Night had fallen over the Moonlight Sect.
The wind, once crisp, had mellowed into a gentle whisper as if the world itself was winding down to rest.
But Adrien Cortez was not.
His muscles ached from the brutal training under Selyra's relentless eye, and his limbs screamed for rest, but his mind buzzed with hunger. Not for food or fame, but for knowledge.
So, instead of returning to his chambers, Adrien made his way through the winding silver-lit walkways, past sleeping lotus trees and silent courtyards, toward the structure he'd been eyeing since his first day: the sect Library.
The building loomed like a palace carved from moonlight and obsidian, its spires twisting upward like grasping fingers toward the stars.
As Adrien pushed open the massive, rune-engraved doors, he stepped into a realm unlike anything he'd seen.
There were no shelves. No ladders or scriptoriums.
Instead, thousands, no, tens of thousands, of books floated freely in the air, suspended by invisible threads of aether.
They drifted lazily across the vast chamber, bobbing and weaving around one another like curious spirits. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and the strange ozone scent of raw dream energy.
A circular desk floated in the centre, and behind it sat a serene woman cloaked in deep sapphire robes.
Her eyes were milky white, like pearls, but they glimmered with perception beyond sight. A Librarian.
Adrien approached, his voice low. "I'd like to read."
The Librarian tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something beyond the present moment.
"You may access the first floor," she said in a melodic voice. "Your Dream Core has not yet awakened. Higher levels require a higher core tier otherwise you will be crushed beneath the pressure, each floor attuned is to an ascender's strength."
Adrien glanced up. He could see no stairs, no floors, but now that she mentioned it, the ceiling shimmered like a pool of water, and above it… shadows of more books floated in impossible geometries.
He gave a respectful nod. "First floor it is, then."
With a small flick of her wrist, the Librarian summoned a ring of blue light beneath him. Symbols surged up his body, reading his intent.
Moments later, a small area of books slowed their meandering orbit and floated gently toward a circular reading platform that shimmered into existence nearby.
Adrien stepped in, and the books settled around him like attentive animals.
He wasted no time.
Grabbing books with both hands, he dove into them, flipping through pages at inhuman speed. His eyes tracked every word, every symbol.
His fingers were a blur. Some books had runes that shimmered in response to his focus, others emitted small illusions to illustrate their knowledge.
To the handful of late-night readers scattered across the library, Adrien looked ridiculous.
They stared at him from behind hovering books, whispering among themselves.
"Does he think he's impressing someone?"
"Probably just some outer disciple trying to look important…"
"With that speed? He's not reading anything. What a waste of time..."
But Adrien paid them no mind.
Because he was reading. Every single word. His mind, trained from a world of multitasking, high-speed information, and digital processing, consumed data like a black hole.
It was instinctive, something he'd always been able to do back on Earth: speed-read entire technical manuals, absorb complex schematics, memorize with photographic precision.
Now, in a world where mental strength directly influenced spiritual growth, that natural aptitude had become something more. Something extraordinary.
Tales unfolded before him.
In one book, he read of Velkhan the Eternal Crafter, a god-tier artificer whose forge burned with Aetherflame siphoned from a dying star.
Velkhan had once crafted a glaive so potent it could rip apart the weave of reality itself, a weapon that had been banned in every quadrant and hidden beneath a veil of time.
Another book spoke of the Unnamed Smith, a figure cloaked in myth, who had forged a sword with no master, an indestructible blade that had existed since the earliest recorded eras.
It never dulled. Never cracked. Legends said the sword contained an entire consciousness of its own… possibly even a will.
Adrien's breath caught.
There were dozens more. Blueprints. Etchings. Diaries of lost craftsmen. Theories on Dream Alchemy.
Diagrams of forging circles. The delicate process of embedding will into tools, the merging of mind and matter.
As he read, he remembered Earth.
His penthouse full of wires and processors. The months and years lost to designing drone circuits, experimenting with quantum processors and the particle accelerator, as he chased a crazy dream.
The custom AI he'd made for his workplace and home, that felt like it had a persona of its own.
He'd always created.
It had never occurred to him that this instinct might translate into something more here.
But now, now he knew.
Crafting wasn't a side path. It was a kingdom of its own.
And he was meant to rule it.
He felt alive. Alive in a way he hadn't since he'd fallen into this world. His hands itched with purpose.
