7. Lesser than before

The next day, an uneasy tension filled the air. The usual chatter had vanished, replaced by a heavy silence. Each person seemed lost in their own thoughts.

Takemi, always the stoic one, looked even more serious than usual. He had always been the group's shield, the one who stepped in when older kids tried to mess with Seiito. But today, his expression was grim, as if he were wrestling with something far heavier than any playground scuffle.

Is he thinking about our situation? Seiito wondered, stealing a glance at him.

Does he want to go back? Maybe they all do…

A troubling thought. Was he the only one willing to see this through to the end? To stand by the Kingdom of Santizimo no matter what?

An image of Saka flashed in his mind—her usual teasing softened by the memory of her in her nightgown, fragile yet determined. She had a good heart. She would want to help, too… wouldn't she?

Seiito let out a quiet sigh and closed the leather-bound book in his hands with a soft thud.

Standing up, he walked over to the towering bookshelf, its intricate carvings depicting ancient stories lost to time. The Royal Library had become his sanctuary. With his weak stats and lack of combat skills, he had resolved to contribute in the only way he could—by learning. If he couldn't fight, then he would make sure his knowledge became his greatest weapon.

His fingers traced along the spines of the old tomes until they stopped on a jet-black book with chalk-white lettering: Tales of L̶̛̲̥͑̈́͛̒ǒ̷̦̥̯̳̳̺͚̩͇̖̟̝͈̋́̍̔̚͝͝ͅͅr̵̥̲̤̪͛̆͆̅̈̇̑͗͝ͅd̷̨̞̤̲̪̓̑s̶̠̹̳̝̙̜͖͈͊̇.

"Lords... Where have I heard that before?" he muttered to himself, flipping it open.

The pages whispered of an astonishing mage, a mere mortal with unimaginable power—a Lord As he read, his brow furrowed. This book… it's making it sound like Lords actually existed.

Lords—revered in Gorkazur, the country of Demi-Humans and Demons, but hunted in the human realm. Branded as criminals. Enemies of humanity.

Lords shall not rule us. We, humanity, will surpass our enemies and rule over them.

The words oozed with venom, sending a chill down Seiito's spine. "Sounds more like a manifesto than a history book," he murmured uneasily.

Still, he kept reading.

Days blurred together in a cycle of research and note-taking. Monsters, herbs, spells—he absorbed everything he could, desperate to be useful.

Takemi would occasionally pass by, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow, but he never said a word.

Others, like Kōji, barely hid their annoyance. To Kōji, fighting strength with intellect were meaningless. A waste of time.

"I feel like… he thinks I'm not capable..."

Even Saka seemed intrigued by Seiito's dedication. One afternoon, curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned over his shoulder as he read.

"What are you reading, Seiito-kun?"

He blinked, startled. "I'm trying to understand this world better. If I can learn enough, maybe I can help beyond just healing."

Saka watched him, her admiration growing. He wasn't like Takemi, who relied on brute strength. Seiito had something else—resolve. A quiet, stubborn determination to become stronger in his own way. Her mind wandered, picturing him after months of training—leaner, sharper, exuding the aura of a hero. Like a protagonist from a romance anime, surrounded by fluttering cherry blossoms…

"Uhh… Saka? Do I have something on my face?" Seiito's awkward voice snapped her out of her fantasy.

Her face turned red. "N-No! I was just—thinking!"

Seiito chuckled. Her flustered reaction was oddly charming, but he let it go, returning to his studies with a small smile.

His thirst for knowledge only grew. One evening, he found himself poring over a monster encyclopedia. "Slimes… elemental variants… fire, water, wind, lightning… Even King and Queen Slimes with healing properties?" He hummed in interest, flipping the page—

His breath caught. Crimson Wolf.

"Extinct species…?" he whispered.

The Crimson Wolves had once been powerful creatures, capable of transforming into humanoids. One had nearly wiped out an entire Knight Order in the past.

"Thank the gods they're extinct…" But even as he said it, he felt an odd pull toward their story. Why had humans reduced them to mere monsters? What really happened to them?

He shook off the thought and turned the page, but the questions lingered.

Later that night, another book caught his eye—its black leather cover aged, the title barely legible. World Towers.

Seiito's hands trembled slightly as he read. Ancient structures, designed to test warriors.

Most were said to have at least a hundred levels, but it's unknown, and no one had returned past the 40th floor.

He turned his gaze toward the massive tower looming beyond the window, a dark spear piercing the heavens. "So that's a World Tower…" he whispered. A nervous laugh escaped him. Various floors, each deadlier than the last… His heart pounded at the thought.

But then his excitement dimmed. Even if I trained, even if I pushed my stats to the limit…He clenched his fists. I'm just a Healer. I have no combat capabilities. No way to fight.

Maybe a sword? A dagger? Could he learn something?

But no—his progress had been painstakingly slow. Even daily training barely made a difference.

Letting out a weary sigh, he rubbed his temples. No matter how much he read, no matter how much he learned, reality loomed over him like an insurmountable wall.

Still, he pressed on. His eyes flicked over the next book—The Essence of Magic. The name at the bottom made his breath hitch: Mick, the Solar Mage. One of Santizimo's most revered sorcerers, or so he heard.

Maybe…maybe there's something in here…

But as he read, his hope crumbled. The book confirmed what he feared most—magic was fixed. A mage could only harness the power of their given class. Nothing more. No exceptions.

Seiito gritted his teeth. So I'm stuck as a Healer forever? Useless in battle?

He nearly slammed the book shut—until something near the end caught his eye.

The essence of magic is intertwined with all living beings—humans, demons, angels, and any living being. They all share the same fundamental truth. Magic creates, sustains…and it also destroys. Like a coin, magic has two sides.

His fingers tightened around the book. "Two sides…?"

He reread the passage, again and again, but its meaning remained just out of reach.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook him. Returning the book to its shelf, he left the library, the words echoing in his mind.

Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, his thoughts restless.

Two sides…what are you trying to tell me?

His eyes drifted shut, but the question refused to fade, lingering in the darkness until sleep finally claimed him.