but all the same I knew it was there. There was nothing, physically, stopping anything from entering and a shiver ran down my spine.


    All I had was the guarantee from my past self. It had to be enough until I could take my life into my own hands. I sat and thought, really thought, about what I was to do. I needed a plan, to manage my time and optimize whatever it was I was doing.


    My days were my own. This meant I could sleep and eat at my own pace. I would keep myself on a strict regimen of eating as little as possible without compromising myself. The books on the body helped me understand the importance of activity, so in the interest of preventing muscle atrophy while conserving food, I would do the bare minimum and stretch. In this way, I could string out my supplies.


    But, the most important part would be reading, coming up with ideas. This library, more and more, I had the strangest feeling it was grand. Magnificent. My time here would be wasted if I didn''t peruse its shelves, learning while I could. This was crucial, the knowledge from the books I had left myself had allowed me to survive thus far. What more could I learn if I sought them out myself?


    I began today.

 Chapter 3 - Learning

    Obtaining aClass is in some ways the most significant part of someone''s life. It wouldn''t be inaccurate to say that it defines the paths one might take in their life. An[Armorsmith] would, naturally, be making armor. Good armor at that. The power of aClass is no joke, those attempting tasks better suited to another with a fittingClass will almost always be inferior. It is a truth of the world, and if ever there existed someone without a specificClass that could somehow out armorsmith an[Armorsmith] I''d wonder terribly at why he wasn''t one himself.


    - The Origin of Skills and Abilities, The Untethered Tomes


    Shutting the book came with a powerful sense of accomplishment. I stared around. The library was as it always was, identical as the first day I came into awareness. I had finished my readings and all that was left were the books I had independently assigned myself.


    It had been less than a week. My supplies, rations and drink, were only slightly dented. Bolstered by the spurting water gems and combat rations, I could last much longer than what my supplies initially projected. Of larger concern was when the first of my plants became edible. Sprouts had already formed, but the portions meant for eating had not come into their own.


    The past few days had been a blur, the routine was too perfectly strict for any definitive days to be partitioned in my memory. I spent a good portion of my time in the combat hall, however. The training was arguably pointless, but I was loathed to waste an opportunity. While most of the place had been damaged beyond repair there were a few dummies sitting neatly among the debris, these ones were such that they seemed pristine despite it all.


    It was only after my first beating and subsequent spike of fear that their function dawned on me, ironically after taking a dizzying blow to the head. They were shaped like men, all larger than me. Why wouldn''t there be automatons? Constructs meant for training? That one had immediately knocked me down, four bruises sprouting on every limb. Fast, impossibly so. My eye could not even track its movement let alone react to it. It had sprung forth unto me in response to my inquisitive prodding, the thing nearly killed me through sheer shock alone.


    It didn''t take long for me to clear out the hall, piling every broken body off to the side in a heap of wood and metal. The lines which marked sparring circles became apparent. A few bouts more and I was able to, painfully, determine which of the dummies was the least skilled. They were surgically precise, I never took any damage that I couldn''t live through. Which, in this particular case, meantI was sore and battered albeit moving.


    My readings had covered some theories on these constructs. They were autonomous, usually purposed with a single task though I had read of more intelligent types. It seemed that these ones were ancient, predating anything I had read about, despite those readings coming from this very institution. I could make nothing out from the faceless mannequins save for the symbols I knew to be too advanced for my comprehension. They determined movement and function, power and precision, any number of things really. The beautifully masterful symbols looked like goblin-hand to me.


    I brought my studies to the combat hall. Compiling all the pertinent texts was not as hard as it could''ve been and I managed to gather everything on another table. The very basics were mine, intrinsic in my memory already from my Skill. But further advancement in the topic was difficult, the subject was leaps ahead of my initial readings.


    It was a matter of both mathematics and arcana, magic. And so I brought those texts as well. The most basic dummy was made of wood, expendable. While I doubted it was a simple make it would be my first test subject. The depth I found myself in would almost certainly be filled with dangerous creatures, the immediate cavern the library was exposed to was predominantly the first hurdle. I needed to send something through, test the waters. I would not step closer than it took me to sight the breach, my gut feeling refused the risk. A dummy might be able to do that and more.


    My day was full of math and magic. Basic concepts were so ingrained into my mind both bySkill and study that my foundation was inherently strong. When the subject became frustrating and stressful I tended to the plants. They were growing rapidly, in only days they had shown explosive growth, but that was to be expected given the nutrient-rich water.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I walked around racking my brain over a particularly mind-bending theory whilst occasionally checking said plants. When even that was too much I found it was best to reset my mind. Cease all mental functions and just indulge in my sparring. It was at these times that I told myself experiencing the subject at hand, firsthand, would do something to spark my mind. I was a fool for thinking that, as all I ever received were a slew of merciless bruises, perhaps more confidence in my body but only that as consolation.


    I ducked, mind wandering. A wooden fist knocked me hard on the shoulder and I mentally adjusted my approach. The wooden dummy was the absolute lowest tier in terms of fighting prowess. Likewise, it was the least durable and thus the rarest to find functioning. Whatever had left this library in this state, it had done so a long while ago.


    This dummy, however, was proving a pain. I remembered reading of dangerous individuals with powerfulSkills. Someone like them could demolish such a dummy. I knew theSkills that might help me in combat but I also knew I had no background in battle as it was. It was a common adage that went, "Skill beforeSkill." A mnemonic tool to reinforce the central idea thatSkills originated due to many factors, but hard work and aptitude were staples in many proposed equations. It was repeatedly outlined, or rather, unavoidably pertinent, inThe Origins of Skills and Abilities.


    I sidestepped left, the movement uneasy. The dummy was not averse to playing dirty and its leg swept low knocking me off my feet. I fell hard on my back. When I blinked the stars away the dummy was in its original position patiently waiting for me to initiate again. I groaned.


    Gingerly, I pulled myself up onto my chair. As I had done countless times before, I reached over and opened a book.The Art of Combat was a general text and denoted general thinkings and strategies one might employ. Curiously, the material was something like a list of suitable actions to take against an opponent with a particularSkill. Stay out of range if an opponent is known to possess a[Piercing]Skill or place attacks carefully and do not overcommit if an opponent has[Dodge].


    What truly caught my attention, in a general sense, was the focus on individual combat and illustration thereof. The example scenarios, which were masterfully depicted with detailed illustrations, outlined a series of moves with a particular strategy being employed. It was bare in the sense of characteristics and features, but the drawings captured motion beautifully, and for this particular topic such a thing was paramount.


    But perhaps the most gripping subject; monsters. Common monsters and threats were depicted. Tactics and methods to eradicate, subdue, or survive an encounter. These ranged from the ever adaptive slimes to water horrors and stone titans. Note that the strategies you might use against a fellowfall would be impractical against a cage dwello. Engaging an individual from the Learned Races was entirely different from combat with a monster in which case the entiredynamic of combatmorphs unpredictably due to the unpredictability and variance of monster types.


    It was unfortunate that there was no way for me to practice that section of the book. It was the most pertinent for my situation. I did spend a few hours recovering, studying that particular section. Cross-referencing passagesfromThe Art of Combat with entires inGrambino''s Encylopedia of Creatureswas informative and assuring. The capabilities of the creatures mentioned in either text matched perfectly with each other. It was comforting to know the knowledge absorbed here was reliable, this particular test was only one of many I''d conducted against the library''s veracity, and each time there were no inaccuracies.


