Towering tree-like metal structures encompassed the word for as long as eyes could see.
Intricate designed architecture surrounded by perfectly placed and planned roads upon which spell powered vehicles moved along in a hurry.
The airspace was all but quiet, as different contraptions and beasts flew about with varying amounts of dark elves riding them.
Everything in Alkrham, the city of knowledge, appeared millions of years ahead of the backwater Tella.
Every single part of the city seemed to cater not only to the powerful mages, but also the common population, something humans felt incapable of.
It truly was a staple of what could be achieved as a species in which every life mattered an equal amount. Disregarding the Dominators—who are worshiped as gods—of course.
Walking on the mysterious pavement were large swathes of dark haired individuals with pointy ears and fair complexions.
Most were dressed in either simplistic cotton, linen, or hemp clothes. There were the occasional outlier with some higher tier outfits made from spiritual materials, but even they kept their conspicuousness to a minimum.
Jewelry and adornments seemed foreign here, as neither could be spotted amongst the masses.
Except for on one individual.
“I think they’re staring at me…” Fillan thought with insecurity.
He could feel some piercing gazes attacking him from every which way. They weren’t malicious per say, but definitely were not welcoming.
Fillan felt a bit uncomfortable under their scrutiny; he was an undercover human after all.
“I just don’t know if they’ve seen through my disguise or if it’s the violently out-of-place outfit I’m wearing.”
“This whole thing could have been avoided if I could just fly or teleport, but nooo, we can’t do that. What kind of rule is it anyway that you need a permit to fly in the city? Do I look like I have a permit? Fucking ridiculous.”
“The city is also way too big; I’ve been walking for over an hour and am still not half-way to the Library of Knowledge. This. Is. Miserable.”
One of the problems of showing up unplanned and unprepared in a new nation is the lack of monetary means. Fillan, in simple words, was poor as hell.
When he tried to get on the bus—or whatever the fuck they called it—they told him it cost forty “noctres”, the dark elves' currency.
Fillan had no clue how much a noctre was, but his image as a frivolous, arrogant, rich and powerful young master type nearly crumbled on the spot when he turned and walked away from the bus.
Earning money was never complicated, especially not for someone with his skillset, but it takes time, and getting the money and then taking the bus would be longer than just walking, so…
“Damn, I feel so emasculated,” he grumbled to himself. “I was the sect master of a powerful sect in my last life, you know? Even if the sect wasn’t aware, I’m sure that carried considerable weight, not to mention the spatial ring on my finger was probably worth more than a thousand Graarylls. And yet, I can’t get public transportation here.”
This is basically what Fillan had been thinking about for the entire hour of walking— reminiscing about lost grandeur and glory.
“Even if I don’t find anything of value in that damn library, I still re-learned an old lesson today: never go anywhere without money.”
As his dissatisfaction continued to ebb and flow, time passed like the wind.
When Fillan finally broke out of his reverie, he came face to face with an indecently broad, and much too tall tree-like structure, placed in the center of an even larger square.
Tens of thousands of dark elves were coming and going from the structure, whether by foot or by air, creating a scene similar to that of bees and their hive.
The “tree” was made of a rainbow-like alloy that radiated a seven-colored hue. It somehow made the clearly metal creation feel alive.
“Moment of truth. Based on the amount of people and what they're saying, there’s no way I’d need a permit unless I’m going to read about a Dominator’s spell patterns, or if I’m here to conduct research.”
With mild apprehension brought on by instinct and experiences, Fillan continued to inch his way closer to the library.
Despite being dubbed the Library of Knowledge, it was evidently much more than just a repository for books and information. Research, studies, lectures, battles, trades, and showcases of new technology are all common activities at this place.
The reason why is obvious, as it creates a competitive environment where everyone is trying to better themselves as quickly as possible, often by creative or innovative means.
If someone loses a battle, they might end up devising new spell patterns to counter those of their opponent, thus beating them the next time they fight. Then that guy does the same in an eternal cycle of progress and development.
The same applies to technology showcases and research.
The lectures help accelerate the time it takes for people to improve, while trades allow everyone a great repertoire of varying means. It truly was a haven for growth.
Of course, there were some people who showed up only to further their ego—people who look like Fillan.
“Whistle”
A whistle came from Fillan’s right, and since he was in an unprecedentedly big crowd, he naturally didn’t pay it any heed.
“Are you fucking deaf!?”
“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me!”
The incessant shouts of someone who was clearly deprived of attention and love came closer and closer to where Fillan was.
“I’m talking to you, you wannabe rich bastard!” came another shout. “How dare you waltz around in an outfit like that as a nobody?”
“Is that little brat talking to me,” Fillan wondered, as he turned to look towards the voice. “Nah, why would someone fresh out of their mother’s womb go around picking fights with strangers?”
“Ah ha!” the voice exclaimed. “You can’t pretend anymore! Take your clothes off right now, and I’ll be merciful.”
The person talking had the most haughty of expressions plastered on his face, and similarly to Fillan, he was dressed like a gaudy asshole.
Despite Fillan seeing him as a newborn, the guy was probably no younger than eighteen, or at the very least, older than the current him.
