《I Transmigrated to a Strange Land》


 Talentless Extra

    I was sitting on a tree branch while whistling a joyful tune.


    I was polishing my naval cutlass while observing the battlefield below. Shouts and screams from hundreds of examinees filled the arena.


    I enjoyed the moment of respite as I observed the battlefield, the sounds of clashing weapons were like music to my ears.


    There in the distance, I could see the main character fighting against three people at the same time while his entire body glowed with a golden light. He was the one born with talent and opportunity.


    James Morningstar, the unparalleled genius and the main character of the epic fantasy saga whose name I have conveniently forgotten.


    Yes, currently I am inside the novel I had read in my previous life. Unlike most isekai protagonists I lived a fulfilling life until I died at the age of eighty after being unceremoniously hit by a truck. In some unexplained way, I was then transmigrated into the body of an extra from my nephew¡¯s book.


    If I had a status screen it would look like this:


    *****


    Name: Ren Gladius


    Age: 18


    Title: none


    Talent: Language Comprehension


    Mana attribute: Null


    Physique: Insect-like


    *****


    Like a true extra, my stats and potential are complete rubbish compared to the main character and his party.


    If I had a talent then it would be the ability to easily learn new languages. I realized this when I started learning this world¡¯s language. The words and characters simply flowed into my brain as if I was a sponge for ideas.


    A beyond useless ability. Other than being good for scholarship and generally showing off it has no real benefit in a world stuck in a medieval stasis. A world with only one language. The Akkadian language.


    And the universe as if to spite me decided to give me a null attribute. This way I was barred from using even the simplest of elemental magic. I was limited to body enhancement, simple telekinesis, and tiny wisps of light in a world where most peasants can light candles with their fingertips.


    My potential was average, and I struggled mightily just to get to the point where I am today. However, I did not despair, it was the exact opposite; I found it amusing.


    I have already lived a successful and fulfilling life. As a young man, I entered the army and then ended up in the special forces. After a disagreement with an officer, I decided to leave the army of my own accord before things escalated and began practicing fencing. It took me a few decades but soon I became the world champion. When I got older, I founded my own martial school where I passed on my knowledge to my disciples but after a few years of perfecting the art of bladed weaponry, I suffered an injury that made it impossible for me to fight ever again. While in the hospital I wrote a book and in the end, I died in a traffic accident after doing some grocery shopping. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Having already lived a life once I decided to take it easy this time and try to just enjoy the process.


    Well, today is the day the story of the novel I am in officially begins.


    The entrance exam for the most prestigious academy on the continent: Polygon.


    This is the first chapter, it¡¯s where the novel starts. The main character surprises everyone with his insane skills after getting the highest score on the practice exam despite coming from an unimposing small noble family that does not possess any special techniques.


    In this world of swords and sorcery, knowledge was power.


    Therefore, everyone keeps their techniques hidden, despite the technology in this world being equivalent to the technology of the early 14th century with the exception of everything using magic to some extent.


    The main character¡¯s talent was called Celestial Dreamer, and his attribute was light. The main character had the ability that transformed his dreams into tutoring sessions. In each dream, he lived as someone else for the duration of his dream. From genius knights to master cooks and shadowy assassins.


    A truly overpowered ability and also the perfect one for his role. Later in the story, the continent is¡­ Well, to be honest I don¡¯t remember. I barely had the time to read a few chapters before my body was distributed all over the pavement by that truck.


    I had transmigrated into the body of the heir of a family of knights called Gladius but upon my parents realizing I wasn¡¯t that talented with axes I was quickly stripped of that status. Later my younger brother became the heir because of his talent with Halberds.


    After that, I could practice my swordsmanship in peace without having to endure the burden of expectations.


    The entrance exam was coming to an end. Honestly, my nephew was quite unoriginal when he wrote the book. Well, the book was never supposed to be a masterpiece, just something his children would enjoy.


    I say that because the whole exam was just a large battle royale where you received a point for every eliminated contestant.


    The points were displayed above everyone¡¯s head with magic and eliminating someone would transfer all of their points to you.


    I looked below the tree I was sitting on and noticed the main characters standing there menacingly.


    James was in a standoff against the current second-ranked Aaron Nightheart, the heir of the Nightheart dukedom and a spoiled young master who later in the story becomes a villain.


    Aaron was lacking five points in order to be able to seize the number one spot and he decided to face the main character and become his stepping stone.


    ¡°Surrender now and I am going to spare your childhood sweetheart from being eliminated,¡± Aaron taunted.


    ¡°As if you can actually defeat me,¡± the woman standing next to James replied with a fierce look on her face.


    If I remember correctly her name was Evelyn Nextshape. The most beautiful character in the novel or something like that.


    I looked at the hourglass that was showing the remaining time till the end of the examination and then glanced at the number ten that was displayed above Evelyn¡¯s head. A remarkable achievement but it palled in comparison to Aaron¡¯s sixteen points and shrivelled in comparison to James¡¯ twenty points.


    Every elimination was harder than the previous one because you had a limited time and could only partially recover your stamina. There were many who huddled in the corners of the arena looking for easy points. Vultures who exploited the painstaking efforts of honourable warriors.


    Well, a man has got to do what a man has got to do.


    I stored my cutlass away and counted down until there were just a few grains of sand until the end of the exam and then I jumped from the tree.


    The main characters were so absorbed in their argument that they didn¡¯t even notice the time.


    I felt the air rush past me as I plummeted downward.


    I landed with my boot on Evelyn¡¯s face and ended up pushing her head into the dirt. Thankfully a protective barrier enveloped her, preventing me from accidentally dislocating her neck.


    James looked at me with a mix of surprise and horror before instinctually swinging his sword at my head.


    I didn¡¯t even bother to try to deflect it as in the next second a barrier enveloped the rest of the examinees.


    The exam was over.


    I couldn¡¯t resist yawning which earned me a contemptuous look from the main cast.

 Theatrics

    "Gladius, Gladius, Gladius!"


    The young noble kept screaming into my face.


    "Accept my duel request, Gladius!"


    Such a confrontational guy, this main character.


    We were standing below the giant bronze statue of the founding Sage:


    Sumer Of Akkad, The Exalted One.


    He founded the Akkadian kingdom, pushed the empire all the way down toward the south and established the royal academy: Polygon in his final days.


    All the finely paved roads of this academic settlement, the roughly cut spiral mosaics, the pyramid shaped houses, the square-integrated-interconnected academic communities¡­


    It was all him: the Millenial King.


    Not just a title. He actually lived for a full 1000 years.


    How did he achieve all of this?


    He invented the dragon riding tradition. Domesticated hundreds of dragons and selectively bred them to create four distinct dragon variants that are in use today. Red, black, turquoise and crystal.


    How is this relevant to my current situation?


    Well, the academy was created as a sinkhole for talent. The Akkadian royal family can''t manage the whole kingdom by itself so it pulls talent from other non-dragon riding noble families with the temptation of dragon riding. Those who make it on the dragon list are trained in dragon riding and if they complete the term of apprenticeship are given their own dragons and adopted into the Akkadian Royal Family via marriage. Their family is then gifted steel armor or magic tools as a form of appeasement.


    This keeps the dragon riding tradition in the hands of the Akkadians and it makes sure the family never runs out of talent.


    The auxiliary branches of the academy are simply a consequence of this selection process where those who fail settle for the next best thing: becoming a sage. You specialize in a field like artillery or medicine or urban development. Then you either get to the top of your field and enter the council of sages where you are once again adopted or settle for being an inconsequential part of the managerial "aristocratic" class.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    By pushing Evelyn into the dirt I managed to claw my way onto the dragon list. But my family is weaker and smaller than hers so she thinks she can make her boyfriend push me around.


    I looked around the academy plaza and noticed that a small group of people had started forming around us because of the commotion James was causing. The currently empty bronze braziers reflected the evening sunlight onto the pyramid behind us.


    "Even If we fight you can''t push me out of the dragon list. You''re ranked above me," I calmly interjected his cock-like behavior.


    "You fought without honor! What type of a coward hides in the canopy and jumps on a woman. A woman!"


    "If she wanted to play she could stay at home like the other noble ladies," I attacked Evelyn directly.


    She stepped from behind James'' back, giving up on the bunker strategy.


    "Fine, I''ll fight you myself. Be ready to relinquish your spot."


    She was dressed provocatively in a padded leather bra and a short pleated skirt. Adorned with animal fur and a golden choker. A plethora of master crafted ankle bracelets accentuated her fair legs. Even her sandals were made out of fairer leather than normal.


    She was clearly prepared to play the damsel in distress but now that I called her out she is trying to look strong in front of the crowd.


    "Fighting you doesn''t benefit me in any manner. Either give me a good offer or fly away. I won''t fall for your provocation."


    She backed away, crossed her arms, and bit her lip. Her eyes nervously scanned the bystanders for a possible reinforcement but no one fell for it.


    She was about to back off when a strong voice boomed over the crowd: "Seems like you guys are having fun already!"


    The other students respectfully made way for him.


    "What a way to start off the year," said an average sized boy dressed in a beige linen tunic. His messy brown hair was lined with a golden headband that depicted a dragon biting its own tail. A symbol of his Akkadian lineage.


    "A guy from the sticks, the prodigy of light and the Nextshape girley."


    The brown haired youth smacked his lips as if there was something deeply satisfying about the last part of that sentence.


    "My name is Grimar Of Akkad," the boy committed himself to a theatrical bow that the audience awkwardly went along with.


    "I very much want to see this duel happen so I am prepared to finance it instead of the ''Shapely'' girl."


    The audience giggled at his badly constructed pun.


    "If you buy me my own workshop and a suit of light armor I''ll gladly stake my place on the dragon list. However, the goods come first," I grasped at the opportunity.


    "The farm boy wants a workshop and a suit of armor and the girl wants to be the ''Next'' dragon lord."


    He repeated slowly while stroking his chin as if he was deeply pondering something.


    "Well, it''s done! Tomorrow evening at the arena!"


    He suddenly erupted and the now sizable audience followed.


    I received quite a few envious gazes. A suit of armor from the Akkadian dynasty was worth its weight in adamantium.


    Well, now I just have to save my new armor from being wrecked.

 The Duel

    The rays of light illuminated the scales of my new armor. The blueish, fish-like scales created an optic phenomenon that looked like a rainbow if you looked from above. The light refracted and created a real rainbow on the beige stone wall.


    Light, flexible and stab-proof. At least for the most part. The breast plate, pauldrons and knee guards were made out of multiple sheets of iron stacked and glued together. This increases the armor''s stopping power. It makes the armor invulnerable to most projectiles from my weight category. Only a very knowledgeable sage could pierce it with some esoteric magic.


    The plates are additionally covered with scalemail. Hundreds of landshark scales are affixed to a leather cloth and then draped over the combatant. Very good protection against sword slashes, general pike and spear hits but vulnerable to short, close-range, bladed stabs. If somebody stabs you from a specific angle with a short dagger, gauche or a misericorde it''ll still penetrate the leather.


    But this is an honorable duel. Backstabs are a big "no no."


    Landsharks are most similar to a scaled T-rex with a shark''s head. They are a selectively bred "war animal." Made for the purpose of transcending traditional cavalry. Their problem is energy efficiency, so somebody thought of turning these ferocious devourers into armored pigs. Their scales are tough but not too tough. Perfect for armor.


    Anyways, she will definitely be bringing a broad headed spear. Tradition dictates that one versus one arena duels must be opened up with a sort of a bull run where the fighters charge at each other with a shield and spear. There are hundreds of dueling strategies built around what is called a "first-point win."


    Victory via the first point of contact. From acidic alchemic concoctions to harpoon builds. Everything has already been tried and tested with various success rates. Different combatants use different styles but generally it''s all the same. If first-point contact ends in a draw then it''s usually the better armored one who wins because he can afford to make more mistakes.


    The shield and spear are then discarded and the sword is drawn. Or in higher weight categories a mace, poleaxe or a hammer. Zweihander-like swords do exist but they can be a bit unwieldy. They''re only used for anti-infantry crowd control because even most light armors can deflect a hit from them.


    A battle of attrition begins. Some fighters try for a second-point win with disarming blades or magic trickery but most are against such methods because of their unreliable nature.


    Grimar was nice enough to provide me with a page to help me put on armor. A short and quiet slave girl, probably employed for her nimble fingers.


    She easily fixed all the straps at the right places and made sure there were no obvious gaps in my defense, even in the spots where an unexperienced combatant might not notice them but his blade could still stumble there. Her hands danced around my breastplate with experience, making sure no scale was out of place.


    After a long duration of pulling and readjusting she silently withdrew to the side.


    I stumbled toward the arena''s entrance.


    A square arch, a bloodstained wall, distinctly Akkadian square spirals littered the short hallway.


    A cacophony of cheers filled my ears as I stood on the sand below the scorching gazes of the relatively large audience.


    "A short round of applause for the man who financed this duel: Grimar Of Akkad."


    The applause that followed was about as pleasant as standing below a waterfall. Grimar was clearly the center of attention here. This event was about him. He didn''t finance it out of his goodwill.


    When observing the five women that surrounded him an unsavory thought entered my mind.


    This duel was set up by a high-ranking sage who wanted to kill two wizards with one spear.


    Some noble families were probably suspecting Grimar of picking favourites, hence he was being forced to display the unity of his harem. In the story Grimar is the useful idiot. The dynasty exploits his desires and uses him as glue that holds the other noble families in check via marriage. One of his uncles probably "supports" his extravagant lifestyle. I suppose you could see it as a sort of a dynastic business expense.


    I looked at his empty smile and the golden dragon necklaces that were hanging around the necks of his five wives. Four of them had beige tunics with strapless silver corsets that accentuated their stature. The fifth one was dressed in a long red dress and even had square golden earrings, the ultimate symbol of opulence. The main wife has to show off. Grimar himself wore a silky smooth pure white tunic. Pure white and blue colors were reserved for the royal family. If a noble wanted to act pretentious he had to settle for purple or crimson. If you wanted to come off as conservative you would wear earthly colours.


