Grinding and scraping of cutlery added an extra layer of life to the room. Aside from the frequent lip-smacking and other sounds accompanying ravenous men at supper, uncle shovel tried its best to keep naughty children at bay even if it meant to occasionally invade their space.

Other times, life-threatening, overzealous utensils that got chided by a disgruntled old man interrupted their meal as they expanded the tournament grounds all over the place. Peace was only achieved after the seer decisively banished them to Ginnungagap.

There was an air of befuddlement and strangeness in the air. While further away, boisterous liveliness kept everyone happy, here in this part of the room, there was calm. The strange landlord was greatly dissatisfied by the awkward silence.

He did not intend for that to happen when he asked Linlin to shut up. His guests more often than not made a ruckus so violent that he had to drill some sense into their blockheads the first chance he got.

Especially since he was forbidden to harm them in any way. However, in this case, there was another reason as well. The reason he asked Linlin to sit down and eat some minutes ago was not entirely because of his many questions but out of fear of his potégé’s untimely collapse.

He could do little even with his almost divine intervention; he was able to alleviate the symptoms but not the cause. The seer never intended to ban all conversation, only to shift the meaningless Q&A session to a later date.

Who was able to predict that our protagonist would take his demands literally? The inheritor this time around was not a straight madman but came too damn close for the landlord in another way.

‘Perhaps two compromised brains can understand each other better?’ His gut feeling suggested that. ‘Possibly the only other reason the pup got chosen in the first place… Again, why am I babysitting these grunts?’

Ultimately... was it up to him to break his own rule first? ‘No. Way.’ What would the pup think if the elder did that? Therefore, the landlord was left with hardly anything to eat and only awkward silence for company.

Occasionally biting his lips, the old seer grumbled that this had not been how he expected things to go. He placed all his hopes in his guest catching on to the hints shortly.

He waited... and waited... and– ‘holy catfish,’ the seer thought, hardly coping with the frustration any longer, ‘this cannot continue.’ Time wasn’t something to be squandered just like that, and he knew sickeningly little about the calamity that was eating away at his prized possessions.

Some of the tasks the seer had to accomplish required him to communicate openly. If this continued, he could bury the protocols himself, and follow shortly thereafter.

But looming destruction forced him into no other course of action. After a moment of unproductive silence, he was forced to swallow down all bitter reluctance. As a result, he became furious with the oblivious blockhead. The seer swallowed his anger.

“Your situation’s more dire than that of an abandoned newborn, pup.” The old seer set the strange cutlery aside and stared at Linlin, or at least tried to.

However, the endeavour was bound to fail since his counterpart was quite busy trying to make the food disappear quickly between his bottomless lips.

The landlord groaned silently in realisation. Could it be that he was thinking too much and the values of someone from such a backwater didn’t align with his own?

That was a valid explanation he could ponder over for the next decade or something. However, since he was really pressed for time, he had to perform now.

“…a newborn has high adaptive capabilities lost over time. It seems like your personal ideas–––or what you might call worldview, culture, or common sense–––are set in stone already.

Your attitude and perception are some of the most frozen I’ve ever seen. What age are you? Some aeons-old undying? But those folks do not live in your world. Nor do dragons.”

No reaction. “Sigh. You must have lived in a barbarous place if grunting a simple greeting is alien.” There was only silence to be heard.

There were no hopes of the contrary left in the old seer’s mind. As if choreographed, the landlord shook his head in exasperation, muttering in defeat.

“It’s no use lamenting over you, contractor, anyway. A mere guide to your irrational lot, I am but a lowly seer. A background actor who hasn’t much going for him.

Besides a warm place and a kitchen that is.” He closed his eyes and as if recalling something he kept suppressed, took a deep breath, then continued.

“The name’s Mikaantyar, I always forget to add. As mentioned before, a humble seer.” Even now, there was no reaction. Eventually, Seer Mikaantyar regained his bearings and put a large chunk of juicy meat in his mouth, hoping in vain for some belated answer. Of course, none came.

Why couldn’t this bastard understand that old people loved to converse? There are few pleasures as generously left by the crushing passage of time as this one.

From that curse, he had suffered a great deal. But, again, there was a time schedule to follow, he couldn’t follow his heart. “Pardon my melancholy…

The fiery advent of Destiny’s “Pardon my melancholy... The fiery advent of Destiny’s Chosen... I saw too many strange folks leaving imprints behind before their light faded.”

There were still a few delicacies on the table that required his full attention. “…don’t you have any questions for me? No issue irritating you?

No rage because you’re yanked away from your world? Is there not even a tingle running up and down your spine?” Seeing the unresponsive guest grab another sausage instead of replying, Mikaantyar felt like sobbing and tearing his hair out if he had any left.

