Even though I’d been to the library not too long ago, I still was hit by a sense of nostalgia once I was inside. The large windows high up on the walls let in ample sunlight to light the place, but it was possible to still find dark quiet corners. 

In those corners, lamps powered by magic were hung on the walls to illuminate the pages of the books on the table. 

I looked around, and in one of those dark corners, a group of mages was huddled over a particularly large book. Even though they spoke in hushed tones to not disturb others, they were still very animated as they discussed the contents of the book. 

My sister was amongst the mages. I was tempted to go over and ask what it was they were discussing, but I stopped myself—I willed myself to stick to my original objective. 

I looked around, expecting to find my father, but he was nowhere to be found. I'd expected him to be in the library, I was surprised to see that he wasn’t. 

I spotted the librarian standing in front of one of the walls that housed a section of the books here. I decided to enlist his help, so I walked over to him. 

“Hello Bor,” I greeted him as I approached. The librarian turned to look at me. 

“Ah! Silas. You have been missed around these parts,” Bor responded with a smile. “You've grown a lot, though I hear you’ve been wreaking havoc around the settlement.” 

I didn’t know how to respond, I could only smile sheepishly. My hand immediately went to scratch my head, though I had no itch to scratch. 

“So, what brings you around,” he asked as he turned back to face his task of taking inventory. 

“I'm looking for books that can help me understand attribute magic more,” I said. 

Bor turned to look at me. The years of experience and wisdom he had accumulated over his seventy-five years of life reflected in his languid eyes. 

“You still haven’t given up on magic I see,” he remarked, his trademark smile still on his face. 

Bor rubbed his bald head, ruffling what little bit of white hair was still left on his head. He had a frown on his face as he thought of what books to recommend to me, the smile on his face vanishing for a brief moment. 

“Ah! I recently restored an old book. It isn’t one of those scholarly articles you're used to reading, but it contained some insights about magic gained by an adventurer that traveled a lot,” Bor said to me, the smile returning to his face. “It had many stories of different civilizations and how they used magic.” 

I thought of Bor as a wealth of knowledge. I had no way to be sure, but I suspected that he'd read all the books in the library—after all, librarians needed to know the contents contained within the pages of a book to know when and to who to recommend it. If Bor said this book would prove to be helpful, I had no doubts it would. 

“Go to the third stone shelf, on the fourth row you'll find a book called ‘The Tales of King Edmund’, it is hard to miss,” he said to me then turned back to continue with his task. 

Just as he said, the book was hard to miss. It was a book written on white leather parchment. It was the first time I’d ever seen a book like that. The pages of most books were either brown or black. 

I felt a slight vibration in the air, the tell-tale sign of ambient mana being disturbed. Someone was casting magic, and sure enough soon, “Brother, what brings you here?” I heard my sister's voice in my head asking. She must've used [Mind talk]. 

“I wanted to learn more about attribute magic,” I answered. 

“Oh ho! Are you finally going to try and live up to your potential?” she asked, sounding elated for some reason. 

“I don’t know what you mean, I’ve always lived up to my full potential,” I answered. 

I could feel my sister cringe. Serves her right I thought, you should take as much as you give. 

“Something good going on over there? I noticed your group having a spirited discussion when I walked in,” I probed, really curious to find out what it was they were discussing. 

“Yes. Earlier father was reading this grimoire that deconstructed runes into their basic functions, he noticed a key function he thought could help improve the enchanted weapons,” she said, her voice getting more excited as she went on. 

My heart started to beat really fast. It took all my willpower not to run over to her, grab her by the shoulders, and demand very loudly that she continue. 

“Oh! Does that mean he can finally solve the problem of improving the magic engraved into the enchanted weapons?” I asked, about as calm as the surface of a lake during a storm. 

“Maybe, but for now this only means he can add new functions to the runes on the enchanted weapons. We were discussing how to build runes from scratch to be able to handle more complex tasks,” she answered. 

I could finally understand why they were spirited. The topic of their discussion was indeed an exciting one. Depending on how much headway they made, the impact it would have on our settlement would be nothing short of revolutionary. 

“So, where is father?” I asked. 

My sister sighed before she answered, “He ran straight to the smithy to test out his hypothesis.” 

I smiled. It was just like my father. For a man so meticulous and deliberate, he acted rashly too often, impulsively pursuing whatever ideas popped into his head as they related to magic theory. In many ways, I was like that too. 

“I'll be burying myself in books, so do not disturb me, but call for me when you are ready to leave. Aurel will likely be waiting for me at the pub, I promised to drink with him today; we could use that time to talk about things,” I said to my sister. She then severed the link. 

I picked up the book, found one of those dark corners that were empty, and opened it to read. The handwriting was neat, too neat. Not even father could write this well. The brushstrokes were delicate, the lines small, thin, and very organized. I felt a sense of wonder, I’d never seen handwriting that beautiful. 

From the first page, the book read: 

I thought I would only ever experience that miracle once, but after being transferred from Earth to Morus, I once again find myself in a strange world. 

Unlike Morus, this world looks more primitive, and their magic underdeveloped; perhaps it is to do with their reliance on the gods. I must learn their customs, their common tongue and try to build a life in this world too. 

