He cracked the black cloth cover and the smell of old glue and sweat came up like a gym from another century. The pages of The Complete Arts of War weighed heavy; the kind of heavy that said someone had learned by bleeding and then wrote it down so the next fool could skip a step.
He tasted the corner. Warm amber, dry earth, the faint oil of steel edges kept honest.
And he ate.
[Book Consumed: The Complete Arts of War]
+1 Speed
Skills Gained: Footwork (Basic), Tactics (Basic)
Combat Values Improved: Initiative +5%, Accuracy +5%, Defense +5%
The shift was immediate and quiet. His feet found the floor as if it had lines painted on it that no one else could see. His weight settled behind the ball of his foot without asking. Angles he'd felt before now had names; bad openings wore neon. He didn't get stronger. He got clearer.
A knife that learns.
He mentally set it aside with a neatness that felt like respect. A breath, then another; the room waited in its dust and dull glow.
Spells next. The new shelf in his head held thirteen spaces. He could fill them quickly, but not in the middle of a brawl; even with a brain that ran hot, focus took seconds, and seconds got you killed if you didn't buy them first with distance or pain.
He tried an experiment. He opened the mental drawer where five copies of Detect Magic sat like little candles and pinched one out without lighting it.
The slot emptied.
Good. Dismissal without casting.
He snuffed three more, then another, leaving one ready like a spare fuse. One copy was a tool; five had been a comfort blanket.
Light felt obvious; he slid a single copy in and let the pattern settle. He paused on Enchant Stone and called up the details for it. It wasn't a momentary buff; it made a stone stay what you told it—better, denser, harder, built for impact. Permanent at this level.
That changed the math.
He memorized Enchant Stone three times, held his three sling stones in his palm one by one, and murmured the pattern each time until the weight of them told the truth. Each came back heavier by a margin you felt in your wrist and tougher in a way that the bones agreed with. He sent all three into the little pocket of nowhere and closed the drawer.
No need to keep Enchant Stone slotted now.
Identify got a single seat because ignorance killed in slow ways; the rest he filled with immediate answers. One slot for Repair in case his weapons broke, three copies of Sleep for when numbers weren't on his side; three Jump to break distance or find height; three Grease for balance, innovation and humiliation. One Detect Magic stayed in reserve, one Light for the dark, and one Identify for truth.
Everything else could be earned on the walk.
He leaned a shoulder to the shelf and took stock of his stomach. Full, but not jammed. Capacity had stretched with durability; he could press his luck a little more before the next fight reset the tank the friendly way.
He went hunting for a memory.
He'd clocked the spine last time without having stones to make it sing. Third stack from the far wall, second shelf from the top; his mind served the location back like a GPS that didn't need satellites. The book itself was slim, salt-stained cloth, the title stamped in sun-faded ink.
The Slings of Rhodes.
He licked the edge. A mixed taste—olive-brine and chalk dust, a trace of leather. Useful, but thin; not a stat book. Technique, distilled.
He ate, concentrating on the throw, the release, the way the elbow was supposed to be a hinge and the wrist a whisper. The geometry of arcs settled behind his eyes; the invisible cone you had to live inside to make a stone go where it should took shape.
[Book Consumed: The Slings of Rhodes]
Skill Gained: Sling (Basic+)
Pleasant surprise. The muscle memory tugged at his shoulder like a friend; the line from pouch to target went from guess to policy. Between enchanted stones, a wicked arm and a skill that already breathed, the sling turned from toy to anti-tank cannon.
Could his improvised sling even withstand the forces he was capable of producing? Probably, but not if he got much stronger. However, he did have a repair spell now which he still wanted to experiment with
He let his gaze drift, then caught himself before he drifted into greed. One more book would be flirting with stupid unless it solved a problem he already had. Water would matter soon. Identification would matter too, but now he had a spell for that. A thick spine near his knee tugged the eye by sheer mass; the cover was stamped with a retort and a column of symbols like a multiplication table learned wrong.
Principles of Practical Alchemy.
