Back in his office, Liam stood in silence, eyes fixed on the remaining items on the desk.
The Heartstone fragnt was gone now, planted deep in the Dinsional Space. But his attention wasn’t on that anymore. It was on the second relic—the To of Thoth. The huge, ancient-looking book that rested on the desk.
"System, anything I should know before I touch it? And what’s the difference between this replica and the original?" Liam asked.
[The replica is an exact copy of the original, Host. The only difference is that the replica does not carry the soul and divine imprint of the original owner.]
"aning?"
[aning, Host, that the replica belongs to you.]
"Perfect," Liam smiled in satisfaction to himself.
He had more questions but decided to save them for later. There was only one way to truly understand sothing of this magnitude—and that was to touch it.
He reached forward and laid his hand on the cover and the effect was imdiate, as a torrent of information, symbols, skills, runes, ancient voices, formulas, languages, and diagrams—all of it crashed into his brain like a wave made of lightning.
The content was so vast and complex that for a mont, he thought his mind might fracture.
Liam gritted his teeth, steadying himself. It lasted only seconds, but to him, it felt like hours.
When it ended, he let out a long exhale, rubbing the side of his head.
He looked at the To again, eyes gleaming now with understanding. He knew what it was—what it truly was.
The To of Thoth wasn’t just a book. It was a universal archive—the universal archive of the magic universe. Every spell, skill, enchantnt, and arcane formula in existence was stored within its pages. It was their version of his Heavenly Scriptures Pagoda—a library that defied comprehension.
He turned a few pages slowly. Each one filled with moving runes that seed to rearrange themselves as if alive. When he stopped on a page, the symbols stabilized, forming words in a language he instinctively understood now.
Every single rune was a skill. Every skill, a record of power.
He flipped another page, and the runes shifted again, forming lines of text that explained not only the na and function of each ability, but also the principles that governed them.
It was infinite knowledge in finite form.
And the best part? The To could create new skills too.
He now understood how it worked.
All he needed to do was write the na, description, and structure of the skill into the To. It would take the raw intent, translate it into runic form, and create it, then he would have to extract it from the book.
Of course, that process ca with a cost. A massive one.
The energy needed to manifest even a basic new skill would be trendous, possibly more than what he could currently generate.
But even so, the potential was staggering. He could design his own skills, his own techniques. Things that no world had ever seen.
He rested a hand on the To again and chuckled softly. "This is insane."
To think sothing like this existed.
It made perfect sense why the System had called this a replica. The original was likely far too dangerous to be released. Even this version could turn a kingdom into an empire overnight.
And then there was the economic angle.
In the post-Awakening world, skills were worth fortunes. A single advanced skill could sell for tens of millions. Guilds and corporations fought over them.
With this To, he could create them at will. He could flood the market, rewrite the balance of power.
Of course, he had no interest in selling anything yet. But knowing he could—that was enough.
He placed the To back on the desk carefully, fingers lingering on the cover.
"We’ll co back to you later," he said quietly. "There’s a lot we can do together."
Then his eyes shifted to the final item on the desk—the small wooden crate containing Idunn’s Golden Apples.
Twenty perfect spheres of shimring gold rested neatly within it, each one glowing faintly with a divine light. Their scent was faintly sweet, like honey mixed with sunlight.
He stared at them in quiet awe.
"System," he said softly, "can I eat one?"
He already knew the answer, but he asked anyway.
[No, Host. Your body cannot withstand it yet.]
"Thought so," He sighed and leaned back against the desk.
He stared at the apples again, their glow reflecting faintly in his eyes. The energy radiating from them was pure, vibrant, and heavy—so much so that just being near them made his body feel warr.
Each apple was a condensed divine relic. In Norse mythology, Idunn’s apples were the fruits of immortality. A single bite could renew youth and expand lifespan indefinitely. For gods, it was sustenance. For mortals—it was suicide.
He exhaled slowly, half in awe, half in amusent. "Even with my current stats, I’d probably explode before I finish chewing."
A faint shiver ran down his spine at the thought.
Curious, he asked, "System, what if I planted one?"
[The Dinsional Space cannot sustain the growth of Idunn’s Apples. The soil is not yet evolved enough to nurture a divine-class fruit.]
He nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. The Gaia fragnt’s transformation will take years. Maybe then."
For now, he decided to let the apples rest. He exhaled slowly, a quiet sense of satisfaction settling over him.
He’d gained three of the most extraordinary treasures imaginable—a relic that could build worlds, a to that contained infinite knowledge, and fruit that could grant immortality.
All in a single sign-in.
He smiled from ear to ear. The day has been very fruitful for him, even though it was just beginning.
He decided to return to Earth. He vanished, leaving the Dinsional Space and appeared in his master suite at the Burj Khalifa.
The first rays of dawn were piercing through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the skyline of Dubai in gold and amber. This part of the world was just waking up.
He stood still for a mont, letting the silence sink in.
The contrast was almost surreal. While the denizens of his ho world were sleeping or going about their daily business, he was having an adventure in another world.
He smiled to himself and walked to his bed. He collapsed on it, letting his mind blank out for a while so that he won’t think of anything.
"This is the best," he sighed a mont later.
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