Ch.5 Magic Encyclopedia II

“Aaachoooo!” A sharp sneeze, the sound cut through the creaks of the wooden cart.

The source was a man in full silver plate armour. Shoulders broad and muscular, frame sculpted like the demands of war. A deep scar on his forehead, coupled with his short black hair.

He sat amid a heap of peculiar green plants. Stalks tangled around him, flowers-tinged purple blooming amidst the mass. Pods, fat with growth, peeked through the dense foliage. Each jolt of the cart along the uneven dirt path sent the bundles shifting slightly.

At the reins sat an old man. His triangular hat was tilted just enough to shield his face from the glaring sun. His garments, plain and well-worn, spoke of simple life. Yet his posture was that of authority, relaxed but governing.

Every so often, he would glance back at his passenger with a grin.

A chuckle, dry as the dust beneath the cart’s wheels.

“Ahaa, you sneezed,” the old man remarked in a teasing voice. “That means someone’s thinking about you.”

The armoured man did not immediately respond. His eyes, sharp as a falcon’s, shifted towards the horizon. A moment of silence passed. Then, in a deep and steady voice, he replied, “do you think so?”

Yet even as he said this, he thought, I wonder if it’s my brother. It’s been a month since I last spoke with him...

The voice of his inner monologue was familiar. It was Avin.

Beneath the illusionary guise of a mercenary named Markus lay Croxeus Ezthen, or rather, Avin Levi.

I took up this escort job to learn more about this place, he mused, fingers absently brushing the copper badge hanging from his necklace.

I could have used my flight magic to survey this place from above…. but that would’ve only scratched the surface. But by spending some time among the people like this, I can establish a real presence and probably blend in here.

Besides... this adventurer thing is pretty exciting on its own. Copper rank, huh? Looks like I’ve got a long way to go...

The Adventurers’ Guild was one of the things that surprised Croxeus a lot.

In the city of Jul, he had registered under his assumed identity, using illusion magic to alter his appearance. What he had anticipated to be a simple mercenary network turned out to be a complex institution.

A hierarchy, spanning from copper to the adamantium rank. Adventurers were not mere sell swords. They were an institution, performing tasks ranging from monster slaying to menial labour, from escort missions to political assignments.

The guild itself, while not universally dominant, operated in several territories under different regulations.

This framework, however, was not without political origins. The Adventurers’ Guild had first risen to prominence in the Kingdom of Hami. A nation where neither the military nor the nobility held supreme authority. A decentralized system had naturally paved the way for mercenaries to fill the void, leading to the advent of this structured organization.

Meanwhile, the Maya Kingdom had tolerated the guild’s presence as a diplomatic tool. An olive branch extended to the influential factions of Hami, ensuring economic and military cooperation between different factions.

It was in Jul that Croxeus had encountered the old farmer, a man in need of an escort to the capital city of Dum. A minor request, one that did little for guild rankings. Prestige was earned through combat, through bloodshed. Escort missions, simple labour, even lucrative private contracts, none carried the weight of a slain monster’s carcass dragged back to the guild hall.

The guild’s ranking system had been deliberately designed such way. The kingdom of Hami bled under the claws of monsters regularly. To stem the tide, the guild made rank the true currency of power.

Private jobs paid in gold, but rank was earned only through monster hunt. Rank was everything. The higher one climbed, the better contracts.

Balance. Manipulation. Control.

This balance between monetary gain and reputation ensured a steady supply of warriors willing to risk their lives against beasts.

But the farmer was a peculiar one. When seeking an escort, he chose Markus without hesitation. He claimed to have an eye for warriors and trusting his instincts he placed his fate on him.

The cart jolted over another rut, snapping Croxeus from his thoughts. His gauntleted hand gripped the edge, steadying himself against the movement.

It was an unfamiliar sensation.

Crude, slow, unrefined.

Efficiency was the god of modern civilization. Convenience, automation, all served to erase the sensation of effort.

But was that truly progress? A man who travelled instantly learned nothing of the journey. Time wasted in experience was time invested in understanding. A world without struggle bred creatures of glass. Fragile, thoughtless, easily shattered.