His mental age, however, was vastly superior to most of the people.
Despite not counting how many years he had lived across the different time-loops, whether long or short, he was certainly more than fifty years old. Hell, just the last loop alone lasted eight years.
And sure, the loops are most often spent devising or engraving spell patterns in complete isolation, reducing the amount of experiences he has drastically, but no one needs to know about that.
“Take your fucking clothes off right now, or else…” he demanded, as the crowd parted from the two. Well, three since there was an old man following the haughtmaster.
“Or else what?” Fillan asked with a heavy attitude.
“Did I give you permission to speak—”
“Did I ask?”
“How dare—”
“Run along kid, your breastmilk is getting cold.”
“Argh!” the guy roared. “You, me, battle arena, right now!”
‘I thought only cultivators and body temperors became unstable like this; guess I was wrong.’
“Why would I go to the battle arena with you?” Fillan asked, not ready to waste time on something unrelated to why he came here. Entertaining this loose cannon was already him being “nice”.
“Why? Because I’m going to kill you!” he proclaimed.
“Right.” Fillan rebuked. “Let me tell you, just because everyone you have ever known acts timidly or fearful around you, doesn’t mean you are powerful.”
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“Let me guess, your father is someone impressive, he’s never home and doesn’t show much care for you. You have always been more powerful than your peers, and no one dares to offend you, so you’ve developed this notion that you’re someone incredibly gifted; a heavenly talent who everyone should adore.”
“Listen, I don’t know you, but I know your type, and I know for a fact that if you were to show even the slightest sign of attacking me, then you’d die on the spot.”
“It doesn’t matter if you have that old bodyguard protecting you, it wouldn’t even matter if your father is a damn Dominator. You. Would. Die. So, shut the fuck up and run along.”
And just like that the character Fillan wanted to portray fell apart like a sand castle taken by the tides.
Since no one could discern that he was human, Fillan didn’t particularly care if he maintained his image or not. It was a disposable persona that would only enter the building, but never leave anyway. Whether the character died outside or inside was entirely irrelevant.
Fillan also couldn’t restrain himself around this Ming Gu-esq guy. It reminded him of all his years of struggle, and then being fucked in the face by the Path. Sure, everything they did to screw him over worked out great in the end, but the potential risks were substantial, and not something easily forgotten by him.
Not only that, the obnoxious brat caught him in a relatively foul mood. Fillan already felt like a little bitch after not being able to afford the bus fare, having this clearly premature and weak kid thinking he was more powerful than himself was like a slap to the face.
“I’d watch my words, young man,” the old bodyguard warned with an ice-cold expression. “Insulting me or Little Jason is one thing, but to denounce Dominators is the greatest blasphemy.
“I don’t know what kind of episode you’re having over there, geezer, because I never denounced Dominators, nor did I speak of them in a derogatory way,” Fillan responded without turning to look back.
“You said that even a Dominator wouldn’t be able to protect his son in front of you, a nobody; how is that not denouncing their infinite might?” the bodyguard proclaimed.
“Brother, of course I couldn't hurt Little Jackson—or whatever—if the Dominator was here, but he’s not. Stop trying to get me in trouble just because your senility is rotting your brain.”
Again, Fillan never fucks around with Dominators. Especially not when he was about to enter one of the dark elves' “secret” troves of knowledge.
It's similar to spitting in the owner of the library’s face the second he showed up; there’s no way he’d be allowed access after that.
“He just blasphemed the gods!” Little Jason shouted with poorly acted shock. “Uncle Peter, you must slay this evildoer in accordance with the law: only Dominators, or those of near or similar might can speak negatively of other Dominators. Any outliers are to be killed in the name of ancestral respect.”
Fillan, when he heard this, nearly choked on air.
‘Maybe there’s something in the air today that’s making everyone on Graaryll stupid, cause it’s clearly not just me. Does he think that lousy excuse would work in a place like this, not to mention Uncle Peter is seconds away from growing inseparable from his coffin, he could probably not even break through the most basic Water Shield spell. Killing me? What a joke!’
“I will, but all non-battle arena fighting is prohibited in Enlightenment Plaza, even those in the name of justice,” Uncle Peter answered calmly, assured of his own prowess. “I’ll go request an official duel to the death with this individual.”
“Okay, Uncle Peter,” Little Jason answered with glee. “I’ll follow him and make sure he doesn’t run away.”
“Sure.”
With a decent pace, but calm and steady steps, Uncle Peter disappeared into the library, while Little Jason followed Fillan without trying to hide his presence at all.
Fillan, of course, had already tuned out and was studying the convoluted map of the building.
“Okay, there are three hundred and twenty different library halls, where three of them have books on the soul and improving it.”
“The first one is centered around different spell engraving techniques—which I didn’t even realize was a thing—and constructing formations with different spell patterns. This might be useful, but it doesn’t sound like something I can’t easily discover on my own.”
“The second hall is all about proven and experimental techniques to temper the soul, and different research on the matter. This sounds promising…”
“And the third hall is all theory about the soul. It’s origins, it’s effects, it’s true nature, reincarnation and its effects, how the soul changes when immortalized and much more.”