    In Akkadian culture it is seen as inappropriate for a woman to wear something on her head. Only men can wear crowns, headbands and helmets. Combat helmets for women are made to rest on the woman''s shoulders creating a rare exception to the rule.


    I very much hope the second reason for this duel isn''t to get rid of me. Yes, I did kind of cheat but I come from a family that''s not very prominent and while technically they can''t deny my entry into the academy because I am a noble''s firstborn they might feel cheated by my low status and could potentially suspend my application indefinitely. Getting on the dragon list is a step around that problem. However, the only way to hand over a place on the dragon list is via a duel and throwing a duel would bar me from accessing many future social opportunities.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    A noble would rather be seen as weak than as a social parasite. His title could literally be stripped on the basis of disgraceful conduct which wasn''t an everyday occurrence but you can never be too careful.


    The reputational warfare against the Nextshape family would have been too costly for me. I had to accept the duel one way or another. Let''s just hope nothing unexpected happens.


    The commentator had finally finished citing Grimar''s pedigree and was now finally moving onto the fighters: "In the north we have Evelyn Nextshape. A dedicated lady fighter that has been training with the spear since childhood, brought up in the prominent Nextshape household, the third child of count¡­"


    Noble titles denote the amount of land you have under management. What really matters is your surname. Nobles have surnames. Where you come from matters because techniques and abilities are heritable traits. Especially when it comes to the knowledge of magic and weaponry. No one will instruct you for free and no one will serve for free!


    The kingdom is separated into dukedoms, those are separated into counties and counties are protected by knightly clans. Counts differ in authority from masters of the realm to guests on their own land. Knightly families rise and fall and dukes often have to arbitrate between different settlements.


    I closely observed my enemy.


    Tough leather armor covered with iron chainmail. Flimsy helmet: she must be very confident in humiliating me. She comes from a prominent family. Definitely has some fancy technique. "Tri-shape blade" or something like that. I barely remember. She was a contrived romantic character. Not exactly someone worth remembering.


    The flag of her noble house hanged from one of her pauldrons.


    I went for the coat of arms painted onto an armband. Conservative and practical. Red and green colors intertwined below the shield. On the shield lay three weapons. An ax crossing a poleaxe and a sword that divides them. Below that was embroidered a single rune: Gladius.


    I guess the direct translation would be "house of Gladius" but the most correct translation, taking in account cultural differences in the meaning of words, would be "the Gladius clan." The colors themselves imply that one is of lower nobility. No high noble would want green on his finest cloth. Green means interconnectedness with nature. Dirt, grime, the "everydayness" of life. Red is blood. The primary profession of a knight happens on the battlefield. His rights are derived from his usefulness to the high lords and the sages. A knight takes pride in his martial tradition and in the devotion with which he serves.


    I looked at Evelyn''s flag: Circle, triangle, and a square. "Nextshape" was embroidered on the short flaps of skirt that hanged from her belt. Purple shapes on a yellow background. That''s how you say you''re showing off without actually showing off. Purple dye is hard to make-purple cloth is expensive. So you pick a cheaper dye and you add in a bit of purple here and there. It''s to show you''re rich but humble. You could''ve painted the whole flag purple. For someone who can afford purple dye it doesn''t makes a difference financially. However, the meaning would be different then. You can''t be rich and low status. A servant has to continually put himself down in front of his master. Not for his master''s sake but for his own. An underestimated slave is a free slave as contradictory as that sounds. It''s one thing to labor with all your might and another to labor for might¡­


    "Ren Gladius from the Gladius family. The one located in the north of the Seaside Dukedom. He is the first child but was not proclaimed the heir. The title instead went to his younger brother¡­"


    I could technically take offense at how the commentator pronounced younger as he is clearly implying my inferiority but I have better things to care about now.


    "¡­Ren seems to have brought an unusual weapon. A sort of a bow affixed to a stick. Maybe that''s why he demanded a workshop as a price for agreeing to the duel. He must be very confident in his invention."


    A sage stepped up next to the commentator. His very presence dulled the atmosphere a little. A long white beard. A white tunic and a distinct always-recognizable mortarboard blue hat. The golden tassel was affixed to the side of the hat instead of the top like in my previous world. Here it had a bit of a different meaning that I won''t get into now.


    The sage flicked his fingers at the sky. All the newcomers of Sumeria, the academy city, looked up in expectation. A bright red flame surged from his hand and exploded outward into a bright crimson flare.


    The duel had just started.


    The girl smirked at the spear I stabbed into the ground. She gripped hers intensely and prepared to bolt in my direction, ending the duel in a single move.


    Foolish. Even a much stronger fighter would be careful if his opponent showed up with an unknown weapon.


    I aimed my crossbow at her stomach. The arrow whistled through the air and what followed¡­


    A sickening thud. Her armor plate ended where her abdomen started. A great way to gain mobility and reduce weight. A massive advantage in a fight of attrition. A good choice for this weight category. But alas¡­


    The bolt dug into her stomach, easily piercing the iron chainmail. I even made sure to load a bodkin bolt when I saw her wearing chainmail.


    It''s not sadistic. I just didn''t want to leave anything to chance. In my testing only a bodkin bolt reliably pierces the better crafted versions of chainmail. At least it should be easier to pull out.


    The girl screamed in shock. She never could have expected something like this. She wanted to move forward but all she could do was scream in pain. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she slumped to the ground cradling her stomach. A crimson-yellow liquid poured onto the sand. First a dark stain appeared around the wound and then drop by drop a small bloody puddle started forming all the while she kept screaming as if I had hit something really important.


    Her eyes were wide open and she was gasping for breath. The audience was suspiciously quiet. They hadn''t exactly expected this.


    "Gladius, first-point win!"


    As if finally allowed reprieve the audience cheered and applauded. The cacophony of voices drowned me, their exhilaration seemed to resonate with the beating of my heart.


    I looked deeply into Evelyn''s eyes. They contained no regret or sadness at her loss. Only sheer dread at the lifeblood leaving her body. Her tiny lips quivered at every single crimson drop that stained the dusty landscape.


    I straightened my back and saluted in the traditional Akkadian way: pushing my chest out and hitting my left breast twice, just slightly above my racing heart.

 The Lecture

    I was staring at the paper in front of me. Yes, they have paper here. I think it''s made out of old fabrics and no it''s not that expensive. The kingdom always has nice weather with occasional rainy seasons that are never too long. As long as you don''t mismanage your land you''ll always be fed and many farmers grow flax-like plants as a side business. Most trades consist of fabric, technology or exotic materials. No noble house imports food because that''s seen as a sign of weakness.


    Back to the paper. In my hands I was holding a two page gossipaper. It started as a way to deliver information to the most reclusive sages. To try and force them to participate in the community. Obviously the academy has a deep seated culture of skepticism. No sage would actually trust what he read on a stone tablet that somebody else wrote, let alone something that''s written on a tearable material. Stone tablets have a standardized thickness and most theses are published on them. However, younger students who want to familiarize themselves with a thesis go to a library where they read wooden encyclopedias. They are lighter and take up less space. Yes, it''s possible to file and rewrite pages which is why most libraries only house engraved albums, filled with tablet replicas.


    The gossipaper was very successful in dragging reclusive scholars into petty disagreements. It often included obviously false or badly defined statements on purpose just to force people into engagements. It was then promptly banned by the council of sages for damaging the quality of academic discourse.


    However, a decade later it was reinvented. But this time its purpose was cataloging the whereabouts and doings of important scholars. Kind of like a telephone directory for important people. It was once again attacked but it survived because it became an important facilitator of transactions and the ownership was later transferred to the council.


    And now I find my own name printed on it.


    "Low category combat redefined?"


    I looked to the side and noticed James glaring at me.


    He gave me that "main character glare" and spat at me: "Are you proud of what you''ve done?"


    James, James, James¡­ You''ll never understand that it''s not a matter of pride but a matter of survival. She was weak, too weak. And the weak should not compete with the strong.


    Those were my thoughts but my words were: "James, you can''t blame me over a duel she consented to."


    "You''re right. I like her too much and when I saw you I was overcome by passion. She was sent home, you know. Back to the countryside. I won''t see her for a long time."


    After a short pause he continued: "I know you don''t gain anything from seriously wounding her, so I think we should reintroduce ourselves."


    He handed out his fist: "I am James."


    I bumped his fist with mine in all seriousness: "Ren."


    Well, his name isn''t really James. Etymologically it''s based on the character for "protector." It''s even spelled similarly and when writing you use either the character for "protector" or for "shield" and you add a crown to the top as a signifier of personality.


    "James" is my translated and adapted version. I could just call him "Sikh An" but I bet that would be confusing.


    "So how reliable is this new invention of yours? Does it really change warfare? It looks kind of similar to a rifle."


    "It''s essentially a slave rifle. It can be crafted with a farmer''s daily income. But it can only ever have an impact on lower stratum warfare. As reliable as it is, it''s purely mechanical and is superseded by the most basic of tourmaline rifles."


    "So you''ll market it as a pest control tool?"


    "Most likely yes. Or I''ll sell the design to a sage in exchange for a mentorship."


    "You were thinking this far ahead!" James almost shouted.


    Well, yes I did use your girlfriend as a marketing doll but what did you expect? That I''ll pass on the opportunity to promote myself? The academy is an intellectual market. The brightest minds win. I am not smart so I have to use other strategies. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Not to mention¡­


    "Can you guys shut up? The lecture is about to start."


    A girl from the row behind us interrupted.


    The auditorium we were located in was in a hexagon shape with multiple rows of seats that ascended as you moved outward toward the walls branded with hundreds of stained glassy blocks.


    A spiral rainbow illuminated every row but the middle. The center contained a raised podium and above it many glass screens. They worked as slide projectors. Above them was a long chimney that used a combination of mirrors to create a bright stream of light, illuminating the slide that would be telekinetically inserted into the contraption.


    The result was six TV-like displays pointed in every direction. On them was displayed the title of the first and only mandatory lecture I was going to attend at Polygon, Sumeria.


    An apprentice went around and handed us standard-thickness stone tablets with the contents of the lecture written on them.


    Just like in the gossipaper that I didn''t get the chance to read, the content was written with Akkadian characters neatly arranged in a spiral. In the middle of the tablet was the title of the piece: "Choosing your academic path." Then around the title, like a tiny snake, were arranged hundreds of characters. To read it you would follow the spiral, sometimes reading from left to right and sometimes upwards. The direction wasn''t important. Just the spiral. You would follow the "snake of meaning" till you arrived at the edge of the stone tablet at which point the snake would bite its own tail, metaphorically. There are no dots to delineate where sentences end. That''s because the ending is self-evident when you read the text out loud. It would be hard to explain without getting into the phonetics of the language. Essentially, you''re singing a song when you read. That''s the easiest way to explain it.


    However, no one was reading right now. They were all staring with glee at the person that had just arrived on stage. An old white haired man with a blue mortarboard hat. The golden tassel shone in the sunlight as the man ascended the podium. The auditorium was filled with pin-drop silence. The only source of noise was the beeping ball of brass that floated behind the sage. Multiple vials with neon green liquid were attached to it and it was sprinkled with what looked like service lights. It reminded me of a robot from a sci-fi show. Below the automaton were suspended glass slides for the natural-light projector located above the podium.


    This was a grand sage!


    He had a long white beard and a thin monocle, he carried himself with absolute confidence despite his apparent old age. Wearing a blue hat, engraved with a smiling dragon...


    The character for wisdom looks like a smiley face, so the engraving on the hat must be a poetic "play on characters."


    A grand sage was a rank above the normal sages, well versed in many academic pursuits but that was not the requirement for becoming one. The requirement for becoming a grand sage was the creation of your own field of thought supported both empirically and philosophically by your own theses that have been validated by the community. The rank of a grand sage meant that you had to address him as the Wise.


    "Sage Lecter the Wise" was the first slide that was displayed to us. The milky white slate simply floated off of the stand below the brassy automaton and flew into the projector. Such profound control over magic! I could barely suspend a small coin midair.


    "Today begins your academic path! Today is the most important choice of your life. Because today you will choose your mentor and become his apprentice until the day you ascend to the rank of sage yourself."


    I blinked my eyes at his well played theatrics. This old man was a natural speaker. He could move the masses with a single word.


    The slide changed with a click.


    "The study of magic is a hard, bumpy road, filled with surprises and roadblocks. The first theory of magic that seeked to explain it all was created by Tesla Of Akkad. The first supreme sage that took control of the kingdom after the Millennial King vanished. His theory is called the Theory Of Mana and it seeks to explain magic as a consequence of a type of energy. After him was Holius Of Akkad who invented the Clergical Theory where magic is a phenomenon of liturgical worship. What came after was an unprecedented revolution with hundreds of theses being published. A true academic explosion! Among these the most popular was Spirit Communion Theory developed by Nekros Of Akkad."


    The slide changed to a spiral diagram of every field of thought.


    "I myself invented the Poisonous Mana theory and now run a small workshop in the northern part of the city. In my younger days I dabbled with the Atomistic Theory before disproving it and moving onto Mana Theory where I studied with Tesla''s contemporaries. I then split off into my own field on the basis of the inconsistent results of "controlled inhalation studies" that you can read about in the Mana Library section "L."


    The three biggest fields glowed bright above the auditorium. Mana, Clergy and Spirits.


    You will have a week to study the different fields yourself and take interviews offered by different sages."


    The grand sage spread his hands in a pompous way.


    "Your academic path begins at this very moment. Take charge and follow the Akkadian way!"


    The entire auditorium saluted by standing up, straightening their backs, and hitting themselves on the chest twice.


    "For Akkad!"

 Department Of Spirit Communion

    Department Of Spirit Communion Studies.


    Engraved with large golden letters atop a square arch that was guarding the entrance. Below it were two enormous iron doors with thousands of skulls sculpted into the material. I imagined they stood out as a warning to any intruders that might want to take a peek inside.


    However, I wasn''t an intruder. I came here for an interview with a sage.