He could only tear at his wings with his hands, but adamantly refused to do so and broke the last of his own rules. Throughout the whole process, the man in front continually repeated a very simple set of motions that got under his skin: Grab, bite, chew, swallow.

“…you are allowed to talk, you know?!” At the other end of the table, the self-proclaimed seer found the banalest explanation ever when he did the only thing that would save him now–––he intruded into his guest’s mind.

He shouldn’t really have, as this information left him worse off. Before he leaned back and convalesced with his embarrassing oversight, the seer silently swore to the damn System that he would commit a heinous act if permitted.

Meanwhile, the cutlery-ish suicide athletes had found their way back from Ginnungagap and were out for revenge. With the target pulling off an evasion manoeuvre, they were only able to penetrate the table.

Its leg immediately bent 180 degrees and kicked those naughty bastards in the ass, according to human proportions. For them, it was just the handle, perhaps the most robust part.

Mikaantyar didn’t mind the squabble, as long as it didn’t interfere with them enjoying their meal. Three legs kept the food balanced, and if the necessity arose, two would do the job just as fine. Less... probably wouldn’t work. Even for the magical table.

His sombre expression was reminiscent of a certain folded blanket lying forgotten in a corner, relieved of its duty. He forced the last vestige of prestige out of his ageing body and took a deep breath.

One so deep Seer Mykaantyar’s mouth turned into a vacuum cleaner, yet he didn’t seem to notice. As to why this happened? This was all due to his guest, since the excuse he thought of was too much to handle.

“G.r.e.a.t. Is our meeting going to end just like that?” The seer was positively seething. “I keep on ranting to nothing more than an empty shell, and you keep on filling that insatiable mouth of yours.”

He then screamed at the athletes, “fuck off,” and they shivered in fear. Finally, our protagonist started smelling the gunpowder in the air all of a sudden and reluctantly put the cutlery aside.

“You…!!” Said the seer, pointing his crooked index finger directly at Linlin’s face while he had evidently trouble finding the right words for the injustice he was suffering from–––and was likely to continue suffering for a long time to come.

“Linchester. Linde.” Linlin was adamantly scolded, but thought little of it. The possible resulting danger made him listen, but that was all.

“You breathe my air, eat my food, sit around my table, gorge on my food and take it for granted?” “N-no-” Linlin’s throat tightened, his attempt to utter something powerful to quell an erupting volcano failed spectacularly.

Where and when did he err? The man had no idea. Sadly, the purple-faced seer felt too aggrieved to continue mind-reading and overlooked the simple possibility that Linlin’s throat may not be working optimally for a number of good reasons.

His growling only worsened, which was probably why our protagonist shrugged innocently, turned to the cutlery and recommenced cleaning the plates with a notable spike in pace.

Linlin was not greedy by nature. The food replenished his depleted energy reserves at a rapid rate he could never have imagined if it had not happened to him. It was just that simple.

Because if that delicious treat disappeared as fast as it appeared in accordance with the landlord’s terrible mood swings he’d have lost big time.

Another plausible outcome would have been for him to disappear along with his latest meal, which didn’t sound all that terrible. In either case, Linlin had hardly any confidence that he could stop something bad from happening if the almighty seer wished it.

Therefore, eating was–––in a sense–––following orders not to waste time to the letter. “Do you even know what it is you gobble down without as much as batting an eyelid?”

Seer Mikaantyar eventually pointed at the sausages disappearing quickly between Linlin’s busy lips. “Quality wyvern sausages aged a thousand years and over.

It improves blood circulation, vigour, cleanses the organs, and strengthens bones and cartilage. It’s a priceless treasure that even immortals would feel the loss of.”

Barely in the middle of his gourmet lecture, Linlin had already made short work of the peerless treasures and was gnawing on the last T-bone in sight.

“That,” the landlord looked piteously at the juicy meat, his voice bitter “are my final dozen riblets. Dragon riblets; possibly the last I’ll ever see,” he exaggerated. “Of the 10 pieces, I ate only one…” Seer Mykaantyar’s last words trailed off at the end in misery.

“Difficult to get?” Linlin asked, as his throat miraculously received the right amount of moisture to do so. Nevertheless, he should have remained silent as his words only irritated the seer. “What do you possibly know?!”

The landlord’s face flared up, he looked more like a shrivelled, winged, rug-like lightbulb on the verge of imploding, his pent-up emotions dangerously influencing everything in the room.

So much so that the seat Linlin sat on changed into a bed of needles, the shivering utensils in the corner flew over and swirled menacingly around his head, and the cutlery in his hand transformed into two toilet brushes covered in undesired chocolate coating.