I paused, what I’d read sounded very strange. I didn’t know the name of the author, but Bor had said he was an adventurer that traveled a lot; however, this writer was saying they were from another world.

I started to feel a little disappointed, could it be bor has recommended to me a book written by a mad man I wondered. I was hesitant to continue, but I still turned the page. 

It has been a month since I was transported here. Thankfully, the rules of magic on Morus apply here, so I have fashioned myself a ring of understanding. 

Even though magic in this world is still primitive, there are some powerful magicians about. Any of the magicians I have come across in this world would've been at the apex of magic on Morus. 

I guess the mad man thought he was from a world called Morus. I continued reading for no other reason than that my curiosity had been piqued. 

There are no adventurers here, the closest they have are traveling minstrels and their entourage. I have joined one such entourage as a guard to make some money. 

I still struggle to understand the units of their currencies, I am unsure if even the denizens of this world understand it.  

My tattoos seem to shock all who lay eyes on me, it is no surprise though, I have yet to see any of the magicians of this world with the deus conducting tattoos. Even though the laws of magic are seemingly the same, the practice looks worlds apart hahaha. 

I paused again, I was five pages in now, however, I already found the book to be a lot. I didn’t know what deus or the deus conducting tattoos the author of this book spoke of was. Of course, a tattooed person would stand out in most places. 

One of the edicts passed down to us by the gods was to treat our bodies as their temple, we were to take good care to not destroy what they'd created. Getting tattooed was thus a taboo almost everywhere. 

I wonder if the gods he worships are lax with rules I thought. From the way the author wrote, it was clear that they didn’t see tattoos as a taboo, so perhaps he simply had no common sense. I sighed. 

I lifted my head to observe my surroundings, from my vantage point I couldn’t really see much. The stone shelves hid me away from view, consequently, everyone was also hidden from me. 

I felt the cold air blowing in from the open windows on my skin, the air carried with it the smell of rain. It'd been months since we last had rain, and by the smell in the air, I could tell it would start raining soon again. 

I distracted myself with such inane musings, as I was reluctant to continue reading the book before me. What use will the insights of a mad man be to me I wondered as I stared off into space. 

For the first time in my young life, my faith in Bor's wisdom was shaken. I couldn’t fathom why he'd recommended this book to me; so far it didn’t look like it would be helpful at all. Using unknown terms and not bothering to explain them irked me. However, I still continued to turn the pages. 

The further I read the more sense what had started out as the incoherent ramblings of a mad man began to make. On page thirteen I found these words: 

I have begun to understand the magic of this world. Relating everything here to Morus, what they call attribute magic should be what was practiced in Morus; although they have yet to find ways to properly channel deus, what they call mana. 

On Morus, the deus channeling tattoos solved this issue, but in this world, the teaching of the gods has all but ensured they'll never be able to use this method. 

Ah, I thought, so mana is deus. I continued to read. 

I forget what the name of the god who transferred me to Morus was, but I remember my disdain for him. The whimsical bastard who tormented my days just to prove his point. I wonder why these people worship gods, would they continue to worship them if they knew—the gods are a whacky bunch. 

Despite the cold, cold that gave me goosebumps, I felt heat start to rise from my stomach all the way to my head; my eyes burned with such heat I couldn’t see what was in front of me. I had never experienced such intense anger. 

Blasphemy! Blasphemy! I closed the book in anger and stood, intent on confronting Bor for recommending such a book to me, when my sister’s words sounded in my head. 

“Brother, we are finished here. The sun has yet to set so I think it'll be too early to meet up with Aurel, what do you plan to do?” she asked. 

I couldn’t immediately calm myself, so my anger seeped into my words as I replied, “No, now is the perfect time to meet up. I wish to flush from my head the nonsense I just read with alcohol.” 

“You may head over first then, I'll meet up with you once I finish my consultation with father,” my sister said then cut off the link between us. 

I wasted no time, I picked up the book I’d been reading and returned it to its place on the stone shelf, then made my way to the pub; there I was greeted by the oddest sight. 

Aurel sat quietly, sipping his ale. He wasn’t being loud or a nuisance to the server, he looked to be deep in thought from the slight frown on his face. 

The other regulars of the pub who'd become accustomed to his rowdiness stole glances at him, no doubt just as amazed as I was. 

“What happened to your friend?” the server walked over to me and asked. I had stopped dead in my tracks the moment I laid eyes on Aurel, so I hadn’t moved from the entrance. 

“Why, is something wrong?” I asked stupidly. Obviously, a sober Aurel in the pub was plenty wrong in itself. 

“Not particularly, I just have never seen him so well behaved,” the server said to me with a smile and went back to her duties. 

Aurel was staring at his drink intensely, and up until I took a seat in front of him, he never raised his head, even though he must’ve been aware of my presence as I approached. 

Before I could speak, he spoke first. “You, what's going on with you?” 

His question threw me off. I couldn’t make sense of the question itself, thus there was no way I could give an answer. I just stared at him blankly. 

“I've had some time to think, and you're many things, but you aren’t a cheat, brother,” he said, staring at my face with an intensity that made me feel like I was shrinking. “That means I lost earlier fair and square, but there is just one problem, the way you fought was out of the ordinary. I've sat here trying to come up with an explanation, but I’ve failed. Tell me,” he continued, “what is going on with you?"