The Great Library of Astraea was a vertical labyrinth. Thousands of scrolls and leather-bound tomes lined the walls, rising up into a darkness that even the mana-crystals couldn't pierce.
In my original novel, I had written about a "Relic of the First Foundation" hidden here. It wasn't a sword or a spellbook. It was a blank, obsidian tablet called the Aura-Script.
The lore was simple: The tablet grants a single unique skill to the one who finds it. But the skill is a reflection of the seeker's deepest desire.
I remember writing a side story about a greedy count who found it and gained the 'Midas Touch,' only to turn his own daughter to gold. It was a cautionary tale about the weight of one's own nature.
"I hope I'm not as rotten as I feel," I whispered, stepping over a sleeping floor-warden's shadow.
I reached the Restricted Section in the basement. Using a lockpicking trick I'd described in Chapter 42 (ironically, the chapter where a thief gets caught and executed), I bypassed the iron gate.
The air grew cold. In the center of a small, dusty alcove sat the obsidian tablet. It was unremarkable, looking like a piece of burnt slate.
[Alert: You have discovered a 'Primal Relic'.]
[The Relic will scan your 'Essence' to manifest a Unique Skill.]
I hesitated.
What was my essence? Was I the man who ignored Mila for his career? Was I the God of this world? Or was I just a kid named Mikhail who was terrified of dying?
If my essence was "Greed," I might get a fortune-based skill like that selfish noble I'd imagined. If it was "Fear," I might get a defensive shell.
I reached out and pressed my palm against the cold stone.
The tablet didn't glow gold. It didn't turn into a weapon. Instead, it began to bleed ink. Thick, black, viscous ink bubbled out of the stone, staining my hands, crawling up my arms like a swarm of insects.
A searing heat erupted in my brain.
[Essence Scanned: 'The Architect of Regret'.]
[Unique Skill Manifesting...]
[Skill Acquired: 'The Editor's Pen' (Rank: ???)]
I fell to my knees, gasping. My right hand felt like it was being branded. When I looked down, a tattoo of a sharp, silver nib was etched into my middle finger.
[Skill Description: You can 'edit' the physical properties of non-living objects once per day. You cannot create matter, only redefine its current state.]
I stared at the tattoo. Redefine its state. I looked at a heavy iron candle-stand nearby. I focused on the 'Pen' in my mind. A translucent text box appeared over the iron.
[Object: Iron Candlestick]
[State: Solid / Heavy / Blunt]
I reached out and "swiped" the word Solid. I tried to change it to Liquid.
A sharp pain stabbed my temple.
[Error: Insufficient Mana to change State. Suggestion: Edit 'Properties' instead.]
I changed my focus. I swiped the word Blunt and wrote Sharp.
Schwing.
Without the metal changing shape at all, the edge of the candlestick suddenly shimmered with a microscopic, razor-sharp edge. I touched it lightly with my thumb, and blood immediately welled up. It was iron that functioned like a diamond-edge blade.
"Holy..."
This was better than a cheat. This was the ability to rewrite the "coding" of the world I had built.
"Who's there?"
A sharp voice echoed through the basement.
I froze. That wasn't a guard. That voice was high, clear, and carried a rhythmic authority.
Mila.
I scrambled to hide the obsidian tablet behind a stack of crates, but it was too late. The light of a mana-lamp flooded the alcove.
Millica stood there, her silver hair braided back for sleep, wearing a simple white robe. She held a staff that hummed with light. She looked at the restricted gate—now picked open—and then at me, kneeling in the dirt with ink-stained hands.
"Mikhail?" She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "What are you doing in the Forbidden Archive? This is a crime punishable by whipping."
"I... I was looking for a book on medicinal herbs," I stammered, hiding my tattooed hand behind my back. "For my stomach. The Academy food, remember?"
Mila didn't move. She walked closer, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on the obsidian tablet. Her breath caught.
"The Mirror of Essence," she whispered. She looked back at me, her expression a mix of shock and something I couldn't identify. "Did you touch it?"
"I don't know what that is," I lied.
She stepped toward me, grabbing my right hand before I could pull away. She saw the silver nib tattoo. She saw the ink still damp on my skin.
Her hand trembled. "The legend says that when a 'Foreign Soul' touches the stone, it will reveal the path to the end. My father, the Pope, has been searching for this for a decade."
She looked me dead in the eye, and for a second, I saw the real Mila—the girl who used to see through every one of my excuses.
"You're not just an attendant," she said. "What did you see in the stone, Mikhail? What did it give you?"
"Nothing," I rasped. "It just burned."
Mila stared at me for a long time. The silence in the library was suffocating. I expected her to call the guards. I expected her to scream.
Instead, she let go of my hand and stepped back.
"I won't tell them," she said softly. "But not because I trust you. I won't tell them because the last time someone touched that stone, the Great Collapse began. If the Church finds out you have a Unique Skill from the Mirror, they won't execute you. They'll... 'study' you. They'll pull you apart to see how you're made."
She turned to leave, but stopped at the edge of the light.
"Keep that hand covered, Mikhail. If you are the one the prophecy spoke of, then you are either this world's savior... or the one who will finally finish killing it."
She disappeared into the darkness of the stacks.
I stood there in the cold, the silver nib on my finger pulsing with a dull, rhythmic light.
Saving the world or finishing it, I thought.
I looked at the 'Editor's Pen' status window still floating in my vision
Status Check
Skill Unlocked: [The Editor's Pen] - (Current Limit: 1 Edit per day).
Secret Shared: Millica (The Saintess) knows you are an 'Awakened' being.
Relationship: Mila (Suspicious)