After completing his task, Tony rushed back to his quarters, eager to enjoy a well-deserved rest. The tension during every patrol drained his mental energy, leaving him utterly exhausted. Meanwhile, Grimm hesitated for a moment before heading towards the library.

It was just midday, and there were only a few apprentices in the library.

The modest stone chamber housed over a dozen yellow-wood bookshelves, all tightly packed with a variety of magical tomes. Managing this collection was a middle-aged intermediate-level wizard apprentice, someone who had reached their rank solely through the passage of time.

Apprentices like him, who had long lost their youthful ambitions and neither dared to undertake perilous missions nor resigned themselves to a mundane life, formed a peculiar group within the wizarding tower. Though their positions as library administrators earned them just one knowledge point every seven days, the job was safe and serene, making it highly coveted by these senior apprentices. In contrast, individuals like Grimm, solitary and without backing, were left with no choice but to take on the most dangerous assignments.

Today, however, Grimm didn’t head straight for the innermost bookshelves as he usually did. Instead, he leisurely browsed through the shelves one by one, occasionally picking up a book and flipping through its pages. The magical tomes in the library were shielded by an ethereal black mist that obscured all but the introductory summaries on the first pages. Without the proper arcane rites, no apprentice could glimpse the contents beneath this veil.

Grimm didn’t dare underestimate this seemingly ordinary mist, as it was a safeguard personally established by the tower’s master, the fearsome Anderson Wizard. Any attempt to bypass it would inevitably trigger the concealed enchantments, invoking the master’s wrath and punishment.

Despite the formidable defenses, Grimm still wanted to test if his bio-assistive chip could find a loophole. The process of earning knowledge points was excruciatingly slow, and with only seven points accumulated so far, his resources were woefully insufficient for his advanced studies.

Pretending to study a book titled The History of Wizardry, Grimm quietly issued a covert command to the chip:

“Scan this book. Check if the contents can be accessed without triggering the enchantments.”

A soft beep confirmed the task:

“Command received. Initiating deep scan.”

Lowering his gaze to conceal the faint red glow emanating from his pupils, Grimm waited for the chip’s results.

“Warning: Unknown protective field detected. Analyzing...

Danger alert! The field is undergoing unknown changes. Scan terminated.”

Quickly shutting his eyes, Grimm closed the book with a sigh.

As expected, it was futile. The slightest external interference triggered the enchantment, dooming his covert operation. For now, he had no choice but to earn knowledge points honestly.

Still, Grimm wasn’t entirely disheartened. With the bio-chip, he no longer needed to painstakingly transcribe knowledge by hand. Borrowing a book even once allowed the chip to copy every detail into its storage, ensuring instant recall at any time. This advantage alone made the chip invaluable.

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Setting The History of Wizardry aside, Grimm strolled to a shelf filled with books on fire elemental techniques, a subject aligned with his elemental affinity and a frequent focus of his studies. Titles like On the Properties of Fire Particles, Techniques for Fire Manipulation, and The Hand of Flames adorned the shelves.

Some of these books explored theoretical wizardry, while others contained spellcasting insights or detailed elemental spell models. Practical spellcasting manuals could enhance combat abilities but offered little in terms of intellectual growth. On the other hand, theoretical texts held the potential to increase one’s spiritual power. Balancing the use of knowledge points between survival-oriented spell mastery and intellectual advancement was a challenge Grimm constantly grappled with.

Standing amidst the tantalizing array of tomes, Grimm fell into deep thought. Every magical system rested on a profound theoretical foundation, and the strength of a wizard lay in their mastery of such systems.

“What is the essence of wizardry?” he wondered aloud, before issuing an audacious long-term command to the chip:

“Chip, collect all foundational materials on wizardry. Trace its origins and identify the most suitable path for my advancement.”

The chip responded with a series of notifications:

“Primary task accepted. Initiating long-term project: Origins of Wizardry. Current data insufficient. Unable to construct a complete model.

Initiating short-term project: Path of the Wizard. Current data insufficient. Unable to construct a complete model.”

The incessant beeping irritated Grimm, reminding him of the chip’s sparse database. Without foundational magical texts, any deductions would be futile.

Fortunately, he had transcribed some material during his six years as an apprentice. Back at his quarters, he resolved to upload these notes into the chip to kickstart its functionality.

After a brief meal in the communal dining hall, Grimm returned to his room. Stepping inside, his eyes instinctively swept the floor. The faint traces of fire element fluctuations by the doorway reassured him. This subtle array of fire particles served as a rudimentary security measure, alerting him to any intrusions. In this treacherous environment, even minor precautions were essential for survival.

Locking the door, Grimm eagerly retrieved his meticulously transcribed magical notes. Over the years, he had managed to compile five complete volumes, beginning with The Study of All Things—the quintessential introductory text for wizard apprentices.

Seated at his wooden desk, Grimm immersed himself in the book, reading with precision. Although much of its content was etched into his memory, he took the opportunity to revisit the finer details he had forgotten.

As he read, the bio-chip utilized his vision to record every piece of knowledge into its storage, organizing the data systematically. In just a quarter of an hour, the entire text was digitized.

Grimm marveled at the chip’s efficiency. The Study of All Things cataloged over 10,000 unique creatures and detailed countless magical materials. It had taken him 17 months to read it thoroughly in the past, yet the chip had completed the task in mere minutes.

Eager to test its retrieval capabilities, Grimm summoned data on a specific creature. Instantly, the chip projected comprehensive information into his mind, saving him the effort of manual reference.

“This will make future studies far more efficient,” Grimm thought, his excitement rekindled.

Without delay, he opened his second book, The Origins of Mental Power. This theoretical work delved into the essence of spiritual force, its applications, and methods for strengthening it.

As the chip recorded the book’s contents, Grimm felt an intense wave of dizziness and nausea. His head throbbed painfully—symptoms of spiritual exhaustion.

Familiar with this condition from his early days learning The Hand of Flames, Grimm sighed. His mental energy, capped at 80 points, was entirely depleted. Rest would be essential before continuing his studies.