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"WHO ART THOU?!"

"THINE?!"

"BY THE DRAKE'S FANGS!!"

The Hollow Lexicon was in uproar.

After all, I had just finished reading my thirty-third book, despite having just stepped in an hour ago.

So obviously, the reactions of the onlookers were much expected, but I somewhat felt like they were a little too exaggerated.

Ah...my brilliance...it's like a curse...

Damn bastard, you could easily have found a secluded spot but yet you went and sat at the very center!

A shadow of a smirk came to my face.

Hehe, what's a better way to aura farm?

[Skill: Art of Learning is active.]

The Art of Learning, a formidable skill that had taken me months to grasp and many more to master. It was basically the ability to learn, to grasp and understand concepts deeply.

Yet, my reading speed wasn't attributed to this, instead it was simply because of my Level 11 constitution.

CLATTER!

Nearby, a young scholar shot up from his seat, his face a struck mask of disbelief, his glasses crooked and his legs shaking. His wooden chair had fallen to the ground due to how fast he had risen.

"P-PREPOSTEROUS!!"

He shot an accusive finger at me, forcing me to tilt my head in his direction.

The scholar's mates who sat along his table rattled, beckoning him to seat back down but he was adamant.

"YOU! YOU DARE SLANDER US WITH YOUR TOMFOOLERY!!"

"Oh?"

My gaze flickered with amusement.

At the young man's words, the Hollow Lexicon stilled, even the library's coordinator; a scrawny man with a sharp pointed nose and a stoic face grew silent.

All eyes slowly turned to me, awaiting my response.

Feeling their gazes, I chuckled inwardly.

With my legs crossed, my posture leaning back and a cup of tea nestling in my right hand, I fitted the image of an elegant noble perfectly.

My messy pony-tail laid scattered across my shoulder blades while the single hair strand leaned across my left eye. The Posh Reverie accentuated my figure, making my chiseled physique seem even larger.

TINK.

I replaced my cup back in its saucer, before closing the book.

CLASP.

'NOBLE TONGUE: A GUIDE TO DIALECT By Erza Nightingale.'

Erza Nightingale...what a genius of an author...

A gentle smile came to my face, as I quietly cleared my throat before saying,

"Ah, but dear scholar.", I mused, my voice taking shape of the common manner of speaking as I continued,

"Is it truly slander if it is but the truth?"

A ripple of whispers spread through the Hollow Lexicon. The air thickened with tension.

The young scholar stiffened, his lips parting as if to retort, but I raised a single finger, stopping him cold.

TINK.

In an unhurried manner, I took the teacup of its saucer and brought it to my lips, taking a sip of the warm, poignant liquid.

Ah...so bitter yet so sweet...

Bringing it away from my lips, I spoke,

"I have merely read, yet you convulse as if I have desecrated these hallowed halls."

My gaze swept over the gathered scholars, their robes rustling as they shifted under my scrutiny, "I wonder… is it because you cannot comprehend such a feat, that you choose to deny it?"

The scholar's face flushed crimson, his hands clenching into fists.

"Th-thou mocketh us!", he sputtered, spitting out in anger.

My inner voice chuckled.

What a bumbling fool.

"Oh?", my smile widened ever so slightly, my eyes flickered with a shimmer of dark light. My bloodlust was slowly leaking out, ready to permeate the room.

"And if I am?"

Were the words I wanted to utter but instead...

The light in my eyes dimmed, my bloodlust relapsed and my smile returned back to its amiable nature.

I spoke,

"Haha! I merely jest. Thou shouldst take thy words with light.", I said submissively, raising one of the books in my hand, "The books in thy hand, thy merely skimmed through."

"Oh..."

Collectively, the scholars of the Hollow Lexicon uttered, their eyes showing hints of realization before slowly turning into one of passivity, disappointment, scorn and pity.

The sound of shifting chairs could be heard across the room, as the scholars turned away with looks of disinterest, returning back to the worlds of their books.

Some still gave me skeptical glances though, especially the scrawny librarian who I subtly ignored.

The young scholar blinked for a moment before smirking triumphantly and with a 'hmph!' he turned away.

SHIFF.

I rose to my feet with a small smile, took the books on my table and replaced them on the shelves, only keeping a few with me before walking deeper into the Lexicon, and away from the eyes of the scrawny librarian who stared at me with a raised eyebrow.

...

Alex?! What da hell?! Why did you do that?!

My inner voice screamed in indignation, furious at my previous actions.

I smiled softly.

Didn't I say earlier? I want to live here a little longer...

What?

I... I don't know...provoking those people...who had devoted years to studying the books there...it didn't seat right with me...

W-what?

I took a few steps forward before settling at a table hidden from the rest of the Lexicon.

Alex...I thought you said human being's opinions are like buckets? I thought you were the fool, the bringer of chaos?

I paused for a moment before replying.

The bringer of chaos? I dunno...I guess I gave the buckets water...

My inner voice did not speak.

Obviously, it was befuddled by my thoughts and frankly...

So was I.

I frowned slightly before shaking my head with a sigh.

...

Some minutes later.

FWIP.

I was deep in another book.

'City of Times: The History of Eidolenhollow.'

Licking my thumb, I flipped to the next page.

"Aha...about time."

'Chapter 97: Ever Gait Ball'

'Amongst the many grand traditions of Eidolenhollow, none are as grand as the bicyclic custom, the Ever Gait Ball. A gathering of the learned and the esteemed, held within the hallowed halls of the Grand Spire. It is a night where masks conceal faces, but not intent. Here, scholars, nobles, and those of great ambition under the single accord of fealty.'

'It is not merely a festivity, nor a mere indulgence in mirth and revelry. Rather, it is a reaffirmation of one's place within the grand design of Eidolenhollow. It is an invocation of one's fealty to the Eternal, the All-Encompassing Hollow Drake.'

My eyes narrowed and a smirk ghosted my lips.

Hollow Drake...

I thought as my gaze fell, reading on.

'Nowadays, many nobles use the ball as a medium to bolster their might and influence. To form alliances, to form bonds, to form romance. In history, it is said that such indulgences breed complacency. But none ever has strayed the path of the Drake. To stray, is to blaspheme, and to blaspheme, is to commit heresy.'

'And before the presence of the Eternal Drake, only a fool would blaspheme.'

"AHAHAHAHA!"

At the final sentence, I let out a laugh.

"Only a fool, huh? Good thing am the Fool."

I laughed once again, cocking my head back.

"HAHAHAH-Huh?"

My laughter swiftly came to a halt when my gaze caught sight of something.

It was a brown parchment sticking out of a strangely familiar book.

A book that for some unreadable reason, I was suddenly drawn to.

SHIFF.

Rising out of my chair, I made my way towards the bookshelf and tugged on the book.

It was a thick hard-covered book with a dirt-brown hue, its edges were coated with a rusting metal and the book was incredibly dusty. It was obvious that this book hadn't been touched in centuries.

"What's this thing about?", I muttered, flipping the book to the front.

The instant my mind comprehended the words of the title, my eyes widened and my breath hitched.

Reflected on my eyes were words written in an utterly perfect handwriting, the words being...

'THE ART OF INVOCATION: THE LOST ART By Galter Droet.'