Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.7 - Chapter 7

The Book of Mestionora

The seven lights surrounding me shot up into the sky. Then, an instant later, more light started flooding down on me, and fresh knowledge poured into my mind. I tried to repel it at first, but Gramps sharply rebuked me.

“Do not resist,” he said. “Accept it all. Fill your vessel and allow not a single drop to spill. Become one with Mestionora’s wisdom.”

I did my best to loosen up and absorb as much of the knowledge flowing into me as possible, fighting back the urge to protest that it wasn’t in a readable form. This wasn’t the end of the world, I thought; I would just need to turn it into a book myself.

I’m gonna print all this knowledge one day! Bring it on!

I was ready for whatever the light wanted to throw at me—or so I thought. In a problematic development, the gods’ knowledge from the bible started mixing with the apocryphal stories from Dunkelfelger’s history book.

Come on, Rozemyne! Organize it! Organize it! Don’t mix Liebeskhilfe’s pranks with Flutrane’s love stories and a bunch of prayers! Ah, but I now know more about Gramps, at least. He’s Erwaermen, the God of Life’s former subordinate who helped arrange his superior’s marriage to the Goddess of Earth. He looks exactly the same as he did when Yurgenschmidt was founded. Talk about faking one’s age.

A lot of the knowledge flooding into my mind was valuable, but even more of it was miscellaneous trivia. It was all arriving in such a jumbled mess that I could only assume it had never been organized in the first place.

Aah! Now I understand why transcriptions are so important! No wonder our distant forebears found it necessary to put the knowledge a Zent would need on stone slates or pass it down through the bible. All this trivia is useless without some kind of a search function!

All sorts of critical intelligence shot into and then out of my mind: how the first Zent made the duchies’ foundations, the role of the temple at the time, details regarding the bibles given to High Bishops, that the Zent performed Mana Replenishment all across Yurgenschmidt while circling the country gates, and...

Wait! Stop flowing! That bit seemed really important! It might let Lady Georgine steal Ehrenfest’s foundation!

“Do not think,” Erwaermen said the instant I tried to backtrack. “Accept it all; otherwise, you will end up spilling some.”

As seriously urgent and seriously important as that information had seemed, I wasn’t allowed to dwell on it; doing so would prevent new knowledge from entering my head. My mind needed to be blank to make space for everything.

It’s surprisingly hard not to think about anything—especially when something so important just seized my attention.

How was this abundance of valuable information going to be of any use to me when I couldn’t slow down to work my way through it? “The Grutrissheit” was whatever physical form a Zent candidate gave to the knowledge bestowed upon them, but surely I would still need a search function to navigate it all.

Hm...?

Following the biblical stories and information about the temple was a history of the country’s Zents. There were gaps, though. For some reason, Yurgenschmidt’s past was coming to me in pieces.

To give an example, I glimpsed a bedridden Zent giving his Grutrissheit to his son and trusting him to open the country gates. Then there was an abrupt cut, and the next thing I saw was another prince mortified that his Grutrissheit had disappeared. I couldn’t tell whether the two scenes were from the same era, much less whether they were connected in some way.

The entire experience was like trying to watch a video with spotty Internet or trying to watch TV while someone else kept changing the channel. In any case, it was unpleasant and deeply frustrating.

Worst of all, the gaps started appearing in other places too. A ritual made by a later Zent to enrich duchies and a portion of the magic circle created for it were covered in black splotches, as were some of the rituals and magic circles I’d seen in the underground archive.

Gaaah! I’m not resisting anymore, so show me everything! Give me a clear view! I’m really curious now!

But my desperate plea went unanswered. The light raining down on me vanished, and the information streaming into me suddenly stopped. My mind was saturated with knowledge, as though I’d just consumed an entire stack of books, and the sensation left me somewhat lightheaded.

“Well done,” Erwaermen said. “You may rest.”

“I shall, thank you,” I replied. Then I pretty much collapsed. The world around me was spinning so ferociously that even sitting down was unbearable, so I scrunched my eyes shut and pressed my head against the ground.

Trying to organize my thoughts felt like an insurmountable task. Still, looking at all the knowledge I’d received, I could instinctively tell that somewhere between thirty to forty percent was missing.

Was I unable to absorb it all, then?

I’d certainly tried to. Maybe my vessel or what have you hadn’t been large enough and some of the knowledge had spilled out. That was disappointing.