Linlin hissed and thrust all his attention onto the landlord to show just how attentive a student he was to the latter’s words. Having been compelled to do something about the latter’s mood by his instincts, Linlin even flashed an unsightly smile.

On the other hand, his mind started racing. What was it about his conversations that always ended in bloodshed and death threats?

As the elderly man carried on with his explanations, his dire situation deteriorated. “Such meat improves body constitution and further strengthens the heart.

Most crucially of all, it increases spiritual capacity, regardless of talent! Because they come from dragons, beings that wouldn’t even see in you a snack!”

The landlord’s clenched hands were constantly accumulating a dangerous amount of energy, which turned into a mist that was building up along the illusory-turning walls.

“After the Great Magic Civilisations’ timely demise, the almost extinct dragons abolished many cumbersome ancestral teachings and flocked together into one big clan. And by big, I mean it.

Have you ever heard the saying: Pay off a young dragon to do your bidding, and you’re set for life, harm a dragon and life set you up? While it might sound strange in your underdeveloped tongue, aside from being the plain truth, it also has a certain ring to it in mine.

There is no end to the overprotectiveness of the ancient fellows! You will discover the vast discrepancies between inheritances from ancient times as time moves on. But being the generous person I am, I forward life-saving tidbits.”

The seer leaned closer. This revealed many eyes crowded together at the end of each plume of the two comical wings sprouting from his upper lip he’d missed.

Our protagonist’s back tingled as a consequence and he felt very threatened by the unknown. Fortunately, he did not pounce on the seer as a natural reaction to his claustrophobic and paranoid nature. If he did, the unspeakable was bound to happen.

“Tell, according to your corrupted imagination, which braindead dunce nowadays dare hunt dragons–––lifeforms as old as known history itself?!”

Linlin simply nodded like a kindergarten kid who did not know what he was doing oh-so terribly wrong. After all, dragons and other eldritch creatures are something he had never seen or heard of before.

Our protagonist still strongly believed in his innocence, but the way he was expressing his beliefs was not very telling. Then, suddenly, Linlin stopped and looked somewhat concerned at the numerous empty plates surrounding him, then at the half-eaten T-bone in his bowl before returning to the plates.

“I’m done,” he muttered, putting down the cutlery that reverted back to its original state once it touched the table. In the process, Linlin didn’t fail to silently curse at him for the umpteenth time.

“Sigh.” Mikaantyar massaged his forehead in defeat, again. Finally, a dry rattled laugh erupted from the depths of his ancient gullet. Upon closer notice, wasn’t the guy somewhat... cute?

Not that he’d ever tell him that. Been there, done that. It never ended well with Destiny’s Chosen no matter what. Seer Mykaantyar had given up.

Anyway, being confident he had finally captured Linlin’s attention, the seer couldn’t help but feel quite complacent about the accomplishment and his appreciation of the lad increased.

Nevertheless, if he knew this was mostly due to a certain seat’s help in getting ever spikier, he wouldn’t know what untold mood swings he’d suffer from.

“Never mind pup. Never mind.” The seer gestured to the snake curled up at his feet, whose existence Linlin was constantly forgetting.

“Give it to your companion. This lifeform isn’t as simple as it appears to be. The meat should have a greater impact on it than it has on you.” Our hero nodded unconvincedly and eventually lowered the bowl to ground level.

After seeing the meat disappear, his thoughts were at a loss. In the meantime, Mikaantyar clapped his hands and the tableware rose into the air, spun randomly around by itself while cleaning, and disappeared into the worn cupboard’s immeasurable depths at once.

“Finally set. Listen, Linchester. It is imperative to pay close attention to the introduction I’m about to give. Very close attention. Or I really might end up killing you.

What a hateful lot they are!’ Seer Mikaantyar repeated himself again, given his guest’s numerous peculiarities. “I am forbidden from repeating myself for reasons I can’t disclose, so I cannot help you if you miss this opportunity.

Such are the rules I did not make.” ‘And the so-called truth is quite a different one, unfortunately...’ Linlin listened intently to the old man’s voice, which had a drab tone.

“The System–––he, she, it, I honestly can’t tell and don’t care; but know it’s a living, breathing lifeform of some sorts–––is special, even considered almighty by strange folks.”

‘Folk sane people better never meet. I need not tell him that given he doesn’t quite strike me as sane.’ “There is nothing further to be known, nor should there ever be.

No digging! Nobody scoffs at the System or its rules and gets away with it. Nobody.” The seer emphasised again, his words dripping with age-old ridicule only spiced up by his evident hatred.

