Chapter 20: The System Scribe
A scalpel forged of crystallized, blinding white light plunged directly into the center of the Magic Book's heavy, petrified leather cover.
The reaction was catastrophic, yet entirely silent. The Vagabond’s body arched violently off the polished marble floor, as if a searing, phantom electrical current had ripped through his nervous system. The crushing gravity spell pinning him in place did not lift, but the excruciating pain of the magical surgery entirely eclipsed the immense weight. It didn't feel like Laveria was cutting into ancient parchment; it felt as though she was dragging a red-hot razor directly across his bare soul.
From the open wound in the leather cover, a geyser of chaotic, fragmented ink erupted. The system's interface, broken and glitching due to his anomalous existence, spilled its corrupted text into the open air.
"Your ledger's interface fragmented when you bypassed the standard Class selection," Laveria stated. Her voice was smooth and clinical, echoing clearly in the vast, serene silence of the Oracle’s Sanctum. She didn't flinch or blink as the chaotic ink whipped around her dark blue cloak. "The System could not process your anomalous nature, turning your Magic Book into an unreadable mess. I am now formatting it into a structured vault."
With a precise, surgical twist of her wrist, Laveria dragged the scalpel of light downward, cleaving the chaotic storm of ink into two perfect halves.
The jagged, red [SYSTEM ERROR] text that had plagued the Vagabond’s vision shattered into microscopic fragments. The floating ink began to condense, restructure itself, and fall back onto the pages in clean, perfectly aligned geometric arrays, free of any chaos.
Laveria withdrew the scalpel. It evaporated into the thin air as if it had never existed. With a subtle wave of her pale, aristocratic hand, the crushing gravity that held the Vagabond and Shadow to the floor vanished in an instant.
The Vagabond collapsed onto his left side, gasping heavily for air, his chest heaving under the weight of his new Phantom's Silver Cuirass. His right arm, severely charred and blistered from the Arcane Burn caused by channeling suicidal mana during the fight with the Phantom, throbbed with a sickening, hot pain. Beside him, Shadow shook himself violently, a pitiful whine escaping the pup's throat as the spectral burns on his gums flared with agony.
"The biological anomaly has been formatted," Laveria said, looking down at him with cold, mathematical curiosity while the silver geometric patterns on her cloak settled. "I have realigned your ledger to reflect your true accumulated essence. The unformatted raw points that leaked into your system during your recent fights have been properly compressed. You currently possess exactly four Complete Energies (CE)—one previously stored, and three newly forged from thirty compressed souls. Six points remain as standard Spiritual Energy (SE). Your ledger is no longer blinded by errors, Mercenary."
The Vagabond gritted his teeth, forcing himself onto his knees. He breathed slowly, regaining control over his shocked nervous system. He extended his healthy left hand toward the Magic Book.
"Can I understand what the hell is happening?" the Vagabond demanded, his voice a harsh rasp. "What is this chaos, and why has this book gone insane?"
Laveria smiled. "It hasn't gone insane. But you entered a rapid evolution, which forced the book into a crisis between the Simple System and the Complex System."
The Vagabond frowned, the confusion evident in his cold eyes. "I don't understand."
She looked at him, then turned and walked gracefully toward a lavish chair nearby, taking a seat. "Come here so I can explain."
The Vagabond stared at her for a long moment, a tight knot of irritation in his chest. He spoke to himself internally: Is she playing with me or mocking me? Who is she, really? But pragmatism won out; he stepped forward quietly and sat on a nearby stone step, resembling a weary traveler pausing to rest before departing.
"The Simple System," Laveria began, "is what defines your archetype: Mercenary, Warrior, Assassin, or Mage. It covers basic details like Spiritual and Complete Energies."
"The Complex System, however, emerges when you evolve and acquire new Abilities, Traits, and Skills. What happened to you is that you apparently acquired skills or evolved yourself incredibly fast, causing the Magic Book to enter a crisis while trying to define your system."
"And is the issue resolved now?" the Vagabond asked.
"Yes," Laveria replied.
The chaotic, infinite void of scrolling text had completely vanished from the book. It was now divided with strict geometric precision. The ink glowed a calm, steady blue, organized into distinct, immutable pages.
Laveria looked at the open book on his lap and clasped her hands together. "The System is not a random entity, Vagabond. It is a machine. And when the machine reads a soul that doesn't belong to a specific Class, it panics and throws all the data in your face. I have restricted your book to display only what you need to survive. Eight pages. No more."
The Vagabond raised his cold gaze to her. "Explain."
Laveria nodded toward the pages. "Page one is Status. It will only tell you your level, physical attributes, and what you have left in Complete Energy for survival and Mana for magic. Page five is Inventory, and page six is your Bestiary. These are intuitive matters that require no explanation."