    I fought the wooden dummy again. This time I was able to employ some strategy. A simple one. Although even at this level the dummy became wary of my feints after the first two instances. Those feints earned me a single jab to the chest and kick to the thigh past the dummy''s defense. Both landed as quick as I could make them, as I had learned to. In the end, I landed on my back once more.


    Thrice more that waking - since I was unsure of the day or night - I fought the dummy, read my books, applied techniques, and lost. But, on the fourth attempt, after watching the dummy''s eyes or rather the tilt of its head, dodging its projected attack, feinting for a sweeping kick, then a glancing elbow to the face, I was able to land on my butt instead of my back.


    It was expected. I was weak, despite my efforts thus far. When sleep finally took me, as it eventually did, it was with tired surprise that I realized I hadn''t even really thought about myLevel. Until now, it must''ve been true I wasLevel 0since there was no way to level without aClass.I had been so caught up in my studies I had no time to think about it. That was my last thought before I dozed off into a restful sleep.


    Class Obtained: [Learner]Level 1!


    Skill Obtained: [Search: Library]

 Chapter 4 - Hidden Books

    Why do certainClasses orSkills function differently, despite their names being identical to each other? Largely, I attribute the nuance to be a consequence of the individual. We attain aClass that defines us, rarely does one ever deny one. Why should it not be possible that we define theClass? OrSkill?


    - The Origin of Skills and Abilities, The Untethered Tomes


    Class Obtained: [Learner] Level 1!


    Skill Obtained: [Search: Library]


    I awoke in a puddle of drool, a terribly accurate indicator of restful sleep. My mind barely registered the fact though, instead, it focused on my gains. Like all Skill and Class gains said advancements occur at the moment upon falling asleep or more accurately falling unconscious. While the topic is debated hotly a wide majority attribute the timing of these occurrences to coincide with rest and inactivity as the body adjusts. There have been enough testimonies of deep meditation, which was known to mimic the effects of sleep, reproducing the same effects that this particular theory was generally accepted.


    I was a [Learner] apparently, deemed so. In fact, I couldn''t argue with the designation. It''s all I had been doing since I arrived. Ordinarily, two Skills and a Class in less than a week would be profound, and while I''m sure many researchers especially those who doubled as authors in the books I had been reading, would be very interested in my case. The fact of the matter was that I was in a stressful, challenging situation with nothing to do but learn. It was like putting a man in an arena with nothing but a sword and to task him with defending his only stockpile of supplies against hordes of monsters and not expecting him to attain the [Gladiator] or [Survivor] Class. Of course, I''d gain something related to my situation, it was foolish to think otherwise.


    Perhaps my one recent bottleneck would be obsolete given my new Skill.


    [Search: Library]. Books on golems, constructs, enchantment were on my mind as I invoked it. What burst forth from me was akin to a gentle shockwave, emanating from my center and expanding outward to encompass the entirety of the library. Of greater note, was when the shockwave impacted what I assumed was my target, in which case it was as if it hit something solid and hollow. The feedback was both auditory and visual but more, it tapped into my spatial awareness.


    In short, it was a ringing glow that I simply felt, just five minutes walk from where I was. And, judging from the section I found myself moving towards. the object of interest was somewhat hidden. There were other, less vibrant pings, but something in me knew they weren''t as focused, asniche, as what I sought. The brightest ones in my mind stole my attention away.


    After all,no books I''ve so far come across have been misplaced, so why was I heading towards a section of the library dedicated to history?


    The history section was largely destroyed, which might''ve also hinted as to why I had such a small selection of books related to culture and civilization, though they were implied heavily enough throughout my readings for me to have a general grasp. I shoveled through broken wooden bits, moving large chunks of wood that could''ve conceivably been part of a shelf, to get to the glow. Unfortunately, two parallel shelves had fallen neatly on each other, collapsed again, and now whatever I was getting at was barred by splintery wood crossed over each other as if to purposefully deter me.


    I frowned, recognizing the problem and turning away, understanding my own two hands would be useless here less I wanted to collapse either shelf on me in the process of removing the other. Fire was an immediate thought, and likewise immediately thrown away. While the golems might''ve been able to be directed I didn''t have the knowledge to instruct them. I examined the wreck as if it were a puzzle, piecing the parts in my mind and finding what affected what. Testing the pieces was easy enough if I recognized I was in a safe area where nothing could collapse one me, harder when I recognized I wasn''t in which I case I needed to prod the wood from a distance with a metal rod from the combat hall.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Eventually, I had the wreck down to the pieces that were actually stuck. All else was thrown to the side and I had a much more manageable puzzle to ponder. The shelves leaned on each other heavily, somewhat still laden with books that seemed half-destroyed or ruined. If I had the strength to move them I still wouldn''t have since doing so to either would trigger the collapse of its opposite. But perhaps I didn''t need to.


    MySkill[Search: Library] had since worn off and another attempt at invoking it failed, though somehow I knew it would, yet I memorized the location it had shone from. It was between the shelves, therein lied the problem, but more, it was surrounded by splintered wood. That kind of damage was common through the library, but this time it seemed as every piece was pointed outward aggressively. More, each piece of wood looked less and lessnatural upon closer inspection, the pointed spikes hadthorns.


    I returned with gauntlets, as the combat hall did indeed stock full sets of armor. But pulling on the wood netted no results, they were firmly set, and for the first time, I pondered what else might be hidden in this cache. By now, it was obvious to me this was some sort of psuedo-safe, a last-ditch effort to hide things from what ruined the library. It would be ironic if indeed what I suspected was true; that I had caused all this as my previous self, and that now I was prying this knowledge open as a new man.


    I sighed, sitting. I had not the means. My back tingled as it did every time I remembered how far removed I was from anything. My eyes drifted to where I knew the opening into the library resided and I shivered as if a real chill had assaulted me. Was I truly so hopeless? So lost that a few errant spikes of wood would stop me? How could I expect myself to rise to the surface and see the sun, if even this stalled me?


    I did not think myself a man to mope. As it turned out, I was not.


    I began the tedious process of lightening the shelves whilst preserving their balance against each other. In short, removing a single book from either one painfully slow book at a time. The process was exactly as I hadthought it was, terribly boring, so much so that I opted to read every short walk to and fro.The Art of Trapping led me to some brilliant insights regarding the delicate nature of balance and potential energy. Perhaps not so brilliant, admittedly, but certainly applicable. I''d first reduce the mass of each, thereby reducing the weight, and thus the potential energy. I stopped once one of the shelves was void of books even though the other still had some, right now they were in equilibrium and that was all that I required. I was able to find high tables and chairs and propped them up against the less tangled shelf. In this, I''d distribute the weight between these supports once I shift the opposite shelf.


    Now all that was left was doing just that.


    Fortunately, the high tables were up to my shoulder so I could duck down if need me and hope they caught the weight of the shelf. Positioning myself near the center of balance of the opposite shelf, I pushedhard.There was a concerning creak and a powerful thump, and then a crash. The bookshelf toppled over loudly and I cringed if for nothing than the sound being one that was loud in the immutable quiet of a library. I turned around and the other shelf had fallen against the tables. I managed to topple that one over as well, once I moved a few pieces of now-free wood that had kept it from budging backward.


    And then I was staring at a ball of wooden spikes. Quite literally, a spikey ball of thorny wooden spikes. I frowned, then indeed this was someone''s work to hide valuable knowledge. At the least, I knew inside contained books on constructs and golems as well as enchanting, all went in hand in hand, but I wondered what else.