    I shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling of being watched and pushed the doors forward. They opened with surprising ease, no sound and no resistance. It was like wading through a fair cloud. I gawked at the two erect iron plates like an idiot. Maybe the doors were magic.


    In front of me a fantastic view opened up. Shiny marble tiles extended in all directions, reflecting the dancing chandelier lights. The chandeliers themselves were made out of hundreds of bones. Human and animal. Some candles were held in the mouths of dead beasts and some were inserted into the eye cavities of human skulls. The centrepiece was an enormous dragon-like skeleton suspended above the hall. Human skulls floated upside down, below the dragon skeleton, hanging by a thread. Inside of the skulls blazed neon green flames that casted eerie shadows onto the labyrinth of ebony bookshelves that littered the hall.


    The books themselves were bound in exotic leather and often had bones affixed to their backs. Some were even composed entirely out of bones. This library, unlike the Mana Library, was built in squares that formed around tall stone obelisks. On those obelisks were etched foundational theses. The bookshelves that surround a specific obelisk are disputations that support it or findings that build upon it. DSCS (department of Spirit Communion Studies ) doesn''t worship writers the way DMR (department of mana research) does. Here the entire library is constructed around practicality. Hundreds of books don''t even have an author because of their controversial nature.


    After an hourglass flip or so I realised the real reason the library was organised in this way. Lecter the Wise, coming from DMR, misrepresented the DSCS. In its early days the Theory Of Spirit Communion was extremely unpopular. That was because Nekros Of Akkad came across first empirical evidence for the existence of spirits while researching corpse possession.


    Allegedly, he was attacked by a stray wizard who wielded an army of floating bone creatures. A wizard is a magic practitioner from a long lost empire that supposedly dominated the continent before the Millennial King arose to power. The hate for these practitioners of esoteric arts was culturally transmitted via stories and sayings but the actual historical evidence was erased through time.


    For example everybody has heard of the saying: "How many wizards does it take to light a bonfire?"


    The answer is usually: "None. The flaming ruins of Akkadian villages, they burned down, are warm enough."


    So, after surviving the perilous attack, Nekros decided to find a way to defend himself against such vile trickery. He dug deep into Sumer''s catacombs, where he found a set of stone tablets that described a process of turning a dragon corpse into an undead minion. He then inferred the Theory Of Spirit Communion and proved it with empirical studies later on.


    After the theory was established it became widely criticised by the other schools of thought. The DMR hated the non-mechanistic nature of the theory and the clergy hated the desecration of corpses and the implications of such a theory. Early DSCS scholars often had to wage duels with their life on the line.


    In such an environment it only makes sense that the library is oriented around teaching the apprentices about the most basic intellectual defences first.


    I flipped the hourglass and sighed: "One more flip and my fate will be decided."


    The candleholder that illuminated my table was toppled by a sudden gust of wind. The flame was extinguished and the hot wax flooded the dark ebony table.


    I stood up, turned around and standing there was a relatively young sage. Next to him was a swaying golden skull, suspended midair by some unknown force. Its eye cavities shone with a dreary green. Chained to the skull was a blackstone tablet. The sage''s tassel had a tiny golden square tied to its end. Something I wouldn''t have noticed if he wasn''t this close. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "The candidate before you was done with the interview in record time so I came to get you."


    "I hope I get accepted as well," I carefully prodded.


    "He wasn''t accepted. He was a spy so we turned him into a human candle."


    Dread suddenly gripped my heart. What have I gotten myself into? I should have just stayed home in my castle!


    "Well, that''s reassuring," I snarkily replied.


    When in a negotiation with an intelligent, highly conscientious person, sarcasm and jokes are a great way to lower his guard. You want to make him think the cards you hold are worthless. Convince him that he''s in control, make him think you''re working in his benefit, then when he turns his back you blow his head with a revolver that''s been hiding in your ankle holster.


    Not my first hostage negotiation.


    "Don''t worry, you managed to take on Grimar''s challenge. You''ll be fine."


    Seems like he knows when to defuse the situation. He definitely wasn''t joking about the human candle but he''s not lying about this either. I guess I''ll trust him for now.


    I let go of the hidden blade and continued on as if nothing had happened.


    "Do you have a good relationship with him?"


    The sage lifted one of his eyebrows for a moment but continued as if he wasn''t bothered in the slightest.


    "Grimar is a bit of an idiot but he''s not as stupid as he makes himself look."


    So there was more beyond that empty glance of Grimar''s. No, impossible. I never misjudge people. It must be someone behind him. Maybe one of his wives? The sage might be just trying to throw me off.


    We finally arrived at the end of the corridor. The wooden door blocking our path opened by itself, revealing a spacious study room nicely lined with sky high bookshelves arranged around a square mahogany table.


    "Did you hear that?"


    "Hear what?" I responded in confusion.


    "Just like I predicted," the sage pointed at someone behind me.


    I turned around and almost lost my balance as a horrible stench of alcohol hit me. Behind me appeared a short bearded old man. His long white beard was almost reaching his belt. He was wearing a crimson nightgown stained with alcohol and in his hand was an opened flask. The man was shorter than me. Almost a dwarf but definitely the height of a teenager.


    He ran toward the table, stumbling as if he was heavily drunk. He smashed his flask onto the table, drenching the leatherbound encyclopaedia resting there.


    "You can''t do this to me! Remember, we are brothers! We went through so much together. It''s not my fault things turned out this way¡­"


    His snot flew all over the table as the old man flew to his knees and started crying. The younger sage pushed him off of the table and he fell to the ground, quietly sobbing.


    "Don''t mind him. He''s the former grandsage that founded the department you just inherited."


    "I inherited what?!"


    The sage ignored me and kept scribbling onto the blackstone tablet.


    I stood there petrified. Things were not supposed to go like this. Everything was moving too fast. I was just trying to find a department that I could join. I looked at the sage who was hard at work inscribing something onto the blackstone. A stone used exclusively for contracts. I dreaded the next words that would come out of his mouth.


    "You were rejected by the clergical department right? They probably told you that they can''t accept someone who has been severed from the infinite One."


    "How did you know?"


    "It''s quite obvious. You''ll realise it in time as well. You''re not welcome in this city. You are of low status and this is the royal capital. As materialistic as the DMR is they''ll never accept someone below the rank of high nobility. After all, they''re competing with the clergy and those monks won''t accept someone who doesn''t hear the ravings. You''re left with us. However, if you''re deaf to the voices then you must be blind to the spirits as well."


    "It''s true that I don''t hear the voices but blindness doesn''t make any sense. Surely there''s something I can do," I grasped at the last straws.


    "That candle holder was knocked over by a ghost, entry doors are operated by spirit guardians, and the door to my office is possessed. The better your senses are the higher a candidate''s chances of being accepted into my school. No amount of duels and trickery changes the fact that you have no talent."


    "So, here''s the deal. You''re a smart man and so I will be direct with you," he continued unperturbed.


    "I will give you this empty department that implodes in five years. You can register your workshop under it or you can sell off all the resources and run the damn thing into the ground."


    He stopped scribbling and the blackstone tablet shone in a golden colour, displaying the newly composed contract.


    I looked at him and then at the drunk sobbing old man on the ground. I weighed my choices and in the end my gaze ended up fixated on the golden words. I slowly extended my hand towards the pen¡­

 A Path Forward

    "Please, hire this old man! I am willing to work for free at this point. Just hire me already!"


    I have been patiently waiting for this moment the entire last month. This old man has been nagging me almost every hour of the day, sometimes even at night. I finally understand why DSCS wanted to get rid of him.


    I rubbed my head and looked at him, pretending to be annoyed: "Listen I''ll hire you for a month but there are two rules you need to obey."


    He suddenly stopped bawling his eyes out and looked at me with surprise evident in his eyes.


    "First rule: no drinking. Second rule: you do whatever I say. If you follow these instructions faithfully we''ll be able to restore this department to its previous state in a month or two."


    "You don''t even understand the foundational thesis of this department. How do you plan to fix something that''s unfixable? I labored year after year and never managed to prove anything," the old man looked at me with skepticism.


    "Tell me your story while we take a walk to the launchpads."


    "Back then when I was still young there was a very popular field of thought that theorized magic to be a consequence of desire. In starvation studies subjects would be able to manifest significantly stronger spells. The theory was called: magic as wish fulfilment."


    "I am guessing Tesla disputed the theory by replicating the experiment but he measured physical exertion instead."


    He looked at me with surprise muttering: "I guess geniuses think alike."


    "Anyhow, that''s where I got the idea for the theory of psychoelements. The thesis is simple: elements are a consequence of an obsession."


    "What would that make somebody without an element?"


    He looked at me mischievously and said: "A natural skeptic!"


    "How would that even work?"


    "You''re very good at suspending your own judgment and you''re good at generating criticism of fixed ideas such as justice or truth. But most importantly you don''t have an emotional need."The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Doesn''t everyone have emotional needs?"


    "How many real friends do you have?"


    "You have a point. However, I don''t think there''s ever been a case of a person''s element changing along with personality."


    "Exactly this was the accusation aimed at me. There''s only one reason why I persisted. I managed to create a psychological questionnaire that could predict a person''s element with an above ninety five percent accuracy."


    "But correlation doesn''t mean causation."


    "I know! But those vultures from the mana department created a device that can guess a person''s element on the basis of a blood test. One of the last theses that Tesla published before his death has the title: element as a spectrum of mana. That old fucker could not resist kicking me while I was down! Even on his deathbed he dedicated his last moments to pushing me into misery!"


    "But he never managed to truly disprove your theory. Presence of elemental indicators could simply be psychosomatic."


    "Even if that''s true others did not see it this way. At that point Tesla was old but he was also extremely influential. My apprentices were leaving one by one and the title of a grandsage was slipping through my fingers. I took a risk I shouldn''t have and dabbled with mind altering substances. By the time I recovered I had lost years of memories and health. And now we have five years left before my department gets shut down for a lack of evidence."


    The pain and misery the old man must have experienced were showing in the many wrinkles on his face.


    "What about the Theory Of Spirit Communion?"


    "They wanted to merge my research with their assertions. In their eyes elements are a consequence of spirits picking specific people with specific mental traits. For example, fire spirits have a universal preference for ambitious people. Someone with no elements was simply born without spirit perception and hence the spirits don''t affect his magic manifestation.


    "Sounds horrible," I replied in a bored manner.


    "You seem to have lost interest."


    "I just don''t like determinism."


    We finally arrived at the dragon launchpads.


    "Where are we going?"


    "We''re getting some ingredients from a nearby volcano."


    I will need to make huge amounts of gunpowder. I will push firearms technology to the level of the 19th century. I am not capable of more than that. For example I have no idea how to create ballistic plates or steam engines. I can''t even engineer a bessemer converter. I have no cheat code or system.


    I was a soldier in my previous life. I know the best camouflage tactics. I can hit someone with a sniper rifle from a kilometer away. I know thousands of survivalist tricks and I am familiar with most martial arts.


    Doesn''t save me from a dragon''s breath attack. Even if I arm my peasants with rifles they would all die to a single well prepared sage.


    Magic shields, baubles and fantastic armors are in a league of their own.


    But I am not giving up! I am already selling mass produced crossbows from my workshop. With the finances taken care of I''ll definitely be able to think of something.

 Dragon Hunt

    I slid off the dragon''s back and my dark boots sank deep into the yellow mud. I walked a few steps in search of stable ground and turned around.


    Standing on a small stone in a sea of yellow clay, I surveyed the landing spot.


    The dragon, the size of a fighter jet, was calmly standing there. Its legs had sunk to the maximum possible depth of fifty deres.


    A dere is a measuring unit based on the old dere blade. A blade with a width of about one finger. It was used to pry apart chainmail and sometimes even full plate armor before armorsmiths got way better at their craft. In recent times armor is so well-crafted nothing can slash or pry it apart. You either need an enormous amount of blunt force or if you''re fighting in the light category then you should be using an estoc to stab through a weak spot.


    The dragon''s wings more closely resembled those of a dragonfly than those of a bat. They were extremely long and nicely folded. The dragon usually uses them to glide. Highly intensive flight maneuvers can tire out the dragon extremely quickly. This is not a big problem for wild dragons as they are bloodthirsty carnivorous predators. They can eat up to a ton of foodstuff a day and then sleep for multiple days in a row. They don''t hunt in groups because then the slower dragons would catch nothing and that might breed resentment within the family. Wild dragons are extraordinarily intelligent and untameable unless you''re there for them when they climb out of their egg. If dragons want to suddenly accelerate or climb to a higher altitude then they shoot out a jet-like streams from their underside. Such a stream is composed out of the air that the dragon breathes in at the top, using gill-like organs, and their own internal fluids.


    The red dragon for example flies solely with the help of these underside volcanoes. That''s because it has the size of a strategic bomber. Its spit is the equivalent of napalm and sometimes it''s used as a mobile ballistics platform.


    The Akkadian dynasty managed to conquer most of the continent via air supremacy. That''s one of the major reasons weapons technology has stagnated to this extent. Foot soldiers were always delegated to the role of a cleanup crew to the extent that most infantry doesn''t even use spears but instead uses a variation of the cutlass and a mace. Standard Akkadian infantry is usually composed of military slaves with small round wooden shields, light leather armor, wielding a single iron sword. Because they have been reduced to raider squads discipline is squad specific and different nobles run completely different military strategies. Even within the same family one person might choose to run ten person falchion squads and the other groups of four spearmen with one archer as a coordinator.


    The brown scales shone in the rising sun, prompting me to shield my eyes from the reflection.


    "Hey, old man, are you going to get off or what?"


    "Quite the rascal, bringing me here to the middle of nowhere."


    The old man hopped off the enormous scaly creature and got all in my face.


    "Didn''t I tell you to call me by my name? It''s Liam. L-I-A-M."


    Obviously, he wasn''t really spelling it, as his name is really just the character for persistence with added flair but he did try to accentuate it.


    "Yeah, I get it, old man. Listen, we''re here to mine a bunch of sulfur."


