The Third Floor's Secrets
From that day on, Kaisent settled into the same routine.
Mornings meant special training under Akina. Afternoons were spent in the library. Nights belonged to the three women and the thoroughly debauched life they shared.
He filled each day to the brim—until, come the seventh day, a frown settled over his face.
There's nothing on that forest. Not a single word.
Using the dimensional warehouse, he had absorbed in a single week everything this world knew of its geography and its stranger magical wilds. Yet of the forest where he and Dang Seol-yeong had lived, the shelves held nothing at all.
Which meant, turning the thought around, that if even a collection this thorough left no trace, the place had almost certainly appeared from another dimension.
Trees so dense the sun itself was hard to see. According to Seol-yeong, climbing to the canopy revealed only more forest and mountain ranges. Giant venomous spiders nesting in the branches. Mushrooms and tree-fruits he had never seen before, forming an ecosystem all their own. Four-legged beasts with stone-like hides, six eyes, and beaks built for crushing. Things that lurked by the water's edge and struck like snakes—except their jaws had evolved purely to tear flesh.
The memories remained vivid, but he had not stayed long enough to gather much more than that.
It's thin information for pinning down a whole region—but if the place never existed here before, this should be more than enough.
The moment he thought it, the options narrowed so sharply that the tension in his brow eased of its own accord.
Once I know where it is, I'll go myself and find Noona. Until then, I have to get stronger.
He steadied his own heart, banished the impatience, and chose the pursuit of strength. Then he lifted his gaze.
Come to think of it, Countess Akina said the third floor held knowledge you couldn't learn just anywhere.
The first floor had been strewn with the basic lore of this world—everything he still needed to master. But knowledge and information were useless without the power to back them up.
He had the dimensional warehouse anyway; time was hardly scarce. So Kaisent climbed to the third floor.
Magic is flowing through this place.
Before he even stepped up, he checked the image-magic display showing a red-card clearance. The entire third floor was under magical control.
The books themselves are linked to the wards. Move one outside this floor and an alarm goes off.
Trying to dismantle the magic clumsily would trip it just the same. To break it properly he would have to touch the castle's own enchantments directly—or be skilled enough to peel the wards apart in secret, piece by piece.
Scanning, though—that shouldn't be a problem.
Deciding to scan the books the same way he had on the first floor, Kaisent first took stock of what was actually there.
Naturally, the collection numbered a mere twenty or thirty volumes.
The saying that knowledge is power held true everywhere, but in this world knowledge was the private property of the upper classes. And because the right knowledge could strengthen an entire house or faction, they fought tooth and nail to keep it from leaking outside.
That was why so few books sat here—and why only holders of a red card or higher were allowed through the door.
Countess Akina really does treat me almost like family.
Grateful to her all over again, Kaisent scanned the volumes one by one and then stepped into the dimensional warehouse.
Artemis, linked through his gloves, offered no greeting. A mechanical arm simply rolled forward an ergonomic reclining chair sized precisely to his frame. Since everything could be melted down and reused anyway, the whole thing had been forged from solid mithril—a custom piece.
Thanks, Artemis.
He thanked her and settled half-reclined, opening the first book in comfort.
Before long he realized, with some disappointment, that none of these volumes contained anything that truly deserved the name of a secret art.
Nothing here comes close to the Deadly Impact Countess Akina taught me.
For martial techniques, learning directly from her was clearly the better path. He shoved every weapon-related book into a corner.
These are magic texts. No tower's exclusive secrets, but they're packed with widely known spells.
And those spells were exactly what Kaisent had been craving.
He worked through the books one by one, casting each spell exactly as written and mastering them in a single pass—until Artemis, who had been silent until then, finally spoke.
"Having so many spells is excellent, of course. But one thing is a pity."
What is?
"These pages only give you the answer key—channel mana this way and that spell appears. To truly grow as a mage, your understanding has to deepen until you can shape all kinds of magic yourself."
Don't cling to other people's answer sheets. Create new answers of your own.
That, she believed, was how Kaisent would become truly strong.
She's right. I have no idea what situations I'll face. Relying only on spells other people invented is far too passive. First, though—finish every book.
Once he had absorbed the magic texts completely, the next volume finally drew an interested look across his face.
An Introduction to Enchantment Magic!
The knowledge to craft magical items with his own hands.
With this I can strengthen everyone's gear!
