The Mage's Archive

Elliot finally arrived at the Mage's Archive, a grand and imposing structure located at the farthest end of the academy's dormitory sector. This vast, ancient hall was not just a library but a sacred vault, a repository of knowledge and power where countless spell books, magical artifacts, and items brimming with spiritual and mana energy were stored. Every student seeking to advance in magic, enhance their cultivation, or improve their spiritual connection came here to train and study.

The moment he laid eyes on it, his jaw nearly dropped.

"Damn… This place is big. Like, really big."

It was so massive that it could fit at least five of the academy's regular lecture halls inside it. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, stretching up so high they practically scraped the heavens. Glowing symbols floated in the air, pulsating with faint light, illuminating the rows of neatly arranged tomes. Strange relics and magical artifacts were displayed in glass cases, exuding an eerie aura that made his skin tingle.

For a moment, Elliot simply stood at the entrance, his mouth slightly open. He'd never seen anything quite like this before, well, not in real life, at least.

He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Alright, let's do this. If this place is so huge, then there's definitely something here that can help me."

With that thought in mind, he strolled inside. Hesitantly. But also freely.

Well, as freely as someone who had absolutely no idea what they were doing could manage.

Almost immediately, Elliot noticed something odd. The air inside the Arcane Repository felt… dense. Heavy.

It was as if the very atmosphere was packed with spiritual and mana energy, making every breath feel thick and invigorating. His nerves, which had been tense since he arrived, began to ease up as if the magic in the air itself was soothing him.

"Whoa…" he muttered under his breath. "This place has some serious vibes."

For a moment, he let himself bask in the feeling, soaking up the energy like a dry sponge dropped into a bucket of water. Maybe, just maybe, coming here would turn out to be the best decision of his life.

That hopeful thought lasted about five seconds.

Then he realized… he had no idea where to even start.

Determined not to look like a clueless idiot, Elliot glanced around and made a split-second decision: he was going to ignore the clerk behind the counter.

Or, well, the Archivist—which was the proper term for the person managing this place. A middle-aged woman with a stern face and an aura that screamed, I have seen far too many students come in here acting like they know what they're doing when they absolutely do not.

She was already busy assisting a group of students, and Elliot took that as a sign. Yep, no need to bother her. I got this.

…Except, about five minutes later, it became painfully clear that he did not have this.

Elliot stood in front of a towering bookshelf labeled "Foundational Magic & Spiritual Cultivation", his eyes darting across the dozens—no, hundreds—of titles. Some books radiated a soft glow, others hummed, and a few even had floating runes that rearranged themselves every few seconds.

His confidence evaporated faster than water in a desert.

What the hell am I looking at?

Half the books had titles written in ancient runes he couldn't read. The other half were filled with terms he barely understood. And to make things worse, he could feel some of them emanating a weird energy, as if they were alive and judging him for even daring to stand there in confusion.

"Shit."

He was completely lost.

And now, to make matters worse, the stupidly confident way he had walked past the Archivist earlier meant he couldn't go crawling back to ask for help. Nope. That would be humiliating.

His earlier arrogance now came back to bite him.

He now deeply regretted ignoring the archivist. He wanted to go back and ask for guidance, but the thought of doing so sent another sharp stab of humiliation through him. He had walked past her and those students with such confidence, as though he knew exactly what he was doing. Now, suddenly admitting he was completely clueless? No, that wasn't an option. His pride wouldn't allow it.

So, instead, he did what any typical Elliot would do.

He pretended.

With an air of fake expertise, he began skimming through the books, flipping pages as though he were searching for something specific. Occasionally, he would nod to himself, furrowing his brows as if he were deep in thought. To him, this act was flawless.

To everyone else, however, he looked like a clueless, lost soul wandering in complete confusion.

And unfortunately for him, someone noticed.

"You know, pretending to understand something you don't only makes you look stupid."

Elliot flinched.

The voice was rich and smooth, carrying a lazy amusement that sent a jolt of irritation through him. Whipping around, he turned to see a young man standing beside him.... tall, well-dressed, and radiating an aura of wealth and confidence.

The guy had sharp features, expensive-looking robes, His clothes screamed wealth. Unlike Elliot's standard academy robes, and also had an expression that somehow managed to be both amused and slightly condescending at the same time.

Elliot immediately knew two things:

1. This guy was a student.

2. A rich student.

Because, really, only rich people had the kind of casual arrogance that said, I could buy this whole place if I wanted to.

Elliot couldn't stop himself from letting out a low whistle. "Phew…" he muttered under his breath, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe because this guy oozed the kind of nobility and confidence that made commoners like him feel painfully out of place.

But Elliot, being Elliot, immediately snapped back into defense mode.

"I'm not pretending," he lied—badly. "I… um… I know exactly what I'm doing. It's none of your business."

The young man simply raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

Without another word, he reached out and plucked the book from Elliot's hands.

Elliot blinked, watching in stunned silence as the stranger casually flipped through the pages. After a few moments, the guy glanced up, his lips curving into a small, knowing smirk.

"Come here," he said simply. "I'll help you."

Elliot stared.

"…Huh?"

The young man extended his hand, his expression remaining neutral yet somehow exuding an air of authority. "I'm Charles, by the way."

Elliot hesitated, still reeling from the unexpected kindness. He hadn't been here long, but in the few weeks since he had transmigrated into this body, no one had ever offered to help him. He had been met with gossip, avoidance, and outright hostility, but not kindness. And certainly not from someone who looked as rich and important as Charles.

Was this guy for real?

Despite his wariness, Elliot ultimately swallowed his pride and handed the book over. This time, at least, he had enough common sense to know that he actually needed the help.

Charles took the book with a practiced ease, flipping through the pages before glancing up at him with a faint, amused smile.

"So," he asked, "what exactly are you looking for?"

Elliot exhaled. "I'm… basically weak. I don't even have the lowest level of spiritual energy or mana cultivation." He muttered the last part like it physically hurt him to admit it.

"So I need to train—to build my body's strength so I can awaken and master my spiritual and mana energy."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Why bother?" He tapped a finger against the book. "If I'm not wrong, you just summoned the Demon King as your husband, didn't you? With someone like that protecting you, you don't really have anything to worry about."

Elliot nearly choked.

Damn, news really does travel fast in this place.

And worse, if gossip spread this quickly, then it wouldn't be long before the Holy Priests found out.

He needed to train—fast—before those fanatics decided to come knocking.

Clearing his throat, he forced out, "More like… that's exactly why I need to train. I never consented to a male demon husband."

Charles simply chuckled. "Uh-huh."

Without another word, he turned, beginning to skim the archive shelves, searching for books that could actually help.