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An Otherworldly Scholar - 233
🕑 Added 2025-06-04 06:22:41 +0000 UTCI was walking down the avenue connecting the Academy with the Library when the sun fell behind the hills. Night in Cadria fell quickly, and service gnomes climbed the posts and ignited the lamp burners. Down the street, another gnome squad refilled the lamps with a black, tart-like liquid. Judging by their pace, they were behind schedule. The invisible outer wall blocked the sun long before it touched the horizon, although the mirage allowed the inhabitants of the inner city to see the sunset as if nothing stood in its way.
To my left, the Imperial Library rose above the rooftops. Thousands of windows were lit with the warm, golden glow of worn-out Lightstones. If the rumors were true, Librarians usually worked until late, whether they were Novices or Preceptors.
The streets around the Library were surprisingly busy. Librarians dressed in black robes returned with tired faces and hunched backs to their accommodations, while others entered taverns and dinners. In a small square, a band of novices played music to a small crowd. Their robes had a silver hem, which meant they were part of the Arts Circle. I closed my eyes for a moment, and the sweet melody transported me back to the potato farm behind Lowell’s Manor.
[Foresight] pinged my brain, and I stepped aside as a handcart full of strange metal pieces rolled past, pulled by two muscular novices. They wore the blue hem of the Artificers Circle. A gnome girl with sky blue skin and short brown hair sitting in the back of the cart gave me an apologetic nod before disappearing down a side street.
The smell of freshly baked bread and Red Moss filled my lungs as I walked past a bakery plagued with Librarians. I could tell solely by their expressions who was breezing through their novice years, and who was scrapping by. Suddenly, a soft chime echoed across the avenue—eight bells from the Library’s tower.
I passed by an illusion-powered screening controlled by a sweaty young man in the black and red tunic of the Academic Circle. The picture was diffuse, as if the skill refused to project a two-dimensional image. To his credit, illusory skills were created to project tridimensional illusions. Even with my mana pool, it took me a while to get used to 2D.
Part of me wondered how my life would’ve been if I had accepted the Marquis’ recommendation letter. I was too old for the magic school. Even the oldest Adepts at the screening were almost a decade younger than me. Holst, however, jumped from zero to Preceptor. Probably my luck would’ve been the same—a Preceptor with a line of research and a bunch of Novices and Adepts under my care.
The avenue seemed to have no end as more and more taverns and cafes appeared to host all the Librarians. The Imperial Library must’ve had twenty or forty times more members than the Academy. It wasn’t a surprise, considering that most people had crafting and support Classes. The entry standards were also much lower, and a sack of silver helped expedite the process a whole lot. Considering the popularity of the Library, the entrance fee was worth every piece of copper.
I ignored the nightlife and quickened my pace.
The Imperial Library was a giant spire of bright, smooth stone. Eight flying buttresses supported the structure, cutting into the nearby city blocks, one in each cardinal direction and at their midpoints. The stone was adorned with floral masonry and brass accents. On its base, wide steps lead to three grand bronze doors. Stone statues of old Scholars looked down on the people coming and going like grumpy gargoyles. I expected the place to be packed to the brim with enchantments, but surprisingly enough, the stone was just plain, regular stone. Whoever decided to leave enchantments out seemed convinced no enemy would get near enough to attack it.
Inside, novices and adepts skittered between the green and white stone pillars like tiny ants. Tall stained-glass windows lined the circumference of the vestibule in perfect rows. To my left and right, wide staircases climbed to the superior levels. An ornate wooden railing that cut the room in half piqued my curiosity. I walked forward to investigate, only to realize the ground floor was cut in half, and the other half was missing.
I leaned over the railing.
The floor below was a library the size of several football fields. Bookshelves several stories high covered the place as far as my eyes could see. Librarians had to climb spiral staircases and suspended bridges to reach the upper levels. There were more books a person could read in a lifetime. Part of me felt sad that I couldn’t just sit in a corner and read for the foreseeable future. From above, it looked like a small and cozy citadel.
“Lord Clarke?”
I turned around to find a pale girl dressed in the black and purple robe of the Arcane Circle. The undecorated hem told me she was a novice. She had black bags under her eyes, and her robe smelled like someone had spilled a cup of Red Moss infusion on her. Her long black hair was tied in a simple bun.
“Are you Lord Clarke?” she asked, tapping her feet impatiently.
Her voice wasn’t what could be called friendly.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Grand Archivist Byrne is waiting for you.”
