After the little experint, Dax retreated to his isolation chamber and settled at his desk. He unloaded the stack of books he'd got from Micah, then tore through them like a man possessed—flipping pages with frantic speed, dropping each volu aside the mont it was done. He barely lingered a full second on any single book.
All of it made possible by Ineros.
With ruthless precision and impossible velocity, he scanned the text, breaking it into perfect segnts that slotted neatly into his mind. Dax's eyes had beco little more than monitors, tracking lines at a pace no human retina could match.
Wonderful, he thought. This world is so much vaster than I ever imagined. So much history.
He had reached the section on the world's ancient past. The pages spoke of 5 gods belonging to what the texts called the Good faction. 4 governed the primal elents: the God of Fire, the God of Wind, the God of Water, the God of Earth.
The God of Light, Sterion, who proclaid himself the supre embodint of good. In the present age, he was the patron deity of the Church of Light.
The remaining gods oversaw causality itself: fate, ti, space and more this the neutral faction.
Opposing them stood a rival faction—the evil gods. 6 in number, though two had perished.
The revelation struck Dax like a thunderbolt, yet he absorbed it without faltering.
The deaths of those two gods had co during the War of Fifteen Thousand Races, a cataclysm that pitted humanity against demons, devils, beasts, and beastn in a slaughter without end.
The book painted the aftermath in stark, rciless detail: corpses carpeting every corner of the world, so thick that no traveler could walk fifty paces without passing dozens of rotting bodies.
"A sight of unimaginable bloodshed."
Then ca the Great Reset.
Mana, once abundant and wild, was stripped down to faint wisps—barely enough for the simplest schoolroom spells. Ancient beasts fell into endless slumber. Titanic creatures entered hibernation from which they might never wake.
The world itself changed, irrevocably.
Gods were not ant to die. They were not ant to orchestrate such annihilation.
So the world punished them all.
Since you cannot live in peace, the planet seed to declare, I will withdraw my energy.
Dax paused, marveling at the implications. The planet… conscious? Sentient enough to judge and act?
He smiled, a slow, intrigued curve of the lips.
"How fascinating."
Dax opened another book, its pages marked with strange, glowing inscriptions that pulsed faintly under his gaze.
Interesting, he thought. These inscriptions… they remind of the teleportation spell Grandfather used. But this feels different.
Even so, he scrolled past it at blinding speed.
"I see a spell book…" he murmured, then paused. Despite the velocity of his reading, he forced himself to slow just enough to study the patterns carefully.
The symbols eluded full comprehension, yet sothing about their curves and angles lodged stubbornly in his mind.
Hours later, the heap of finished books towered beside him. Dax leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"The more I learn about this world, the hungrier I beco. Resources, herbs, forgotten compounds—new creations, new tests. So many possibilities."
One detail refused to fade: the book had ntioned six divine weapons that fell to the human realm long ago. Each possessed its own personality. Each could take physical form.
That single fact circled his thoughts like a predator.
"I understand why he called Cil A divine weapon…"
He let the absorbed knowledge wash over him—hidden realms, dungeons, lost civilizations—all of it etched permanently into his mind.
—-
Master, Ineros called softly inside him.
Dax stirred. "Yes?"
There is a story I just encountered in the stream of knowledge. It reminds of a confusing event from before.
"Go on," Dax urged, curiosity sharpening his voice.
"It begins like this," Ineros said, her tone shifting—clearer now, richer, like the voice of a beautiful woman.
"Life was once a blessing for all. The clouds hung low enough to touch, and nothing alive ever knew hunger. When hunger ca, they needed only reach up and slice a piece of cloud to eat."
Humanity! She laughed, the sound bright and lodic. Hahah!
Dax smiled. She had refined her voice again.
She continued. "Humanity began to hoard the clouds—greedily, obsessively. Yet it hard no other creature; the clouds were limitless."
"Then rumors spread that heaven lay above the clouds. The sa greedy humans built towers, devised spells, found ways to ascend."
"To their rage and disappointnt, they found only vast emptiness—boundless sky and nothing more. They felt cheated. Just as they turned to leave, the clouds parted."
"A little boy descended, carrying a cup. Unaware of the humans watching, he tipped the cup and poured a shimring liquid into the air."
"The scent hit them. Greed surged, monstrous and uncontrollable."
"One by one, they seized the child, prying at the cup. He tried to scream, but no sound ca—only the clouds rumbled in warning. The humans ignored it. They pulled harder. When the cup would not release, they decided to take the boy himself."
"His face twisted in horror as they dragged him down."
"Unknown to them, the child died the instant he was torn from the sky."
"Realization struck too late. Panicked, they disposed of his body in the sea."
"They had killed sothing sacred—sothing they could never comprehend."
"When the World discovered the murder of her child, she punished every living thing. First, she raised the sky beyond reach of any creature, living or dead."
"Weaker beasts perished. Plants withered. Hunger spread across the land."
"Amid the chaos, the races remained ignorant until the World Tree revealed the truth to the Elf Queen."
"War erupted instantly—humanity against every other form of life. Powerful creatures and monsters turned on cities, devouring whatever they could and the fate for lesser beings was to beca prey."
Ineros fell silent.
Dax exhaled slowly. "That explains why the sky grew higher when we chased Solos."
"Our greed is unique," he said, voice low. "But it makes sense now."
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