No traceries. No hum. It wasn't stitched with magic, which said it might be instruction rather than fuel. Too big for the pocket; he slid it into the pack instead, binding creaking, and felt the strap bite his shoulder a notch deeper.
Heavy was fine. Heavy meant future.
He stretched his shoulders and let the room stand still for a heartbeat. The starting chamber was bright enough now that the dark in his bones felt like a story he'd told and believed and put away on a shelf.
He checked the numbers because he always did.
Status: William Page
Age: 18
System: Unbound Bookeater
Class: None
Level: 3
EXP: 275 / 300
Strength: 11
Speed: 13
Durability: 14
Mental: 18
Social: 5
Luck: 7
Traits:
– Hunger for Knowledge
– Synesthetic Cognition
– Rational Mind
Skills:
– Survival (Intermediate)
– Mycology (Basic)
– Cooking (Basic)
– Knife Use (Basic)
– Herb Lore (Basic)
– Knife Combat (Basic)
– Medicine (Basic)
– Magic (Intermediate+)
– Anatomy (Basic)
– Unarmed Combat (Intermediate)
– Wrestling (Basic)
– Situational Awareness (Basic)
– Rituals (Basic+)
– Scouting (Basic)
– Footwork (Basic)
– Tactics (Basic)
– Sling (Basic+)
Abilities:
– Sense Magic (Basic+) [Touch]
– Resorb Blood (Basic) [Self]
– Item Box (Basic)
Resistances:
– Blood (Minor)
Combat Values:
– Critical Hit Chance: +10%
– Initiative Bonus: +5%
– Accuracy Bonus: +5%
– Defense Bonus: +5%
Affiliations:
– God of Spilt Blood — Angered
Memorized Spells (13 / 13):
– Detect Magic ×1
– Light ×1
– Identify ×1
– Repair ×1
– Sleep ×3
– Jump ×3
– Grease ×3
Unallocated Points:
– Stat Points: 0
– Skill Points: 2
Inventory:
– Knife (Common, Durability 81%)
– Trail Mix (Mundane, 340g)
– Water Bottle (Common, Empty, Durability 100%)
– Poncho (Common, Durability 80%)
– Goblin Key (Uncommon)
– Improvised Sling (Common, Durability 85%)
– Principles of Practical Alchemy (Uncommon)
Item Box (Basic):
– Smooth Stones (x3, Enchanted)
– Unidentified Potion (Common) ×2
– Paracord (Common, 16 ft, Durability 98%)
– Firestarter (Common, Durability 87%)
He blinked the pane away and let the numbers become bones again. The stones in the pocket-that-wasn't had a presence he could feel if he leaned his attention toward them; the sling at his belt sat new and familiar against his thigh. The bonus to initiative felt like the corridor would not catch him flat-footed again; the accuracy line whispered that targets had edges you could trust.
He stood at the threshold of the next aisle until his breath found its pace. The goblin priest's chamber had been several steps too deep for where he should be, and he'd lived anyway. That didn't make him invincible. It made him ready.
He cupped his hand and made a small light like a pearl. It bloomed without heat and settled above his knuckles, soft and obedient. He let it hover at shoulder height and drift ahead, a polite star you could walk behind without blinding your night sense.
He took three steps and stopped. Not for fear; for listening. The room offered nothing but paper, wood, and the quiet of places that wait.
"Then let's go," he said, not to the library, but to himself.
He angled toward the dark corridor that led beyond the first stacks, the one he hadn't taken because the secret passage had been more interesting and then more terrible. His feet picked the line without thought; the weight rolled from heel to ball to toe and back again like a metronome that knew when to pause.
He was close to a level. Close to hunger resetting. Close to a fight that would tell him whether a stone the size of a child's angry fist, made too heavy for its size, could turn a goblin into instant hamburger.
He smiled without showing teeth and felt the world tilt in a way that said he had just enough luck to try. He knew he was much stronger than he should be because of his little detour…
Prepared for anything.
And eager to test whether anything was prepared for him.