The instant travel in real world hyperloops and levitating pods. Yet here he was, enduring a two-day journey in a wooden cart. And yet…

He found himself intrigued.

He had always believed that time spent in motion was wasted. But now, he found himself fascinated.

The rhythmic creak of the wheels. The scent of dust and earth, the distant chirping of unseen creatures, it was all so... alive.

A gust of wind stirred the plants, leaves rustling in a sound almost like laughter.

The road stretched onward, weaving through the vast landscape of rolling fields and distant forests. Every mile carried with it new observations, new knowledge.

Croxeus leaned slightly, peering at the group of children waving excitedly by the roadside. Their small hands flailed. Their faces beamed with unfiltered joy.

Stolen novel; please report.

Are they waving at the cart? Or at me? What’s so exciting about a horse-drawn cart? Surely, they’ve seen hundreds…

But the children’s joy was infectious, it made Croxeus smile faintly.

People here are so happy to see one another… Back home, it wasn’t like this. Even with all our time-saving technology, everyone seemed so busy… so isolated. No one had the time to even look at one another, let alone smile so freely.

The pursuit of progress had birthed convenience. But it killed the connection. A world that eliminated effort had also eliminated meaning.

Humans had conquered distance, abolished hunger, furnished needs, desires, yet in doing so, they had severed the primal bonds that held them together.

The more advanced a society became, the less its people needed one another. Need was the root of all relationships. Without it, people drifted into quiet solitude.

His thoughts wandered back to the previous night. The old farmer and he had found shelter in a modest farmhouse. Strangers, yet the owners had shared their food, offered them warmth, asked for nothing in return.

They had so little… yet they shared everything. We were taught that pre-technological societies were defined by suffering—war, famine, slavery. And yet…

Those who had everything were often the most miserable. The abundance of options bred dissatisfaction.

He glanced at the children again. Maybe the truth was never as black-and-white as we believed.

Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a golden hue upon the road. The warmth of it settled on his face, unhurried, unrelenting. Croxeus shut his eyes momentarily, absorbing the sensation.

The way the clouds drift lazily in the sky… The way the light rushes through the trees… Even the creak of this cart, it’s soothing. The warmth of the sun… the brightness of the sky… I never appreciated these things before.

His quiet introspection was interrupted by the old farmer’s voice.

“I know I never asked this,” the man said, turning back with his ever-present smile, “but are you by chance from the kingdom of Hami?”

Croxeus hesitated. “Ye—Yeah, you’re right, old man. I’m from Hami.”

“As expected,” the farmer chuckled knowingly. “Folks from Hami are always strong, like you. Adventuring suits them well. But I have to admit, I’m surprised to see someone as capable as you at copper rank.”

He’s perceptive, Croxeus noted.

“I started adventuring recently,” he replied smoothly. “I lost someone dear and decided to leave my old life behind. A fresh start.”

The old man's face softened. “Ah... I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No worries,” Croxeus said with a faint, practiced smile.

“If you need help settling in, just let me know,” the farmer offered. “I know a fair bit about this kingdom and its ways.”

A door had opened. Croxeus would not waste it.

“That would be most helpful,” he replied, seizing the opportunity. “Tell me more about Maya. I’d like to learn everything I can.”

The old man chuckled. “Well, the Kingdom of Maya isn’t as grand as Hami perhaps, but it has its own charm. It’s a good place for a fresh start, you know. Life’s pretty peaceful here. The land’s fertile, the people are kind, and there’s not much trouble apart from the occasional bandit or monster attack. Makes it a great place for an adventurer like you.”

Peaceful? Croxeus’ mind sharpened. He recalled the guild’s bulletin board, overflowing with job requests.

“Peaceful, huh? Then why does the guild bulletin have more job requests than I’ve ever seen in one place?”

The farmer chuckled again, this time with a knowing edge. “Fair point. Maya might look calm on the surface, but when you dig a little deeper, you’ll find the usual troubles. Bandits get bold on the trade routes. Monsters wander too close to the villages... And, well, there’s always a bit of tension between the nobles.”