“The obvious aside, contractors like you are called Children of the Stars. Destiny’s Chosen is a term mentioned by the darn System in the... flesh? Chassis? Immaterial Omnipresence? It shouldn’t matter, really.

There is nothing we can ever hope to understand about it, as it is omnipotent. Back to the hateful Children of the malign Stars. You all share one thing in common: You all died a ridiculous death before the System even considered contracting you.

The other, there can be only one at a time, and you differ in your abilities infinitely.” The absentminded seer took a sip from the fragrant blue liquid flowing between dimensions he cracked open with a swing of his finger, rekindling Linlin’s greed.

For some unknown reason, it appeared irresistible to Linlin. “Sigh. Needless to say, the advent of a new Child of the Stars undoubtedly confirms another’s passing, but that... yes, that’s not for you to worry about.

At least not for now,” Mikaantyar’s radiant eyes conveyed an unspoken warning, a grave danger he knew of but was most likely forbidden to reveal.

“Your kind’s given new talents that cannot be improved, defining your destiny.” He paused, rhythmically tapping against the table. “Understanding your potential is the most difficult task if you desire preservation.

What can I do? What is beyond me? Other psychological and physical limitations? These seem like simple questions, but they determine your survival.

To a certain extent, the Illusory Library aims to alleviate these incertitudes. While vast, it is only those books linked to your fate that you will find access to.

This opportunity does, however, involve certain risks. Some lovely Chosen went a bit nuts, hehe~. By the way, time is frozen in that place and only your soul is allowed in.

“Prior to that opportunity, I am permitted to help one last time, but you must fully cooperate with me.” The seer stared deeply into Linlin’s abyssal black eyes, a certain urgency radiating from him which he tried to conceal but was unable to do so.

In spite of what the seer had just said, our protagonist got the instinctive feeling that his kind intentions constituted an unnecessary breach of terms.

But why go to that extent for an unwelcome if not straight out hated guest? The question remained unanswered as Mikaantyar started the Q&A session. “What kind of energy do you have?”

“…bioenergy.” “How many innate abilities? Faster!” “Four talents.” “Others?” “None.” “As for your level of cultivation?” “…lowly worm.”

“Mm? That’s a bloody first. Didn’t know such even existed. Race?” “Human, and another hidden… race?” “What else is veiled?” “Name and gender…”

Mikaantyar’s face paled at Linlin’s insecure answer, his breathing rough and eyes filled with uncertainties and… horror. ‘Of all things, gender?! What’s that even supposed to mean?!?!’

“The case’s clear. You are well endorsed for somebody originating from a dying star part of an unimportant system.” Seer Mikaantyar grew fervent and fast-paced in his speech.

“However, your poor origin has a clear negative impact on your current strength. This is evident in your lack of cultivation. The restricted additions to your name, gender, and race are extremely unsettling, as the System restricts what it considers troublesome enough to keep hidden forever.

Perpetual beyond cognitive requisition. These are all factors you have to explain yourself since the reasons vary and are rarely the same. Now to the most significant part.”

The wrinkled old seer reached for his throat, his face turning paler by the second. However, he didn’t stop, not even for a breath of fresh air.

“Bioenergy is the strangest and most dangerous energy there is,” he croaked, speeding up and raising his pitch by more than a notch.

“As the source of life, there is no limit to bioenergy’s increments and uses; circumstances that make you distinct from all others. You might have noticed already that your body has grown much more resilient, even extending as far as giving you the necessary tools to survive until our encounter.

Yet do never forget, the System is impartial to your kind! Given your very, very low starting point, one of your four talents must deal with plunder. Do not let the news affect you. Keep it under a tight lid and believe in your abilities.

Bid your time and grow! It is crucial that you know your abilities well, but always be aware of hidden dangers. Plundering in the bioenergy field involves making parts of foreign genetic material your own.

This in itself poses a considerable risk already, so play it smart. It doesn’t matter how the talent works, only Cores contain stable content! Nothing else. Nothing!”

Seer Mikaantyar’s eyes turned starry as the night sky, his persona seemingly from another timeline entirely as he grappled with an unknown force for control over his body.

“It changes you the more you use your abilities. Genetic information acquired but insufficient to form skills or talents will not simply disappear. I implore you, Linlin, never forget who and what you are! Your powers are aligned wi– cough!”

The old seer spat a mouthful of bluish, sizzling blood and instantly aged for many years, something he expected to happen given the unconcerned look on his ghostly pale face.

Rather than wipe away the bloody line trickling down his triple chin, the seer’s hands went through a series of ominous and very complicated looking gestures before he channelled his mystical power and shouted, “go!”

Linlin couldn’t react fast enough, much less comprehend what he had heard, before the world revolved around him, turning white within seconds.

End of Part I