Armament of Ideas

Valed carefully stepped forward, cautiously donning a pair of black leather gloves to protect himself from any potential poison or magical effects that might be lingering on the book. He then, with newfound courage, picked up the hefty tome.

Nothing happened.

Next, Valed, in order to verify his find, dispelled his magical vision and ignited a faint, pale magical flame. Using the light to assist his reading, he was about to scan the book when he caught sight of its title on the cover. His brows furrowed in disappointment, and he recalled a conversation he had with his sister, Isabella, not long ago.

At that time, Valed and Isabella had been in the library of the old castle. Valed was reading a history book, desperately trying to grasp the basic principles of this world. Meanwhile, Isabella was engrossed in a book on alchemy.

On that day, Valed had come across a chapter on the Sigma Empire. He was intrigued by the empire, the largest human nation of the old world, and its rival, Sylvanya. He had focused intently on the reading. To Valed, the empire had managed to suppress not only Sylvanya and several other human kingdoms but also the northern barbarians, countless orcs, and other monstrous creatures, which spoke to its exceptional qualities.

However, as he read on, Valed realized the political system of this empire was primitive and backward. It was essentially a feudal state.

The Sigma Empire, rather than being a unified empire, was more like an alliance of ten independent nations. Each of the ten electors chose one of their own to be the emperor. The emperor had only nominal authority over the electors and command over military campaigns, but the electors did not pay taxes to the emperor, nor could he levy soldiers from them.

Within these ten electors, there were numerous factions. Independent free cities, religious leaders of various pantheons, and smaller feudal lords could easily ignore imperial authority. Beneath the minor nobility, there were still lower-tier nobles, followed by knights.

Aside from these nominal imperial forces, there were also many adversarial factions within the empire. Bandits, more numerous than cattle, hid in the mountains and forests. In several provinces, chaos-fueled tribes roamed freely. The dense forests in the northwest harbored countless goblin tribes.

Valed had asked several people, and they all confirmed that the book's contents were true. This left Valed dumbfounded—how could such a fragmented, enemy-ridden empire survive for so long? What a miracle it was!

Of course, that was not the end of the story. Valed was reminded of the eighth time he had mocked the backwardness of the Sigma Empire's feudal system.

"Isabella, don't you think something's wrong with this?"

"What's wrong?"

"I mean, the knights—they spend their days honing their skills, practicing tirelessly, year after year. They're always waiting for a lord's summons. Once summoned, they rush to the battlefield, and before they can even prove themselves, they die. Isn't that just wrong?"

"Why do you think so? Isn't that the right way?"

Different values, indeed. It's so difficult to communicate... Valed remembered his sister's puzzled expression after hearing his concerns. He couldn't help but feel a little speechless.

Loyalty? Fine. The duties of a vassal? That's also correct. The pursuit of glory? Yes. But all for the foolish reasons of a feudal lord? A few acres of salt-alkali land, a dilapidated wooden fortress, a few jars of wild honey, or some trivial action or word could spark a terrible war. Valed could not find any pleasure in this. After all, if wars were fought for such reasons, what did that make the battles he fought in his past life, on the starfields, against the alien insects?

Valed had always believed that war should be grand, an all-out battle between two races for survival, honor, and gain. It was supposed to be the fiercest and most heroic act, not over a few acres of land.

Thus, when Valed ventured deep into the tomb and realized that all his efforts had led to nothing more than the "Knight's Feudal Code of the Empire, 791st Year," his anger was to be expected.

"This is utterly worthless! It should be burned!" Valed shouted, grabbing the book and throwing it to the ground. Though he had intended to burn it, he reconsidered. Even a fly is still meat. While the book had little practical value, as an antique, it might still fetch some money.

Although the Sigma Empire, neighboring Sylvanya, was a feudal state with a broken financial system, the nobility had no interest in such things and lacked purchasing power, there were other regions further south, like the Tylier Commercial Republic, where people reveled in cultural arts, and the Arabis Kingdom, whose noble classes loved the refined. Valed reasoned that there would surely be buyers willing to pay a good price for the book.

This thought made Valed feel more at ease. His gaze softened as he looked at the book. It had only been half an hour, after all. No need to rush through the tomb's other relics—glancing at this book wouldn't hurt... might as well learn something new.

As Valed picked up the Knight's Feudal Code and began to read, a sudden realization struck him. The book wasn't quite right—although nothing happened when it was left undisturbed, once opened, Valed noticed the text was unlike anything he had ever seen. It wasn't in the common language of the old world, nor Elvish, Dwarvish, or any of the basic languages of the undead. It wasn't even magical script or ancient tongues, nor even Chaos speech...

What was written in the book were not mere words, but principles themselves—order, the shaping of ability, and standards—abstract, metaphysical concepts that defied traditional language. They were instead channeled directly into the book in the form of pure, free magical winds. The book existed, yet it was itself an abstraction—the very embodiment of "rules."

"This... this is an item manifested from a twelve-dimensional space…" As Valed reluctantly closed the book, the little magic energy he had left was entirely drained. No, it was worse than that—his face was ashen, and sweat beaded on his forehead, showing how much physical energy he had exhausted. Despite feeling even worse than before, Valed couldn't help but smile.

"A pure vessel for the laws... In this world, they call it a 'concept armament,' right? And one related to knights... There can't be anything more valuable than this. A slight modification, and I could use it to 'enfeoff knights'... How ironic, I was just mocking the knights for their clumsiness and backwardness, yet now I may have to rely on 'enfeoffed' undead knights to conquer the world." Valed let out a cold laugh at the thought.

However, after considering something else, his smile faded. "But the power of this code isn't as great as it could be. If I'm right, this isn't the original—it's just a copy. That's why it's weaker and requires more magic. But it's still worth it... and if this is a copy, the original is probably in the main tomb. In the end, it's all mine."

Valed felt as though he had stumbled upon a great treasure, and his mood lifted. Furthermore, through this knight's code, he had likely deduced the identity of the tomb's original owner.

Though his body was that of a mere six-year-old child, incapable of accessing much knowledge, he had still learned the basics. And this tomb's owner, it seemed, was powerful enough to be recognized by "common knowledge."

The man, named Arantheon, was the greatest, most cunning, and most successful emperor of his era. He had founded an empire and created the grand tomb complexes within Sylvanya. The knight's code he established had been accepted as "absolute truth" by all human nations.

Though empires rose and fell, and the world's political structure changed, the knightly system endured, even appearing in some non-human nations and political entities, where they had knights or knight-like classes and titles.

When all intelligent beings across the world accepted the term "knight," the once-dying copy of the knight's code, a relic from the past, had been reborn, elevated to the status of a "vessel of rules."

"How lucky, how lucky, how lucky, how lucky, how lucky, how lucky..." Valed rolled on the floor in sheer exhilaration, clutching the book as if it were more valuable than his very life.

With such an artifact, enough magical power, and raw materials from corpses, Valed could easily raise an entire army of black knights. Unlike liches or vampire lords, who could only use the corpses of knights to create black knights, Valed could use this book to "enfeoff" any knight, even those whose remains were not deemed worthy, elevating them to power. His undead army's knightly force would become even more formidable.