    I thought magic at first created the safe, but more and more I knew it was aSkill. The compendium ofSkills I had browsed through was a valuable boon but the preface of the book was that it was simply impossible to catalog every type. And so, instead of listing everything it could, though the author did try, it listed every known occurrence and testimony toward a particular utilization aSkill could function for. For example, [Slash] was one that might take on a variety of effects such as[Quick Slash], or[Greater Slash]. While I didn''t recall anySkill that might function as a vault there were some that served to protect certain things. Like a[Treasure Hunter''s] famous[Secret Stash]. This one might indeed be something of that vein.


    It was enough that I revealed it. I may find a way to pry it open later, but truth be told, it was unlikely. The fact that this was born from aSkill meant I had little hope to open it. ASkilless Level 1 [Learner] was ill-prepared to go about breaking open vaults.


    That didn''t stop me from approaching the problem from every conceivable angle over the coming week.

 Chapter 5 - Library Helpers

    Intelligent? Golems? Well, only so far as the artificer trusts them to be. The peak[Artificers], those at leastLevel 40 are rumored to be able to create thinking beings. PowerfulSkills reside at those milestones, and decades of practice only add to their effects. I have even heard rumor of a[Golemancer] that claimed to have created something truly absurd, a construct able to level. Being the[Golemancer]in question, I can personally claim that particular rumor was indeed false. I shall refrain from disavowing any others in hopes you read on, hoping my expertise may answer it for you.


    - Advanced Constructs and Golemancy, Unknown[Golemancer]


    It had been a week since uncovering what''d I''d since thought of as the vault. In that week, I made little progress opening it, rather my efforts were focused elsewhere, despite my curiosity towards the insides of the spiked container.


    I had been studying, tinkering with the broken wooden golems, learning through trial and error in lieu of any documented studies. I was able to identify a sigil regarding simply activating the golem, though that required me to push mana into the construct. The Art Of Magic detailed the process and moved along to the next topic as if that was the easiest part. It took me an entire day but even that process was accelerated since I already knew through my[Basic Knowledge] how my mana felt.If anything, it reaffirmed my reasonings for not touching on the topics of magic. They''d take much too long to learn. And time was something of a resource as valuable as food or water.


    With a smooth hum, the broken golem attempted to right itself. It managed to stand itself despite missing both arms and parts of its torso. I deactivated and turned to the other bodies. The only ones that ceased to activate were those missing their torso entirely, or large sections of it. Conversely, a torso by itself would activate, which likely meant the majority of the functioning magic was centered in the chest. Of those, only the dummies with an intact head would stand up, or try, leading me to believe that the magic was controlled and directed by the skull.


    The central sigil, the one that turned the golem on, was easy enough to identify once I narrowed down what missing pieces meant functional failure. The sigil that controlled the golem was harder to identify, the process of elimination was considerably harder given there were no partial head deformations amongst the golems, most were removed entirely or destroyed completely. In the end, I managed to find it when I stumbled upon one of the steel golems which was missing part of its head that refused to stand up.


    I pushed my mana into the control sigil and stepped back. The golem relaxed from its regular combat-ready stance and its head turned to me. I stared back considering the possibility I had placed it under some protocol unbeknownst to me. The library seemed to hum in the same way it did when I removed the knight statue''s sword, but just as it did then, it subsided.


    "Task?" It said.


    I jerked. Its voice was calm and undeterred by the oppressive silence of the library. This one was one of the fully intact wooden ones, the very same one I had been sparring endlessly over the days. I tested my throat, my vocal cords, to see if I still knew how to talk.


    It was higher than I imagined, not so deep as I had thought. Yet, the grainy texture of unuse was evident. The words came out uncomfortably. "Follow."


    I led the golem to the hydroponics area I had set up. If the library constructs were able to be assigned tasks I gave the library the benefit of the doubt, they might''ve been designed to help all the researchers in their studies. That meant their functions might be broader than simply sparring. The golem''s face roamed the area, not as unthinking as I was led to believe.


    "Hardyet. Greyrice." I said as I moved to tend to them. Adjusting a few plants when necessary, adding nutrients to some of the droopier bins, skimming the water of film. "Can you tend to them?" I croaked, my throat had become sore already. How long had it been unused?Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "I am able." It spoke, immediately moving to another bin. It automatically went for a water gem, finding what I''d left in the cabinet and adjusted the water levels of each bin. Somehow it was controlling the flow of water.


    I mimicked him, pulling a gem from my robe and holding it over the stone basin. Water burst forth from all sides of the gem. "How are you doing that?" I asked the golem that had beaten me senseless countless times.


    "Direct your intent, scholar." It replied. "The waterstone will abide." It did not stop in its tasks, it had somehow found a pruners clippers and was snipping parts of each plant. Such a delicate task and it did not flinch at my question or in the action of giving an answer.


    They were a definite advanced construct, likely created by some type of [Craftsman] with a particularly potent Skill. The implications were such that I hesitated on sending it through the breach. Whatever manner of construct this was, it was undoubtedly the work of someone highleveled.


    This time I directed the waterstone to shoot a small stream into my mouth. Like an archerfish, a spurt of water shot from the stone, fresh and clear. I drank, soothing my throat. With a final glance back to the golem, instead of returning to the combat hall I came back to the central room.


    I combed through the reception desk, a hunch assaulting the back of my mind, finally unearthing a clipboard full of paper. It was a list of names and assigned time slots for what were known as "library helpers" who would assist someone in their endeavors. I had seen it before and thought it was simply a job for a person to undertake, but what if it wasn''t? Had I been sparring with these helpers this entire time?


    My bare feet slapped against the combat hall''s training mats. There were only three wooden dummies that were undamaged, one of which was now my glorified gardener. The next tier up were the steel ones of which there were only two. And finally, there was one undamaged silver. There were only five of those silver ones but the other four of them were broken worse than any other dummy.


    I pushed mana into the other two wooden ones and felt myself go lightheaded. Mana fatigue already? I grimaced, I should''ve been exercising mind, body, magic this entire time. They jerked up and looked at me, asking for a task.


    I beckoned them to follow and brought them to the wooden spiked vault. If I couldn''t do it, maybe they could? My[Search: Library] didn''t bring up any other materials as pertinent to constructs and golems as the ones that were resounding from the spiked vault, but if my hunch was correct and they were truly so valuable as library helpers I hesitated to send even one through the library''s breach. I needed to make my own, something simple I could send through.


    "Open it," I pointed, voice sore.


    They followed my gaze and set to work. Wordless, and yet they worked in near tandem, trying ideas and methods that hinted at critical thinking. That was unprecedented and simultaneously fascinating. What was their mental capacity then? To begin, they approached and pulled on the spikes, uncaring at the thorns that tore at their hands. It was my first thought as well. Following that, they brought their arms down on the sides of the spikes attempting to break them. If I had the strength or the right tool, it was where my mind would''ve gone as well. When the more straightforward approaches failed I stared as I watched one''s arm morph into a crowbar, albeit a wooden one. It managed to dislodge a single spike, but with eyes wide I watched the vault repair itself, pulling the wooden spike back into place as if there was never any damage to begin with.


    The second construct followed the first and morphed its arm to a crowbar. Then, as I would''ve done, they began to attempt to erode its capabilities. In short, a test of endurance. Perhaps the vault would run out of whatever powered it before they?


    They held my attention for thirty minutes before itwas diverted to more practical matters such as my studies. I nibbled on some combat rations, careful to eat only enough to sate my hunger, and began to delve into my readings.I had plucked some history books and geographical texts from this section while I was in the process of lightening the shelves earlier. It was to be determined if they were still relevant, but at the least, I could cross-reference this data with any other locations mentioned in my creature encyclopedias.