She stepped closer, her voice taking on the tone of a strict mentor. "But you must never confuse the three most important pages: Skills, Abilities, and Traits. Mixing them up in a real battle will cost you your life."
The Vagabond gestured with his left hand toward the book. "Skills. The System placed my archery and stealth here."
"Exactly," Laveria nodded. "Skills are the product of practice. Sweat, blood, and tactical training. They do not consume Mana, nor do they require magic. They are you. The more you practice archery, the higher your level in it rises."
"And Abilities?"
"Here lies the magic," Laveria said, her silver eyes gleaming coldly. "Abilities are supernatural powers that break the laws of physics. Like the Step of Silence you acquired. To activate them, you must burn Mana as fuel. The more you use Abilities, the more your magical pathways dry up. Magic is not free."
The Vagabond went silent for a second, his eyes scanning the fourth page. "Traits. The Willow Ring granted me the Perception trait. And the mutation gave me Nerve Override."
"Traits are permanent changes to your biology," Laveria explained, her tone carrying a hidden scientific appreciation. "They are passive effects that neither consume Mana nor require training. They are active all the time. But the System does not hand out Traits as free prizes. The ring was an exception because it is an ancient relic. To acquire new Traits—like poison resistance, darkvision, or hardened skin—you must subject your body to harsh environmental conditions for prolonged periods, or kill monsters with unique properties and absorb their rare essence."
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THE MAGIC BOOK - FORMATTED LEDGER
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① STATUS
Name: The Vagabond | Class: Mercenary | Level: [Pending Ascension]
Attributes: [STR: 14] | [DEX: 18]
HP: Stable (Right arm: Severe Arcane Burn).
Stamina (STM): Exhausted.
Mana (MP): Depleted.
② SKILLS
Expert Archery | Silent Movement | Tactical Evasion | Improvised Field Medicine.
③ ABILITIES
[Step of Silence]: Acoustic vacuum, drains 2% Mana/minute.
④ TRAITS
[Perception +3]: Granted by Silver Ring. Low-light vision.
[Nerve Override]: Suppresses combat panic.
⑤ INVENTORY
Wealth: 59 Lira.
Ammunition: 22 Armor-Piercing Iron-Tipped Arrows.
Armor: [Phantom's Silver Cuirass] (Equipped).
Items: Royal Coin, Sunken Sovereign Key, [Sanctum Core-Stone].
⑦ COMPANION
Name: Shadow (Royal Shadow-Wolf).
Lineage: Mother of Shadows (Mutated by Vagabond's Blood).
Traits: [Moon Multiplier] (Passive), [The Call] (Active).
Status & Evolution: [Injured - Requires Healing].
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The math was absolute and indisputable. He possessed exactly 4 Complete Energies (CE) and 6 Spiritual Energies (SE).
The Vagabond didn't waste a single breath on gratitude or awe. He operated entirely on the cold economics of survival. The System was now clear, legible, and devoid of nonsense.
He pressed his left thumb directly against the first page, authorizing the expenditure of [1 Complete Energy].
A heavy drop of liquid gold formed on the petrified paper. He didn't hesitate. He pulled it and crushed the golden drop directly into the blackened, blistered flesh of his right arm.
The magic hissed violently, sounding like meat thrown onto a hot skillet. The dead, burned skin sloughed off instantly, the black smoke evaporating, replaced by thick, fresh muscle fibers and a heavy, pale-pink scar tissue. The blinding pain that had crippled his movement vanished, replaced by the familiar, cold strength of his [DEX: 18] trait. He flexed his right hand, formed a fist, then released it. The fingers responded with perfect, lethal fluidity. He had returned to full combat efficiency.
He now had 3 Complete Energies remaining.
He turned to Shadow. The Royal Beast pup was panting heavily, its dark fur matted with mud and ash, its mouth bleeding sluggishly where the Phantom’s spectral fire had burned its gums during the fight. In the brutal logic of the Great Land, a wounded companion was a deadly burden. But Shadow wasn't just a pet; he was an extension of his soul, bound by blood and essence.
The Vagabond authorized the expenditure of a second [1 Complete Energy].
He drew the second golden drop from the page and pressed it gently against the pup's snout. The energy washed over the wolf, flash-cauterizing the burns inside its mouth in a rapid flash, sealing the bleeding wounds entirely. Shadow let out a long, relieved exhale, his mismatched eyes blinking in the calm blue light of the astrolabe.
He now had 2 Complete Energies remaining.
But the Vagabond wasn't finished.
He looked at the [6 Spiritual Energies - SE] remaining in his reserves. He remembered the warning Elias the Mad Merchant had given him in the wasteland: If you want it to grow, you must feed it the spiritual souls of the monsters you kill.
"Take it," the Vagabond commanded, placing his hand firmly on Shadow's chest.
He channeled all six remaining Spiritual Energy points directly into the Royal Beast's core.