“The first hall is worthless right now, so it’s either number two or three. Realistically, I’m looking for theories related to the true nature and origins of the soul, but it’s to improve my soul.”
“Hmmm, there should be a lot of theory used in creating the techniques, so hall two should be like hitting two birds with one stone.”
With no further dilly dallying, Fillan moved towards the massive tube-like construction to the right of the massive map.
“This is a pretty powerful spatial spell they’re using here, but why bother building an entire tube for it?”
A simple question with a simple answer: appearance. The architects thought the tube looked cool, so they decided to build it.
And it must be said, it truly did add to the atmosphere of the place, giving it a more refined but unrestricted look.
Stepping into the tube and a virtual keyboard projection appeared in front of him. Every place in the Library of Knowledge has its own unique code depending on its contents and area.
For example, Fillan was going to library hall seventy-five, which was in the northern part of the twelfth floor. As such, the code he would need to be teleported there is LIB75N12.
There is also no other way of maneuvering around the building, so if you type the wrong code, you’ll end up in the wrong place, have to return to the lobby, re-learn the code, and only then can you get to your destination.
It doesn’t sound like much of a hassle, until you realize that a return to the lobby takes a minimum of five minutes, and a maximum of two hours due to the massive traffic it experiences.
Needless to say, Fillan took that warning seriously, making sure to read the codes listed on the map.
Even if Fillan wasn’t a cultivator whose brain was evolving to greater stratums, he still had a myriad of spells that could help with storing information, with the most convenient one being Memory Monitor.
It’s an advanced spell that allows you to, in less than an instant, re-experience your memories like they happened, only with your new knowledge. In other words, it’s almost like traveling back to the past, only it happens instantly and carries no danger.
Of course, Fillan can’t change anything that occurs there, since they’re just memories, not the actual physical past.
Now, if he ever needed to go somewhere in the building, he’d just activate the spell, read the code, and go, saving himself a lot of trouble.
Not wanting to loiter around in the tube that was constantly being filled by new people, Fillan typed the requisite code, and disappeared.
…
“Good God!” he exclaimed when he appeared on the “other end” of the tube. “The spell might be powerful and complex, but it definitely does not prioritize the traveler’s comfort; I felt like a big boulder rolling down a mountain.”
“If it wasn’t for my comprehension of space I’d be rolling on the ground right now, so how come all of these elves are walking about like it was nothing?”
“Are all elves naturally resilient when it comes to spatial transportation, or is it because they have spells or artifacts to protect themselves?”
Despite being slightly intrigued why he appeared to be the only one remotely affected by the teleportation, Fillan never once stopped moving towards the dozens of three story tall bookshelves located in the center of the enormous hall.
The shelves didn’t have any indication of what type of books and scrolls could be found on them, only a single label that said either “verified” or “experimental.”
Knowing that what he was looking for probably wouldn’t be “verified”, as everyone here would be at home practicing it right now, Fillan approached the first of four “experimental” shelves.
Despite housing thousands of books, and even more scrolls, there were no more than ten people picking and choosing material for them to read there.
Whenever they found something they liked, they would simply put some of their mana into the bookshelf and they were free to do whatever they wanted with the item.
Except bring it out of the library, you need authorization from a powerful elven mage to do something like that.
However, this type of system would be pretty flawed considering how many people visited this library at all times. As such, in the place where the literature used to be, a new copy would appear.
It was a genius way to track and manage who read what, and also giving everyone the ability to read the same thing simultaneously.
One of the elven defense formation’s functions that is continuously powered, is their “mana radar.” In simple terms, this is an omniscient search spell effective on anyone who possesses mana flowing in and out of their bodies.
It manages to discern individuality in the mana that emerges from a person's mana well, and can then give your exact location to the elven law enforcement.
When a person borrows a book, that individuality is also being processed by the spell on the bookshelf, which sends the information to a record. This record will have all the information of what you’ve done through mana verification, and is integral in maintaining a civilized elven society.
It’s the reason why there is a general lack of crime on Argaria; catching villains is super simple.
Despite not knowing any of this, Fillan could haphazardly guess some of the uses of the bookshelf’s formation.
“I saw similar formations all over the city on the way here, and it seems like a person identification system. Will the system flag me as an intruder since I don’t have a registered identity?”
“It shouldn’t really matter anyway. I can just speed up time here while reading however many books I can before someone or something I can’t handle shows up.
My guess is the library, and the whole building really, is deathly secure against any and all mages below Dominators, but I’m not sure if the same applies to cultivators.”
“There are definitely precautions in place, but I think they trust their continental formation enough not to plan against minor ‘what ifs’.”
With confidence in his deduction, Fillan decided to find works with promising titles so that if, and only if, things went tits up, he’d know what to grab.
“Furnace Refinement, no. Beastal Soul Fusion, no. Intricate Detailing of How Planting Stars In the Soul Could Elevate It to New Heights, is not what I want, but god damn does it sound interesting,”
The excruciating search for knowledge began at last.