His thoughts raced with blueprints and possibilities. Aether circuits. Rune etchings. Dream-forged alloys… he could already imagine it all, even without having made a single craft in this world.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over his reading platform.
The Librarian stood before him again, silent.
She glanced at the towering pile of books. Hundreds. Some stacked, some open mid-air, others orbiting his head like curious satellites.
"You have exceeded your time quota," she said gently.
Adrien blinked.
He looked around, surprised to find that the moonlight had been replaced by the soft gold of morning sun. Light spilled in through the library's grand windows, illuminating his sleepless form.
Disciples were beginning to file in. The night readers were long gone. Some had passed him multiple times, and now simply avoided eye contact with the strange figure who had 'read' without pause.
He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his eyes.
"Right. Lost track of time…"
The Librarian's eyes, still pearlescent and calm, regarded him for a long moment.
"You were reading," she said softly. Not a question. A statement.
Adrien nodded.
"…Yes."
She said nothing, only turned away slowly, returning to her platform.
But her thoughts, oh, her thoughts were racing.
I've never seen anything like this. So many hours. So much absorption. And with such a low deam tier base? This boy… this anomaly… could he be—
Her trance broke only a moment later, and she looked back toward the reading platform.
He was gone.
She exhaled, a wistful sigh escaping her lips.
"…I never even asked his name," she murmured.
But she smiled faintly.
He'll be back. That much, I'm sure of.
Outside, Adrien shielded his eyes from the morning sun. He looked like death, eyes baggy, lips cracked, clothes dishevelled from a night spent hunched over books.
But his mind burned like wildfire, and his heart pounded with purpose.
He'd train with Selyra again, sure.
But after that…
The Secondary Professions Pavilion. He had to go.
Creation was calling him.
And Adrien Cortez was ready to answer.
...
By the time Adrien arrived at the training ground, the sun had already climbed high into the pale-blue sky, casting long shadows across the mountain terraces of the Moonlight Sect.
Disciples moved in silence and swiftness around him, already in the midst of their routines, spear forms, blade dances, channelling exercises. Power and grace flowed like water down marble steps.
Adrien looked... ruined.
Hair dishevelled. Eyes rimmed with darkness. His gait betrayed the strain of sleeplessness, though his body still moved with stubborn determination.
One would think he was dragging himself to punishment rather than a training session.
Selyra was already waiting.
The Asura stood in the centre of the training ground in the courtyard like a statue cut from divine moonstone.
Clad in flowing silver robes that shimmered with starlight and trimmed with icy blue flame, she watched Adrien approach with a blank expression.
But her eyes… those ancient amethyst eyes… narrowed slightly.
"You're late," she said. Her voice was soft, but it cracked through the air like frost over fire.
Adrien bowed, trying not to sway. "Apologies. I was… studying."
Selyra tilted her head, almost imperceptibly. "You studied so intensely that you forgot time, sleep, and sense?"
"…Yes."
She stepped forward, movements liquid, aura controlled. Then she reached out, lightly placing two fingers on Adrien's forehead. A faint pulse of cold power radiated from her touch.
But Adrien didn't flinch.
Instead, Selyra's eyes widened slightly as her spiritual sense brushed against his mind.
Calm. Ordered. Burning.
What she found was not chaos, nor the sluggish murk of exhaustion. No, Adrien's mental sea was a roaring inferno of ideas. The vastness of it was… startling.
His consciousness was in perfect clarity despite his body's state. Symbols. Theories. Mechanisms. Blueprints. Schematics both alien and intuitive scrolled through his memory like a perfect archive.
"…You read," she whispered.
Adrien blinked. "I said I studied."
Her hand dropped. She turned her back to him and walked away a few steps, eyes unreadable.
"There are three kinds of monsters in this world," she said suddenly, hands behind her back. "Those born with overwhelming strength. Those who train until they surpass their limits. And those… who understand everything without trying."
She turned, her gaze landing on Adrien again, piercing now.
"I had you pegged as the third."
Adrien scratched his head, embarrassed. "I don't know about that, Master. I just… I needed to know more."
Selyra didn't smile, but something flickered in her expression. Approval, maybe. Or curiosity. "Then today, no sparring. You'll run drills with your mind. Visualize every technique I show you. Understand the source before you attempt the motion."
"Understood," Adrien replied.