[Techniques for Carving Cedarwood],
[How to Predict the Weather with the Naked Eye],
[Basic Refinement of Granulated Sugar],
[Copper Smelting Techniques],
[Gemstone Appreciation],
[Early Childhood Education Among Elves],
[What to Do With Barren Land?],
[Why Is Seawater Salty?]
A flood of inexplicable knowledge was being transferred into Orsaga's mind in batches.
Just by looking at the titles alone, the average mage wouldn't even give them a second glance.
To them—and honestly, to most sentient beings—this stuff was completely useless.
But Orsaga didn't mind one bit.
Whether the knowledge was useful or not, it still conveyed some aspect of the world's logic or understanding.
Even if the logic or knowledge was wrong, it could still serve as a reference.
So it wasn't completely without value.
It served perfectly well as mental nutrition to expand his information reserves—no matter how bizarre it might be.
Meanwhile, everyone else on this layer remained completely unaware. They simply went about their own business.
Their strength was far too weak to detect the tendrils of Orsaga's spiritual energy.
Every three seconds, a faint wave would sweep across the entire layer, scanning for any anomalies. Each time, Orsaga would precisely retract his spiritual feelers right before the pulse arrived, avoiding detection by the Tower Spirit.
He wasn't entirely sure whether those waves could actually detect his spiritual energy...
But right now, he wasn't in the mood to find out.
At least not before achieving his current objective.
If something did go wrong, he'd have no choice but to destroy this entire place and wipe out any record of his presence to cover his tracks.
And with powerful beings possibly hidden within the city, he wasn't confident he could do it cleanly.
Let's be clear though—
It's not that he lacked confidence in defeating them.
He just wasn't sure he could kill the enemy before they hit "send" on whatever message would expose him.
Put bluntly, he wasn't sure he could cut off their hand before it slammed the alarm.
In this world, even if a true god descended in person, Orsaga would still dare to clash with them head-on.
It's not about fear.
He simply wanted to stay low-profile—for now—while refining his multi-world "plague Inc" experimentation strategy.
No need to make global headlines just yet.
---
Three days later.
A student in a mage's apprentice robe from one of the local magic academies nudged his friend in the ribs. His face twisted in confusion as he muttered,
"That guy's reading material is... really weird."
"Hmm?"
His friend looked up, puzzled, and glanced toward the person he mentioned.
Immediately, amid the dozens of people in that area, he spotted Orsaga—impossible to miss.
His first impression was that this guy radiated the aura of a master. From his looks to his presence, everything screamed "powerhouse."
That stern expression on Orsaga's face made it look like he was conducting some kind of advanced research—solemn and focused.
Then he caught sight of the book in Orsaga's hands.
[High-Yield Chicken Feed Formulas for Egg-Laying Hens]
"…What the hell?"
"What kind of messed-up book is this?!"
The feeling was akin to watching the dean of the mage academy wearing a baby's bib over his robes—absolutely unacceptable.
His brain was immediately flooded with question marks.
Then his friend leaned in and quietly added,
"It's not just that one. Before this, he was reading The Aesthetics of Human Body Sculpting, and before that, Which Types of Soil Taste Better When You're Starving, and before that, it was The Breeding Cycle of Karacha Lizards…"
"Hssss…"
Hearing that, he couldn't help but think of his many well-read, all-knowing instructors—and suddenly, something clicked.
He sucked in a cold breath of realization.
"Wait... are all high-level powerhouses this... comprehensive in their studies?"
The more he thought about it, the more discouraged he became.
With his level of intelligence, he might never reach such a lofty standard.
His friend had no idea what kind of idiotic conclusion he'd just jumped to. He simply continued, amazed,
"This guy's interests are way too broad. He just picked up another one: [Postpartum Care Manual for Sows]!"
"He opened it! He's reading it! And he looks really into it!! How the hell does he manage this?!"
By the time he finished talking, his face had twisted into a grimace of disbelief.
He simply couldn't imagine what kind of mindset it took for someone like Orsaga—someone who so clearly radiated awe-inspiring might—to calmly and seriously study such nonsense.
What he didn't know was that, among the hundreds of books Orsaga had gone through, these were far from the weirdest.
[How to See Separately with Each Eye],
[A Symphony of Knives and Forks],
[My Girlfriend's Bestie],
[The Tyrannical Donkey and the Lovelorn Dragon],
[Green Orcs Are Anything But Ordinary]...
Orsaga had devoured them all.
He wasn't picky—anything went, even the truly revolting stuff.
---
Meanwhile, far from the city of Augustus, in a forest over a hundred kilometers away…
A burly bald man was gripping one of the two noble brothers who had appeared earlier in the story. He stared solemnly at a wall deep inside a cave.
"You're sure the treasure is behind this?" he asked coldly.
"Yes, yes! I wouldn't dare lie to you!" came the fearful reply.
It was clearly the meeker of the two brothers.
Satisfied, the bald man grinned wickedly.
"Good. Then lead the way. And if you don't want to join your brother in the afterlife, don't try anything funny."
Remembering his brother's gruesome death—and that of their mercenary companions—the trembling man stammered,
"Sir, it's not that I don't want to guide you… but this place is protected by a barrier my ancestors left behind! Unless I pass the trial, I'll die the moment I enter!"
"If I die, that's one thing—but if I drag you down with me, that would be a disaster!"
Watching him cower and squirm, the bald man didn't waste a word. He slapped him hard across the face.
"Idiot! After you left, we searched the rest of your family's estate and found some information about this treasure. That so-called 'death mechanism' is just a bluff—it's meant to test your cowardly hearts!"
"Wha…?"
The meek brother was stunned.
But after thinking about it, it did kind of make sense. Why would his ancestors deliberately set up a lethal trap to test their own descendants?
With that logic, he gathered his courage, stepped forward, and sliced open his palm, letting the blood splash against the wall.
"Buzz… Buzz…"
With a low hum, a hidden door revealed itself.
The bald man was instantly elated. He waved at his nearby companions, then shoved the younger brother forward and stepped through the doorway behind him.
He wasn't letting this guy out of his sight—in a place like this, he was a living key.
But the moment they stepped inside—
They were greeted by a wall of flames.
The bald man narrowed his eyes at the sheer intensity of the fire.
But instead of fear, he laughed.
Without hesitation, he raised the younger brother like a human shield and hurled him toward the flames.
According to what they'd found, this trap was designed to test the descendant—it could injure, but never kill. So using him as a meat shield? Perfect strategy.
The very next second...
As he looked down at what was now a medium-rare slab of meat in his hands...
And watched the inferno sweep toward him like a tidal wave...
His smile froze.
"…Well, shit."
__
T/N:
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