The change wasn't explosive or exaggerated; six points weren't enough to turn him into a giant behemoth, but rather it was like a dense, highly concentrated meal after days of starvation. Shadow’s back arched as the thick blue energy flooded his system, colliding with his dormant royal blood.
The pup's bones popped audibly in the quiet room. He didn't grow dramatically in size—perhaps only a few inches—but the true transformation was in his density. The fragile puppy fat vanished entirely, replaced by layers of coiled, hard muscle like steel cables. His pitch-black fur grew thicker, acting as a light natural armor, while his fangs protruded sharper and more distinct. The deep, violent dark violet mist at the tips of his fur ignited, becoming far more stable and pronounced.
He had transitioned from a weak pup to a sturdy, robust "Juvenile", a predator just beginning to take shape. The wolf let out a low, vibrating growl that no longer sounded like a small animal, but rather a deep, resonant warning.
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COMPANION UPDATE
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Name: Shadow (Royal Shadow-Wolf).
Lineage: Mother of Shadows (Mutated by Vagabond's Blood).
Traits: [Moon Multiplier] (Passive), [The Call] (Active).
Status & Evolution: [6 SE Absorbed] - Stage: Juvenile. Physical density, muscle mass, and bite force enhanced.
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The Vagabond closed the book, securing it tightly to his hip. He stood upright, adjusting the fit of his new silver cuirass, his Whisperer's Recurve held firmly in his fully healed right hand. He was mentally exhausted, his Mana was entirely depleted, but his biological integrity was absolute.
He had (2 Complete Energies - CE) and (0 Spiritual Energies - SE) remaining as his safety net.
He looked at Laveria. The System Scribe was watching him, a faint, almost imperceptible nod of approval crossing her sharp features.
"Ruthless, efficient, and completely devoid of petty sentimentality," she observed smoothly and coldly. "You burned a Complete Energy on a beast instead of hoarding it for yourself, then fed it the rest of your souls to strengthen its resolve. You prioritize tactical assets over cowardly safety margins. The Alliance was right to let you roam free as a mercenary."
"You didn't perform this surgery or give this explanation out of petty charity," the Vagabond said, his cold voice cutting through the sanctuary's silence. "No one in the Great Land gives anything for free. What is the Secret Alliance's motive for keeping me alive?"
Laveria turned and walked gracefully toward the massive, floating astrolabe in the center of the archive. She ran her pale hand through one of the rings of blue light.
"The Usurper King sits on the Golden Throne in the Kingdom of Magic, surrounded by knights of impenetrable faith and spells," Laveria said, her voice carrying a cold, academic tone. "He has built magical barriers around the kingdom that detect and destroy anyone possessing a hostile Class. Mages, Warriors, Assassins... they are all registered in his system and die before they even touch the walls of his kingdom."
She turned to him, her silver eyes catching the light. "But you didn't choose a Class. You escaped the standard formatting and mutated. The System cannot categorize you. The Usurper's barriers won't see you as an enemy; they will see you as a void. A ghost. The Secret Alliance needs this ghost to breach the Capital and sever the tyrant's head."
The Vagabond narrowed his eyes. "So, I'm just a tool to bypass the wall."
"You are the only weapon that stands a chance," Laveria corrected quietly. "However, in your current state, you are an incomplete weapon. Your bow and twenty-two arrows will never breach the Capital. Your scavenged silver armor is excellent, but insufficient. As a Mercenary, you possess stunning tactical versatility, but you utterly lack offensive abilities and a physical Catalyst for Mana."
She gestured with her hand toward a dark corridor leading to the inner chamber of the temple.
"Go inside. The 'Temple Oracle' has awakened. He will read your current path and guide you. You need to cross into the settlements of the oppressive kingdom to forge new weapons and armor capable of withstanding Mana fusion, and you need to learn magic to survive."
"And what about you?" the Vagabond asked.
"I merely observe," Laveria said, a hint of a cold smile flickering on her lips. "Do not die in the ash, Vagabond. I have invested too much time organizing your book, and I would be highly displeased if I had to reformat it for your corpse."
With a sudden, sharp fold in space, the air pressure cracked, and Laveria simply ceased to exist, utilizing a high-tier Void Blink to teleport out of the sanctum, leaving behind only the cold scent of ozone and the void.
The Vagabond stood in the quiet, towering archive. He had gotten answers, but each answer brought a new weight of responsibility and potential death. He looked down at Shadow. The dark, sturdy wolf looked back up, his golden and violet eyes burning with a calm, lethal readiness to move.
"To the Oracle," the Vagabond commanded.
He walked deeper into the sanctuary bathed in calm blue light, passing the towering shelves of crystalline scrolls holding the secrets of the world, heading toward the dark dome where his next guidance awaited, leaving the mistakes of the past behind to prepare for the bloodshed of the future.