What I Want to Show (2)
If his novel was going to influence this world, then naturally there would be obligations that came with it. Alan had no intention of shirking them. Those who changed the world always bore that responsibility in the end.
The futility of revenge was like the belated realization that came after one had burned everything in the flames of intense vengefulness. The understanding that nothing was left behind. That it only birthed new grudges and cycles of vengeance, something the avenger only grasped far too late, after completing their own revenge.
But revenge has to keep driving Shuren as his motivation. Alan quickly jotted down his thoughts on the notepad beside the manuscript paper.
Shuren was an avenger. He'd touched on the futility of revenge, but that didn't mean he could preach forgiveness for those who slaughtered his family like they were nothing. And so, Shuren had to complete his revenge as an avenger. That would be the punishment he inflicted on his enemies.
Logical words didn't get through to someone blinded by revenge.
Anyone who could forgive after watching their family die right in front of them would have to be a Buddha or Jesus, not some ordinary person.
That's why there needed to be someone to stand in his way. An obstacle and a mentor. That was Sir Schubert, the old knight of the empire who appeared in volume 3.
A reclusive old knight of the empire who had come to understand the futility of revenge himself. The mentor who would teach Shuren that same lesson.
Advice from a senior who's walked the path of the avenger.
But those words wouldn't get through to Shuren right now, consumed as he was by vengeful fury. It couldn't be helped. He'd already been set ablaze by his encounter with the black mage Count Melnoir, who was in league with the Evil Emperor Cult. As volume 2 progressed, he'd fallen into the cult's traps and such, his thirst for revenge only growing stronger. A process of being steadily devoured by vengeful madness, until reason was impossible.
Alan's quill pen stabbed a period onto the manuscript paper, ending the sentence.
"…A fierce battle."
After a fierce battle that turned the entire landscape upside down, Shuren was defeated. Ignoring the old knight Sir Schubert's words, he fled to bide his time for another day.
"Honestly, it's a bit frustrating section, but what can you do? It's a massive clash where they both end up with grievous wounds."
It highlighted the old knight Schubert's strength as a veteran who could turn the tables, while pitting him against Shuren, an avenger born with overwhelming talent. A clash that reshaped the terrain—and Shuren lost. And yet, he inflicted serious wounds on Schubert in the process.
"Schubert can't pursue due to his injuries and bides his time as well. Shuren goes into hiding to recover, only to get ambushed again, and that's where the new character shows up."
Alan set down his quill and stood up. He needed reference materials. It was time for a long-overdue visit to the central library.
"Meia! I need to head to the library!"
"I'll prepare right away."
"Ah, Alan! It's been ages since you visited the library!"
"Hey, Diavela."
"Looking for a specific book?"
"Any history books on the First Great War era?"
"The First Great War?"
Diavela pushed up her glasses slightly, eyeing Alan as if to ask why on earth he'd want that. The First Great War was, as the name suggested, the conflict where every race on the continent had tangled in a massive free-for-all. It was also one of the oldest recorded periods in continental history.
It had begun with the war between the haughty High Elves—who now claimed to be the direct descendants of the superior High Elves in the Northern Sea Elf Kingdom—and the ancient trolls.
The elves dragged humans into it, and the trolls pulled in the orcs, ballooning the war to insane scales.
Alan had learned about it in his continental history lectures, but it had all been vague overviews. If he wanted real details, digging through the records was the way.
"I can find some, but do you really need it?"
"Research, plus I have a report due for continental history anyway."
"Oh right, that class has assignments. I'll grab it for you."
"Thanks."
Diavela headed to the shelves and soon returned with a book. It was seriously thick. Alan whistled as he took it.
"Thicker than I expected. Way thicker."
"The continental history assignment is to summarize a historical era of your choice in a report, right? I'm curious why you picked the First Great War."
"Eh, it's a secret for now."
"...Ehh."
Diavela pouted. Alan chuckled.
"Kidding. I just wanted to see the human perspective on the First Great War. I'd love the other races' views too, but they're not here."
No matter how vast the Versa Imperial Academy's central library was—rivaling the imperial archives—it was limited to human records. Elves, beastkin, orcs—they all kept their histories in their own scripts.
Alan felt a twinge of annoyance at that.
This damn world's got no standardization. No common tongue, no common script, records fragmented across eastern empires, western kingdoms...
Without someone conquering the continent with overwhelming force and forging a unified empire, true continental integration might be impossible, Alan thought.
"It's a shame, but at least we have the human records."
"Belstar Forest probably has elven histories, huh?"
"That's the rumor. Come visit sometime?"
"If I can swing it during break. Thanks for the book. Three-day loan again?"
