I headed straight for the library the moment I entered the Mage's Guild.
"No hesitation at all," Travy said in his usual calm, mechanical voice.
"Of course not," I replied without slowing down. "I came here for magic."
The hallway leading deeper into the guild was quieter than the lobby, with polished stone floors and sturdy wooden doors lining both sides. Each door had a small metal plate engraved with a rank—G-rank, F-rank, E-rank, and higher.
Just looking at them made me feel a little excited.
It was like walking through a place where knowledge itself had levels.
I stopped in front of the F-rank section and took out my newly upgraded license.
There was a small magic tool attached near the handle, shaped like a flat silver plate with a glowing crystal in the center. I pressed my license against it.
A soft click echoed through the hallway.
The door unlocked.
"Convenient," I murmured.
"It appears the guild values controlled access," Travy said.
"Or they just don't want random people stealing books."
"That is also likely."
I smirked and pushed the door open.
The moment I stepped inside, I could tell the difference between this place and the public library.
The F-rank library wasn't huge, but it felt more focused. The room was quiet and neatly arranged, with rows of dark wooden shelves reaching almost to the ceiling. Small glowing crystals hung in wall lamps, casting a warm golden light across the room. There were reading tables placed between the shelves, each one polished clean and paired with sturdy chairs.
The air smelled like old paper, ink, leather, and dust.
A real library smell.
Not the public kind where everything was broad and beginner-friendly.
This place felt specialized.
Like every book here existed for a reason.
I slowly walked between the shelves, letting my eyes scan the titles.
"The Roste Library teaches magic to beginners," I whispered. "But this place…"
"…is meant for mages who already know the basics," Travy finished.
"Exactly."
There were books on elemental affinities, mana flow, casting posture, magical breathing, spell formation errors, beginner monster anatomy, basic alchemy safety, and even field survival notes for magic users.
The more I looked, the more I wanted to read everything.
"You are visibly excited," Travy said.
"Can you blame me?"
"No. Your pulse has slightly increased."
I stopped for a second.
"…You can tell that?"
"Yes."
"That's mildly terrifying."
"I am being helpful."
"Sure you are."
I ended up picking out four books.
The first was How to Increase Mana Sensitivity.
The second was Proper Application of Basic-Grade Magic.
The third was Introduction to Water Magic.
And then…
Tucked a little deeper into one of the shelves, partially hidden behind a more popular-looking book, I found one that was noticeably dusty.
I pulled it out and brushed the cover with my hand.
Introduction to Mana Absorption
I stared at the title for a moment.
"…Now this looks interesting."
"You are intrigued," Travy said.
"I'm very intrigued."
Even the title alone made my brain light up.
Mana absorption?
As in… taking mana directly from the environment?
If that worked the way I thought it did, then this might be way more valuable than it looked.
"I'll save this one for last," I said, tucking it under my arm.
"A suspiciously strategic decision."
"That's because I can already tell this one might be dangerous to my free time."
I carried the books to one of the reading tables and sat down.
The table was smooth and cool under my hands, and the chair was surprisingly comfortable. It felt like the guild expected people to spend long hours here.
Honestly?
That was a good design choice.
I opened the first book.
To my surprise, the books weren't very thick. Most of them looked like they were only around thirty to fifty pages.
But after the first few pages, I immediately understood why.
They were dense.
Focused.
No wasted space.
Each one explained a very specific topic with practical use in mind.
"Now this," I murmured as I turned a page, "is my kind of book."
"You prefer efficiency."
"I prefer not reading two hundred pages just to find one useful paragraph."
"That is a fair preference."
I smiled and kept reading.
The first book, How to Increase Mana Sensitivity, was more useful than I expected.
It explained that mana wasn't just something you stored inside your body.
It was everywhere.
In the air.
In the ground.
In living things.
Even in the empty spaces between objects.
Most beginner mages could use mana because they had enough internal reserves and knew how to cast basic spells, but they couldn't truly sense mana well.
That was a huge weakness.
The book described mana sensitivity as the ability to notice, distinguish, and interpret mana around you.
Not just feel that mana existed—
but recognize its texture, movement, density, and source.
