Chapter 15: The Old Bookshop
Elliott's destination lay at the far edge of the commercial district, where its splendor faded into the neglected outskirts.
The secluded alley probably saw more sewer rats than passing customers.
'No merchant in his right mind would pay much for a location like this.'
It was that kind of place.
An old wooden building stood between the crumbling walls. A faded sign hung crookedly above the entrance, its ink almost completely worn away.
[Old Bookshop]
At least the name was honest.
Despite its remote location and an exterior that looked ready to collapse, the area around the shop was unexpectedly crowded.
Shabbily dressed Mercenaries and filthy residents of the slums gathered outside. Like Elliott, none of them could even dream of purchasing the expensive verified editions sold at the Hall of Arcane Arts. They had come here hoping to find anything that might offer them a chance.
Elliott passed through the open entrance, which did not even have a proper door.
"Interesting."
The sight inside was unexpected.
Instead of the pit of dust he had imagined, the interior had been arranged with almost unnatural care.
The musty smell of mold was absent. Only the faint scent of old paper and ink lingered in the air. The shelves stood in orderly rows, each assigned to a clearly marked category.
[Offensive]
[Defensive]
[Support]
[Movement]
The classification was simple and clear.
Elliott was silently admiring the organization when a tired voice came from behind him.
"Are you here to sell books?"
He turned.
A woman wearing an old apron stained with the smell of ink was staring up at him.
Elliott shook his head.
"No. I came to look."
The woman gestured toward a small basket on the counter.
"Then pay ten mana stones."
Elliott stared at her.
"For what?"
"The entrance fee. Ten mana stones for one day."
His brow tightened slightly.
Charging money merely to enter a shop and examine its goods was something even the Hall of Arcane Arts did not do.
"You demand payment before I have purchased anything? That seems rather harsh."
"Unlike the books sold elsewhere, these do not have Restriction Seals. Without an entrance fee, penniless people would sit here all day, read everything they could, and leave without paying."
The woman answered without interest.
'They are not sealed?'
The verified editions at the Hall of Arcane Arts were protected to prevent their contents from being stolen. A customer could inspect little more than the introduction or table of contents.
The books here could apparently be read from beginning to end.
"If I pay, I may read as much as I wish?"
"Yes. From now until sunrise tomorrow. Read whatever you like."
"And taking a book with me?"
"That is separate. If you find something you want to keep, you must pay its price."
The woman glanced toward several Mercenaries crouched beside the shelves, hurriedly moving their quills across sheets of paper.
"Otherwise, copy the contents like them, or memorize the entire book. How you manage it is your own problem."
Elliott nodded, took out ten mana stones, and tossed them into the basket.
"There."
"I saw."
The woman collected the stones and disappeared behind the counter without another word.
With no one left to bother him, Elliott began searching in earnest.
He headed toward the deepest part of the shop, where the largest crowd had gathered around the shelves marked [Offensive].
Dozens of people stood there with their faces buried in manuals.
This was the greatest difference between the Old Bookshop and the Hall of Arcane Arts.
None of the books were sealed.
Elliott picked up a random manual and flipped through its pages.
[Flame Hand, Incomplete Edition]
[Description: Gathers fire-attributed Mana in the palm before striking the target. Thirty percent of the circulation method has been lost, creating a risk that the flames may burn the caster's arm.]
As expected, every product here had a defect.
Even after reading the contents, the missing sections and dangerous flaws made the technique difficult to trust.
Elliott began establishing his own criteria.
First, it could not require an excessive amount of Mana.
Second, failure could not cause serious physical injury, as it might with Flame Hand.
The system might reward failure with proficiency, but Elliott had no desire to lose an arm or shatter his Mana Core in the process.
A single failure that ended his entire life would make the reward meaningless.
'Anything carrying a serious risk of Arcane Deviation is immediately rejected.'
Elliott returned a manual titled Ruinous Body Art to the shelf. The name alone was enough to make him suspicious.
That left only two kinds of techniques.
Those so difficult that no one bothered learning them, and those abandoned because their power was too poor.
Their weaknesses had to make them unpopular, but not dangerous.
Elliott picked up an old manual titled Stone Skin.
After looking through it, he found that it was a defensive Arcane Spell that hardened the skin like stone.
The method used to circulate Mana and blood throughout the body was so complex and difficult that the notes claimed an ordinary person would need at least ten years to learn it.
'This is exactly what I need.'
It was rubbish to everyone else, but treasure to him.
Difficult?
Complicated?
That only meant the chance of failure would approach one hundred percent with every attempt.
'Fail safely and gain proficiency without risk.'
Even if the spell failed, the worst result would be that his skin remained unchanged.
The risk was almost nonexistent.
Elliott then frowned.
'Why is a defensive manual sitting among the offensive spells?'
The organization was not as perfect as it had first appeared.
There were thousands of books in sight, and that was only within the offensive section.
Properly examining and sorting every one of them would be a difficult task.
"How long would it take to search all of this?"
Finding an offensive Arcane Spell with no deadly side effects and an absurdly high learning difficulty might require several days and nights.
Elliott was struggling with the shelves when a voice sounded behind him.
"Wait..."
At first, he assumed it was merely someone muttering in surprise and ignored it.
However, the gaze fixed on his back remained persistent.
Elliott closed the book in his hands and slowly turned around.
A familiar face stood behind him.