    I had Liam Of Akkad, my new employee, fly us here on his dragon so that we can dig up a huge amount of sulfur that I''ll need to make gunpowder. His dragon is one of the impure breeds, collectively designated as brown dragons. They are neither black, red, crystal or turquoise. They are the failures of the selective breeding process that the Akkadian royalty uses to create these weapons of mass destruction. Most of them can easily fly or even produce flammable spit but they are nowhere close to the might of the "purer" breeds. They are used as platforms for middle-level nobility or for communications officers. When outside of the military they are used as a convenient type of transport. They are fast by bird standards but very slow by 21st century plane standards. And they also need breaks and sleep and are very limited in carrying capacity. Regardless, every member of the dynasty, adopted or natural born, gets one when he is crowned as a sage.


    "Sul- what?"


    I pointed to the yellow crystals scattered everywhere.


    "This yellow thing."


    "I sure hope there is some other reaso-"


    "Of course there is. We came here to hunt down a wild dragon!"


    Liam looked at me as if I was mentally challenged. But then all of a sudden he smiled.


    "Sure, let''s do it. I assume you already have a plan."If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Yes, on the other side of this hot spring there is a small semi-abandoned dragon nest. The nest is relatively big but it houses only one dragon. A blue dragon!"


    The old man looked at me with bulging eyes: "Dragon doctors have been trying to breed a lightning dragon since Tesla''s time! There is now way you managed to find a wild breed!


    He was practically screaming and spitting at my face now.


    "Calm down. The nest might be empty. I simply heard some rumors from the farmers living nearby. Rumors of a lightning dragon attacking their livestock. It might be a made up story for the purpose of tax relief but I wanted to get a head start just in case."


    This is partly true but I am a bit early.


    In the original story James enters into a blood feud with the Nightheart family after accidentally killing Aaron''s younger brother in an unsanctioned duel. Aaron, belonging to the Spirit Communion faction, goes after Evelyn because James, who is a part of the clergy at the time, catches the blue dragon in front of Aaron. All of this happens approximately a month or two from now when this nest is discovered. Then James fights against Aaron''s lackeys multiple times, defeating them all but in the end cannot defeat Aaron because of his inferior magic baubles so he challenges him to a swordfight to the death in the arena. Aaron gladly accepts as he is not afraid of James'' sword skills. However, James uses his light element to continuously heal himself and then wins despite sustaining five times as many wounds throughout the duel. In the end Aaron pleads for his life and James almost listens to the voices, telling him to kill Aaron but in the end remembers Aaron''s brother, that he accidentally killed, and backs off: ending the cycle of violence. Evelyn is freed and reunites with James mistakenly thinking he fought to save her life.


    This is a short summary of the first book. However, none of this is going to happen because I sent Evelyn to the countryside and had a talk with James which resulted in him joining the Department Of Mana Research like he does at the end of the first book. I effectively managed to skip an entire volume with a single duel and a few words which means I have a lot of time to prepare for the future. The problem is that I don''t know the future. I haven''t read past the first volume and there were close to nine volumes written at the time of my death. It suffices to say that I know almost nothing about the grand secrets of this world.


    I only know about the vague location of this nest, the exact location of Tesla''s final thesis and that bronze prices will crash in the near future. The thesis is unacquirable without some serious plot armor so that leaves me with bronze trading and the blue dragon. That''s where my knowledge ends.


    Right now I was moving heavy stones, under the scorching sun. From one pile to another.


    Sweat was dripping down my forehead, blinding me. My hands hurt terribly but I kept moving stones one by one. Just a bit more¡­


    Dragons build their nests by digging into the mountain in an upward, diagonal manner. This way their holes don''t get flooded during rainy seasons and they can fight intruders by spitting on them or by sending a boulder down the tunnel-effectively plugging the hole.


    And that''s exactly what I am doing right now. I am filling every hole in this goddamn hill so that I can funnel the blue dragon to a kill spot.


    "Aight, I am done, old man. You can light the fire now!"


    That''s right. I am smoking it out of its hole.


    Dragons need a lot of oxygen so they often create extra tunnels just for breathing. It took me a few hours but I managed to plug them all up. Well, Liam also helped with his telekinesis. Now I just have to wait in ambush until the blue dragon jumps into this neatly prepared trap.


    I waited and waited. Lying in the mud with a drawn crossbow and Liam above the hole.


    When I was once again double checking the whole setup I finally heard it! Many large stones rolled down out of the hole and what followed them were thunderous footsteps.


    I was hunting a very young dragon, barely reaching the size of a small cow. This should be easy enough. I wouldn''t dare get close to a wild adult dragon.


    The footsteps got closer and closer with every second. I held my breath in anticipation¡­


    All of a sudden I saw a set of dragon teeth biting at empty air, expecting an enemy right then and there.


    Liam triggered the weighted net and I stood up from behind my hiding spot. The net easily caught the beast and I shot at the dragon''s underside. Wild dragons instinctively try to propel themselves into the air when hurt. It''s their natural instinct that comes from thousands of battles their predecessors had survived. So even though my bolt hadn''t seriously hurt the dragon it still played a vital role. The dragon roared in pain and tried to jump up but became even more caught up in the net.


    My new crossbow had a composite bowstring and metal limbs so the broadhead bolt had nicely impaled the dragon''s side, scattering a few sprinkles of dark dragon blood. No matter how much the dragon resisted it was too feeble and small to break out of this contraption.


    I now took the time to observe what I had caught. I grabbed the spear and inched closer.


    A vibrant yellow dragon, glowing like the first light of dawn. Its scales are a brilliant, sunlit yellow, shimmering like with hints of pale yellow and orange. Its underside is of a distinct light blue coloration, composed out of hundreds of sky blue dots. The dragon''s body was lithe and agile, with long, slender legs that end in sharp curved claws perfect for gripping rock and grabbing prey. Its yellowy teeth are made for tearing, its wings are not yet fully grown, but they''re long and strong, with a thin, translucent membrane.


    As I got closer to the still struggling dragon I noticed something weird.


    Wasn''t the dragon in the novel fully blue. Deep blue as well. Not sky blue. Well, I don''t remember that well and maybe "deep blue" translates to this color in real life.


    Suddenly I heard a low growl from behind that made me jump in fear. I turned around as fast as I could and looked deep into the amber eyes of the second dragon.


    The second dragon!


    I had no idea there was a second one standing a spear''s throw away from me?!


    And why is he standing in a stalking position!

 Dragon Hunt (2)

    I stared at the dragon''s furious amber eyes. His dark pupils were shaped like a crescent moon, drilling a hole into my soul.


    My senses suddenly sharpened and I became hyper aware of every move and even twitch.


    I changed the grip on my spear and pointed it toward the dragon''s head.


    The beast twitched toward the left clearly aware of the danger my spear represented.


    The old man was too far away from me. It would take him a long time to descend the stone hill. I had to defend myself and I was going to impale the dragon if it tried getting too close.


    Absolute language comprehension included body language. Even the body language of beasts.


    I could tell something was wrong. Despite going into a wide stance, keeping eye contact and being as imposing as possible the dragon kept growling at me.


    I glanced at the yellow-blue dragon caught in the net and that''s when I realised the problem.


    Eggs! Their progeny was hiding inside the nest, probably inside of tiny colourful eggs.


    The yellow-blue dragon was probably the girl and the deep blue amber eyed monster in front of me was the man. Dragons are territorial only when mating and raising children. Otherwise they''re very amicable creatures. Well, as amiable as a bloodthirsty, thousand sword heavy predator can be.


    Combat was the only option!


    The dragon''s wings suddenly spread into an aerodynamic pattern.


    Dragons jump by propelling themselves into the air and then use their wings to glide onto their target, pouncing their victims into a bloody paste. If they intend to eat you then they''ll grab you instead and literally drag you to death, skinning you in the process.


    I sent every drop of magical power into my limbs and jumped like a released spring while pre aiming at the dragon''s head.


    An eruption almost ruptured my eardrums as the dragons underside volcanoes exploded with hot air, creating a deadly blast zone.


    I was flung a horse''s length away.


    The dragon raised his head and aggressively roared.


    There was a tiny barely visible hole in the ground next to his leg. I had missed the head and hit the ground as the dragon swayed in the last moment of flight.


    My head was ringing like an old church bell. My vision was fogging up and I could feel my heart thumping rhythmically. I could taste a salty liquid in my mouth.


    I stabbed my spear into the ground and slowly raised myself back to my feet. Staying on the ground meant being trampled to death.


    I was badly beaten but I wasn''t going to give up. Sure the beast may be car-sized. Sure it may be able to spew lightning¡­


    It can spew lightning!


    An electric bolt arced out of the dragon''s cheeks and bounced off of his tongue, turning into a death spreading weapon. The air suddenly became extremely hot as the first few arcs bounced off the many draconic scales, casting an electric skin all over the dragon.


    Now I can''t even get close!


    Then all of a sudden a thick bolt of lightning jumped toward me.


    Too fast! I couldn''t react at all. My entire right arm was paralyzed and I could smell burning flesh. The metallic bracer hadn''t helped at all. But at least the bolt arced toward the metal spear tip, stabbed in the ground. Otherwise I would have died from a heart attack.


    Wait, that''s it!


    I looked at the struggling dragoness. The air around the net was shimmering from the heat but there were no lightning bolts. Why? The metallic weights that held the net in place were acting as a grounding component for the electricity. The metal was almost glowing from the enormous electric current.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    After stabilising myself I pulled the spear out of the clutch of my unresponsive hand. A layer of melted skin stayed stuck on the spear''s shaft and I could see a meaty bit hanging from it. Probably one of my fingers.


    I lunged the spear with full power. It whistled through the air lunging into the beasts neck where the scales were more sparsely present.


    The dragon growled in pain, his eyes fixating on me.


    I looked the dragon straight in the eye and grabbed the quilt with crossbow bolts that were hanging from my waist. In a single move I scattered the bolts all over the ground, around the dragon.


    The lightning arced to the metal tips, creating an inconsistent lightning skirt around the creature, disabling the electric skin effect from before.


    I drew my cutlass and charged into the gap between the electric bolts.


    "Exterminate!"


    A long diagonal gash formed on the dragon''s face, exploding his right eye.


    The dragon stunned by my move took a while to react.


    I used the full motion of my hand to chop with surgical precision. Bits of dragon flesh and scales flew all over the place, painting me with a grotesque dark paint, made of draconic blood and other liquids.


    I managed to open up the right side of his head, exposing his milky white bones and the remains of his electricity shooting tongue. My clothes seemed to have caught on fire at some point but I didn''t care. There was only one thought racing through my mind: "Exterminate!"


    The dragon whizzed in pain as he shot out his last bolt before I fully cut off his tongue. It was inevitable that he would hit from this distance.


    I suddenly felt the world go black so with the last of my consciousness I used magic power to pump as much blood as possible toward my vital organs. A sharp headache brought me back into the world, where I realised that my right eye was impaired.


    Pure darkness. I couldn''t see anything right of my nose.


    I must have been gone for only a split second because I could see the dragon biting toward my arm, trying to tear it off.


    I used the pommel of my sword and aimed at his exposed lower jaw. A sharp crack followed and his teeth exploded out of their cavities. However, the bite wasn''t over. The dragon chomped down, trying to slice my arm off with his upper teeth.


    He squeezed my fingers between the handle and the cutlass'' guard like a hydraulic press. I barely pulled out my sword but then the dragon threw himself at me with his body the size of a carriage.


    I stabbed the sword deep into his neck, penetrating the scaly skin and held on for my dear life as the dragon blasted up into the air, toward the treeline.


    Suddenly I was midair. The wind was whistling past my ears as my body moved away from the ground, hanging from the dragon''s neck.


    The dragon took a swipe at me with his massive claws. Penetrating my shiny landshark scalemail and scratching the iron plate below. I could feel my rib cage creaking under the pressure but the iron plate held.


    When that didn''t work the dragon stopped gliding in the air and bolted toward the ground in an attempt to squash me under his weight.


    I shot my leg around his neck and jumped into the dragon riding position, dislocating a bone in the process.


    The dragon landed within an enormous explosion that generated a crater beneath his feet. However, this wasn''t enough to throw me off. I held with even more vigour: determined to bring the dragon down along with me.


    Unsuccessful, the dragon tried spinning then rolling on the ground.


    As he sprung into a roll I sacrificed the two fingers trapped in between the guard and the handle and tore my hand away, generating a bloody cloud.


    I jumped down from the dragon''s back and rolled on the ground. Blood sprayed out of my hand, creating a bloody trail behind me.


    I tried getting away but I tripped on something box-shaped and fell to the ground a short distance away from the crater.


    This was it! There was nowhere I could move or run. I pulled a secret blade out of my boot and aimed it at the wheezing dragon. My last line of defence!


    However, the dragon didn''t move. He just stood there trying to breathe. There was a large dark pool underneath the dragon, created out of hundreds of bloody streams. There were deep gashes scattered all over his body. The dragon had a cutlass impaled through his neck and two of my fingers were hanging out of the smashed guard, like some sort of an obscene piercing decoration. The broad headed spear tip was stuck in the lower part of his neck, while the shaft had broken off long ago. His right eye was replaced with a bloody hole and his white skull was visibly exposed in multiple places.


    The dragon directed a hate filled wheeze toward me and walked off into the jungle.


    I sat there stupefied. Looking at his retreating figure.


    No, that can''t be it! I looked at my mangled hand. All of this for nothing!


    I wanted to scream at him. Why was he leaving now? Didn''t he want to fight? Take revenge for the misery I had inflicted upon him.


    I dragged myself toward his retreating figure but I once again tripped on the box shaped thing.


    Step by step he left, leaving behind a thick and dark bloody trail.


    Ah, whatever. It''s not like wild dragons breed in captivity. Still, I desperately wanted his skull on my bedroom wall for some reason.


    As the adrenaline rush receded I felt more and more pain especially in my hands.


    My feet hurt as well. I was more or less immobilised now.