"That's… surprisingly advanced for an F-rank book," I whispered.
"Perhaps because it is foundational," Travy replied. "Many skills improve if the user can perceive mana more accurately."
"That makes sense."
The book gave simple exercises.
Close your eyes.
Slow your breathing.
Feel your own mana first.
Then try to notice the mana beyond your body.
Not with sight.
Not with touch.
With awareness.
It sounded vague at first, but once I started following the instructions, something slowly clicked.
I closed my eyes and rested my hands on the table.
First, I focused inward.
I could feel my own mana more clearly now than before—a steady, warm presence moving through me like a second circulation.
Then, little by little…
I noticed something outside of myself.
Tiny traces.
Faint and soft.
Like drifting particles I couldn't see, but somehow understood were there.
The air in the room didn't feel empty anymore.
It felt… alive.
When I opened my eyes, I let out a quiet breath.
"So this is mana sensitivity…"
"It appears your perception has improved," Travy said.
"Yeah." I looked around the room, almost as if I could feel the invisible currents around the shelves and lamps. "And if I get used to this…"
I paused.
"I might be able to judge how dangerous something is before I fight it."
"A very useful survival application."
I nodded.
"If I can sense dense mana from a monster, or weird mana from a trap, that could save my life."
"Correct. Sensitivity is not only for casting. It is also for awareness."
That alone made the book worth reading.
And honestly, I liked the idea a lot.
It reminded me of a stat-based RPG mechanic, except real.
Useful.
Trainable.
And probably something most people underestimated because it didn't look flashy.
The second book, Proper Application of Basic-Grade Magic, was less about raw power and more about structure.
That made it weirdly satisfying to read.
It explained that beginner mages often failed not because they lacked mana, but because they were inefficient.
They pushed too much mana into weak spells.
They rushed spell construction.
They made unstable shapes.
They ignored the natural behavior of their chosen element.
"Basically," I muttered, "people are brute-forcing magic instead of understanding it."
"That is a common error," Travy said.
"Honestly, that sounds exactly like beginners in any skill."
The book broke magic down into steps.
Intent.
Mana gathering.
Shape formation.
Elemental conversion.
Release.
Each stage affected the final result.
If your mana gathering was uneven, the spell became unstable.
If your shape was sloppy, the output became weaker.
If your conversion was rushed, the element could misfire or waste energy.
"That's almost like engineering," I said.
"In some ways, yes," Travy replied. "Magic is supernatural, but it still follows structure and internal logic."
I leaned back slightly and smiled.
"That's exactly why I like it."
The more I learned, the more magic stopped feeling like fantasy and started feeling like a system I could understand.
And systems could be improved.
Optimized.
Mastered.
The third book, Introduction to Water Magic, connected perfectly with that.
Unlike fire, which emphasized force and burst output, water magic relied more on flow, precision, pressure, shape retention, and control.
That immediately caught my attention.
The book described beginner mistakes like making water too loose, losing edge integrity during compression, or wasting mana by over-stabilizing the spell longer than necessary.
I blinked as I read one section twice.
"Wait… that's basically fluid control."
"That is an accurate simplification."
"If I understand flow, pressure, and containment better, my Water Slash should improve."
"That is highly probable."
The more I read, the more my thoughts started connecting to things I already knew from Trest.
Water pressure.
Movement.
Resistance.
Volume control.
Even simple scientific ideas from my old world suddenly felt valuable here.
I wasn't some genius scientist.
But compared to people in this world?
Even basic modern education might be a huge advantage.
"That's honestly kind of unfair," I murmured.
"You have access to cross-world knowledge."
"Yeah… and I'm definitely going to use it."
Finally, I picked up the last book.
Introduction to Mana Absorption.
The moment I started reading, I could tell this one was different.
The writing was denser.
The explanations were harder to follow.
The concepts were more abstract and more demanding.
Even the examples were less polished, as if the author expected the reader to fill in the gaps themselves.
"This one feels rough," I muttered.
"It may be a less popular or less refined subject," Travy said.
"Or just too hard for most people."
"That is also possible."
I kept reading.
And the deeper I went, the more interested I became.
The book explained that mana existed in the environment at all times.