Most fighters simply layered mana over ordinary weapons, so what use was a magic blade? But a truly excellent enchanted weapon could clash with sword qi or even Sword Gang without a scratch—and without needing mana wrapped around it at all. Magical weapons also made channeling mana far easier, which would be an enormous help to Lillian, who already burned through vast amounts of power swinging that greatsword of hers.
The book's contents were only middling, yet through it he learned three methods of reinforcement.
First: strengthening by pure magic.
Second: inscribing reinforcement arrays onto a finished piece.
Third: etching those arrays into the interior while the equipment itself was being forged.
Of the three, the finest magical items came from the last method—building the arrays into the piece as it was made.
The problem was that drawing magic circles while forging required a blacksmith skilled enough to withstand the force of mana, working in tandem with an enchanter. The work demanded such intense concentration that the two also needed flawless coordination, never getting in each other's way.
Wait. This—
"The third method seems simple enough for us."
Right? I just pour mana through the machine hands while they work.
For Kaisent, the hardest method of all became almost trivial.
Artemis—who never made an error—would shape the piece while Kaisent simply breathed his inner energy into it. Done.
Creating a permanent magical item normally demanded enormous quantities of mana plus auxiliary materials to amplify that power. But Kaisent, with his vast reserves of pure inner energy, could manage it alone.
Having confirmed the enchantment techniques, he ordered Artemis to forge weapons for Lillian and Priscilla.
"We'll run short on materials for the magic guns, but one little show of affection for Lady Akina should refill the stocks. No real concern."
W-wait! Artemis! Don't make weird jokes like that!
"It wasn't a joke."
Come to think of it, with Akina it didn't sound entirely impossible.
Artemis chuckled and began preparing the two women's weapons. She had long since recorded every detail of their builds, weight, hand shape, and more; she could craft perfectly balanced masterpieces without effort.
While Artemis prepared, Kaisent turned to the last remaining book.
Herbalism.
It catalogued herbs and how their effects changed with handling—only the successes distilled from countless failures and repetitions. Even knowledge like this would be useful someday, so he committed it to memory.
"Preparations complete."
Good. Let's begin.
Together with Artemis, Kaisent set to work forging exclusive weapons for Lillian and Priscilla.
His heart full of care for the two of them, he discussed designs with Artemis and began melting down the metals he had on hand.
Forging a single famous blade normally took considerable time, and the final quality hinged heavily on the smith's skill and condition that day.
Inside the medium-scale production plant, multiple mechanical arms moved in perfect unison. The speed looked almost like mass-producing ordinary weapons.
In truth, every detail—from blade to grip—was being shaped with ergonomic precision around each user's build and the exact form of their hands.
Had the dwarves, that race of legendary craftsmen, witnessed the sight, they would have despaired watching mere machines churn out masterwork swords with skill that crushed their own.
"Finished. Only the finishing touches remain."
"Then I'll leave the rest to you. I'm going to find Lillian and Priscilla."
"Understood. Please set the time ratio to one-to-one."
"Got it. Thanks."
After roughly eight hours inside the dimensional warehouse completing both weapons, Kaisent returned to reality looking faintly tired.
Once they reached Master rank, ordinary weapons never felt satisfying enough. I hope these make them happy.
He stepped out of the library and started down the now-familiar path toward the barracks.
Whoosh!
"Wah—?!"
Someone who had been pressed flat against the library wall seized his shoulder in a firm grip.
"Shh. This way."
A soft yet composed woman's voice followed at once, and Kaisent understood why he hadn't reacted.
No hostile intent. And she smells like a good noona, too.
The tiniest flicker of malice aimed at him would have set every nerve alight—but the reverse was also true. Without hostility, he was easily caught. On top of that, the woman pulling his shoulder carried the scent of a kind older sister, so he let himself be led without a single question.
"Stay quiet a moment."
They slipped behind the library building. Kaisent's senses picked up someone entering the library.
Moments later the same person strode straight back out and began circling the area as if searching for something.
"What the—? I heard he spends every afternoon in the library."
A faintly irritable female voice muttered, then drifted away until the presence left his range entirely.
"We're clear now."
"Who are you, Noo— huh?"
Kaisent turned to see who had pulled him aside—and found the unforgettable giantess knight.
Even the full-body armor was exactly the same as that first day. She had barged in looking for him from the very start, and standing only a little shorter than Akina herself, she had stuck firmly in his memory.
"Are you the one who came looking for me on the first day…?"