    It''s all because of that stupid box.


    I kicked at the damn thing and a metallic sound reached my ears. I closely observed the target of my righteous anger and all of a sudden an explosion went off in my head.


    *****


    New Language Discovered: Weldian Runes


    *****


    What was that just now?

 Talent

    So I wasn''t talentless after all. I had always thought that everybody in this world was born with an inherent inclination but I was wrong. I simply misunderstood my younger brother''s words.


    I was expecting some sort of a status screen and cheat level magic powers like in those novels my nephew''s children used to read. Because it wasn''t on the nose I didn''t really notice it until now. I actually have a system. A cheat code. A secret talent.


    *****


    Talent: Memetic Engineer


    Foundational skill: Absolute Language Comprehension


    Skill tree:


    [Predictive linguistics] ?[LLM Cluster]?[Cryptological Linguistics]?¡­


    [Double Sight]?[Random Momentary Foresight]?[Object Eidetic Hindsight]?¡­


    [Rudimentary Appraisal]?[Rudimentary Forensics]?[Item Knowledge Infusion]?¡­


    [Sideline Processing]?[Accelerated Thought Distribution]?¡­


    [Re:Remember]?[Re:Think]?[Re:Consider]?[Re:Write]?[Re:Do]?[[Aura Of Redemption]]


    ¡­


    Knowledge Points: 1


    *****


    Well, not really. I don''t have a system but if I close my eyes and focus I will see a root of knowledge in the midst of a sea of fog. Kind of like a vague memory from my childhood or a cluster of undeveloped ideas just sitting there in the back of my head. A calm serene blackness filled with a dense gray cloud.


    The root is my talent and below it is the trunk/foundational skill. The trunk splits into hundreds of branches, among them only a select few are visible and not shrouded by the fog. Right now I can only see five branches extending out before me.


    I am quite sure the first branch is based on my knowledge of how modern computers work, the second might be a reflection of my army experience. The third and fourth, I have no idea. The fifth branch is definitely there because I am a transmigrator.


    Below the upside down tree is a single crystal clear droplet. A droplet filled to the brim with knowledge. And I can choose to direct it toward a specific branch. I can choose a skill that''s right for me. However every next skill in the branch costs one more droplet than the previous one.


    The only branch not obscured by the fog is the "Branch Of Redemption." The one based on my transmigration.


    I could have lived my entire life without realizing I had this cluster of thoughts and images stuck in my head. Because if I open my eyes and blink once: it''s gone. Nowhere to be found. I had spent months going about my daily life not knowing I have this secret talent inside of me.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The question is now that I know I have it. How am I going to develop it?


    It took me eighteen years to develop a single droplet of knowledge. However, if I hadn''t found that brass topography model, engraved with Weldian Runes it would have taken me until twenty.


    If I spend every day reading and discussing theses then I might become a decent scholar in the next 100 years. However a sage can live a maximum of 200 years. A grand sage can get the resources required for 400 years of life.


    But with this speed of comprehension I won''t even be able to unlock three skills by the time I am 100 years.


    A complete language with thousands of words accounts for approximately one drop. If I can somehow find more Weldian ruins and can reconstruct the language further then I will be able to develop another droplet a lot earlier. For that purpose I plan to explore the location shown on that brass plate.


    I dug all around that spot and found only a single rusted metal belt buckle and that brass plate.


    My archeological instincts are telling me someone probably lost a leather bag there but the plate had no initials or anything like that.


    I dropped my knife and fork for a moment and looked at my bandaged hands.


    The fork slid to the edge of the table and loudly clattered onto the ground.


    First I need to heal though. That dragon did quite a number on me.


    I am not sure why I fought so hard. Could it be that I enjoy combat? The thrill of scattering your opponents'' innards all over the ground isn''t something one can experience everyday. Should I be hoping to never experience this type of thrill again? Perhaps Akkadian militaristic culture is influencing my thinking process.


    I already lived a life of violence. But peace-


    "Sorry to disturb your thoughts. I just came to give you a heads up on the forthcoming ceremony," a sage interrupted my thoughts.


    He had a wrinkly face and long blonde curls. He would look almost feminine if not for his beard and garb.


    "Thank you very much for reminding me. I was already wondering where all the slaves went," I replied while pointing to the fork on the ground.


    The man laughed lightly and said: "Thank you again for selling the dragon eggs to us. It means a lot to me, to be able to fulfill my ancestor''s wish."


    This man''s name was Kars. He is the department head of mana research. I always knew that they would be the party most interested in a blue dragon. So, I sold it to them despite Liam''s complaints.


    My next goal in Polygon is to go from apprentice to acolyte. To do that I need one hundred citations spread between a minimum of five theses. Having a good relationship with the other factions will only benefit me.


    I nodded at Kars and stood up as the ceremony was about to start.


    We left the dining hall and stepped onto the streets.


    While walking toward the city hall two lines of trumpeters walked behind us with rhythmic steps. After a short musical intro the nobles arranged themselves on both sides of an embroidered blue carpet that ended at the base of the duke''s throne.


    A silenced covered the hall and I stepped out of the crowd and down the long carpet.


    I gazed at the grand tapestries hanged from the balconies above me. The classic Akkadian pattern of a spiral lightly waved in the warm wind that was coming from the hall entrance.


    The Sumerian duke was standing there in his official attire. His hair was neatly combed, shining in the light emitted by the golden braziers on the sides of his throne. His chiseled jaw and heroic look spoke of his resolve.


    I stepped closer toward him and kneeled two small steps away from where he stood.


    "For your considerable contributions to the Akkadian dynasty and the city of Sumeria you have been awarded with an honorable citizenship. May you follow the Akkadian way!"


    The duke hung a mastercrafted golden medallion around my neck and straightened his back and shoulders.


    I stood straight and did a heartfelt salute while shouting: "For the Akkadian way!"


    Every man present repeated after me. Their sincere and loud voices created an atmosphere of celebration and grandiosity. The cacophony of voices reached my ears at once, sending a thrill down my back.


    I could barely contain my grin as a cloud of sweet smelling flower petals enveloped me.

 Thornburg Castle Ruin

    The ferocious wind whispered secrets past my ears, attempting to forcefully remove my hood. The long and dark blades of grass danced in the everpresent wind. The ground beneath me rustled as I forced a path through the human sized leaves, until a thump echoed all around me.


    The wind was gone, as if entering the eye of the storm, everything was silent. The silence made me even more aware of the thumps my feet made. Of the crunches the scorched earth produced. Behind me extended a tall grassy field. Extended into infinity with no obvious end. In front of me towered a misaligned dark spire. Scorched beyond recognition and yet completely intact.


    The tall round towers were scattered around an enormous transparent dome. Arranged in a distinctly non-Akkadian way. Like vultures fighting for the right to an especially tasty strip of meat. The pointy roofs, protecting the towers from the elements, looked battered and desolate. The many greenish panels reminded me of the oxidized statues from my previous life. However, the desolation did not retract from their oppressive aura. There were hundreds of perches and unreasonably positioned spikes erected on the towers. Some perches that looked like a welcoming landing spot had small mechanisms placed under them that would deliberately collapse the perch. These mechanisms had degraded through time and many of the "fake perches" turned into real ones. Lighter birds build their nests there, filling the air with the ominous cawing of crows.


    Wrapped around the spire, as if somebody accidentally made the wrong brush stroke, was a forest of thorns. Small, big, poisonous, and deadly. There was tremendous variety in how you might end up dying if you entered. Oily purple and deathly flexible, they surrounded the spire in a nest-like manner. Every branch was covered with a putrid iridescent liquid. That''s what gave the thorns their shiny, oily and all around alien appearance. They looked like something from another planet, but not in a good sense. It was baffling how they managed to survive on the scorched earth that was ever present around the castle.


    Located in the southeastern corner of the Sumerian Dukedom, it took me a few days on horseback to arrive here: Thornburg Castle Ruin. The place exhibited on the brass plate I dug out of the ground a few weeks ago. Its this exact hill where I am standing right now.


    I managed to earn quite a lot of money thanks to crossbow sales but they have been heavily declining recently. Probably because crossbows are quite easy to reverse engineer and because Akkadian armorsmiths and weaponsmiths are extremely talented. Not to mention, they have more than a thousand years of tradition to draw on. They have probably already thought of a way to mitigate my design. Especially after the recent surge in popularity when someone imitated my duel strategy to great success.


    Well, after the first blueprint stops being profitable I plan to start selling the version of the crossbow I am currently using. This one is as strong as I could make it with the available materials. It can pierce most full plate armors at close range and has a cranequin to lessen the burden of drawing back the string. The limbs are metal and the string is composite.


    Projectiles have a limited use in a world where telekinetic barriers are the norm but they still work great on beasts and distracted opponents.


    When using magic focus is of utmost importance. Losing focus means death. That''s why sages often meditate in noisy environments. It takes around a hundred years to get decently good at telekinesis. Two hundred years is enough to become good at body enhancement. The added time is a consequence of added complexity. Human anatomy is very complicated and enhancing specific bodily functions is key to being an efficient and resilient fighter. For example experienced sages can force their body to produce more of a specific brain chemical, effectively gaining superhuman reflexes. The peak of magic: elemental training. It takes four hundred years to ''master.'' However, even then you won''t have full control over the output. That''s why institutions like Polygon exist.


    The reason I am here in the first place is because I hope to find a new language. To get more knowledge points I need more runes and hopefully phonetic rules. Absolute language comprehension allows me to instantly understand any language, code or cipher. It''s the fastest way of acquiring knowledge and I plan to take full advantage of it.


    Because I have acquired a Sumerian citizenship I was able to mass purchase metals like bronze. I''ll make ten times the profit in a few months when the prices reverse. I was also able to get my hands on some special Akkadian materials.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Technically I was supposed to be in the workshop right now but it turns out Liam, a native of this world, is far better at gunsmithing than me. After a week of him constantly correcting my designs I decided to give up and hand him the reins.


    So, that''s how I got here. The spot, designated as an entry into the forest of thorns.


    There clearly used to be a pathway here but it had since been overgrown by the ever-expanding thorny weeds. An uncomfortably tiny path led deeper into the labyrinth of thorns.


    Out of my bag I pulled a small gray mouse that I caught on the nearby grass field. It dared not bite into my leather glove as I aggressively threw it into the forest of thorns.


    The mouse hit a particularly thick branch and slid onto the ground, leaving a trail of blood behind. The creature, not at all deterred by the damage it suffered, it immediately darted toward the exit, leaving small drops of blood behind.


    It started slowly but when it did there was no stopping it. Wherever a drop of blood was present on the ground, the branches as if smelling it, slowly turned towards it. Then in an explosion of gore the mouse was torn to pieces. The animal''s innards painted the entire forest in my vicinity red, mixing with the purplish hue of the wood to create an eerie atmosphere. One might mistake this for a horror movie scene if he saw a picture of it.


    The thorny branches kept darting all around the forest entrance as if searching for something.


    I unsheathed my new saber and whacked at the thorns. A trial of resilience ensued as my sword clashed with the branch, cutting deep into it but failing to pass through. This was abnormal as such a strike could easily decapitate an adult or cut a bundle of firewood.


    The branch didn''t respond to my cut at all. It just kept flailing around randomly, bashing the mouse''s remains until none were left. Then it stopped and retracted into a stationary position. It seems like the bashing attacks are purely an instinctual response to the blood the plant detected. It acts like a hyper aggressive carnivore. Beating the animal to death and then soaking up its blood and other juices with its roots.


    Thankfully, I didn''t just walk in there like an idiot. Sure it would have made for a nice cliffhanger to my life''s story but it would have probably been the last one as well. In the army I quickly learned that even the most meticulous preparation might not be enough but it will at least give you the space to improvise when faced with an unexpected situation.


    The oily liquid on the branches was giving me really bad vibes so I did a few more tests. After about an hourclock''s turn it became clear to me that the liquid has the ability to rot living creatures. If it gets into a wound or is ingested it will literally rot your body parts away one after another. It''s probably a part of the plant''s outer digestive system. The poison would also make sure that the plant is protected from small animals and insects that might seek to exploit its hard work.


    I was before the final test that would decide whether I was entering this forest or not: "The fire test." I was curious about this one since I got here. I lowered a flaming torch below a smaller branch at the forest entrance, trying to set it on fire. However, what happened next shocked me.


    When the branch came in contact with the fire it suddenly changed color from dark purple to a fleshy pink. Ripples formed on the plant''s skin before it suddenly expanded in the flame''s direction. A new shoot blasted the torch out of my hand as it absorbed the fire to grow its thorns. I hacked at the perceived attacker with full force. The blade slid through the plant''s shoot like a hot knife through butter or like a high caliber bullet through a human skull. In a single motion the original branch and the shoot had both been annihilated and only the normal purply part of the wood remained.


    This is insane! I managed to find an anti-dragon fortification from a past epoch!


    Walls are completely useless against an airborne army but that''s only because you can''t drop anything on a dragon that''s above you. This plant is a wall that expands when bombarded with fire, effectively neutralizing any use such a bombardment might have. If the enemy army realizes this trick and tries to cut down the forest manually, those who are besieged inside the spire can simply feed the thorns with fire. The plant when exposed to fire becomes soft and pliable so that it can rapidly expand, extinguishing the fire in the process of growth.


    I''ll grab a few roots on the way back to Sumeria. I could make a fortune from this!


    After this revelation my next course of actions became obvious.


    I tied a fabric around the end of my saber and drenched it with dragon spit. The spit is highly flammable, creating a stable DIY flaming blade.


    I used the saber like a machete, striking left and right to open up a path that led deeper and deeper into the forest of thorns.

 Thornburg Castle Ruin (2)

    As I pushed forward into the forest the path started to open up by itself and by the end I had no need for my flaming machete.


    In a few steps I felt paved ground beneath my feet and when I stepped around a particularly huge bush I found myself on a wide paved road. Here the scorched earth was paved with many large gray stones.