“Um, Erwaermen...” I said. Should I have used a divine title of some kind to address him? “Why does Mestionora’s knowledge contain so much information about Zents and aubs but basically none about laynobles or commoners?”

“As those who have schtappes and an adequate amount of mana turn into feystones, their knowledge is added to Mestionora’s wisdom.”

So she gathered the memories of the country’s Zents and aubs only when they died... That explained why there hadn’t been much information from after the purge and why there hadn’t been any at all about commoners.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d spent on the ground; all of a sudden, I simply regained consciousness. I opened my eyes and sat up, holding my still-spinning head. Part of me wanted to sleep for a while longer, but I couldn’t stay here forever; as far as my retainers were concerned, I’d suddenly disappeared while supplying mana to the statue in the library. They must have been worried sick.

I picked up my hair ornaments, which were scattered across the ground, and quickly fixed my hair with my rainbow hair stick, as I’d always done in my commoner days. I doubted it would stay in place without gel, but this was better than nothing.

“Erwaermen, I came here to read,” I grumbled. “Not only were there no books, but the knowledge bestowed upon me was full of gaps. This is incredibly disappointing. The biggest disappointment of my life, even.”

I pulled on the belt holding my highbeast feystone and rejuvenation potions, then stuffed what remained of the socks I’d sliced open into one of my bags. I couldn’t just leave it all. Then I momentarily removed my High Bishop robes. I’d recalled that light feystone armor pretty much eliminated the need for a bra or any other supportive undergarments, so I formed some over my underwear.

Aah, this feels good...

Now I could start getting dressed again. I’d severed the back straps of my clothes in my rush to be rid of them, but that was fine; a few cuts from the armpits to the upper arms made them wearable again. My new height meant the dress now looked more like a high-waist one-piece, and the cut straps left a truly shameless hole, but there was no other way for me to fill out my High Bishop robes and make sure the necessary lace was showing through the sleeves and such.

Once that was done, I put my robes back on. I carefully retied the sash, which made me look reasonably well-dressed. Nobody would be able to tell my clothes were in tatters underneath.

All that remained were my feet. I’d only ever practiced turning feystones into shoes that matched my armor in class, but this was better than exposing my bare feet. My ceremonial robes were long enough to hide them, in any case.

“You are the first person to express disappointment after obtaining Mestionora’s wisdom...” Erwaermen remarked. “You received the rest before, did you not? You need only combine them.”

The blood drained from my face, and the half-morphed feystone slipped from my hands. Gah, that’s right! He’s mistaking me for someone else!

“Um, in truth...” I said, “this is our first meeting. I certainly do not recall any others.”

“Surely that is not the case... I could never forget our first encounter.”

So he said, but I’d still never seen him before. He seemed adamant that he was right, so I repeated that he was mistaking me for someone else.

“Can you tell me more about the person who was here before me?” I asked.

“They were a fool who knew nothing of manners.”

“You will need to be more precise than that. You said they did not use the ‘proper route’ to get here; how did they arrive, then?” It was some casual chatter while I reformed my shoes and finished getting ready to leave.

The incident in question had taken place over a decade ago, apparently. Someone had visited the Royal Academy’s shrines during the latter half of the civil war, created the giant magic circle that hung in the sky above, and then somehow managed to reach Erwaermen.

As it turned out, the massive circle was necessary to obtain the Book of Mestionora, as it allowed Erwaermen to turn from a tree into the shape of a human and communicate with the gods. One could not speak with Erwaermen without first activating the circle, which was why he had remained a tree when I’d obtained my schtappe and when I’d visited again during the ceremony for divine protections.

The person who had come here a decade ago had also met the golden shumil after pouring mana into the statue in the library. That was where our stories diverged, though. This mystery figure had ultimately been turned away for not having activated the giant magic circle, so they had taken action to change that—not by holding a Dedication Ritual in the Farthest Hall, but by blasting it with an immense amount of mana from the sky!

“Then they flew in from above,” Erwaermen recalled, looking as rigid as ever as his face turned toward the sky. I gazed up as well; he was evidently confusing me with this bad-mannered individual who had arrived through the hole meant for communicating with the gods.

“I would never do anything of the sort,” I protested. “You are mistaking me for someone else.”

I mean, I did consider dropping a huge feystone on the circle from above, but I decided against it! I considered the danger!

“Some individuals do have similar mana...” Erwaermen said.