    I was able to make significant connections and began to form a rudimentary understanding of the geography above. Although, it did seem as though there were swaths of lands unnamed and thus uncharted. That was a helpful reminder that for all the knowledge in the world, there would always be unknowns. It was a possibility that none of my preparation would matter, but what else was I to do but try?


    I began to write down my findings. I found doing so in my own hand helped me retain the memory.

 Chapter 6 - Blank Book

    PowerSkills refer to one''s ability to control a specific thing, for lack of a better term. I tentatively use "thing" because aspect, element, or any such wordings do little justice to encompass the sheer broadness of which a PowerSkill can contain. For example, we have[Power: Wood] useful for a[Druid] in tending a grove or controlling their magicsor evena[Ranger]for moving through the woods. Ah, but you forget the potential it holds for a[Craftsman]. Perhaps it is the most potent then? Another example, we have[Power: Magma], useful again, this time obviously more geared towards combat, but there many more uses for magma than simply combatting monsters. Things begin to veer weirdly hereon, of course, we have even more obscure PowerSkillslike[Power: Weapons]. Yes, extremely powerful wouldn''t you think? I''ll be honest with you, I have no idea what that even means, or what it might even encompass. Was a chair considered a weapon, knowing you could use it as one? I''m not even sure if thatSkill exists, you see, but therein lies the problem, I''ve confirmed stranger ones.


    - The Origins of Skill and Abilities, Coby Tuuli


    [Learner] Level 4!


    My head, drowsy with sleep, shot up immediately. The fog of exhaustion cleared. It had been some time since I had last leveled but I was not surprised to find that there was no accompanying Skill. While it was possible to acquire them they were usually obtained at the "milestone" levels. Those being multiples of five, and if not then, it was almost a promise for something greater the next milestone. Soon I''d have my milestoneSkill. Leveling up three times since attaining theClass was, normally, fortuitous, but again, I was a special case. I had barely blinked at the last two times, though I did feel vindicated.


    My eyes drifted across my materials. Creatures and the environments they most often inhabited. I found it useful to understand the variations of the creatures that appeared almost everywhere. Slimes and goblins predominantly.


    Slimes were predictable in the sense that they took on properties of their environment or prey, though this could be argued as the same thing for a slime. While the smaller ones are easily dealt with and the medium ones avoided, they can quickly become nuisances in large numbers, and dangers in large size. With size and food, slimes become intelligent hunters, if not in mind then in experience. For the very core of a slime''s existence is adaptation, and slimes are one such species I''d argue has mastered its application.


    Goblins were a species of monster that struggled. Vermin that held onto their mortal coil against all odds in all environments. They root themselves in caves and lose great portions of their population in order to set a foothold. Once that completes they become a pest across the entire area.


    Both creatures have many variants, to the point it''s insinuated that there are still some being discovered. Though the author of my reading seems hesitant to admit to the incompleteness of his compendium, he does so grudgingly.


    I took a small mental break and leaned back in my chair. I ran my hand through my hair and allowed my mind a moment of blankness.


    I refocused. The vault was open.


    I jerked in my chair. In a mess of splinters and broken wood, what was once a solid wall of spikes was now a pried open breach. The golems sat criss-cross head bowed. Deactivated to each side. They must''ve deemed their task complete and ceased activity. Their arms looked damaged enough it might''ve been justified to switch their arms out with one of the lesser broken constructs. Whatever they had been doing, it had taken a toll on their form.


    My eyes found the contents. I pulsed [Search: Library] and sure enough, the books on golems and constructs glowed with intense light humming for attention.


    Immediately, I removed all the contents and placed them squarely separate from my other books. I ran a curious finger along their spines, reading their titles as I came across them.


    Advanced Constructs and Golemancy, Language of Enchanting, Rituals of Demonology, Known Contracts of Summoning, Complete Barrier and Warding Techniques, Skylight Blade Forms and Combat, Guide to Trueshot, Unarmed and Weaponized.


    My[Basic Knowledge]kicked in, and somehow I knew these books werevery forward. As in, topics as advanced as these were generally not tied to text. These were subjects taught in person, personally, so that the knowledge has no chance to end up in the minds of the twisted.


    I trembled, there was another one I had not touched. This was simply a precaution I took since the book was glowing. And by no means of mine. It was just... glowing. But again,[Basic Knowledge] told me this was exactly what I was thinking it was, although of whichSkill I was uncertain.


    ASkill Book.


    A powerful artifact that grants the reader theSkill with which it associates. What perhaps had me in greater anticipation was that, while rare and extremely valuable, the disparity between theSkill Book and dangerous texts was so great that no ordinarySkill would be lumped in here. TheSkill Book granted aSkill as if one had earned it themselves, this was a valuable artifact since acquiring say,[Light] without a magicalClass would be difficult, although it was worth mentioning it was not impossible.ASkill Book''s value became apparent when it''s subject was something like[Fireball] or[Reposition]. A[Warrior] might not have the mana for a[Fireball] but if it was the case that he did? He''d have a powerfulSkill to sit on during a fight. And a[Mage] Class with an[Archer''s][Reposition]?How powerful would that make someone?The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    According toThe Origins of Skills and Abilities,these books like other artifacts form in high levels ofdanger. That danger is defined by the hazard of the environment, the difficulty of the surrounding monsters, and the threat to an individual''s safety. The accumulation of these artifacts has never been observed and thus any empirical data does not exist.[Philosophers]speculate that these powerful items are tied to the world''s consciousness as a whole. The main argument being centered on a period of history in which the bow was invented. Prior to the invention bows were never discovered as artifacts, post invention when the mind of the masses had been accustomed to its creation, there were many testimonies of artifact bows.


    But that was neither here or there.


    I opened the book... and found it blank. Deft fingers flicked through the pages as if I had missed something. My eyes, hungry for black ink, found empty white. The book was blank, and yet, glowing? An enchantment perhaps? I scoured its pages but found no hints to the peculiarity. A blankSkill Book was unprecedented. More than likely, there was an enchantment protecting its contents, but why would someone shield it thus when theLanguage of Enchantingmight very well reveal its secrets?


    I frowned, something was uncanny.


    Shutting the book, I hesitated. The glow had subsided. The telltale visual effect that determined if aSkill Book still contained the ability to bestow aSkill. What had changed? I had read it yet the pages were blank? Had I unwittingly ruined it? Or perhaps... even gained something?


    These things, even depowered, still held great value. There was, supposedly, as I was unable to determine myself, an unearthly accuracy in the way they detailed any particularSkill. That gave it value, even without its ability to bestow one. Although, the fact this one was empty was disheartening if I''d even ever have the chance at selling it.


    I scanned throughThe Origins of Skills and Abilitieshoping it would provide some insights. I spent a decent amount of time in theSkill Booksection before I read something referred to as aBlank Book. Little more than myth, it nonetheless was stated a possibility. There were a few documented testimonies, though the scarce number discouraged many from believing. The problem was, the individuals who attained them had much merit. All high-leveled individuals. And indeed, they returned with a book, but it was not blank, in fact, it had the contents of what you might find in a regular depoweredSkill Book, although it was definitely true theSkillthey contained were powerful. One being the famed[Victory Path] of a[General] and a[Dungeon Delvers][Treasure Sense].


    My curiosity was piqued. I followed the trail of testimonies through other referenced books. I was able to do so reliably thanks to my[Search]. The testimonies were all the same, people claiming the book wrote itself, after giving them aSkill much more powerful than theirLevelmerited. Milestones ahead even.