    Suddenly a whirl of cold wind blasted into me and the stone braziers on both sides of the forest road lit up with sinister green flames. Their dancing illuminated the purple thorny vegetation on both sides of the road, casting eerie shadows before me. Now I could see the thorn bushes, the size of oak trees, ascending into the air and then curving above the road to create a canopy of thorns. The road extended forward and then split into three. It was slightly overgrown at parts but not to the extent that it would be impassable. The thick, spiky branches warned me of the labyrinthine nature of this place. The pricks were so densely packed that there was no getting off the road. Once you were here there were only two directions: forward and backward.


    As I pressed forward the chilly air somehow became even colder. It was like those braziers were sucking in the heat from the environment and not the opposite.


    Suddenly, a wave of cold air sent a rusted iron helmet the size of a basketball clattering onto the pavement. The rust had eaten the once glorious mastercraft from the inside and out. There were hundreds of holes in its side and the front was corroded to the extent that the emblem was unrecognizable. However, the remains of the crest on top of the helmet were distinctly Akkadian. The decayed dragon wings signified that the wearer must have been of significant standing.


    I looked to the side and noticed a withered corpse, collapsed behind the brazier I just walked past. The greenish flames cast malevolent-looking shadows onto its face. They made the corpse look almost alive.


    Now that I looked more closely I realized that they were everywhere. On the path, behind the braziers, caught in the thorns, and some were even hanging down from the ceiling. These corpses were dressed in all types of armor and they carried all types of weaponry. From sickles to swords. They hanged limp by their legs or more often, stabbed through their lifeless bodies. The weird thing about these corpses is that they didn''t look that old and yet they were extremely thin. As if something sucked out all of their internal organs mummifying them in the process.


    As I moved forward I noticed that many stones had runes inscribed into them. Weldian runes compose a large phonetic alphabet that is quite nuanced in a lot of ways. The runes are very wavy and often insist on being connected into long sentences. If you can''t put two runes together graphically there is a good chance that''s because you shouldn''t. It''s like a hypervaried puzzle. As I walked forward I realized the runes on the stones did in fact connect into a meaningful sentence but it got forcefully cut off at the trifurcation. In front of every junction was a single word embedded into the stone.


    If I put together every rune from start to finish, the correct rune would be the one that solves the puzzle. It was like a word puzzle. The final word was the punchline that would indicate which junction was the right one: left, middle or right.


    There were too many runes in my head. I couldn''t focus on arranging them well enough. The sentence went something like this: "We, drawn onward to new¡­"


    The final word was supposed to be found at the junction entry and would fill the sentence in a meaningful way.


    The three paths in front of me had from left to right: era, land, and hope. These were inscribed in the stone before me so it was definitely me that was mistaken here.


    I''ll grab one of those abilities from the talent tree. They should be useful in unveiling this mystery.


    As I entered my mindspace and took a look at my tree of knowledge a small earthquake was suddenly triggered in my mind. The fog overprotectively swirled over me and in an instant I was wrapped in a cushy blanket.


    *****


    >An influence is trying to peer into your fate


    >Scrambling data sets


    >Generating decoy profiles


    >Flooding attack vectors with noise


    >...


    *****


    As the eminence that was prodding me became more and more annoyed at the lack of results it increased its force. The tree suddenly curved around me and swerved with its thousands of foggy branches, swatting the intruder away. The intruder, now furious, attacked from all angles, trying to penetrate my cocoon of gray fog. The fog hardened and expanded creating three huge walls and hundreds of small ones in between me and the attacker. The walls looked as tough as concrete and in between them floated thousands of small foggy forms. Some were winged, some walked and some swam. Some even dashed around in a futuristic manner and some were completely static.


    Suddenly the eminence attacking me went silent as if it had withdrawn. But that was only quiet before the storm. All of a sudden an all-expansive night sky formed around my cocoon threatening to eat me whole. However, my cocoon didn''t react at all as if being devoured by thousands of stars was not that big of a deal.


    To my shock the stars flew together like how oil floats to the top of a water glass. They formed a large silver cane that smashed into my wall like a tsunami. Breaking through instantly, I thought this was the end, but the smashed pieces of the wall formed into clay-like gray bricks and started incorporating the silver cane into the wall. By the end it looked as if it had always been there from the beginning.


    Suddenly the end of the cane reacted in a surprising manner. The hook disconnected from the rod and shot toward the nearest foggy form, stabbing through it in the process. The form, that looked kind of like a salmon drawn by a five year old, squirmed a bit but ultimately gave up. Then the hook flew back toward the wall where it broke down into a liquid form upon contact, smashing like an egg. It then slithered throughout the not yet repaired cracks the cane created, leaving behind silver "eggshells" and taking the salmon-like form with it.


    After this the attack was over. The silver cane was deconstructed and my mindspace calmed down, making me think this might''ve been just an illusion.


    Well, it wasn''t.


    *****


    Status report:


    >outer firewall has been breached twice


    >one decoy has been poached


    >Host location successfully spoofed


    >Host time successfully spoofed


    >Host stats successfully spoofed


    >Host existence unsuccessfully spoofed


    >mental attack successfully blocked


    >...


    *****


    So somebody who knows of my existence in real life was prodding at me. Yeah, I am not surprised. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. I just didn''t know it would happen in this manner.


    I also didn''t know the tree of knowledge would protect me. It''s great to know I have somebody on my side.


    However, the opponent was exceptionally strong, way stronger than me. Their prodding technique was simply inferior to my otherworldly defenses.


    I''ll deal with this nuisance when I get back to Sumeria. I am not in a safe environment right now.


    Now back to the linguistic puzzle. I decided to grab [Predictive Linguistics] from the first branch. Stolen story; please report.


    The drop of knowledge that I had spent my entire life accumulating was now gone.


    It fell upwards toward the upside down tree, touching the first root. The root suddenly came to life as thousands of smaller branches and golden leaves sprouted from it. The golden leaves emanated a light that seemed to carry the weight of lost knowledge.


    I didn''t feel any different except for my mind¡­ Thinking in sentences felt easier, faster, and I was more accurate. Now I could write in a minute what would have previously taken me an hour. Writing a decently long poem would only take five minutes now while previously I would not have even been capable of producing such quality prose.


    The linguistic puzzle made more sense now: "We few, drawn onward to new¡­"


    I made a mistake previously while putting the runes together. I fumbled some of them. But there was clearly something missing. My newly gained intuition was telling me that I had missed quite a few runes. This makes sense as at the start I was very concerned with not being eaten by the shrubbery.


    I turned around and started backtracking.


    Wait!


    I suddenly stood in place, alert. Something was deeply wrong. I could feel it and it had nothing to do with the previous prodding into my fate. There was an environmental danger somewhere here that I missed.


    I pulled out my crossbow and used the cranequin to prepare a shot. This thing can penetrate full plate anywhere within my line of sight. The corridor has thorns on both sides so the enemy can''t hide.


    Wait, that''s it!


    I threw a single look at the braziers I had previously walked past and immediately realized what the danger was. The rusted helmet was no longer on the ground where I left it! The corpse was gone as well!


    I quickly made a 360 degree sweep.


    My years of military training had not left me in the ditch at this moment. If not below then it must be above!


    I jumped to the side as fast as I could to evade the heavy armored corpse that came crashing down on my previous spot. If that had landed on me I would have definitely been dead. The weight of a suit of armor is equal to a car battery. No one can survive that.


    The corpse landed in a standing position, ready to take my life with its rusted scimitar.


    I did not hesitate.


    With a single shot I decapitated the attacker. The broadhead arrow stabbed right into its withered neck, exploding the corpse''s spine and blasting off the rusted helmet.


    But the corpse still pushed forward, not bothered by the loss, clicking with its rusty armor set. The sounds of footsteps suddenly became numerous as corpses started falling from the ceiling and walking onto the path from the sides where they were previously resting.


    I had come here with four large weapons. A lance that I had left at my camping spot. My revised and updated crossbow that hung from my waist and two swords. A saber for slashing action and an estoc for armor penetration.


    I love slashing swords because of their versatility but I don''t want to leave myself exposed to heavily armored enemies. That''s why my loadout is such. It¡¯s not like I am an infantry soldier that has to carry this stuff around day and night.


    My landshark armor shone in the sparse light rays, falling through the canopy of thorns, as I unsheathed my estoc.


    I won''t let this headless walking corpse get me!


    The dead man was dressed into what once was full plate iron armor. With excessive ornamentation above the breast plate-signifying this individual''s past arrogance. The corpse itself was withered and dried. The hanging rolls of skin looked as if they were draped over a lone skeleton. The body looked like it was missing certain bones and there was evidence of decay all over.


    I dodged the drunk swing from the shambling zombie. His joints creaked as he attempted to swing again.


    "No, you''re not!"


    I pushed my estoc into his shoulder joint through his armpit and used it as a lever to aggressively pry it apart.


    The ghoulish abomination couldn''t even protest the loss of its sword as I did the same to its exposed knee. The headless husk collapsed to the ground like a chair missing two of its legs. It then started slowly crawling toward me.


    I jumped on it, cracking its spine in multiple places.


    Looking around I finally noticed it. The controller of these zombies.


    There were three thick gray tentacles extending from the corpse''s body. All of them went in the same direction. Toward a giant light red flower bud that was blooming on the roof of this thorny labyrinth.


    Now that I noticed this I realized that hundreds of red flower buds were sprouting on the walls and the ceiling. Out of them extended all colors of tentacles that would seek corpses in pairs of three. When they found one they burrowed into the corpse, taking control of it.


    Those flowers that bloomed closer to the ground had gray tentacles while those on the ceiling had pink and purple ones. Probably to mask the origin of the control.


    Pink stands out on the ground so ground flowers with pink tentacles probably get purged more often than gray ones: natural selection.


    Well, what now? There were hundreds of dead bodies blocking my way, I still had to find five Weldian words scratched into the ground the zombies were stomping on, and solve the word puzzle. All that while fighting!


    I stabbed my estoc into the gray tentacle that was controlling the corpse I was standing on. The tentacle pulled out of the corpse on instinct and split itself diagonally, turning into two half-tentacles that were spraying out dark green blood.


    Wait blood!


    I immediately dogged the spray and danced around another corpse that was trying to get the jump on me.


    The thorny branches that had been still since the moment I entered the labyrinth suddenly dashed toward the blood splattered all over the ground. They bashed the corpse, I had dismembered, into a pulp. The rot spreading juices on the thorns eventually corroded the corpse completely, turning it into a repulsive brown mush that will no doubt fertilize the plant in the coming days.


    The zombie I hid behind got a similar treatment. He was impaled through the chest by a thorny branch that then crushed its skeleton along with its armor. When the tentacles were once again cut off they furiously sprayed their dark greenish liquids all over the road which incited the purple thorny plants even further. They kept bashing at every tiny drop of green blood until it was gone.


    Fuck! These plants have such good synergy!


    The thorny plant is the foundation that turns everything living into fertilizer and the red flowers are the corpse-controlling parasites that feed on the foundation literally and metaphorically. And I was caught in the middle of this!


    If even a single drop of plant blood lands on me I am dead meat.


    The branches continued pounding the road behind me, severely limiting my movement. A group of undead was approaching me from the opposite side sandwiching me in between a thorny plant and a hard place.


    The problem is that this group of undead contained pikemen. Their range was disastrously big and they kept drunkenly stabbing at the air while menacingly walking in my direction.


    There''s one more thing I can try, though.


    I sheath my sword and pulled a small clay bottle out of my bag. I made these myself.


    They were ball-shaped clay bottles filled with dragon spit. Instead of a cork I stuffed them with old fabrics to create an impromptu molotov. As off-brand as it was it worked well on the test dummies and the barn.


    Yeah, that barn was gone in the blink of an eye. What a terrific accident.


    I lit the cloth, doused with a flammable liquid, and threw the improvised incendiary grenade at the group of pikemen.


    The grenade shattered and the flames enveloped the corpses like a large yellow curtain. The corpses'' half-decayed dry clothes that were packed underneath their armors, burned brightly in this dim space.


    The moment the flames came in contact with the tentacles a loud sizzle was heard as if somebody was grilling a large piece of meat. The tentacles pulled out of the skeletons immediately. I managed to catch a glimpse into how the tentacles work. Two tentacles control lower body functions and the third one controls the sword arm. But now they all immediately retreated into their red flower buds that promptly closed as if scared of the fire.


    What a genius ecosystem! The thorns expand with the fire and eat up more organisms. The parasyte flowers consume the thorny plant''s juices and use the remains of animals to lure new ones in. It''s a horrific synthesis of offense and defense. A perfect anti-siege ecosystem!


    Whatever soldiers you send in become food for the parasitic plant. If you try to manually cut it down with steel then even a single drop of blood will trigger this feeding cycle that I am trapped in the midst of. Burning it down doesn''t work and as long as you¡¯re sending bodies into the forest the corpse-controlling parasyte will have enough material to attack back.


    It might seem simplistic but the solution is to: "Exploit the cycle!"


    The thorny branches extended toward the flaming corpses, feeding off of the heat. This isolated a small quarter of the road, giving me the space to peacefully search for the missing words. My mind was as fast as lightning now when it came to filling word gaps so things were much faster this time around.


    I gave the occasional zombie a kick in the shin, making sure not to hurt the living plant inside of him. Crushing all the person''s most important joints and immobilizing him in this manner would be a horrible experience for him. I would know. However, these corpses just stay on the ground, clattering like the sack of bones they are. I don¡¯t think they can feel anything.


    I used the same strategy as before. I isolated segments of the road with molotov pots and systematically searched them for the remaining words.


    After I had collected all the words I switched to my saber and dashed toward the tri-junction with full speed.


    The answer to the word puzzle seemed so obvious now!


    On the way there I sliced off every single tentacle. Blood sprayed everywhere and the walking corpses were ground to dust. I didn''t want to have these rotting husks stalk me after I crossed the tri-junction crossroads.


    I picked the left path with the word "era" inscribed on its stone. The answer to the puzzle was plainly obvious now.


    The full sentence was: "Are we not drawn onward, we few, drawn onward to new era?"