"You're gonna read that beast in three days? It'll be rough. Want me to extend it to seven?"
"That'd be great."
"Sure, seven days it is."
Confirming the seven-day loan, Alan took the book back.
"Oh, Alan. About what I mentioned last time."
"Hm?"
"I brought volume 2! Can you sign it?"
"Again...?"
"First edition with your personal signature! I'm collecting the full set!"
"That's a little scary."
Alan scratched his cheek awkwardly. It was hard to refuse Diavela, so he flipped open the book and scrawled his name in cursive. He handed it back, capping his fountain pen and slipping it into the breast pocket of his academy uniform.
"Anyway, thanks, Diavela."
"No problem."
"Take care."
"Can't wait for the next volume!"
Diavela's innocent words made Alan chuckle. Hearing from a reader that they were waiting was a writer's greatest joy. Any form of encouragement from fans gave them strength—even if hate comments could wound deeply.
Alan waved as he walked away. Diavela watched him go, chin in hand, a happy smile on her face.
"...I won't forgive anyone who tries to ruin my little happiness."
The moment Alan vanished from sight, Diavela's expression hardened, her eyes glinting sharply behind her glasses.
"The First Great War... tons of material to work with here."
Alan opened the book and slowly jotted summaries on the paper set aside for his report.
The First Great War, which began with the conflict between the High Elves and ancient trolls. The troll tribes descended from those ancient trolls now lived as hunters in the eastern barren lands' forests, but details were scarce.
This world's got its weird quirks. Trolls and orcs are recognized as intelligent demihumans, at least.
The High Elves, who had looked down on humans so much, allied with them and taught them magic. Human kingdoms lent their strength against the ancient trolls. But the High Elf empire wasn't just fighting trolls—they were mired in brutal civil wars, unable to unite. Their scattered forces couldn't withstand the troll onslaught; their capital fell, most of their strength evaporated, and they walked the path to ruin.
"Dwarves existed back then too, but they never asked them for help, even on pain of death. Insane."
Alan clicked his tongue as he read.
"Even in the midst of civil war, refusing aid from non-humans shows how arrogantly stubborn they were. The High Elves."
The High Elf empire's fall and the splintering of the surviving elves. The ancient trolls won the war, but their empire's losses were heavy too, leading to fragmentation into countless tribes.
Two empires vanished from the vast Rozelia continent. Human forces, centered around what are now the southern kingdoms like the Palos Kingdom and the southern alliance, naturally claimed the territory and rose as the era's protagonists. History's flow shifted from the age of elves and demihumans to humanity.
"Developing and adapting the magic handed down from the elves, creating diverse branches. That's when the six magic towers emerged."
The six towers based on light, darkness, fire, water, earth, and wind attributes. The lineage of magic used by humans centered on the Tyranto Empire today stemmed from relentless research after the First Great War.
Further studies confirmed humans had innate magical aptitude, and rare constitutions with multiple complex attributes were discovered, fueling explosive growth in human magic.
Alan whistled, scribbling a couple lines of summary.
"Magic came first, then aura."
Those who couldn't manifest mana as magic but used it solely for physical enhancement—masters of body reinforcement. They split from the broad category of mages and became knights, wielding aura for nations, territories, and the weak.
Dropouts who couldn't turn mana into magical phenomena. Naturally scorned and despised in mage society, these "dropouts" developed their own way to use mana: pioneering the use of aura. The birth of the first knights.
Alan paused his quill, spotting an unbelievable passage.
"...Didn't expect Kun'Rung to be involved here."
Shockingly, those who contributed to aura's birth weren't Tyranto imperials, but people from Kun'Rung. They also played the biggest role in founding the Tyranto Empire. But wary of their excessive strength, the empire's founders rejected and expelled them, igniting the bad blood between Tyranto and Kun'Rung.
Those who truly followed the pre-Kun'Rung people in droves defected, opposed Tyranto, settled in the east, founded the Kun'Rung Empire—and endless wars began.
Alan scratched his cheek, then resumed summarizing for his report with a tsk.
"The empire's founders messed up, no doubt about it."
Still, preserving this fact showed some self-awareness of their wrongs.
"Surprising on multiple levels. Good call digging into history books."
Rich material indeed. Alan set down his quill when Meia's voice came.
"...I've returned, young master."
"Whoa! Meia, when did you get here?"
"Have you eaten?"
"Not yet."
Meia held a lunch basket as if it were the most natural thing.
"I brought your meal. Shall we eat now?"
"Hm, hate to break my flow..."
His stomach growled loudly. He'd been so focused he'd forgotten his hunger. Alan smiled awkwardly.
"Guess it's time for some food first?"