Without looking back—or even introducing herself—she walked along the handrail, scaring away a couple of young novices from the Academic Circle who were getting a little bit too cozy with each other. I followed her onto a wooden platform guarded by a slim Adept of the Magician’s Circle.
“Observatory,” she said.
The Adept nodded and channeled his mana. A dented wheel moved, and with a slight tremor, the chain system pulled the platform up. The novices looked at us with jealous eyes from the staircase.
The interior of the Imperial Library was divided into sections supported by massive stone arches, each several stories tall. The last story of each section was reserved for the arches that sustained the next section. It was a strange design. We didn’t stop to sightsee, but I noticed most of the Artificer and Nature Circle chambers were near the bottom. It made sense considering all the equipment they needed to move. The middle section included a mix of rooms that belonged to the Academic, Magicians, and Arts Circles. The distinction wasn’t clear at first sight, but sorting the robes by color was a child’s game.
I wondered why the builders decided to make the Imperial Library a tower. It didn’t seem practical. The librarians had to climb a hundred meters of stairs to reach the middle section. The chambers of the Arcane Circle were even higher.
“The Arcane Circle is the smallest one in the Library, isn’t it?” I asked,
“The Arcane Circle specializes in exotic magic. It’s only natural that we are few in number. Otherwise, it would be considered common magic,” the girl replied in a dry tone.
I wondered if she was one of the novices scrambling to figure out why I had caught Byrne’s attention without even being part of the Library. She didn’t seem particularly thrilled about having me on board. That wasn’t going to prevent me from asking more questions.
“So… you have a lot of rare Classes up there?”
“No more than the other Circles. Exotic magic comes from unique abilities and skills, not from rare Classes.”
I waited for her to tell me more details, but she focused on the passing stone slabs, which made me think she wasn’t a Scholar. A true Scholar wouldn’t shut up about his research topic unless yelled at. Lyra Jorn and Abei were the living proof of that.
As I wouldn’t get much more from the girl, I focused on what I knew. Every Class had a set of potential skills, from which the System assigned a selection to each user. Ilya was an example of someone with a mix of common and rare skills. [Piercing Arrow] for Hunters was common. [Entangling Vines] and [Spirit Animal] not so much. If I had to guess, the System detected Ilya’s affinity with mana manipulation and gave her skills geared towards spellcasting.
“May I ask what your gift is?”
“Inquiring about someone’s Personal Sheet might seem intrusive, but Grand Archivist Byrne ordered us to treat you with the most extraordinary deference,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
I felt a little bad for asking, but curiosity got the best of me.
The girl cleared her throat.
“Technically speaking, our exotic skills are not a secret. The Library has our powers archived. Exotic skills are dangerous, hard to anticipate,” she said. “I’m a Scribe, but I can enchant runes.”
The wording was odd.
Enchanters didn’t enchant runes; they applied pre-fabricated enchantments directly into items.
“Runes?”
“Basic construction blocks of enchantments,” the girl said, looking at me from head to toe and squinting her eyes. “The cloak you are wearing is enchanted, right? The Enchanter who crafted it must’ve used a Basic Strengthening Enchantment. It’s a very popular enchantment among adventurers. In reality, it has two enchantments: physical reinforcement and magical fortifying. Props to the Enchanter, his enchantment is extremely clean.”
My brain worked in overdrive. Her powers didn’t make sense. Runes weren’t general knowledge. The Avatar itself had ensured they remained hidden from the world since the creation of the System, only revealed to a few Runeweavers for a good reason. I could only imagine two reasons why the girl had runeweaver-like powers: the System bugged or Byrne rewrote the runes in her manapool.
I didn’t like any of the possibilities.
“So, your powers are like Runeweaver Baram’s?” I asked.
The girl rolled her eyes.
“No.”
The rest of the lift trip passed in an uncomfortable silence.
As the platform stopped, I looked through a window. The Imperial Academy looked like a miniature fantasy dollhouse with a shiny blue egg in the middle. I gave the lift operator a nod and followed Byrne’s assistant into the halls of the Arcane Circle.
The place was deserted compared to the first levels. The corridor was empty, but I spied through open doors to find Alchemists brewing what looked like a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle, Herbalists growing colorful mushrooms, and craftsmen working on strange contraptions. Unlike the rest of the Library, each room seemed protected, or contained, by powerful defensive spells. I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad sign.
We climbed several stairs until we reached an empty circular room with a bronze ceiling and a spiral staircase near the eastern side.