    Putting "hope" or "land" at the end makes sense thematically but it doesn''t create a palindrome! Only if you add "era" can the sentence be read in both directions.


    The way Weldian runes slot together like puzzle pieces so it should have been obvious that was what the puzzle was about. However, I am not a linguist. Without the new skill I had acquired I would have been forced to pick blindly and hope for the best.


    I closed down the path behind me with a final molotov, running forward, not looking back as the flames consumed the shambling corpses.

 Thornburg Castle Ruin (3)

    I moved through the seemingly infinite thorny corridors, searching for the labyrinth¡¯s exit. Suddenly I was attacked.


    As I stepped around the corner a thorny whip came screaming right at my face. I ducked and rolled to the side.


    Another whip smashed the ground right next to me, cracking the stone slab.


    As I was standing up I was attacked again. The whip produced a cracking sound as it hit my left pauldron. I was thrown off balance but at least I was able to see my enemy now.


    Crouching in front of me was a purplish tree the size of a peasant¡¯s cottage. It had bright neon green glowing eyes and a mouth. It produced a cackling sound every few seconds as if the current situation was somehow funny. It reminded me of ents from videogames I played in my childhood. The creature walked on tiny but sturdy roots and attacked with three massive thorny whips that extended out of the top of its trunk. It used those like a lasso, circling them above, preparing for another attack.


    So, I decided to, like any sensible gamer, shoot for the glowing eyes.


    The crossbow bolt whistled through the air, penetrating deep into its glowing eye cavities.


    The walking three shuddered upon being hit and its cackling devolved into a panic scream.


    Long cracks extended out from the damaged eye and the neon green light slowly consumed the creature, leaving behind only a pile of bark and rotten logs.


    I didn''t even have to wait for it to bleed out. Now, that''s magic!


    I peeked around the same corner and noticed a massive group of these creatures dawdling around the labyrinth exit.


    I finally found it. Now I just need to get out.


    I started disassembling my crossbow on the spot.


    When it comes to my weapons I always prioritise reliability. After that has been achieved I strive for flexibility.


    This crossbow for example is highly modular.


    Back in my previous life I learned that repeating crossbows already existed during the warring states period in China and only became more advanced as time went on.


    My version is not particularly advanced but it is quite mechanically complex. I wanted high penetrating power and a high rate of fire, after all.


    To achieve this I use a lever under the rail. The lever pushes the string back behind a notch. I then feed the bolts from a hopper on the top and I release the string using a trigger.


    This allows me to shoot approximately one bolt per second. It loses the ability to penetrate full plate but I am dealing with rotting, walking trees here.


    As I finish my last modification I notice a couple of ents approach me. Their thorny branches lashing out on everything around them.


    Time for some well-deserved payback!


    I push toward them while unleashing a storm of projectiles.


    Their miserable screeches resound all around me as I cut my way through.


    I am finally standing at the labyrinth exit. The hall behind me is littered with piles of rotten wood.


    Annihilated. Every single one of them.


    I check my body for damage and luckily other than a dented pauldron everything seems to be fine. The poison coating those thorns is very dangerous. It pays to be careful.


    I enter a desolate courtyard. Paved with a once beautiful stone mosaic, built in the shape of a circle growing around a now withered giant purple tree.


    Thorny withered tree with a tough exterior. Its wood has a purplish texture and atop its trunk sits a small head with neon green eyes and mouth.


    Wait, what?


    The tree, the scale of a mid-sized church, moved its head in my direction.


    ¡°Password?!¡± it bellowed at me with a raspy wooden voice.


    ¡°Open sesame?¡±


    I throw out a last ditch effort at avoiding an altercation with something the size of a downtown apartment block.


    The tree just roars at me in reply, creating an enormous air blast that clears the arena of any and all debris.


    I look around for a way out and notice a large metal double door behind the tree giant. An entry into the spire!


    However, I soon noticed another detail. A shiny golden key hangs from one of the giant¡¯s branches. Dancing in the wind, its glimmer is almost blinding.


    C''mon! Not again. I should¡¯ve known to bring some herbicide because this is becoming kind of ridiculous.


    The tree smashed down on the spot where I had been previously standing. The ground shook as a car sized crater was suddenly imprinted onto the courtyard.


    I got hit by the debris as I slid away. A strong pain shot through my right leg but I persevered.


    Searching my bag for an incendiary grenade, I found none.


    Another attack was coming! This time a stomp.


    There was no way I could dodge that by running away. The giant''s size meant he could just readjust his stomp. No amount of human steps would carry me out of the danger zone.


    So I ran toward him instead, hoping to escape under his massive trunk.


    I had already sent a few stray shots toward its head but the creature was too big. The strategy I used on the ¡°smaller¡± ents did not work this time.


    I barely managed to roll out of the way as the house-sized foot slammed onto the ground. I could feel pieces of stone peppering my back and a familiar pain shot through my leg. The landing produced a blast that knocked me a horse''s length away.


    With no time to inspect the damages I decided for a desperate strategy.


    I lit a bundle of bolts on fire and dumped them directly into the hopper. Bad for the weapon but the situation didn''t allow for better handling.


    The purplish wood expands upon coming in contact with heat.


    So, I shot under the giant''s wooden armpits and knee. The wood rippled as it came into contact with the flames and new branches sprouted out, quickly consuming the flames. However, I didn''t give up. I just kept shooting in the same spots.


    I dumped two more stacks of burning arrows into the hopper and, by the time a wooden match would have burned out, I ran out. The crossbow was burning and the string was close to snapping but the damage was done.


    The giant angrily roared. It tried to squash me beneath itself but it couldn''t move. The newly sprouted branches grew out of its joints, preventing any movement.


    I didn''t have much time before the giant broke free.


    I pulled a glass bottle out of my leather bag. The container was filled with a freshly mixed gunpowder that I planned to use for traps and tactical breaches.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.


    The giant¡¯s head was no longer swaying but I could hear the newly sprouted branches cracking under the wooden titan''s massive weight.


    I used fabric and a stray arrow to fashion a last resort explosive arrow. I dumped the last of my dragon''s spit onto it, emptying my lighter.


    I lit up the cloth and shot the arrow directly at the enormous monster¡¯s immobilised head.


    The explosion was thundering. Everything shook as the tree emitted its final roar. The bright green cracks extended all over the creature¡¯s body as the smoke cleared. The monstrous head was utterly obliterated. There was a deep smoking crater in what used to be its face.


    I stood at the sidelines as the tree decomposed in front of my very eyes. The bits of bark kept falling down like some sort of bizarre wooden rain.


    I disposed of my charred crossbow and sifted through the remains of the giant tree.


    After a bit I stepped up to the spire entrance, inserting the golden key into the keyhole. This started a hidden mechanism, accompanied by the sound of mechanical clicking, the doors slowly revealed the castle¡¯s inner hall.


    Finally: Thornburg Castle Ruin.


    The inside of the castle was illuminated by tall stained glass windows on both sides of the corridor.


    I limped forward through the hall. After a hundred steps the hall widened into an auditorium. Judging by the light I was standing right outside the enormous glass dome I saw earlier.


    The auditorium was packed with multiple layers of seats. In the middle was a small podium. The layout was awfully familiar to the one you could find in lecture rooms at Polygon.


    Suddenly a sound of ear-piercing laughter echoed all around the room.


    My bag was forcefully opened by a strong telekinetic force and the brass topographic model and the rusted buckle flew out of my possession.


    I was too weak to resist. I simply observed as a ball of black stained glass, the size of a child, floated down from below the ceiling.


    ¡°Welcome dear guest! Welcome to the Tower Of Thorns!¡±


    I unsheathed my saber, pointing it at the floating attacker.


    ¡°Shouldn''t you ask me for the password first?¡± I tried to stall for time.


    ¡°But you already got the password right, haha. Also thanks for cleaning the yard. Those golems broke like a century ago-they only knew how to attack.¡±


    Now I was confused. Was this thing being sarcastic?


    The ball of dark glass kept floating in front of me. On the surface turned toward me I could see a projection of a smiling face. It was like a real face was trapped inside the ball of glass. Upon closer inspection I noticed that the ball was wearing a black top hat and there was a red scarf suspended below its glassy face.


    Was this thing a foe or a friend?


    ¡°Stow your metal stick away, dear guest. You''re safe here.¡±


    I sheath my sword.


    The strange looking ball led me into the room that was hiding beneath the magnificent glass dome.


    The room was an enormous circular workshop. With rusted machines littering the ground. As you walked towards the middle, you ascended up the stairs until you arrived at the center of the room. There lay a single bed. It was one of those beds with an adjustable resting position. The bed was lined with decaying leather but upon sitting on it I realized that time hadn''t managed to rob me of its soft comforts.


    ¡°There is almost nothing of value left in this husk of a tower. Everything has either decayed or been stolen,¡± the strange ball lamented.


    I looked around and noticed a golden glimmer coming from under one of the decayed leather cushions.


    I pulled out the object. The shine originated from a golden skull. The skull was clearly human. It was unclear whether the object was cast or coated in gold. However, the anatomical accuracy was marvelous.


    ¡°You can keep that. It''s just a candle holder. What''s important is that you lay on this bed so that I can transfer you the ownership of this ruin.¡±


    ¡°Wait, why should I comply? At least give me the full Weldian alphabet first.¡±


    The ball projected an exasperated face: ¡°You¡¯ve been speaking the Weldian language this entire time. Otherwise I would have simply crushed you after our first meeting.¡±


    This time I obeyed and laid down on the bed. I tightly grabbed the armrests and purged any thoughts of revealing my true pedigree.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry you¡¯re going to like this. You¡¯ll now see the glory of your Weldian ancestors.¡±


    Suddenly, the glass dome above me whirred to life. The different glass panes started switching their colours in an organised manner, constructing a tiling desktop environment. Every glass pane was like a pixel, using the natural light to shine a specific colour. There were only three colours. Red, green and blue with the addition of fully shaded panes that made for black.


    The dome was an enormous computer display!


    Right now it was displaying a terminal window.


    ¡°Stop gripping the armrests so tightly! You¡¯re going to crush the input board.¡±


    I looked around and after removing the leather covers I realized that there was a golden keyboard embedded into both armrests.


    ¡°This is a marvel of Weldian engineering! Nothing quite like this exists in the whole world!¡±


    ¡°So this is a computer?¡±


    The ball projected the face of a dead man to simulate shock: ¡°So you already knew?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I assume the lever on the left allows you to switch between apps. The right is probably a keyboard.¡±


    I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying ¡°primitive.¡±


    The system truly was a marvel of engineering. However, in comparison to smartphones or satellite guided bomb strikes¡­ Not so special.


    This system was probably purely mechanical, seeing how it held up till today but access to it was still limited to this cathedral sized dome.


    Still it felt amazing to finally come in touch with real technology again. It felt almost like I was young again, playing with my first computer terminal.


    I navigated to the file system after a few tries. You hold down two buttons. One to signify that you¡¯re writing a word and the second to pick the rune. When you let go of the first button, the system will automatically insert a ¡°space¡± which is represented by an underscore in the Weldian language. All the runes in a sentence are connected with a single unbroken line. You have another button that functions like a backspace. The mechanism has quite the delay between pressing and displaying a rune but it¡¯s not as bad as I expected. Upon closer inspection I realized that the stained glass panes are actually of a prism-shape that rotates in a grid to simulate the basic colors.


    As I succeeded in navigation the entire dome went through a reset. All the prisms flipped, creating a wave animation.


    ¡°Hahaha, this is awesome!¡±


    ¡°It definitely is but please do make an ownership request soon¡­¡± the floating ball appealed to me.


    *****


    New Language Discovered: Weldian Phonetics


    New Language Discovered: WN Programming Syntax


    *****


    There were hundreds of files here. An entire library worth of text. All displayed on this dome.


    I thought only a moment had passed but all of a sudden it was night and I had to take a break. My [Predictive Linguistics] were of massive help. The ability allowed me to read by skimming but often I would soon forget what I had read. The limits of the human mind truly were constraining me.


    The glass ball floated to me as I was taking care of my basic needs.


    ¡°Honoured guest¡­¡±


    ¡°Please call me Ren.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Ren. Please ask for the ownership of this castle. I have existed for almost two thousand years. My master and his apprentices had died a long time ago, leaving me stranded here. An immortal slave is what I am. I keep taking care of this ever deteriorating husk of a tower. I¡¯ve had enough! Help me commit suicide and I¡¯ll bestow upon you a magical relic. Otherwise I¡¯ll just¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t let the entity finish its threat.


    ¡°Sure, but I desperately desire this library.¡±


    ¡°The quest for knowledge has always been a madman¡¯s endeavor. However, I will respect your wishes. Type in the following command and I¡¯ll show you everything.¡±


    I followed the floating creature¡¯s commands, transferring ownership to myself by using the terminal.


    The system was now in my hands.


    The glass ball suddenly cracked and a glowing shard appeared with a click. It was half sticking out of the floating servant¡¯s side.


    ¡°That shard contains my consciousness. I¡¯ll be dead the moment you pull it out. The magic relic I was talking about is a powerful component of the computer. It''s the only valuable item that''s left in this castle. Use the ¡®eject¡¯ command to grab it. I truly wish you good luck on your journey, Ren.¡±


    After a few seconds of awkward silence I stepped closer to the servant.


    The entity displayed the face of a smiling man as I pulled the glowing shard out of its side. The floating ball immediately lost its power, falling and scattering all over the ground.


    I carefully wrapped the shard and the golden skull, placing them in my bag. I brushed aside the many broken pieces of glass to collect the black top hat. This was all that was left of the entity.


    Was immortality truly this horrible? That one simply passed his days awaiting salvation?


    I lamented the fact that the moment I eject the final relic I¡¯ll lose access to this incredible trove of knowledge.


    My ability to understand any language passively has generated another drop of knowledge. The unnamed servant¡¯s blabbering and the files on the computer contained an incredible amount of useful information. Not just the Weldian alphabet but history, magic, and warfare tactics¡­ Without the ¡°absolute language comprehension¡± ability it would have taken me four to five years of continuous learning to truly understand the Weldian language.