"…That's right."
The knight nodded before he could even finish the question, admitting it was her.
"Then why did you drag me out here? Does it have something to do with the noona who just went into the library?"
"……"
"Noona?"
"Hah! S-sorry."
What was that? She was staring at me so intensely…
The full armor hid her face, but the fierce gaze fixed on him had been unmistakable. Something about the whole exchange kept sliding just slightly off-kilter.
"I… um… my name is… Merencia Karayden."
"You're Countess Akina's daughter?"
"Y-yeah."
Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Please hold on, patience of mine!
Kaisent barely reached her waist. That tiny, adorable face chattering so cutely was testing Merencia's self-control to the breaking point—she wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and hug him with all her strength.
"Hoo— hoo—"
"Noona?"
"S-sorry… Just… let me catch my breath…"
"Is breathing hard? I can help."
"No! I'm fine!"
Unused to receiving kindness from anyone, Merencia raised her voice without meaning to and shoved the offer away.
Aaaah! Why did I yell at him there?!
A beat too late, self-loathing crashed over her. Now the boy would be terrified. He would make a teary face.
"Noona."
Instead she met a situation she had never experienced in her life.
"You seem a little overexcited. I'll wait, so please steady your breathing and then we can talk again."
"Ah— y-yeah. Th-thank you."
She had never managed proper conversations with children her own age, and the memories of making so many of them cry still lived as trauma. Excitement tangled her thoughts in an instant.
This is a first. A child who didn't flinch even when I raised my voice…
Kaisent's calm somehow let her reclaim her composure. Merencia spoke again.
"Hoooo— The girl who went into the library just now is my little sister, Patisha."
"It sounded like she was looking for me."
"She was. Apparently she saw you training with Mother a while back."
"Ah. I remember."
He knew the face, now that he thought about it—but he had never heard the voice.
"Patisha isn't huge like Mother or me. She's pretty, too, so she's always been popular… Being fawned over by men turned her vain. If she wants something, she has to have it."
"So she wants me?"
"Yeah. The day she first saw you, she said she wanted you for herself. Mother would be furious if she found out… and that scared me, so I came to warn you."
Listening to Merencia's explanation, Kaisent finally understood why she had carried the scent of a good noona.
But that Patisha noona didn't smell bad at all…
The lack of any foul impression from Patisha puzzled him, yet he pushed the stray thought aside and offered his thanks first.
"Thank you, Noona. But there's one thing I'd like to correct."
"Y-yeah? What is it…?"
"Countess Akina and you are beautiful too."
"…Huh? M-me…?"
"Yes."
"B-but… you haven't even seen my face…"
"Countess Akina is beautiful, and your little sister Patisha is beautiful, so of course you must be beautiful as well."
Merencia had inherited Akina's talent—and Akina's towering frame along with it.
Her first social debut had been the same ordeal her mother once endured, and she had never managed to make a single real friend.
From there their paths diverged.
Akina had turned that humiliation into fuel, swearing no one would ever look down on her again. She raised a mere border margraviate into a power and forged herself a cold, unyielding nature.
Merencia shrank. She grew timid, losing all confidence in human relationships.
And then there was Patisha—built no larger than an ordinary adult man—who had debuted triumphantly and kept a string of admirers dangling with her looks. Compared to that, Merencia's self-worth crumbled even further.
"I-I-I-I should g-g-go now!"
A boy this small and adorable looking straight at her without a shred of fear—and even saying she was obviously beautiful—only terrified her more.
If he sees my face he'll be disappointed!
"Ah— wait a second!"
Unlike Patisha, who fussed over cosmetics to polish her beauty, Merencia wandered around bare-faced, not even using basic skincare. Of course Kaisent would be disappointed the moment he saw her.
She shook off his attempt to stop her and fled.
He could have caught her easily if he wished, but he sensed that chasing her now would only make things worse. There would be another chance later.
Countess Akina seemed self-conscious about her height too. Being a little bigger doesn't erase someone's charm. They're both far too hard on themselves.
"A truly unfortunate family. To possess such beauty and still end up with personalities like that simply because of their size."
Artemis had already confirmed Merencia's appearance through the nanomachines built into Kaisent's gloves, which was how she could say it so flatly.
I know. It bothers me too.
He decided that when the chance came, he would show Merencia the charm she already carried. For now he turned his steps toward Lillian and Priscilla, ready to deliver their new weapons.