    My scavenger hunt had actually led me nearby the hydroponics and botany section after tracking down the testimony of a high leveled[Leaf Druid] who had claimed the same thing. The golem I had assigned was quietly tending to the plants, although I hardly saw what needed doing anymore. Every plant looked as healthy as could be, bursting with vitality. My stomach rumbled staring at them, but there was no rush to eat, hardyet and greyrice kept for insanely long times.


    The construct did not flinch as I took a break and wandered through the bins. I counted additional containers, actually. The construct had expanded, presumably for as much as he could care for. They were easy to notice given the new growths. Some, in fact, were empty. And then I saw the neatly harvested vegetables off to the side.


    My[Basic Knowledge] hinted at the edible parts before I could even question it. I gnawed on the root of a bigger hardyet plant. The taste was both rich and bitter following that. Wonders to a desensitized tongue. A painful jolt of sensory information shot across my jaw, my mouth still unused to the taste. I nodded, with this my time here would be extended further. Without the combat rations, I''d never have even gotten this far.


    By my estimates, given the growth rate of these plants and my current supplies, a little less than a month with rationing. That was how long I had before I''d be forced to move. And I''d need to bring supplies with me too when I did eventually leave, I wasn''t so naive as to think my rise from the depths would be on a single belly''s worth of food and water.


    I returned the dummies by the vault to the combat hall. That done, I moved everything of mine back to the central room. With that complete, there was nothing else to do but learn and practice. The rest of the day, I spent running through the forms depicted inSkylight Blade Forms and Combat, andUnarmed and Weaponized. I borrowed the knight statue''s sword for the former, relinquishing it for the latter.The physicality that the very basics of each demanded was immense, and suddenly I found myself exhausted.


    When my body failed me, I sunk into a comfortable chair.The Art of Magiccovered techniques too time-consuming with too little reward, either of which would''ve justified me skipping out on them given my timeframe. But, Tuuli did detail practical ways to train and manipulate your mana. After all, magic was all about control. The basics were important.


    I did these exercises as I readAdvanced Constructs and Golemancyslowly pulling away the curtains on new knowledge. The subject was tough, nearly all another language to my inexperience. But I was able to reference a few other books, mainly those on arcana and math, and a few aspects became clearer, defogging a few others. More often than not, I''d need to learn some niche corner of advanced arcana or math, and reference other books from there, until I could pull it all back and connect it to understand some small aspect of golemancy. My mind throbbed.


    I was up until my body quite literally shut down, when my eyelids finally decided enough was enough. It must''ve been a day at least, of constant learning. Advanced subjects that demanded my perfect competency in both beginner and intermediate knowledge of the same. This was how I spent that day, in a fugue of knowledge and connections and bridges where everything touched on each other until they all fit into a glorious glowing fractured shard of knowledge of which I yet unsure where to fit it, but was nonetheless larger than the last.


    I passed out.


    [Learner] Level 5!


    Skill Obtained: [Reader''s Eyes]


    Skill Obtained: [Personal Study]

 Chapter 7 - The Study

    Surrounded on all sides by hordes of Decayers, Forwall''s 5th Company''s weapons and armor had long ago rusted away as a sacrifice to the everpresent corrosion that followed the scourge. Body''s bare with nothing but the power of their ownSkills and expertise to combat both claw and maw. The story goes that Jayeke Tan, their[Warden Commander]passed out, still fighting on his feet, holding backan entire section of Decayers naked by the corrosion, completely unconscious and on autopilot. They say the stainless steel weapons, the ones barely enough to last the rest of the battle, the 5th Company procured came from long empty gear closets. He leveled. Passed outand still fighting, their [Warden Commander]leveled.[Backup Weapon Lockers]aSkillworthy of the battle, and more so that they won it.


    - Greatest Uses ofSkills, Unknown[Chronicler] and Enthusiast


    [Learner] Level 5!


    Skill Obtained: [Reader''s Eyes]


    Skill Obtained: [Personal Study]


    I woke up fast, eager at my newfound Skill. I was sitting, prying myself really, from the desk I had been at. I could feel it, my Skill, my [Personal Study]. That was the thing about Skills, once you had them, you knew how to use them. If not their immediate limitations.


    I was in the central room again. The reception area had long turned into a mountain range of books and tables, the valleys they formed contained my notes. Nearest to me, Mount Forbidden, my pile of books and references pertaining to the knowledge found in the vault, the very same books very few would ever risk scribing. Past my immediate surroundings was Mount Art, the mountain which contained most of my readings relating to The Art Of series of books.


    The chair I had been sitting at glided backward smoothly, despite my sudden lunge to standing.


    Further past the mountains, were the two spiraling staircases up to the second floor. One of which was broken beyond repair. Outward from there, the shelves began and soon books upon books. Enough material to last any scholar centuries of study.


    And then the breach.


    I shuddered at the last realization. But before I could freeze, I started walking. With every step the books blurred away, the mountains shifted backward and out of sight. The staircases, the floor, the ceiling, they all blurred into nonexistence. The everpresent bookshelves had disappeared and that fact alone managed to shake me.


    The first step things began to blur. The third they had started to disappear. By the fifth, they were gone and something else began to replace them. By the sixth, rather than any blurring, items became to come into focus. By the eighth, I could make out forms, shapes. The ninth step was when I realized what I was looking at. The tenth was when I realized I was somewhere else.


    It was my [Personal Study].


    I was staring at a generous room. I knew with immediacy the space was square, ten by ten meters. I also knew it was empty. Save for one thing, two things. A table and chair. The pair of which looked suspiciously identical to the one I had fallen asleep on upon acquiring the Skill.


    No doubt, this was a Skill reserved for someone at least Level 25 maybe evenLevel 30. I grimaced, understanding that the Blank Book may have been wasted if I had only known to read it at a later date. I perked up at that. The Blank Book was supposed to turn into a depowered Skill Book one that details the Skill with uncanny accuracy and technicality.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I began to walk, undeterred by the own dimensions of my study. The wall began to blur before I even took my first step, and then I was walking between, to the library. I wondered then how I looked when appearing or leaving. Could I use it as an escape in the case of danger? Did I become intangible as I began to walk? Was I walking in a space between regular space, or another pocket entirely? Too many questions, I shook my head.


    Before I could truly process it, I was walking on the library''s carpet once more. The central area was the only place that was graced with it. My foot found the soft floor before my eyes could catch up. I moved to my table knowing exactly where the book wasplucking it from the pile.


    Intricacies of the [Personal Study].


    The cover had changed. It was no news to me, but I found it fascinating despite expecting this. Usually, the titles followed no particular naming scheme, to the point that they could easily be mistaken for some other author''s rendition of a Skill. The fact of the matter was uncanny, it was as if the books wrote themselves. It was a phenomenon no one could easily theorize. In the case ofBlank Books, firsthand, I knew that the contents were literally blank, the same was not true forSkill Books,however.RegularSkill Books were written in a unique script, no two looked the same, and it was said that it was in that written language, unique to eachSkill, wherein the secret to this transferring of knowledge was held.What gave these books value was in knowing that it was, at one point, a Skill Book and thus it''s contents were highly coveted even in their depowered state. The powered state held the ability to transfer that knowledge, but afterward, the book became mundane, readable to all, yet potent in its contents nonetheless. That accuracy was coveted by[Chroniclers]and[Scholars] alike.


    I flipped the book open eyes hungrily reading the text.