His voice lowered. “Not all of them are as concerned with the people’s welfare as they should be.”

Politics. The ever-constant undercurrent of civilization’s rot.

Politics was never about governance. It was about control. To rule was not to serve but to dictate.

Law and morality were just tools, pretexts to justify authority. History had taught a lesson. Those who claimed to act for the people were the ones most eager to bind them.

“That’s... troubling,” he said carefully. “Doesn’t the king do anything about it?”

The farmer tilted his head slightly. “King Yuyutsu, eh? Now, that’s a name that stirs many tongues. They say he has eyes everywhere, spies, informants, shadows in every corner of Maya. Some even say that he can slip into the dens of his enemies unnoticed, changing his form at will.”

He let out a chuckle, one that held no real mirth. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Perhaps the man sitting next to you on a cart is none other than the king himself.”

Croxeus met the farmer’s eyes with an amused glint in his own. “A clever strategy, if true. Fear is a powerful tool. If the people believe their king is always watching, then even in his absence, his presence is felt.”

The farmer gave a small shrug. “Who knows what’s true? People love embellishing tales. But even within every fable, there is a seed of truth. What is undeniable, though, is that he has kept trade routes open, maintained peace with our neighbours. Results speak louder than reputation.”

Croxeus studied the old man’s expression, searching for any hint of deeper sentiment. “You sound as if you approve of him.”

“Approval? No. The king is just a man, like any other. Prone to mistakes.” The farmer leaned back. “Some say he relies too much on his spies, that paranoia grips him tighter than any crown. Others argue he focuses too much on diplomacy while his own land festers. But tell me, Hami boy, what do you think of such a king?”

Caught off guard, Croxeus hesitated for a fraction of a second. “I don’t know yet. I’ve seen too little to judge.”

“A fair answer,” the farmer conceded with a knowing nod. “But mark my words, whether you are a farmer or an adventurer, a king’s choices ripple through every life under his rule. You’ll see it soon enough.”

Was that a warning? Or idle musing? Either way, the words lodged themselves in his mind.

“What about the capital?” he asked, shifting the subject. “Dum, right? Is it as prosperous as they say?”

The old man's face brightened slightly at the mention. “Ah, Dum. A city that never truly sleeps. The heart of Maya’s wealth, pulsing with goods from Ketu and beyond. Merchants peddle wares from all lands—spices, silks, weapons, even strange, enchanted trinkets that no one fully understands. If you seek a fresh start, that’s the place to carve one.”

“I might check it out,” Croxeus said, his voice neutral. “Thanks for the insight, old man.”

The farmer waved a hand dismissively. “Bah, no need for thanks. Just do some good out there, and we’ll call it even.”

Croxeus said nothing, merely watching as the old man busied himself with his cart.

I don’t know what Ard and the others might be doing right now. They’re probably working in that laboratory I gave them. Honestly, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I only have a basic understanding of science. When I learned Ard and Tiya are scientists, I thought it would be better for me to let them take the lead.

The cart jostled as it hit a small bump.

On the outside this place feels just like SUN-SAAR. My magic works the same. Could this be a new simulation? Did they repurpose the old data to create this place?... That would explain how we ended up here.

Should I try to contact them? No… that’s probably a bad idea. If they discover that my consciousness was transferred here intact, I might end up as their next guinea pig…. It’s too risky.

Not that I am dying to go back. There isn’t even anything for me there. Except… His chest tightened. I miss my brother. More than anything. If only there was a way to talk to him… just once.

His eyes softened as he looked around the serene beauty of the countryside. The vibrant colours of the fields, the crisp air and the peaceful hum of life. It was perfect… in its own way.

This world is so good. There’s no pressure, no tasks… no deadlines. I can do whatever I want here. It’s like I’m finally free.

Still… I can’t be too careless. I can’t let myself be discovered. If this truly is a simulation, then I need to lay low. For now, I’ll gather as much information as I can.