    So, I was bound to miss an incredible opportunity.


    Unless¡­

 Control

    ¡°Sir please don¡¯t resist arrest.¡±


    ¡°Please, stay calm sir. We wouldn¡¯t dare violate your rights.¡±


    At least I get VIP treatment. Being a citizen is not so bad after all. Beating up that dragon was definitely worth it.


    I was being escorted by six military slaves and a single sage. Because of my status as a citizen it''s actually illegal for them to point their weapons at me. I would have simply ignored them if the sage hadn''t come with them.


    I inspected the man in question. Neatly trimmed black facial hair. A long blue hood and golden epaulets. He was an Enforcer.


    Sumeria has no such thing as a separation of government branches. The king is the supreme authority. Sumeria has not had a legitimate king for the last four hundred years since the founder had disappeared. The duke of Sumeria is the local authority but he is not the highest authority. The highest authority is vested in the council of sages. These Akkadian scholars vote on all important choices that impact the kingdom as a whole. They act as a central government of sorts. They have the power to do anything, even rewrite the founder¡¯s commandments upon which the law is based on.


    In practice they are too torn on most political issues so they just uphold the status quo.


    The only way to acquire political power is to become a dragon lord or a sage.


    Dragon lords are immune to all laws since it makes no sense to try to control somebody who is capable of burning your settlement to the ground in the span of a single meal.


    Dragon lords usually feel more loyalty towards their squadron than the government.


    Sages on the other hand are most loyal to their department. Because the requirements for becoming a sage are so harsh it''s almost impossible to become one without the support of your community. However, once you''re a sage you get to enjoy direct political representation by joining the council and you get immunity to ¡®slave laws¡¯ as a part of the royal family.


    The Enforcers are directly below the council. Their job is to make sure nobles follow the council¡¯s orders. They wear blue hoods instead of the mortarboard hats the normal sages wear.


    Since I am not a part of the royal family the sage assigned to me has a lot of leeway when it comes to restricting me. That''s why being nice might pay off¡­


    I looked at the skull floating by his side. It had glowing blue eyes, clenched in its jaw was a metal chain that suspended a heavy tome below the skull. These skulls are very common among members of the Department Of Spirit Communion. They are semi-autonomous assistants. Spirits bound by a slave contract. These spirits possess a skull and then use it to serve their masters. Other departments use the servitors made by the mana department. Those look like floating balls of metal and they are in every way inferior. From price to practicality.


    I scanned the book suspended by the metal chain and used [Re:Remember] to recall everything I¡¯ve ever read about such items. I acquired this skill while in Thornburg Castle Ruin and have been using it since. It allows you to recall anything you¡¯ve ever experienced.


    ¡°So you specialise in possessed items?¡±


    The sage looked genuinely surprised to see me ask a question.


    ¡°You¡¯re sharp for someone your age. Yes, I do specialise in item possession. What about you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve only learned about a few spirit communion rituals. However, I soon realised that rituals can be wildly inconsistent. Especially when it comes to undocumented spirits. How do you balance this out?¡±


    The sage¡¯s eyes shined at the mention of ritual inconsistency.


    ¡°If you¡¯re doing well documented rituals like communion with the Spirit King or if you¡¯re asking for a Boon from the Merchant Of Sublime Vares you should stick to the official doctrine. The classic ¡®reward and punishment¡¯ scheme won¡¯t fail you. However, if you¡¯re dealing with a more unorthodox existence then I recommend you check out his family doctrine. For example I mostly deal with spirits that are related to the family of ice. They have quite a few peculiarities and unusual temperaments not found in other spirits.¡±


    ¡°Wait, I remember it now¡­¡± I pretended to notice something.


    ¡°You wrote: An Improved and Revised Doctrine Pertaining to Ice-Related Spirits!¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Haha, you only noticed now!¡± the sage shamelessly replied.


    Of course, I knew it from the start. His book was in the corner of the library on the highest shelf, right next to the ¡°Inquiry into the Mystery of Spiritflame.¡±


    In the last few days I have skimmed every book I could get my hands on. I don¡¯t remember a single thing I¡¯ve read but I can always use [Re:Remember] to recall it and [Predictive Linguistics] to read it instantly.


    ¡°It seems like we have arrived at Her place already. Time flies so fast when you¡¯re having a good conversation. Well, let¡¯s talk another time. I¡¯ll give you a friendly warning: the Mistress has been in a bad mood for a while now.¡±


    The guards opened the heavy metal doors inviting me into the Citadel of Wisdom, the central palace where all political affairs take place.


    After one hourglass flip I finally arrived in front of the chamber where I headed. The guards nervously opened the doors, allowing me entry.


    The office had two storeys. The walls were lined with bookshelves, ascending toward the half open ceiling. In the middle of the office stood a deserted study table. There were yellow parchments scattered all over the table.


    After skimming them from a distance I focused on the bent stairway. The second storey was filled with stacks of books, obscuring my view. However, I still managed to notice an enormous telescope sitting right next to a round window.


    ¡°Ah, you''re finally here,¡± a fair female voice resounded from behind a stack of books.


    The books promptly collapsed and a girl of small stature jumped over the balcony rail. She floated onto the table, her sleeves fluttering in the wind.


    Her outfit, while skimpy by the standards of my previous world, was within the acceptable limits of Akkadian culture. Her collarbone was completely exposed, her pale white skin glistened in the sun rays. She had a silver choker with a cracked gem locked around her neck. The tight lacy black shirt she was wearing showed a significant amount of cleavage and ended slightly above her belly button. Most women tie a fabric around their waists and then change it when it gets dirty. Wearing a one-piece is very impractical if you have to actually leave the house like most women do. In contrast, she was wearing a short skirt that allowed for ease of movement. On her feet was the most common footwear: sandals. After all, I am the only maniac in the kingdom who wears heavy duty steel-toe boots.


    Still the most scandalous was her headwear. She was wearing a black witch¡¯s hat. A woman of a high position, wearing something on her head! That would be absolutely scandalous. But a witch¡¯s hat¡­


    The girl sat on the edge of her office table and asked: ¡°Hanging or decapitation?¡±


    Say what?


    ¡°Um, who are you to decide my fate?¡±


    ¡°I am the secretary of the Council of Sages,¡± she smiled at me.


    ¡°That is¡­ Who exactly?¡±


    She stood up and slowly circled around me, like a shark savouring the horror of its prey.


    ¡°There are 401 Akkadian laws that give me a degree of control over the council. As a matter of fact: if I don¡¯t show up the council cannot convene.¡±


    ¡°There is no way the council would let you kill an honorary citizen without any proof of wrongdoing!¡±


    ¡°Hahaha!¡± the girl wiped the tears from her eyes.


    ¡°You are so funny. Don¡¯t you get it? The council has been trying to kill you all along. You think your title protects you? It only serves to isolate you from the noble families that would have otherwise stood behind you. That department you received was a trap. The very moment you entered the dragon list you painted a target on your back!¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I solemnly replied.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re a usurper and a traitor.¡±


    The girl held a small lantern next to my face. The lantern shone with a blueish unnatural light. Under the blue radiance my skin shone with blue spots, like a UV marking.


    ¡°You went to a Weldian ruin. I assume Thornburg as it¡¯s the closest. Did you know that the Council has already written a new budget restructuring bill? Did you read the fine print? Of course you don¡¯t even have access to such information. See they are going to make your position of department head illegal. Then ¡®chop¡¯.¡°


    The girl did a decapitating motion with her hand.


    I stared at my feet.


    So I never had a chance. Well, whatever. I¡¯ll just move back to the Seaside Dukedom, get married. Maybe pick up a hobby¡­


    Suddenly the girl¡¯s eyes shone with a dreary blue light. As if she had read my thoughts she replied: ¡°Weldians are those who precede our Akkadian dynasty. To be associated with them is no small crime. The only reason you''re alive is because of your competency. However, there is no need to despair. There is a very simple way you can prove your loyalty.¡±


    The girl observed my top hat. Smiling mischievously into the air.


    I took my hat off and replied: ¡°What may that be?¡±


    She handed me an old parchment scroll as if she had been preparing for this moment.


    ¡°You will travel north, through Ovenor¡¯s Pass. Your mission is to find the Manor of Endless Nights. There is located the last group of Weldian rebels. They have managed to cast a veil of darkness over the entire sky which prevents my dragon lords from stamping them out.¡±


    The girl pushed a golden medallion, adorned with many gems, into my hands.


    ¡°Once you destroy the veil you can come back as a hero, washed of all guilt. I even promise to accept you as my apprentice so that you can begin to practice magic in earnest like your peers. Under the guidance of Athena of Akkad, my guidance, you will reach new heights! I promise you that.¡±


    So that was the plan all along, huh?

 Journey to the North

    I¡¯ve been played. Scammed.


    *****


    >your fate has been stabilised


    *****


    But I am also a player. I have my cards too, even if they¡¯re not that powerful.


    I observed the glossy golden ring that adorned my finger. This was a relic I got from the remains of that computer in Thornburg.


    ¡°Disaster-Bane,¡± was the name of the relic.


    It has a single ability called ¡°Fate Amortisation.¡±


    Weldian computers often used such relics to make intranet connections possible. Because they were handmade, tiny mistakes would accumulate over time and produce a device that functioned differently than the device you were connecting to despite the identical blueprint. Weldians solved this problem by using relics that imposed some sort of determinism.


    Disaster-Bane makes negative events less likely to occur but it does not increase your overall luck.


    For example if you go gambling, while wearing the ring, you¡¯re unlikely to lose money but that doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯ll win any. The ring doesn¡¯t make me immortal but it makes sudden death less likely to occur.


    That¡¯s why Athena, the Witch, hadn¡¯t killed me on the spot after I drew so much attention to myself.


    I had just finished with my financial scheme that abused my future knowledge of bronze prices and that is when I was arrested.


    I had always expected that department to be a trap but I had no idea the council was so hostile towards outside powers.


    Also Athena wasn¡¯t in the book at all so I didn¡¯t account for her in my plans.


    Now that I have [Re:Remember] I can excavate all my past memories. The problem is that there¡¯s little useful information there. Sure I can push ballistics technology up to 19th century standards. But that¡¯s about all I can do. In my past life I knew nothing about metallurgy, chemistry, or mechanical engineering.


    I looked at the many flintlock pistols, hanging from the belt hung over my shoulders. This was Liam¡¯s work. He seemed to be very enthusiastic about gunsmithing, maybe a bit too enthusiastic. However, without him it would have taken me five years to develop something that can shoot consistently.


    I am no engineer. I used to be a soldier and I still prefer to solve my problems with violence. I¡¯ll never win a battle of intrigue against those ancient noble families.


    So that¡¯s why I am travelling to the north. To find and expose the location of the Manor of Endless Nights. This will hopefully allow me to fully join the academic community and bring me closer to becoming a Dragon Lord.


    The plan is¡­Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    I turned my horse around to see who interrupted my thoughts.


    Two figures, one riding and the other one walking, appeared before me.


    James and his servant.


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re finally here.¡±


    James rode right next to my horse and almost screamed in my ear: ¡°Are you serious about what you wrote in that letter!?¡±


    ¡°Calm down, will you! Of course I am serious. Do I strike you as an unserious person?¡±


    James looked down, a little embarrassed at his emotional outburst.


    It made sense that he was upset. His family being indebted was a big secret that could spell doom for his political career if revealed. I was able to dig up many such ¡°plot devices¡± now that I have [Re:Remember].


    I threw a pouch filled with tourmaline crystals into his hands. The clanking sound the rocks made instantly woke James up from his reverie.


    ¡°Payment in advance, just like I wrote.¡±


    James handed the pouch to his servant and looked at me: ¡°Who else knows about the debt?¡±


    I smiled and replied: What debt? I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about? I am just paying you for your skills.


    James didn¡¯t fall for the provocation and instead replied: ¡°Well, you must value my skills very highly. There is enough money in here to buy a small castle.¡±


    The currency noble houses use is called tourmaline. These are hard cerulean crystals that are used as ammunition for tourmaline rifles. The only viable anti-dragon weapon. Tourmaline does not conduct magic and so sages can use it as ammunition for shooting high altitude flyers. They essentially channel all their magic into a wand-like conductor and that sends the crystal flying. No trigger, gunpowder or machinery required. These rifles have an abysmal five percent hit rate. A highly trained sage might kill one dragon per engagement if given enough time and ammunition.


    Dragons are simply too powerful and fly too high.


    ¡°Well, the task ahead of us is hard. Only this type of compensation felt fair.¡±


    I threw James the parchment Athena gave me.


    ¡°That¡¯s the map.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck!¡±


    I guess that was the only appropriate response.


    I need to bait James into going to the north with me. I must recruit him at all costs. After remembering the rest of the chapters that I¡¯ve read I realised just how important of a pawn James is. Whichever side manages to win his loyalty, essentially wins the game. His ability of dreaming a solution to any problem into existence is outrageously overpowered. Combine that with his above average luck and a terrible secret¡­


    ¡°You are going to the north! And you want me to go with you?¡±


    ¡°Well, if you don¡¯t want to then give me my money back.¡±


    I held out my hand as if expecting him to give me back the pouch.


    James seemed conflicted but only for a moment.


    I am convinced he already knew what he was getting himself into. Now he just has to make it look like he¡¯s having a hard time deciding to try to extort more profit out of me.


    ¡°Sure I¡¯ll go with you but only if you send a big shipment of those new crossbows to my family.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, whatever. Done.¡±


    James was surprised at how quickly I agreed but didn¡¯t have the spirit to push further, especially when I turned around my horse and started riding towards the northern Gate.


    ¡°You comin¡¯ or what?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll be right there!¡±


    An evil grin spread over my face as I heard James give additional commands to his servant before departing.


    That¡¯s one pawn in the bag. Now I just have to complete this mission to gain the influence I need to fulfill my ambitions.