"I know you are no Messiah, child."
"Pardon?"
It was the first time since waking up in this body that anyone had said it out loud.
This was the first time he had heard someone openly deny his status.
"The true Messiah," the old man continued, his voice low and unhurried, "was said to be born wearing golden chains and bangles. A mark from the Goddess herself."
Isaac considered that for a moment. "Were you there when I was born?"
"….No."
"Then how can you be certain I'm not?"
The old man clicked his tongue. "Tch. That's exactly why I can't stand talking to brats."
Isaac smiled faintly and let his gaze drift back to the shelves.
Rows and rows, packed tight and rising to the ceiling, their spines worn smooth from years of handling.
There were so many of them that Isaac couldn't help but salivate.
Since he was a child, Isaac had had a strange fascination with absorbing as much knowledge as possible.
And knowledge of this new world was exactly what he wanted.
'What's this?'
He stopped at a shelf near the far wall, tilting his head at a book placed slightly apart from the others, as if it had been set aside on purpose.
He walked closer and looked at the cover, which depicted a white-haired old man. Below the illustration, a title in faded lettering:
"The Fraudness of Them."
Isaac turned his head to look at the old man, wanting to ask permission before looking into it.
But the old man wasn't even looking at him. He was busy sulking with his head down.
"What is this about, old man?" Isaac asked, pointing at the book.
The old man glanced at it and turned his head away.
Isaac let out a sigh, certain the old man was going to ignore him.
"Duncan Kanthar," the old man said at last, his voice as reluctant as a door opened against its hinges. "The last king of the Holy Zemira Empire. It dissolved in the year 932 of the Fourth Epoch."
Isaac lifted the book from the shelf and brushed the dust from its cover.
The book was thick and old, with a lot of markings on the front page.
"Was he famous?" Isaac asked, turning the first few pages.
"He killed millions of vampires during his regime," the old man said gruffly. "They called him the Butcher of Zemira."
Isaac paused flipping through the pages and looked back at the old man, who was still looking away.
"He was famous with his people," the old man continued. "So much so that if his regime were to propose the massacre of their first-born, it would still have had no difficulty getting it through the common people."
'He sounds less like a king and more like a cult leader.'
Isaac slowly closed the book and returned it to the shelf as he moved on in search of something else.
He followed the shelves deeper into the shop until he reached a smaller section tucked into the far corner.
Five books, each one standing upright and evenly spaced, each cover engraved with a different sigil burned into the leather.
"There's more than one religion?" he asked.
"Of course there is." The old man's scoff carried clearly across the room. "And I nearly lost my life over them, so handle those carefully."
Isaac's hand, which had been reaching for the nearest one, paused. "How?"
"Your grandfather did not want the people of this town to know that other faiths existed. When I refused to remove them, he was prepared to kill me over it."
A pause.
"I kept them anyway."
Isaac didn't know how to respond to that. He just nodded and looked through the books.
In this world there were five major religions followed by the five major races.
The Sovereign Goddess of the High Realm. The Undying Sun. The Lord of the Endless Phase. The Trickster God of Gambit. The Keeper of the Unspoken Record.
'They all have pretty fancy names….'
Isaac mused to himself while looking through the books on the shelf.
"Come here."
But before he could go through them, the old man called him over.
Isaac put the book back and walked toward him. "What happened?"
The old man took out a book from the many stacked on the table and slid it toward Isaac.
"Read that first," he said. "It's a detailed account of the creatures you're likely to encounter in the forest. Better you know what's out there before you do something foolish."
Isaac picked it up and settled into the chair across from him. "How much to rent it?"
"Twenty Hellers. Pay me when you have money." The old man glanced at him briefly. "I can tell you're broke."
'Broke is an understatement….'
Isaac could only smile awkwardly.
The currency, as he had come to understand it, ran in four tiers.
Hellers were copper and the smallest denomination.
Ten Hellers made a Groschen, struck in iron.
Ten Groschen made a Thaler, struck in silver.
And at the top, the Grivna — gold coins whose value was backed not by weight alone but by reserves of 'flowers' kept in the vaults of the great banks.
Isaac closed the book in his hand and looked at the coins on display.
The coins were arranged by age, oldest to newest, and most of the faces on them meant nothing to him. But one stopped him.
He couldn't help but notice that the face on one of the coins looked quite familiar.
How could he not recognise the face of his transmigration senior?
He reached out and lifted the coin carefully. It was heavier than it looked.
The profile on its face was sharp and precise, the engraving deep enough to have survived whatever century it had come from.
The old man noticed the coin in his hand.
"She is Lady Cassandra," he said, his voice taking on a more respectful tone. "She was the one who ruled the elves in our golden age."
"….I see," Isaac mumbled, placing the coin down. "How was she?"
"Cruel to every race but her own." The old man folded his hands on the desk.
"She was known as the Blessed One of the Sovereign Goddess… a chosen, or so she claimed. Her belief was simple: this world belonged to the elves. Every other race was an intrusion. She spent her reign trying to correct that."
'Sovereign Goddess not the Old God?'
Isaac turned the coin over. The reverse side was engraved with what looked like a great tree in full bloom.
"That included humans?"
"Especially humans."
'….What was wrong with you, senior?'
Isaac couldn't help but wonder.
How much had she hated humans, that she had wanted all of them dead?
"What do you think?" the old man asked. "Was she right?"
Isaac thought for a few seconds before looking up.
"I believe everyone has a right to live," he replied with a smile. "Killing each other will never lead us anywhere."
The old man looked at him with a blank face.
It was uncertain whether he was disgusted by the words or simply pitying the young boy.
"People often believe in something that leads to their own destruction…
….Like a person who follows a religion that asks nothing of him but sacrifices."
As if on cue, a single red leaf drifted in through the open doorway and settled on the back of Isaac's hand.
He looked at it for a moment, then stood, tucking the borrowed book under his arm.
"I'll be back tomorrow, sir…"
"Obrin." The old man had already looked away. "And I would prefer you didn't come back at all."
Isaac chuckled and bowed slightly. "Thanks for your help."
Obrin stared at the young boy and turned his head away.
Isaac walked out of the library with the book and headed back to his house.
Though his gaze couldn't help but linger on the World Tree.
'…It sure is beautiful.'
He thought to himself while gazing back at the town.
The people all had warm smiles whenever they saw him walking past.
"I am home," Isaac said gently, opening the door and walking inside.
But he paused when he saw Logan sitting in the main hall.
Logan smiled and stood up. "How are you feeling?"
"Pretty good, actually," Isaac replied. "I don't feel as weak as before."
"Good! Good."
Logan disappeared down the hallway without another word.
Isaac looked after him for a moment, then sat down on the sofa and opened Obrin's book to the first page.
The first page gave a brief account of the nature of the forest and how it was a place designed to kill.
The town he resided in sat on the edge of a forest known as the Man Eater Forest, which spanned hundreds of kilometres.
"Huh?"
But as Isaac was about to flip the page, Logan walked back in carrying a bow and a quiver full of arrows.
Isaac looked confused as Logan extended the items toward him.
"What….?"
"Grab them."
Isaac did as he was told, taking the bow and quiver, which was made to strap to his side.
"Lancel!"
Logan called out for his other grandson.
"Come. We're taking Isaac on his first hunt!"