    The[Personal Study]is a dimensional space accessible only by the possessor of theSkilland none else. While nothing bars the user from utilizing this extra space as storage or for any other function, the actions taken in the[Personal Study]usually amount to a single purpose. Learning. This is because the[Personal Study]slowly accumulates knowledge befitting the user''s predilection. If the user seeks magic, dependant on the complexity, a book, tome, or text shall form over the course of some variable amount of time. Further, this personal space, slowly, will form the necessary tools for a particular study the user is disposed to.


    My eyes bulged in response to my reading. ThisSkill was pure insanity. This was akin toCreation Magic! Forming items of nothing was fundamentally not feasible. It was ludicrousy. But, if anything, aSkill would be the thing to break that. There was a law for that after all, the Law of Skill Ignorum, which stated any fundamentals truths were a candidate for breaking under the purview ofSkills.


    I read further, not entirely believing the book. It was mad to think I would doubt the text considering its origin, but this for aLevel 5 [Learner]? It was unimaginable. My eyes roamed the pages.


    While items and tools form freely in the study, nothing formed this way may be brought out. Items desired by the user to form in the study will do so if applicable, this is something the user will be able to sense easily. Books, texts, or pertinent tools toward a subject will form faster if the user is inherently familiar with them. Conversely, items unneeded or undesired will dissipate given a much shorter period of time.


    I smirked, realizing the table and chair had formed nearly instantly. It was, since my awakening, the place which I had spent nearly every waking hour at. No doubt, it needed nothing but a few seconds to come into mystudy.


    Flipping the page brought me more information.


    My head ached at the sheer overload of text. It was, hands down, the most straightforward, to the point, piece of technical writing I had ever read that could simultaneously boast the fact it could keep me engaged. I finished the introduction after what felt like an hour.


    My first order of business, moving every useful book I could into my[Personal Study]. The plants and hydroponics would follow soon after, the golems too, but I only had so much space, and it wasn''t time to leave yet. Instead, I began walking, pulling books with me as the world around me began to blur and sharpen as I strolled between the spaces.


    It was, honestly, a workout. One that broke a sweat that was surprisinglynotpainful.


    In my one hand,The Intricacies of the[Personal Study]opened specifically to a section that detailed the limits of entering and exiting the space. The books began to pile up, Mount Forbidden and Mount Art permanently relocated.


    What better way to limit test than this?

 Chapter 8 - Narrowing it Down

    Hold the cage! I said hold the cage, you flat eared mongrel! If you give that beast even a second''s respite it will remove your innards and tie a knot with it right in front of your eyes! We don''t see these everyday folks! So be careful with the fucking cargo, that thing''s a goldmine! Off! Off!


    - Caged Monsters,Testimonies of the Crescent Massacre


    Usually, controlling the golem would be the easier and more intuitive task. Only the most advanced constructscould interface directly with the mind. Upper-tier constructs followed voice or gesture. The most basic form of direction was through a series of magical inputs that pertained to symbols on their body. The ones found in the library could do all of this.


    As was intended for consumer use, the interface with the mind was the easiest. Unfortunately, since creating that method of direction was strictly not a possibility for me, I''d need to stick with the magical inputs, which conversely, were the hardest to direct with.


    The little golem I had created was a modified version of the most basic example golem. BetweenThe Language of EnchantingandAdvanced Constructs and Golemancy, I was able to obtain references to less niche books. The example golem was one often used, and detailed, thoroughly.


    Originally it would respond to four magical inputs that corresponded to the direction. Mine was modified as it was made to wander aimlessly if not given an input. I stood the golem up, initiated a connection, a rudimentary one unprotected from any usurping mana signatures, and simply directed it forward.


    The little golem walked like a[Soldier], purely mechanical a way that was almost military. When my breath caught and arms froze, the golem didn''t care.


    It walked straight through the breach into the unknown darkness beyond.


    I kept directing it forward, unsure where the cave ended. At this point, the golem, enchanted to lightly glow, wouldn''t last longer uncharged. It had maybe a few minutes before it deactivated, but that was fine for these purposes, it was made to be disposable. It glowed a delicate blue, the color of unaltered mana, and it lit the cavern beyond in the hue.


    I let go of my control and watched the golem turn acting on random inputs for random intervals, rather than any true exploration algorithm. Perhaps that apparent free-thinking was what triggered it.


    A shadow, elongated and monstrous appeared on the far wall of the cavern. A piercing howl of the likes I had never heard but only read about. Shattering wood and angry, vicious snarls. I felt the small link to the golem dissipate.


    Then the body of the golem sailed through the portal, ragdoll in every aspect.


    I watched it fly horizontally from my position. A perfect arc to land where I had last been when I viewed the breach. By my estimates, it would''ve been right at my feet previously.


    From the side, bathed in shadow and low-light, I shudderedand revised my search. I fingered to another section ofCreatures of the Depths one labeled intelligence. My[Reader''s Eyes]helped me despite the shadows.It had remembered me. That was the worst part, the part that sent shivers down my spine. It mocked me too, remembered exactly where I was and mangled my creation, sending it to the exact spot. I''d be foolish to show myself there twice. Through the emotion and fear, I knew it had mistaken me. I was not some meek prey, and it had given me clues.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    It was not a pack animal. I saw no other shadows or heard any other sounds. Communication between pack animals was crucial, to not hear a single thing was telling. This was a lone hunter, a predator. An intelligent one, no less. Dangerous. It was something to go on, but the number of creatures that fit that criteria were still quite large. It could be aripper, or a rock sly.


    I smiled though. Because the creature past the breach was no longer unknown. I was weak and it was strong. But it was no longer a mystery to me and I would not underestimate it as I was sure it did me. I bookmarked a few pages with potential and closed the encyclopedia.[Reader''s Eyes] were useful for reading in the dark, although I didn''t know how often that would be it certainly helped me remain unseen as I observed my little golem pass through.


    Back in the central room, I examined the little golem''s damage. I had sent one of the wooden constructs to retrieve it for me. You could tell a lot from the type of wounds a creature might inflict. Although, this was less than ideal since the golem was made of wood and not flesh.


    It was the main reason I handled the golem with metal artificer tools. It was held at length. There was a mild sizzling and I noticed the tongs appeared to wear. Acid saliva, clear color. The bite marks were curved indents, deep furrows. Bladed fangs. There didn''t seem to be any claw markings so perhaps I was looking at something with some dextrous appendage given the arc of the throw. That would fall in line with my previous assumptions of intelligence, a creature needed a larger mind to handle, a monkey''s tail say.


    I knew some behavioral traits too. The golem didn''t immediately die, which meant it was a patient or cautious predator. Either it happened that its lair was right outside, or the creature tended to stake out its prey. If not that, then a routine hunting pattern.


    That allowed me to narrow down the list of potential candidates. I sighed, wholeheartedly understanding this would only be the first creature I''d encounter on my way to the surface, but nonetheless a method of dealing with it was to be valued.


    My finger roamed down the page, tapping on a potential entry. A reaver. Specifically, a silver reaver since that was the archetype most likely to dwell in caverns like this. It said they were often hunted for use in[Gladiator] arenas. But they were an intelligent species and confirmed on par with one from the Learned Races. If not for their propensity for violence and moral disregard theywouldbe. Silver reavers often dwelled in caves, all of my gathered data fit in so far, but the book covered what would''ve been potentially lethal not to know.