A newborn baby and its mother had almost exactly the same mana, as did two lovers experiencing the height of their passion—but this parallel was only temporary. In the case of two parents, the father’s influence on the mother would slowly fade, allowing her mana to return to its usual color, while their child would continue to have the mana it was born with. Even among siblings, there were variations in the amount of mana the father contributed during each pregnancy. They were also likely to obtain different protections based on their deeds while growing up.

“However,” he continued, “even if two people were to have similar mana, it is unthinkable that they would receive the same divine names from the supreme gods. How could you be different people...?”

So my mana was similar to that of whoever had come here before me and we had received the same divine names from the supreme gods. That was why Erwaermen couldn’t tell us apart.

“How were you able to obtain your schtappe?” Erwaermen asked. “Someone who is nearly identical to another in these regards should not have been able to acquire one.”

“Hm? That might be because the Royal Academy’s curricula were changed. I received my schtappe in my first year, before I was granted names by the supreme gods. I must have been sufficiently unique at the time.”

If what Erwaermen had said was true, then I’d only been able to obtain a schtappe because I’d made the journey in my first year. Had we followed the old curricula and waited until after we’d received names from the supreme gods, I might have been mistaken for someone else and refused a schtappe entirely.

Whew, that was close.

“I see. Then you are a child marked by Ewigeliebe.”

“What does that mean...?”

“The answer lies among the knowledge you were granted. Form your Book of Mestionora.”

I couldn’t help but harrumph in response; Erwaermen had just told me to figure it out myself. As it stood, finding anything in particular among that mountain of unorganized information was impossible. I needed something with a search function.

I produced my schtappe, closed my eyes, and envisioned the Book of Mestionora I’d seen in the arms of the library’s statue. The form I desired arose in my mind alongside a magic circle. I already knew which spell to chant; the Zents who’d flooded into my thoughts had shown me.

“Grutrissheit,” I said.

On command, my schtappe turned into the Book of Mestionora. It was much smaller than the divine instrument I’d seen the statue holding—about the size of a standard paperback—and took the shape of an electronic tablet so that I could use its search function.

“That rectangle of mana is rather small,” Erwaermen observed. “Will you be able to read from it?”

“This is the perfect size; anything bigger would feel uncomfortable. I’m looking for the Mark of Ewigeliebe, right?”

I entered the keywords with my fingers. Children with the Mark of Ewigeliebe had mana despite having been born among commoners and came back from the brink of death time and time again, always managing to escape Ewigeliebe’s grasp. They ultimately ended up with the mana clumps of a dead person even though they were alive.

I dissolved those clumps with the jureve, but I guess it’s true.

Those with the Devouring were faintly omni-elemental, with only one element being the slightest bit stronger depending on where they were born. To be more specific, the determining factor was the sigil carved into the nearest country gate. In Ehrenfest, that was Wind; in Klassenberg, it was Earth; in Dunkelfelger, it was Fire; in Ahrensbach, it was Darkness; in Hauchletzte, it was Water; and in Gilessenmeyer, it was Light. Those born in the Sovereignty were more likely to have Life as their strongest element.

Incidentally, according to the Book of Mestionora, the sigil of the God of Life was located at the very center of Yurgenschmidt. The country was circular because it was in reality a massive magic circle that acted as a seal to contain his power.

Just how much does Erwaermen resent Ewigeliebe...?

Putting those thoughts aside, I returned to the matter at hand. Children with the Devouring weren’t influenced by their parents’ mana, which explained why they were born omni-elemental. They needed to make their own color by praying to the gods and obtaining divine protections; if they didn’t and married without any affinities, they would instead be influenced by the mana of their partner. Rather than being a mutual exchange, it would end up a one-sided sweep—but even then, their mana wouldn’t be completely dyed. Over time, the external mana’s influence would fade.

Unless one had the mana clumps of the deceased within them, as was true for those with the Mark of Ewigeliebe. Said clumps were akin to having feystones within one’s body—and if someone managed to completely dye them, their influence would not fade much at all. The person who was dyed would end up with mana identical to that of the person who had dyed them, albeit not quite as strong.

So the difference between Dirk and me was that he was a normal Devouring child, whereas I had the Mark of Ewigeliebe.

Dirk’s medal was only barely colored, whereas mine was firmly omni-elemental. That made sense, but...

Doesn’t that mean my mana really has been dyed?!