Not just in the air, but in all living things and in the spaces between them.
Normally, a mage recovered mana through natural internal regeneration.
Slow.
Steady.
Limited.
But in theory, a trained mage could learn to draw mana directly from the environment and guide it into the body.
Not forcefully.
Not greedily.
Carefully.
The book described the process in stages.
First, perceive environmental mana.
Second, create awareness of your body as a network of pathways, not just a container.
Third, guide mana through the skin, breath, and circulation without causing turbulence or rejection.
Fourth, stabilize it before merging it with your internal mana flow.
I stopped reading for a moment.
"…This is insane."
"It is advanced for your current level," Travy said.
"No, I mean… this is amazing."
I turned the page faster.
The author also explained why most people failed.
They lacked precision.
They lacked patience.
And more importantly—
they lacked a detailed understanding of the body.
That made my eyes sharpen.
"Ah…"
There it was.
That was the reason this book had probably been ignored.
But for me?
This was exactly where I had an advantage.
I might not be a doctor, but I came from a modern world.
I knew basic biology.
Basic anatomy.
How breathing affected the body.
How circulation worked.
How systems connected.
Compared to the average person in this world, that alone was huge.
"No wonder this book was dusty," I said quietly.
"You believe few people can use it effectively."
"I think most people can understand the idea…" I tapped the page lightly. "But not the process."
"That would lower practical success rates."
"Exactly."
I ended up spending nearly an hour and a half on that one book alone.
By the time I finished, I slowly closed the cover and stared at it.
"This really was a hidden gem."
"I expected you would say that."
I smiled.
"Of course you did."
Then I set the book down, closed my eyes, and rested my hands on the table.
"Let's test it."
"You intend to attempt absorption immediately."
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yes."
I opened one eye.
"…You know, you're getting better at sounding like a person."
"I am adapting to your communication style."
"That's both impressive and a little scary."
I focused again.
Thanks to the earlier training from the mana sensitivity book, I could now feel the mana around me more clearly.
Small.
Gentle.
Everywhere.
This time, instead of only sensing it, I imagined my body as a living network.
Skin.
Breath.
Blood flow.
Mana pathways.
Not forcing anything.
Not dragging it in.
Just allowing.
Slowly.
Naturally.
A few minutes passed in silence.
Then—
I felt it.
A faint coolness, like tiny threads of energy brushing against my skin and slipping inward.
Not enough to be dramatic.
But enough to be real.
I opened my eyes.
"…It works."
"What have you observed?" Travy asked.
I organized my thoughts.
"First, I can feel the mana in the air slowly entering my body."
"Second, it stacks with my normal mana regeneration."
"Third, if I can keep this up consistently, I'll recover mana much more efficiently during long fights or long missions."
I paused.
Then I frowned slightly.
"The downside is mental strain."
"A reasonable conclusion."
"Yeah." I rubbed my forehead lightly. "It's not physically painful, but it takes focus. A lot of focus."
"Maintaining that state for extended periods may cause mental fatigue."
"That makes sense."
I exhaled slowly.
"Still… this is huge."
I looked at my hand.
"Mana sensitivity. Better spell structure. Better water control. And now mana absorption…"
My chest felt a little lighter just saying it out loud.
"I'm definitely getting stronger."
"You are progressing at a remarkable pace," Travy said.
His voice was still flat.
Still robotic.
Still completely lacking in emotion.
And yet…
By now, I could recognize something in it anyway.
Consistency.
Steadiness.
The kind of presence that never left.
I smiled faintly.
"Honestly, I'm glad you're here."
There was a brief pause.
Then Travy replied,
"I am… pleased to be useful."
I blinked.
Then I laughed under my breath.
"That was the closest thing to affection I've ever heard from you."
"I do not understand your interpretation."
"Sure you don't."
By the time I left the library, night had already fallen.
The guild clock near the hall showed it was around seven in the evening.
When I stepped outside, I immediately stopped.
Roste looked completely different at night.
During the day, the town felt lively and practical.
At night…
It felt almost magical.
Warm light spilled out from shop windows and food stalls, painting the streets in gold and amber. Magic-powered street lamps stood along the roads, each one topped with a softly glowing crystal that lit the town without being too harsh. The stone paths reflected the light just enough to make everything shimmer faintly.