    The silver reaver, as its name perhaps misleading implied, was coated in silver. The coating itself was not predominantly silver, the silver reaver instead gets its name from the color it shines.Its armor, being unnaturally tough and durable despite its propensity for holding mana, was highly coveted. The silver reaver, of all reavers, was usually magically inclined. Add to that the lethality inherent in all of their archetypes, I''d get nowhere brute-forcing forward.


    I shut the book and stared at my notes. No other candidates aligned fully with what I had gathered. Nonetheless, ever cautious, I began to formulate a plan that would be sufficient for all cases. While it was possible it could be the others, that eventuality would be in my favor. The silver reaver was the worst case of all of them. The others would have more mundane workarounds, the reaver would not. Preparations were in order. I was far from taking my first step outside of the breach. But with this, I''d be able to figure out how. There was still a myriad of things I''d need to account for, but surviving immediate death was priority one.


    Over the course of the next few days, I trained my body''s endurance and stamina, observed the breach, and studied as if my life depended on it. Countless bouts with the training dummies, watching the breach for any movement from the shadows of the shelves, reading up onand applying the various Skylight Bladeforms and techniques of Barrier and Warding Magic.


    My life revolved around these things and if I ever stopped, I felt like I would die.

 Chapter 9 - Statue

    Sometimes aClasscan also be a title, position, or profession in addition to being aClass. For example, take a[Baron], [First Commander],and[Blacksmith]. They have duality in the things they represent. These are the most common and no less powerful than any other. Perhaps true power lies in the unknown, this is why uncommonClasses are often said to be powerful. AClasswhich is nothing but aClass. A[Trueshot Sniper] for example. A[Sniper] perhaps may have some connotation to a select few who are familiar, but the power lies in the first word. What doestrueshot entail? And this, reader, wherein lies the balance of power.


    - The Origins of Skills and Abilities, The Untethered Tomes


    A small forcefield surrounded me, skintight. I rolled forward having even the ground repelled by my shield. My sword came up, blocking the wooden dummy''s overhead strike. I twirled upwards and capitalized on the imbalance, tripping up the dummy and bringing my sword to its neck.


    I had beaten it. It was the very first time I had ever taken a match.


    It reset itself standing up combat-ready. It was its way of saying the battle was over, that I had won. I allowed myself my triumph, heart beating with accomplishment. Then I brutally crushed it. There was little time for celebration, death still loomed over me.


    Complete Barrier and Warding Techniques unlike Advanced Constructs and Golemancy covered the entirety of the subject with great precision. I didn''t need to find other references as it was all detailed here, it was a complete guide. The first step for any [Barrier Mage] or [Ward Mage] was to develop their mana pool, and practice holding a shield indefinitely no matter the power, although one being able to withstand your own weight was ideal. As it turned out, constructs were good for draining mana and training a mana reserve. Since I had been utilizing them, my mana was at least exercised, that combined with the small training I had been doing asThe Art Of Magicdirected, and I was at a good spot.


    Currently, I could stop a lightly thrown rock from grazing my skin.


    The sword I held in my hand, borrowed from the knight statue, had become lighter in my grip. It had become comfortable as I went over the entirety of the Skylight Form. Then finally, it had become as if an extension of my arm. I held it with increasing familiarity but nonetheless felt futile. There was nothing to tell me if I was applying the technique correctly. I was glad the sword form, or rather combat form as I''d come to know it, was based on speed and counter-attack. Anything else would''ve been entirely useless, as opposed to only semi-useless. It wouldn''t help with a reaver, but the training did help my stamina and endurance.


    I placed the sword back in the knight statue''s hand, moving towards the botany section in order to store any harvested vegetables in my study as I had made a habit of doing. My readings, however, gave me pause as I noticed a faint white light coming from the statue''s head. The sigil was in white, barely visible against the marble statue. The only reason I had seen it was thanks to[Reader''s Eyes] which allowed me to read most anything under any conditions so long as I could see it.


    Could it be?[Search: Library]. Golems, constructs. The pulse exploded from me and impacted the statue in front of me with a ringing glow. The resounding boom of the impact, while insubstantial, made me jerk backward. Such an impact was the result of its proximity and general suitability to the terms of the search. The fact that my terms were so broad... well it left me very curious. It meant this statue truly encompassed the meaning ofgolem andconstruct. In a way that none of the lights pinging from the combat hall even got close to, though they were intensely bright too.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    He was smooth marble, blackened in places but wholly white. The black existed in streaks of lightning across his body, they traveled from skin to armor without exception. He was a masterpiece that despite seeing every so often, I could not tire of. His armor was perfect down to the detail, his helmet covered the majority of his face, but powerful eyes were set under the guard. What was visible of his face was scarred in a way that I couldn''t fathom a[Sculptor] reproducing.


    You are safe in this library.


    The words echoed in my head. The statue did not have a regular control sigil. Only power. I pushed mana slowly into the statue and watched. Art became life before my very eyes. The eyes which had always faced forward locked with some unseen foe, blinked. Armorclunked as if it were metal and not marble. All the pieces which were cut of the same block suddenly had separated. At some point during my observation what was once art had stepped into reality. Literally, stepping off its pedestal.


    I was staring at aknight. And he was staring back.


    "Greetings, student." His voice rang dully from behind his helmet. His eyes sharpened at the disaster that was the current state of the library. "What manner of eldritch horror has descended upon the library?" He said sharply.


    "It has been like this since I arrived." I croaked, my voice failing me from unuse.


    The man found me again, not relaxing his grip on his weapon, nor his eyes from the surroundings. "What year then? The Great Library of Arbos could not have fallen from the mere passage of time." He was quick to disregard me as a threat.


    Arbos, I noted. The name was not familiar to me. "Lost to time, as well." I grimaced, using simpler words and pointing to myself. "Just noticed you were a golem." I said painfully.


    He relaxed. "Then the danger is not so immediate. Where are the other[Scholars], the[Great Librarians], the[Book Keepers]?" His words became hollow as he glanced around, for the first time noticing the lack of people, the uncleaned debris.


    "Unknown." I said. "Are you truly a golem?"


    He frowned deeply but answered me absently. The words that followed seemed routine, as if it were a task given to all who asked. "Yes, the product of a willing[Knight], a high-leveled[Sculptor] and a[Golemancer].[Art Imitates Life], look up theSkill and perhaps you may fill in the dots." He focused on me. "And you then? Who are you?"


    "Amnesiac, I awoke here." I spoke slowly. A product of three people? What was this so-called Great Library of Arbos? To command such collaborations? I added context. "Trying to survive." My voice could not handle the eloquence of my mind, to my great irritation.


    "You do not have the mana to sustain me, student." He stated cooly and suddenly, looking at me with his full attention. I had the vague impression he was a figure often seen on the library floor, perhaps even the combat hall. He paused. "Survive?"


    He was right, I didn''t.I was genuinely surprised. It was the first time the connection to a golem drained me so drastically. Not to mention the first time a golem had pointed it out to me. I focused on his question. "Disaster. Fathoms below the surface. Must ascend. Live." I summarized.


    The knight removed his helmet and looked around. How he could even do that was a mystery. I stared at him, more curious than anything. He had short hair, no doubt sensible wearing all that armor. My eyes widened as I took in the face as a whole every feature morphing my perception until I knew I was wrong in my assumption. The scars I had witnessed earlier framed something unexpected. Gentle eyes regarded me, yet they were no less focused or weak. The knight''s face was round with young wrinkles that hinted at a happy life.


    She looked at me. Because it was, most definitely, a she.


    "You speak to the[Lead Library Guard]." The phrase was both title, position, andClass. "Tell me the state of the library as you know it, student." Her voice was strict. "What has happened to Arbos'' Library?"


