The staircase leading down to the basement was dimly lit, each step creaking faintly underfoot.
As I descended, the air grew cooler—thicker somehow, as though it carried the weight of centuries-old secrets.
Basement Level 1.
A place most students probably didn't even know existed.
The sound of my footsteps echoed through the corridor as I passed by rows of locked doors. The faint hum of magic drifted through the air—protective enchantments, no doubt, meant to keep nosy students out.
At the very end of the hallway, I found what I was looking for.
[Rare Book Archive]
The plaque beside the iron door was tarnished with age, its letters slightly faded but still legible. I reached for the handle and—
Click.
Locked.
Of course.
I sighed. "Figures."
No surprise there. The archive was supposed to be restricted to professors, researchers, and licensed librarians—people like Viola.
I could probably ask her for permission, but… no. That'd raise too many questions.
If she knew I was down here chasing something out of a webtoon, she'd start asking questions I didn't have answers for.
So I did what any sane person would do in my situation.
I tried to force it open.
"Alright, let's see…" I placed my hand over the door handle and whispered a basic unlocking incantation I'd learned from one of the Academy's spellbooks. "Unlock."
The magic fizzled weakly. Nothing happened.
"Yeah, didn't think that would work."
The enchantment on this door was way above student level. I wasn't even sure if I could break it without setting off an alarm.
Still, something about this place felt… off.
Like there was something—someone—watching me from behind the heavy iron door.
A faint vibration hummed under my fingertips.
"...Huh?"
The handle pulsed once, faintly, like a heartbeat.
And then—
Click.
The lock released.
My breath caught. "What the—"
The door creaked open on its own, letting out a low groan that echoed down the corridor. A cold draft brushed against my face.
Every rational part of my brain screamed that I should turn back.
But I didn't.
I stepped inside.
The interior was dim, lit only by a few floating orbs of pale blue light. Dust motes danced in the air. Countless tomes lined the walls—massive volumes bound in worn leather, some sealed with magical sigils that glowed faintly as I passed.
It was… beautiful, in an eerie sort of way.
I walked deeper, scanning each shelf. My eyes caught faint titles in languages I didn't recognize—ancient texts, grimoires, fragments of forgotten lore.
And then, near the far wall, something shimmered faintly.
A faint, golden glow.
There—wedged between two thick tomes—was a book that I was looking for.
[Fundamentals of Natural Magic]
A simple title. No decorations, no embellishments. Just plain words printed on an aged, dust-covered cover.
At first glance, it looked like nothing special—just another relic of the past. But I knew better.
Before the current, structured magic system was developed, there existed a primitive form of sorcery called natural magic—a power born when the winds of mana first began to stir across the Empire.
It was crude and inefficient, often unpredictable, and in the modern day, it was little more than a historical footnote—something professors mentioned in passing before moving on to "real" magic.
However, the creator of that forgotten art was not someone history could easily dismiss.
The founder of modern magic.
The unparalleled genius of his era.
Taruan Asmond.
Natural magic was his earliest creation—an experimental foundation laid before he revolutionized the entire magical world.
A true genius, through and through.
And like all geniuses, he had quirks that no one else could comprehend.
Especially Taruan, whose eccentricity bordered on legendary.
He was infamous for hiding his greatest inventions, scattering them across the Empire like a mischievous treasure hunt for the curious.
And one of those hidden artifacts—The Sage's Bookmark—was said to be concealed within this very book.
"…Let's see if the rumor's true."
I flipped straight to the last page and placed my hand on the aged paper.
Then, I slowly infused it with mana.
Woong.
A faint vibration spread through the book, and light began to shimmer faintly along the edges of the pages.
The entire tome responded to my magic—alive, resonating with my mana like a heartbeat.
Then, as if possessed, the pages started flipping rapidly on their own, the soft fluttering sound echoing through the silent archive.
They stopped exactly at the center.
A faint magic circle began to appear above the open book, drawn in lines of golden light that pulsed gently, illuminating the dim room.
"Ooh…"
I couldn't help but whisper under my breath.
In the webtoon, this part had looked simple—a single glowing circle, maybe a sparkle or two.
But seeing it in person, it was… breathtaking.
Elegant. Intricate.
The lines of the circle shifted and intertwined like flowing rivers of light, humming in rhythm with the air around me.
As expected of Taruan.
He wasn't just a genius—he was a romantic.
He understood the thrill of discovery, the excitement of uncovering something hidden, the awe of witnessing forgotten magic.
When the magic circle reached completion, the glow brightened once more—then condensed in an instant.
Something small and metallic dropped softly onto the open page.
Clink.
A bookmark.
Slim, silver, and intricately carved with runes that shimmered faintly as I picked it up.
"The Sage's Bookmark," I murmured, holding it carefully.
A faint warmth pulsed from it, as if acknowledging me.
It wasn't just a trinket—it was alive with magic.
Taruan Asmond… you really didn't disappoint.
The magic circle, having completed its task, slowly faded away—its faint light scattering into the air like wisps of smoke until nothing remained.
I carefully reached for the small object resting atop the book.
'So this is the Sage's Bookmark…'
It was smaller than I expected—thin and elegant, its edges engraved with intricate runes that pulsed faintly when I touched them. At its center sat a tiny emerald, glimmering softly under the dim library light.
Even without knowing magic, I could tell it wasn't ordinary.