{Chapter: 229: Weird Books}
[Carving Techniques of Golden Fir Wood], [How to Judge Weather Changes with the Naked Eye], [Basic Extraction of Sugar], [Smelting of Copper Metal], [Appreciation of Gemstones], [Basic Education of Elf Children], [What to Do If the Land Is Barren?], [Why Is the Seawater a Bit Salty?], [How to Identify Edible Wild Mushrooms], [Basic Techniques of Beekeeping], [Understanding River Currents and Building Watermills], [How to Preserve Meat Without Ice Magic], [The Simplest Way to Make Soap at Home], [Raising Goats and Milking Techniques], [How to Track Animals in the Wild], [Basic Fire-Starting Without Magic or Tools], [What to Do If Your Well Runs Dry?], [How to Tan Leather with Natural Ingredients], [Threads of the Forest: Weaving Cloth from Natural Fibers], [Light and Shadow: An Introduction to Illusion Magic], [Taming the Spark: Principles of Safe Lightning Conduction], [Beastly Allies: Fundamentals of Monster Husbandry], [Voices of the Deep: An Exploration of Aquatic Languages], [Songs of the Wild: A Bard's Primer on Animal Communication]...
Dozens—no, hundreds—of obscure, eccentric, and wildly varying fields of knowledge were being quietly streamed into Dex's mind, in rapid succession and with surgical precision.
To the average mage, warrior, or scholar, the majority of these books were utterly irrelevant. Just a quick glance at their titles would be enough for most professionals to wrinkle their noses and dismiss them as trivia fit only for peasants or overly curious children.
But Dex was different.
He didn't reject knowledge based on its perceived worth.
It didn't matter to him whether the knowledge was considered advanced or rudimentary, magical or mundane, practical or poetic. Whether it was used to raise goats or speak with whales, every piece of it represented a window into how this world—and perhaps others—chose to interpret the laws of nature and magic.
Even if some of these "truths" were false, or rooted in the flawed logic of a different world's rules, they were still valuable to Dex. In a multiversal context where the laws of physics and reality changed from realm to realm, even faulty knowledge could serve as a reference point—something to compare, contrast, and ultimately, build upon.
For someone like Dex, such things were never truly worthless.
They became nutrients—raw materials to enrich and expand the reservoir of his mind.
Even the strangest, most laughable ideas had their place, tucked away neatly like puzzle pieces waiting for a future problem they might solve.
Meanwhile, the other visitors on this floor of the tower remained blissfully unaware of what was happening right under their noses.
Dex's spiritual tentacles—fine strands of will and thought refined to an invisible whisper—slid like smoke through the protective enchantments of the bookshelves, gently siphoning knowledge without so much as disturbing a single page.
None of the others were strong enough to detect the theft. Not a single individual here possessed the sensitivity, power, or awareness to even notice the slight warp in the air around him.
And every three seconds, when the tower's internal detection array—some kind of scanning pulse—swept across the floor like a sonar wave, Dex would retract his mental extensions in perfect rhythm, dissolving them into his core like a tide flowing away before the moon's gaze.
He didn't know whether the detection system could sense his spiritual power. And frankly, he didn't want to find out. Not yet.
Not until he had completed his objective.
If something went wrong now, if he got caught siphoning massive quantities of restricted knowledge without authorization, there would be no peaceful solution.
The only option would be to obliterate the tower's defenses, kill everyone involved, and erase all traces of his existence from the building. No loose ends. No records. No witnesses.
But in a city teeming with mages—a nation, in fact, built on arcane talent and magical supremacy—there was no telling how many powerful figures might respond to such an act.
And Dex wasn't confident he could silence all of them before news of his existence spread.
Don't misunderstand him. This wasn't fear. It wasn't a weakness.
It was practicality.
His concern wasn't about losing a fight—it was about losing control.
Like a master assassin unsure if he could kill the messenger before the warning letter was sent.
In this world, even if a god's true form descended upon the mortal plane, Dex could still stand and fight.
But why cause a scene?
He wasn't trying to become famous. He wasn't here to start a war.
This was just one step in a far grander experiment—a subtle phase of his long-running plan, something he internally referred to as the "[Poisoning Plan of Each World to Eat and Wait for Death]"
It wasn't about fear.
It was about elegance.
About conducting chaos like an orchestra, instead of bashing drums with bloodied fists.
And so, Dex remained still, hidden in plain sight.