“The observatory is up the stairs,” the girl said, stepping aside. “Grand Archivist Byrne wants to speak to you alone.”
I performed a slight bow. Her demeanor might not have been the friendliest, but hearing someone leave off the ‘Lord’ when speaking of me felt unexpectedly pleasant.
“Thanks for guiding me here.”
“S-sure.”
I climbed the stairs, suddenly weary with second thoughts. The warnings that the System Avatar gave me about Byrne being a skillful Runeweaver ran through my head. If things went south, he would be the trickiest opponent I’d ever faced. With a good enough understanding of the runes and the ability to edit his mana pool, Byrne could have access to every skill and their variations. He could even ignore the [Old] debuff that came with age, if he had already gotten it.
I noticed I was sweaty.
I strained my [Foresight], but I sensed no traps. I clutched my enchanted gloves under my cloak. As long as Byrne didn’t take a direct look at them, he wouldn’t guess I was carrying the perfect anti-mage weapon. My enchanted cloak should be enough to obfuscate most detection skills.
My feet made no noise as I peeked into the observatory.
The room was a bronze half-sphere with an aperture for the giant telescope welded in place. The metallic floor was a rotating platform powered by enchanted gears and magic. Outside the platform, the walls were covered in bookshelves and scroll racks. Byrne was sitting near the ceiling’s opening, hunched over handwritten notes. His working desk was a carbon copy of the one in his wood cabin. A generous amount of Lightstones lit the room.
I cleared my throat, and Byrne jumped on his chair.
“Christ Almighty! You youngsters have light footsteps,” he said, bringing his hand to his chest. “The stairs squeak a lot, so I usually can tell when someone is coming.”
I adopted the grim expression of one who’d just learned the world was going to end soon. If Byrne’s [Awareness] was as good as mine used to be, I had to play the role perfectly. He seemed to detect the urgency in my expression because he signaled me to come close.
“Once again, thanks for humoring my request. I know it’s a lot to process,” Byrne said.
I shook my head.
“I had already figured we are in an era of extreme monster activity… I just didn’t realize how dire the situation was.”
Byrne gave me a curious glance.
“So, you believe me?”
I nodded.
“I think I have been in the Fountain’s world once. A flattened land with ruins and water, a dark sky, and a distant sun that isn’t the sun. The System didn’t work there, and… something felt wrong about the Fountain,” I said, hiding that I had spoken to it.
Byrne was out of words.
“W-well, yes. That sounds like it. But how? I’m unaware of any class with instant, long-distance teleportation, and believe me, the distance between worlds is quite big.”
I saw part of my own curiosity reflected in Byrne’s eyes, and I wondered if it had to do with the fact that we both were Scholars once. In any case, the more I kept him talking, the more time I had to figure him out. So far, it didn’t seem he had activated any detection or obfuscation skills, and my mana sense was as keen as it got.
“I met a person with an exotic Class. A Void Jumper. He took me there,” I said.
“Oh? And where is this individual? I’d like to talk with him. He might be useful to our cause,” Byrne replied. “If he had already seen it—”
I shifted uncomfortably.
“He wanted to harm my kids, so I killed him.”
Byrne was disappointed but recovered rather quickly and gave me one of his sweet-grandpa smiles.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, but that’s life. Back on Earth, we were so used to safe, uneventful lives, even when history told us that catastrophes are unavoidable. Our lives have been chaotic and controlled by chance until not so long ago. Nature is unforgiving, but we seem to have forgotten that primordial law. Don’t beat yourself over it. Killing, although undesirable, is part of nature, and we can’t run away from that.”
I nodded in silence. Ebros wasn’t the most cozy place in the world, with Wendigos prowling near the borders and ravaging Monster Surges threatening to wipe out whole towns. Even malicious people had their evil deeds multiplied by the powers conferred by the System.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked once he finished his diatribe.
“Sure, anything.”
“Why trust me?”
Byrne stopped arranging his notes, seemingly embarrassed.
“Because I’m desperate. Because any upright man would save the world given the chance. Because I decided that only a principled guy would give up a life of adventure to help a poor orphanage. Because my days as a smuggler gave me a good eye for people. And because you are the only man alive who would believe me when I told them there are other worlds out there,” Byrne said. “Because you are invested in the safety of the people in this world. At least some of them. And even if I show you the Runes, you won’t be able to use them without the proper System access—only a Runeweaver can. I think that covers everything. Low risk, high reward. That’s my hand.”