It was clear to me now—Ferdinand had dyed my mana when searching through my memories back in my blue shrine maiden days. He had used the synchronization potion, which would normally have put us in the same position as Wilfried and Sylvester, or Matthias’s group and the knights in charge of viewing their memories. But because I had the Mark of Ewigeliebe, the influence on my mana had remained. So much for everyone telling me it would only last a month...

Ferdinand completely dyed my mana! Wait, does that mean he was the rude fool Erwaermen has been telling me about?! What on earth was he doing?!

These revelations were coming so suddenly that I was struggling to comprehend them. My head was actually starting to spin.

“Does that description seem familiar?” Erwaermen asked.

“Indeed,” I replied with a nod. “It would seem that I am marked by Ewigeliebe. My mana was once dyed, but I am not the person who dyed me. We aren’t even the same gender. Shouldn’t that be obvious at a glance?”

“Mana has no gender.”

What?!

“B-But our voices... and our speech patterns...”

“Could you tell the gender of a beast from its barking? Our communication is possible only because I can read your intentions through the sounds you make.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but he’d made a good point—I wouldn’t be able to distinguish a cat by its mewling.

“The language I speak is not the same as yours,” Erwaermen continued. “Were I not using this method to communicate with you, how would we pass on our knowledge or express our wills? You, too, are merely having intent projected upon the sounds I make.”

In essence, it was like everything we were saying was being machine translated for each other. Subtle details like feminine or masculine speech were impossible to notice, and any similarities between how Erwaermen and Ferdinand spoke were mere projections based on the comparisons I’d drawn between their expressions.

“Um, Erwaermen... Is there anything an Ewigeliebe-marked child who was dyed before coming of age should know or be careful about?” I asked, not wanting to experience yet another disaster because of my circumstances.

“I can say nothing for certain about such a rare experience, but I would expect their situation to be the same as that of a child dyed by its parents.”

Not a very reliable answer...

He continued, “The mana of the person who dyed you has become the basis of your own. This will change naturally when you marry and another person starts to influence you. You were dyed by Quinta, I assume?”

I shook my head, having never even heard that name before. “Ferdinand was the one who dyed me.”

“That does not make any sense. Come here and touch my form. I will observe your memories.”

I obediently stood up and went over to Erwaermen—or at least I tried to. I tripped over my own feet before I could get very far at all. My body didn’t feel right anymore. I would need to practice before going home, or else I would make a fool of myself.

“What are you doing?” Erwaermen asked.

“I grew so much so suddenly that I’m not used to my new body.”

“I see. Hurry up.”

Come on! You’re the one who did this to me—without even consulting me, might I add. The least you can do is acknowledge my complaints!

My legs wavered, but I eventually managed to reach Erwaermen. My eye level was much higher than when I’d first arrived. I was unsure where to touch him, so I opted just to press my hand against his.

“Indeed, it was Quinta who dyed you,” Erwaermen said.

“Do you mean Ferdinand...?”

“In the same way that your true name is Myne,” he dryly replied. That was evidence enough that he really could read my memories.

Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less from a former god.

As that thought ran through my mind, Erwaermen continued in a murmur: “This is a convenient opportunity...”

“In what way?”

“The Book of Mestionora is split between you and that fool who intruded on this place with no appreciation for wisdom and resisted the flow of knowledge. You may have the same mana as he, but you came here by the proper means, which makes you better suited to serve as its holder. Seek the lost portion of the Book.”

Erwaermen then began morphing back into an ivory tree. At the same time, the way out of the Garden of Beginnings reappeared, as if urging me to leave through it.

“I don’t know what you mean...” I said.

“Thou who seekest all wisdom—kill the fool and obtain thy missing knowledge from his feystone. Thou shalt become a Zent in the truest sense.”

“Wait! I don’t want to do that!” I shouted, but my words fell on deaf ears; Erwaermen finished transforming and said nothing else.

I now stood alone in the Garden of Beginnings, staring up at the ivory tree. Light streamed through its many branches.

“No,” I said firmly. I didn’t care whether Erwaermen was listening. “I want knowledge to save Ferdinand, so why would I even think about killing him? From the bottom of my heart, I want to read all the books in this world, but that isn’t a price I’m willing to pay.”

If all I need is a completed Grutrissheit, there are other ways to get one.

I practiced walking for a bit, looked around to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, and then put the Garden of Beginnings behind me.