    I told her.

 Chapter 10 - Violet Death

    The statue, the woman, faded from reality, hardening back into marble in a pose that was entirely new. My mana had run dry, the accompanying headache, tedious. Never the less, I endured fueling my barrier. Operating under intense migraines was said to be a crucial skill. Being able to utilize the entirety of one''s mana pool without swooning was a large boon.


    I grit my teeth, lances of pain shooting into my brain. The migraine assaulted me.


    The knight had seemed surprised, I recalled. That I could even manage this level of mental torment.


    She stood, glancing at me curiously. "You have not succumbed to the fatigue yet."


    I responded. "I will not." My lips bled with effort.


    I was both fascinated and amazed at her architecture. It was as if, I imagined, I was speaking to a real person. The mannerisms down to the facial expressions were sovivid.Learning of my situation did not usurp her concern of the library as a whole, although she had promised to train me as any other helper might. Though it seemed she may have some more advanced form of tutelage.


    The migraine finally put me to sleep.


    When I awoke my body was as a rock, heavy and unresponsive. Parts of me ached in soreness that I did not know I have. My mind ascended a mere headache, I had now a headsore. I felt slower and knew the effect of mana fatigue when I saw it. I resumed my barrier training.


    Awaking the knight-woman in my current state would accomplish nothing but knock me out cold. Any active practice or training was out of the question, so instead I focused my energy towards funneling nutrients.


    I watched the wooden golem carefully trim the hardyet stalks. The nimbleness and dexterity in those fingers were a wonder beyond what I could fathom. That was a technique of golemancy only the most advanced could implement. The golem enjoyed the mental capacity to take care of everchanging variables, plants. It was almost inane how I had previously taken it for granted.


    I munched on a handful of greyrice. They were bland and tough. But it was diversity, which was appreciated.


    I did not attend the botany section to simply admire the golem, however. In fact, I had come strictly for the books found here. Additionally, it seemed the botany section kept a number of small plants at the ready. I had never seen them before but the knight-statue had spoken, and so I elected to investigate.


    [Search: Library].Plants, greens, growth. It came almost as an afterthought as I plucked a book from a nearby shelf, tucking it under the arm. The ringing caused me to grimace before I realized I had found something other than the hydroponic sections I had set up.


    I inspected the unassuming bookshelf. Behind it lay my quarry. A hidden door? I frowned but quickly recognized a few magic sigils that indicated horizontal movement. The glowed faintly and did little to hide. They were carved right into the shelf''s wood. I looked for something indicative of... Ah.


    The bookshelf slid open soundlessly, opening into an entire room filled with dirt. Was this room even purposefully hidden? I felt as if I was simply not vigilant in my search, the bookshelf had been screaming to be noticed! Was I truly so dull? If I had found this room earlier my entire stock of food would be much higher!


    I shook my head. There were healthy plants already in the soil. Ready to be harvested too, it seemed. The entire dirt patch was as large again as the central room and surrounded by regular tile. On that tile magical sigils and enchantments that I only vaguely recognized as they overlapped with the subject of golemancy. There seemed to be little basic sigils as I would''ve understood them immediately, but judging from the inactivity of the library I''d guess they were preservation enchantments.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    I stepped out. "Use this room to plant hardyet and greyrice." My voice came easier after continuous use and rest. The golem looked at me, nodded, and went back to the care of his plants.


    Another section of tile was marked with preservation sigils. From the shelf filled with various fruits and veggies, it was storage. I gladly dumped my hardyet and greyrice there for the time being, although they had long shelf life there wasn''t any reason not to extend that.


    Another section was bare of any fresh food but instead had the packets of seeds I''d come to recognize. This time though, I was able to recognize them as herbs and alchemical ingredients rather than food. My eyes drifted down to the plot of land and I wondered which of these those were.


    I spent the rest of the day watching the golem remove and harvest the already blooming plants. Apparently, according to the golem itself, this was a menial task it was often tasked with. What surprised me more was not the fact that it had harvested the plant in a particular way, but the fact that it had the capacity for memory to this degree.


    My head was buried in a book, onePoisons and Distributions.


    The silver reaver would not die to any measly physical damage I could produce, nor any magical effect. Perhaps a trap, but the fact that the reaver had not entered the library meant luring it inside was unlikely. No, the only avenue of approach was poison, althougheven that I had crossed-offuntil I had learned from the knight-statue of this particular secret of the botany section.


    I''d eventually have to ask her what other secrets the library held. Although this one I was sure I had just glossed over stupidly.


    In an hour, I had set up an alchemical station in the farm room. Two wooden dummies were tasked with caring over the farm. It looked like they instinctively knew how to operate together, curious. Two petals of a weeping willow, a pinch of evergloom pollen, and a pinch of red bride sap. The result was a lethargy and paralysis inducing poison that did hell to the internal organs of whatever absorbs it.


    My eyes poured over the sketches of each. It seemed I did have packets of their seeds. The first was a flappy plant that seemed to droop as much as it stood. The weeping willow was blue-tinted and the dew on its leaves was said to look like tears in the right light. The evergloom was a simple purple flower, its name came from the fact it usually hid in fields of moonglooms, which were usually only a shade or two lighter. The latter was enticing and beautiful that former lethal. And lastly, the red bride was a spiky, carnivorous, plant deadly enough to kill large rodents if they fall in its pitcher.


    I realized too late that most of the seeds here were of the more dangerous sort. But before I could warn the golems to place them elsewhere, away from the food, I realized they had already separated the two. There seemed to multiple sections of storage, although this amounted to bare swaths of tile, I could imagine a few shelves lined up. Likely, it was a practice to stop what I had just now feared, cross-contamination.


    "Violet Death." I said, humming. Speaking to myself was usually not a habit, but in exercising my vocal chords I had adopted a few of them. Namely, speaking to myself and humming. "Fitting. The result is a violet extract. Unassuming."


    I fingered through all of the seed packets available and found the correct ones. Violet Death, it seemed was no coincidence. The plants were all symbiotic. The evergloom did not like exposure, the weeping willow drooped over it, protecting it. The red bride could often not dissolve larger species fast enough to feast on them, the weeping willows paralytic spores slowed them. The weeping willow feared those larger rodents, the ones too big to be affected by its paralytics. The evergloom sapped the strength of hostiles even further, inducing lethargy and eventually eternal sleep.


    The plants grew right on top of each other. In fact, they flourished this way.


    "Do you know how to plant these?" I asked the golems.


    "We know of only the most basic plants. Herbs are above our functions."They responded mechanically but, surprisingly, or perhaps not, were able to recognize what I held.


    I often had to remind myself what wonders I was surrounded with. Despite their form being made of wood these golems were sufficientlyadvanced. In fact, I had never even seen something dent that wood. Only the aftermath. One of the only reasons I refrained from using the metal ones, and the silver one, was that their mana drain was exponentially larger on me. Add to that, all the tasks I needed doing could be served by the wooden form. It was most definitely not my fear of utilizing such advanced constructs for menial tasks.


    I frowned, my mind was wandering thanks to the mana fatigue and resulting head soreness.


    I prodded three holes deep into the ground and planted the seeds accordingly.


    I did this three more times, leaving the other half of the plot for the golems. Ever cautious, despite the enchantments that might have any number of security precautions, I erected a safety screen between the crops. It was the same net I had used for the hydroponic stations earlier. A small ward that I cast on it would keep out any particulates.


    Then, hopefully, I would have my first tool against the horrors of this depth.