I performed a slight bow, carefully not to break eye contact.
I didn’t trust Byrne a little bit.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said “Saving the world seems to be a desirable outcome for everyone, including my orphans, but if I’m going to help you, I want assurances. There are millions in Ebros. I want my people up there in the list.”
Byrne laughed.
“I wasn’t expecting help without a reward.”
“Gold isn’t going to be valuable in this world for long.”
“I was thinking of a real estate deed,” Byrne said. “Once we leave, you will need a place for the Lowell’s Orphanage, and it turns out I have several properties on the other side of the portal. I will let you pick a house—except the one in the Vineyard and the one in the Hamptons, you don’t know how hard it is to get one of those. Deal?”
“Do you have something in Connecticut other than the cabin?”
“I do. It’s on the old side but might be a fitting place for a small army of orphans. There is a lot of space for them to play and not many neighbors. There is no safe in the building, and the combination isn’t thirty, seventy-five, ten,” Byrne said with a wink.
Somehow, he had closed the deal before I could say anything.
I didn’t care.
I was more worried about the present.
“Deal?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s save the world, then, amigo!”
If Byrne had a hidden agenda, I wasn’t detecting anything strange about his demeanor. He signaled me to approach the desk. The scrolls were covered in Byrne’s messy handwriting. I recognized some of the runes I knew: Bind, User, Activation, Direction, Detect, Link, Guide. It was the real deal.
“Runes are a language, maybe the only non-humanoid language out there. It is hard to tell what kind of living being the Fountain is, but Runes are the only way to modulate its powers. Natural magic, my teleportation, and your heat magic are one-word languages. Runes, on the other hand, allow us to cast a wide range of true-magical effects,” Byrne explained, handing me a stack of paper. “These symbols form the runic language. Think about them as a programming language, although I’m the only person with a terminal, so debugging might be hard for you. I need you to learn this language to help me finish the portal.”
I skimmed through the pages and counted several hundred runes, stopping briefly on those I already knew. I didn’t notice anything wrong with the descriptions and the grammar notes. Byrne was giving me real information about runes.
“Is there a problem?” Byrne asked.
Something in his voice made my stomach feel queasy. It was too faint of a clue to conclude anything, but the hair in the back of my head stood on its ends. Did he suspect?
I distilled all the wisdom from my programming lessons back at uni.
“You might as well force me to program in Brainfuck.”
Byrne laughed.
“It’s not hard at all, believe me. I was already old when I learned them. Read the brief and let your Scholar skills work magic,” he said, giving me an apologetic smile. “Hey! Don’t show me that worried face. Even with my most pessimistic predictions, we have a decade or two to sort this problem. If we get the prototype working this year, we will have plenty of time for troubleshooting.”
For the next hour, I sat across Byrne’s desk with quill and parchment in hand, scribbling down lines of runic language and asking the questions a novice would. How does the User rune know who the user of the enchanted item is? How does the Direction rune know what direction is the right direction after a rotation? How does Detect escape an infinite loop? How does the Vibration rune know the frequency at which it has to vibrate? How does a Recall rune recall the right sub-enchantment in long strings?
The System Avatar was correct in one thing. Byrne was a way better Runeweaver than I. Like a natural language, there were way more underlying rules than I imagined. Some I already guessed, others I had solved going by instinct.
“The girl who brought me here said she could enchant runes,” I pointed out as I failed to make a recursive function on purpose.
Byrne nodded in silence, examining my work.
“Yes, she can. She secretly believes she’s special, but I’m afraid she’s the first glitch in the System's history.”
Comments
Trevayne
Thanks for the chapter.
Eidetic Eidolon
First, I don't think Byrne ever intended to bring EVERYONE. He's not stupid. I think he essentially wants to bring just enough people to restart after an apocalypse. And let's not forget, that he isn't planning to relocate all of these people to Earth. He just wants to have them escape the worst of the apocalypse, and then bring them all back. It's not a terrible idea if you own a lot of rural real estate, especially in some parts of Canada. Hell, the people could even bring the supplies in from the other world. I don't have any problems with Byrne's plans working. I think they're totally feasible. However, the plans leave out all of the other sapient races. What about the orcs, the elves, and who knows how many other fantasy races. You're just going to abandon all but the human elite? Not cool. You're also surrendering to the necessity of a cyclical apocalypse which is just not a great idea. You need to fix it once and for all, or eventually, everybody dies. Maybe not this cycle, but eventually.
