“All human exploration to outside the galaxy has ended in failure.

Sustenance and power were no issue. Food could be grown efficiently, water was able to be recycled infinitely, power was able to be generated without issue, and fuel could be resynthesized as they drifted. Even debris could be dealt with.

The issue was human error. A single mistake was devastating, and resulted in a failed mission, the death of the crew, and a lost ship. 

Failure could be managed, but with space taken up for living necessities, it became narrow.

Project Starseer, or The Ascension Program, was the solution.”

• Excerpt from “Tides of Space: An Effective History of Starseers”.

Though normally a lush tropical location, as it currently stood, Byruim was in its eight month winter.

Darrius pulled his robes further over his body, a puff of steam escaping his lips.

The problem wasn’t that it was too cold, no, he could take it just fine. Rather, the cold was still uncomfortable. He would much prefer to find a base of operations sooner rather than later.

Of course, he wasn’t about to ruin his chances or his pride by simply picking a decent location. What was needed was one worthy of him or that piqued his interest, and since the former wasn’t going to be fulfilled anytime soon, it was up to the latter.

He had been trudging through for the last two hours or so. It was obvious, in fact, by the thick layer of goosebumps and the red pitch of his skin. Still, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, considering it was the sixth month of the planet’s winter, and the temperatures were beginning to slowly tick up to zero degrees Fahrenheit, and eventually above that.

Heck, he might prefer the cold. Getting sweat to dowse his clothes would have been much less preferable.

An old road was one he traveled on, rarely spotting a passerby. All the wood logs they would have needed would be treated and seasoned by now, so no logging work was being done. Especially with how high up he was on the mountain.

Traditional culture, it seemed. Most used heaters and other sorts, and wood was a decently rare resource. Luxury’s definition depended on the society, he supposed.

“|-++--+=| |=--_--+| |+--=--_|”

Shit.

Quickly, he hid in the mix of brush and snow. His purple robes didn’t blend in, but the hearty bushes of dark green and brown were more than enough to obscure him.

Apparently, the residents of this planet, when not in verbal communication distance, used different lights and lengths of those lights flashing to speak to one another. It made sense due to the snowstorms, but with how their winter clothes were also completely white… it was hard to get a heads up of their arrival to say the least.

Hunters.

The chains’ rattle was muffled by the weather as he pulled into his hands what was attached to it. To say its design showed a large amount of wealth would be undermining it, obviously done by a collection of master crafters in their respective works. Black leather, precious stones, and a foggy clear rock of some kind encased in glass in the center, how it was rough and untreated easily standing out from the rest. Mighty heft and weight, more so even than the many written papers within.

Hmm, actually, it might not be best to seek a fight when I have no place to take the corpses afterward.

Tension tightened once more in the links as he dropped it back to his side, the right loop of his pants, where it was connected, being yanked down again. Instead, he drew a hard, yellow book of around four hundred pages. Along the tough spine read “A catalog of the species.”

His fingers traced the lip, just before the pages, before flipping it open and going to the index.

Universe D… Galaxy Uyirmstat… Planet Byruim...

As soon as the print of his pointer swept over the universe in the index, the single page separated into a dozen more. The pages contained the many galaxies, and when Uyimstat was touched it opened into two more pages, planets this time, as well as the four suns. 

Byruim’s page split was different. No longer was it an index, but a list of species that inhabited the planet itself. Admittedly, it was a bit outdated, and so any new visitors might not be recorded, but it did show the original population, wildlife, and flora. 

Besides, half the fun is filling the rest out yourself. Now le- oh, there you are.

It’s true, only now looking up the people on the planet you planed on conquering isn’t the best decision, but it can be considered a handicap. Now they can’t complain later when he completely outsmarts every single one of them. Indeed, his mercy truly defines him.

Osimor-eppin, a six-limbed people. Unlike the humans his current form is based off, they aren’t endurance or speed-based predators. Rather, they simply sit there while their pheromones attract prey, and kill them with traps instead. Four limbs, a tail, scales, and cold-blooded. There were many with different scale colors, but what differentiated them was scale shape. They all used a common language, based on sixteen different possible letters, and professionals used a color-based version of that in their work.

Cold-blooded, no wonder they wrap themselves up so tightly and thick, he dressed his chin with his gloved fingers, something to keep mind of. Other species apparently recently came to visit, so after a few years they’re either integrated or enslaved…

The covers shut with a barely audible *whompf*. Darrius wouldn’t worry about it too much. Though more advanced than most other species were when they started developing space-travel technology, it wasn’t enough to worry.

A real problem would have been if they were an advanced culture. Even he could die in one hit if the weapon was strong enough. And death to weaklings? An embarrassing thing to avoid at all costs.

It didn’t take him a book to tell him if they were hunters though, considering that they were carrying some kind of weapon. Iron bars about two feet in length with some kind of etching which no doubt had some function for violence. Best to avoid them for now.

Darrius froze a bit when one of them sniffed, but thankfully he was downwind. 

Two minutes after they left, he once more began the travel, except he now had an irritating amount of pointy leaves prodding him as he moved.

After five more hours, he felt the air begin to thin. Was he a lesser man, he would have begun to go unconscious, and yet his breath was steady.

He couldn’t help but grin. Yes, the peak of one of the tallest mountains on this planet would be perfect.

The square pack on his back barely made any noise, the small side satchels jangling much louder in comparison. There was climbing required every now and then, not much though.

It would have been angering if there wasn’t actually at the very least a cave near the top, but that wasn’t the case. Mouth partially covered by snow, the bluestone welcomed him with all its dark glory.

Trees, animals, and water. All the basic necessities, if needed.

His eyes glared inside though as he licked his lips. The saliva started freezing almost immediately.

Then again, with how great I am I’m sure fate has provided for me.

Palms grasped a branch off a nearby tree. Pulled down with a powerful brawn, a crisp snap went unheard by any but him. 

Using his free hand, he reached into the deep purple robes once more, trimmed with gold coloring, and pulled out another book. Dark ivory, but just as plain as the other, words on the spine noted it as “Cantrip Collection, Mark 226”.

All the leaves of paper contained differing designs and tightened circles, mathematical equations on the side to explain how the 3D shapes were rendered. And to think that these are the simple ones.

Tucking it back in, Darrius’s fingernails reached down to the book quite literally chained to his side and circled around the glass case of the stone. Up, down, up almost three quarters but not right, to the left, half-circle with a diameter of one inch, cross over to the top right again, then all the way to the side. Only slight pressure is applied in the process.

Humming to himself as he does this, the material inside begins to liquefy, mist up the container, and disappear altogether.

*click*

Like a flint striking steel.

*click click*

*FWOOOM*

Flame lights in his grasp, wood crackles with a hiss as it braves the weather and melts the snow.

Almost like magic. Guess it’s why they’re called grimoire. 

Letting go of the book yet again, Darrius slowly starts moving into the depths of the earth, even as the storm gains traction behind him.