One hand lazily flipping a page every now and then for show, while beneath the surface, his mind expanded—quietly downloading the intellectual heritage of thousands of lifetimes.
Not to use it.
Not yet.
But to archive it—catalog it—prepare it.
For the day he decided to set the world on fire.
---
Three days later.
In the tranquil stillness of a lower floor within the towering arcane complex, an apprentice dressed in the standard robes of a mid-tier magic academy leaned toward his companion. He poked him in the ribs with his elbow and muttered in a bewildered tone, "Hey… look over there. The books that guy's been reading are really weird."
"Hmm?"
His friend, who had been halfway through a nap against the stone wall, blinked and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He followed the direction of the pointing finger with mild curiosity.
In that instant, among the dozen or so people scattered throughout the chamber, his gaze locked onto Dex—an effortlessly conspicuous figure, even in a crowd.
At first glance, Dex exuded an aura that screamed strength and dignity. His presence was magnetic, almost regal. His features were sharp, refined, with a kind of composure that only came from mastery. He had the unmistakable bearing of a veteran magic user, perhaps even a grandmaster. No doubt about it—he was someone powerful.
But then… there was that book.
The second glance landed on the thick, dog-eared tome Dex held with the care of a priest reading scripture.
Its title?
[High Egg Production Feed Formula for Old Hens]
"…What the hell?" the friend whispered, stunned. "What is that title?"
It was like witnessing the Archmage of the Academy solemnly studying a scroll titled 'Beginner's Guide to Potty Training' in the middle of a royal court session.
There was a visceral sense of disbelief, a cognitive dissonance that rattled the apprentice's soul.
'Brother… why would someone like you—someone of your level—be reading that?'
'And with such a straight face too!'
A flood of question marks assaulted his mind like a barrage of fireballs. His worldview was cracking.
His companion leaned in again and whispered with a conspiratorial tone, "And that's not even the strangest one. A few days ago, I saw him reading [The Beauty of Human Sculpture]… and before that, [Which Kind of Soil Tastes Better When a Person Is Starving to Death]… and [The Breeding Season of Karacha Lizards]... I'm not making this up."
"Hisssssss…"
The boy sucked in a deep breath, eyes wide with realization. His mind flashed back to stories about his academy mentors—those sagely old men and women who seemed to know everything under the sun. He suddenly felt like he understood something profound.
"…So this is the secret, huh? The world of the strong... is all-encompassing."
A solemn expression overtook his face. He lowered his gaze to the ground, reflecting on his own inadequacies. Could he ever hope to reach that level of universal comprehension? Could his brain handle knowing about lizard mating seasons and soil flavors?
He began to question his own intelligence, suddenly and irrationally convinced he wasn't cut out for this path.
His friend, meanwhile, had no idea the nonsense he had just sparked. He simply sighed in frustration and muttered, "I mean, this guy's interests are just too broad… I even saw him pick up [A Handbook on Postpartum Care for Sows] the other day."
"And get this—he didn't just flip through it…"
"He opened it. He read it. And he read it with utter seriousness! Like he was deciphering the grand laws of mana flow!"
At this point, the boy's face was contorted with helpless awe and a bit of panic. His voice had risen slightly, his hands thrown up in quiet despair.
"I can't even imagine what sort of mindset it takes to be like that guy! You could put a manual on how to knit socks for ogres in front of him and I swear he'd study it like it was a forbidden spellbook!"
What he didn't know—what none of them knew—was that the book in Dex's hands was actually tame compared to some of the bizarre tomes he had studied now.
Titles like:
[How to See with the Left and Right Eyes], [Symphony of Knife and Fork], [The Girlfriend of a Good Sister], [The Domineering Dwarf Loves the Dragon] [Can a Dragon female Mate With A Male Donkey], [Various Safe Positions In Which Male Can Have Sex With An¡m@ls], [Various Safe Positions In Which Female Can Have Sex With An¡m@ls], [Are Green-skinned Orcs Ordinary People], [How to Milk a Minotaur Without Dying], [Seducing the Swamp Hag: A Guide to Moist Encounters], [I Married My Chimera and We Had Tentacle Babies], [Fifty Shades of Fey: Consent Is Optional in the Fae Courts], [The Necromancer's Guide to Romantic Resurrection], [Old Enough to Count, Old Enough to Mount], [Riding the Centaur: Saddle Optional], [The Elf Who Cried D@ddy: F*rb¡dd€n Forest Fantasies],