"This place looks beautiful at night," I said quietly.
"The visual ambiance is notably different from daytime," Travy said.
I sighed.
"You really know how to ruin a poetic moment."
"I was being accurate."
I laughed and started walking.
The streets were still active, just in a calmer way.
There were still people shopping, chatting, and eating.
Adventurers passed by in groups, some looking exhausted, others laughing loudly after what was probably a successful day. Merchants called out from their stalls, selling ingredients, monster materials, tools, charms, cheap accessories, and travel goods.
The smell of grilled meat drifted through the air, mixed with spices, broth, baked bread, and something sweet I couldn't identify.
Honestly?
I loved it.
Roste didn't feel like a giant fantasy capital.
It felt smaller than that.
Cozy.
Busy.
A town that had enough people to stay alive at night, but not so many that it became overwhelming.
It felt like a place you could slowly get attached to.
Then a particular smell caught my attention.
I turned my head and spotted a skewer stall.
The meat was sizzling over an open flame, and the scent alone made my stomach react immediately.
"Well," I muttered, "there goes my self-control."
"That appears to be food-related."
"Thank you, Travy. Brilliant observation."
I walked over to the stall.
"Excuse me," I said to the vendor. "What kind of skewer is this?"
The vendor smiled.
"Pork and mushroom skewers, sir. Five bronze coins each."
I looked at the skewers again.
They smelled way too good to ignore.
"I'll take three."
I paid fifteen bronze coins and received them fresh off the grill.
The heat from the skewers warmed my fingers as I walked through the market and took my first bite.
My eyes widened.
"Wow…"
The pork was slightly gamey, but much less than I expected. It was juicy and tender, with a savory glaze that clung to the meat just enough to make every bite richer. The fat had rendered beautifully over the flame, and the mushrooms added a deep earthy taste that balanced everything out.
"That appears to be a satisfactory purchase," Travy said.
"That is the understatement of the century."
Before I knew it, I had already finished all three.
I stared at the empty sticks in my hand.
"…Still hungry."
"That is expected after your activities today."
"Yeah. Library grinding apparently burns calories."
"That is not the term I would use."
"It is now."
After a little more walking, I found another stall.
This one had a large pot simmering over a controlled magical flame, with thick stew bubbling inside. Beside it was a grain that looked incredibly similar to rice.
That instantly caught my attention.
I stepped closer.
"Excuse me, how much for this meal?"
The owner, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, looked up at me.
"Twenty-five bronze coins, young man. Reiz is included."
So that was what they called rice here.
"I'll have one, please."
I paid and took the meal to a small wooden table in front of the stall.
The bowl was warm in my hands, and the smell rising from it was rich and hearty.
The first bite made me relax immediately.
The meat was so tender it almost melted in my mouth. It tasted close to beef, or at least the nearest fantasy-world version of it. The broth was deep and savory, clearly simmered long enough to draw every bit of flavor out of the ingredients. The reiz was slightly rougher than the rice from my home world, but it soaked up the broth well and balanced the stronger taste of the stew.
"It's not exactly home," I said quietly between bites, "but this is really good."
"Food often improves emotional stability," Travy said.
I gave him a flat look.
"In your own way, you're saying comfort food matters."
"That interpretation is acceptable."
I smiled and kept eating.
By the time I finished, I leaned back in my chair and let out a long, satisfied breath.
"Phew… I'm stuffed."
My body felt pleasantly heavy now.
Tired, but in a good way.
The kind of tired that came after a productive day.
I looked up at the night sky above Roste.
The stars were visible between rooftops, and the glow of the street lamps made the town below feel warm and alive.
"I should rest early," I said.
"You plan to return to your home world tomorrow."
"Yeah."
I stood up slowly and took one last look around the night market.
Today had been good.
A new guild.
A new library.
New knowledge.
And a new path forward.
For a moment, I just let myself enjoy that feeling.
No danger.
No fighting.
No pressure.
Just the simple satisfaction of learning, eating good food, and walking through a town that was slowly starting to feel familiar.
With that calm thought in mind, I returned to the inn and ended the day.