Cendikia's head still throbbed with the weight of new knowledge as he carefully returned the dusty tome to its place. The old texts had revealed little about their original purpose and yet there was something more profound hidden within them, a faint trace of the Forgotten Scholar's legacy. He knew he would need more time to decode the deeper meaning.
The system had gone quiet again, offering no further guidance for now. Cendikia stood in the far corner of the Great Library of Varlim, lost in thought. The weight of his situation slowly settled over him like a thick fog.
Reincarnated into a book. A novel he had once read and forgotten. At least, he had thought he'd forgotten it. But here he was, inside a world built from words and imagination, now forced to live within it.
He touched his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart. The sensation felt too real for a dream.
"Reborn as a side character," he muttered to himself, glancing at the simple robe he wore, a scholar's uniform of muted browns and grays. His role in this new life was clear, and he was far from the hero. He was simply a minor figure, one of the countless background players in the story. Not the hero, and certainly not the villain. Just a man with knowledge.
And yet, that small detail, that knowledge gave him the first thread of hope.
[Beginner Combat Skill unlocked.]
The system's message startled him. Combat skill? He glanced at the notification in his mind. As a scholar, he hadn't expected to receive anything combat-related so early. But the system's interface was clear: he had gained a rudimentary understanding of self-defense, enough to fend off a basic attack, perhaps.
It must be connected to that forgotten text, he thought. There had been faint references to old techniques, magic entwined with combat arts. The Forgotten Scholar, whoever they had been, had clearly been more than just a keeper of knowledge.
For a moment, he wondered if the system was leading him down the same path. Would he, too, become more than a scholar? The thought both excited and terrified him.
His stomach growled softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Right. His new body needed food, and if this world was anything like the one he had read about, it also required social interaction. That is something he had always been terrible at. The politics of a magical academy weren't something he could ignore. If he wanted to survive, he'd have to blend in.
Sighing, Cendikia left the quiet sanctuary of the library and headed down the winding stone corridors of the Academy of Esthara.
The academy buzzed with activity. Scholars, mages, and students of all levels moved briskly through the halls, discussing theories and magical experiments. Arcane symbols glowed faintly on the walls, imbuing the air with a sense of quiet power.
As Cendikia passed by, he noticed several of his peers whispering to each other, sparing him quick glances. He recognized the looks were sizing him up, questioning who he was and where he stood in the hierarchy. In the novel, the Academy of Esthara had been portrayed as a beacon of knowledge, but in reality, it felt more like a political battleground, where status mattered just as much as skill.
He walked with purpose, keeping his expression neutral. His new identity as a scholar here felt fragile, as though one wrong move could break the illusion.
"Cendikia."
The sharp voice cut through the din of the academy halls. Cendikia turned to see a tall, elegant man approaching him. His robes were immaculate, the fabric lined with silver threads, and a gleaming brooch marked him as a scholar of high rank. His face was smooth, his eyes calculating.
Aiden Drystan.
The name rang a faint bell in Cendikia's mind. This man wasn't a major character in the novel, but he had appeared briefly as a talented but overly ambitious scholar with ties to the academy's inner circle. In this world, someone like Aiden had power. He had connections.
Cendikia, on the other hand, had nothing.
"Aiden," Cendikia replied, keeping his voice even. He had to tread carefully.
Aiden stopped before him, his gaze sweeping over Cendikia in an appraising manner. "I've heard some interesting things about you lately."
"Interesting?" Cendikia kept his tone casual, though his heart quickened. It hadn't taken long for him to attract attention, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing.
Aiden smirked. "Word travels fast in these halls. A new scholar, digging through old texts that most have long forgotten. The question is. What are you looking for?"
Cendikia's mind raced. He couldn't reveal anything about the Forgotten Scholar or the system's guidance. Not yet. "I simply have an interest in ancient history," he replied smoothly. "There's always more to learn from the past."
Aiden's eyes narrowed, his smirk fading into something sharper. "Be careful where you tread. Not all knowledge is meant to be found, and some scholars have learned that lesson too late."
There was an unspoken threat in his words. Cendikia understood that Aiden viewed him as a potential rival. That could be dangerous.
"Thank you for the advice," Cendikia said, offering a polite nod. He couldn't afford to make enemies so early on.
Aiden's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he turned and walked away, leaving Cendikia standing in the bustling hallway. Tension hung in the air, but Cendikia forced himself to relax. If there was one thing he had learned from the novel, it was that figures like Aiden thrived on intimidation and political maneuvering. He'd have to keep his guard up around him.
He took a deep breath and continued walking, weaving through the scholars and students toward the library's archives. He needed more information, both about the academy's inner workings and about the Forgotten Scholar.
Back in the quiet sanctuary of the Great Library, Cendikia found his usual corner among the forgotten shelves. This part of the library was dim, neglected by most scholars who were too focused on their own ambitions. But Cendikia felt a strange sense of comfort here, away from prying eyes.
As he settled down at a small desk, the system's interface flickered in his mind again.
[Mission Update: Unlock the Forgotten Scholar's First Archive.
Reward: Knowledge Enhancement.]
Cendikia's fingers brushed the spines of old books as he scanned the shelves. His heart raced with anticipation. The system was guiding him toward something. The Forgotten Scholar was a key, not just to this world's history but to his survival.
He pulled a thick, leather-bound tome from the shelf, its pages yellowed with age. The cover was worn, but faint markings of ancient runes were still visible.
As he opened the book, the faint glow of magic shimmered across the pages, the text written in a language long forgotten by most. But Cendikia could understand it, thanks to the fragments of knowledge the system had granted him earlier.
The text spoke of a scholar, once renowned for their mastery of both knowledge and forbidden magic. This scholar had uncovered secrets that had the power to shape the very fabric of reality. But their work had been buried, erased from history by those who feared its consequences.
Cendikia's pulse quickened as he read on. The Forgotten Scholar had been more than a figure of history, they had been a player in the same cosmic game that was now unfolding. And somehow, their legacy had been tied to the Shadow King's rise.
"This changes everything," Cendikia whispered to himself.
His mind buzzed with possibilities. If he could unlock the full legacy of the Forgotten Scholar, he wouldn't just be a minor character in this world. He could reshape his fate. But with this knowledge came new risks. If others like Aiden or Lira Calwyn discovered what he was up to, they might see him as a threat.
The system chimed in softly:
[Mission Complete.
New mission unlocked: Investigate the Forbidden Archive of Esthara.]
Cendikia leaned back in his chair, a sense of purpose settling over him. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but he now understood something important: in a world that valued power above all, knowledge was his greatest weapon.
And with the system guiding him, he would wield it carefully.