The feint is a deceptively powerful technique despite its apparent simplicity. The ability to train your opponent into expecting an action of yours means you've already seized control over the flow of an encounter. The moment before to the moment after, you've effectively narrowed down your opponent's moves. Many combatants acquire a mind for this combative flowchart, able to trace a bout with the effectiveness of a [Seer]. The problem lies with those that rely on reflex and reflex alone, or those with powerful intuition. Gods forbid one with [Battle Intuition]. They have more time to react, thus more choices, and therefore the flowchart becomes large and messy. I will teach you to create this sequence of actions and reactions in your mind, teach you what to expect, teach you how to respond, and teach you to forget it all and simply react. I will teach you combat.

-The Art Of Combat, Coby Tuuli

The botany section was located on the second floor. While it wasn't bogglingly large, it was quite sizeable given the proportions of the library. It occurred to me that, while large, this library could not have been sufficient enough to house entire schools of study. It was yet another mystery at the back of my already worked mind.

A word came to my mind as I considered myself fully entering the botany section. Hydroponics, small indoor farms without the use of soil. I had read of it. In fact, I was inclined to believe the book from which I gleaned that bit of information came from this very section. My feet slapped lightly on the clean tile, inspecting each container as I came across them.

Dirty water filled with dead plants. I wrinkled my nose. The smell was not pleasant and trying to come up with comparison was painful in the sense that I had no memory to draw from. It smelled rotten. And of that, I would've been sure from looks alone.

There were seeds. Packets of them. At first, I didn't recognize any of the names. Somehow my readings must've skipped over these particular plants. But then, something filled in the gaps and I came to recognize a few. These were regional plants, niche. Hardyet and greyrice. As the former's name might imply, hardy vegetables.

And that was it, a small flash of intuition. I smiled, perhaps [Basic Knowledge] would be useful. More so since that pearl of knowledge allowed me to assume some things. They would probably flourish in arid environments.

In the meantime, I examined the area. There was a stone basin, no doubt for meant for waste. I dumped out a single bin of dirty water, the rest I would grudgingly drink if I was forced. As it turned out there was a small blue gemstone hovering over a separate basin.

The sight was odd enough that I froze. When it became apparent that one; the gem wasn't a threat, and two; my Skill wasn't kicking in, I moved to approach. I hadn't the slightest clue what this was, but the color and placement gave me context clues.

I positioned the basin under it, and lo and behold, clear running water spurted forth. It came into being as if flowing from the gem itself, bursting and gurgling forth in a small controlled torrent. The basin was full in but a minute. I tempered my eagerness for a sip and cleaned the bin of everything beforehand.

It tasted divine. Fresh. Perfect. I could check the "water source" off my mental list of things to secure. I was overjoyed since it was one of the highest priorities. An essential to survival.

I emptied and cleaned every basin. The gem did not seem to wear at all at the amount of water it was producing. I determined that the power came from the gem itself rather than the library since there was a small cabinet full of such gems.

Setting the bed for the seeds was slow going and meticulous. The process involved suspending a bed of seeds right at the waterline, not submerged but not entirely dry. The goal was for the seeds to reach down and drink up the nutrient-rich water. I found the powdered nutrients near the seed packets. They were categorized so I hoped I had chosen the correct type for hardyet and greyrice. There was no telling how long food-wise these plants would last me, but if nothing else, they would pad my supplies.

That would not matter if I couldn't find a temporary food source until then.

Exploring the library became a quick past-time. There were many devoted sections, machinery, magic, combat. The specificity could be entirely broad or narrowly niche. I memorized each and every section. The map of the library might as well have only existed in my mind at this point. The one I had found in the reception desk was severely outdated.

There was a combat hall. I let out a large sigh of relief when I peeked through a dusty room. Rations. Combat rations. The type meant for energy and not for taste. The type that was unperishable. My past self didn't make this easy, he could easily have accumulated these supplies or let me know, in fact, he could've simply stocked my things with much more, but he didn't.

I gathered everything, brought a chair around, and used my patented hauling technique to get it to the central room. I dragged a table nearby and took out my books. The Art of Trapping, The Art of Magic, The Art of Combat. They were all by the same author, one Coby Tuuli. The encyclopedia On the Subject of routinely recommended Tuuli and quickly I realized why. He was a very technical and engaging author who despite the range of subjects seemed to have an innate understanding of them all. He was quick-witted and concise, he didn't cover subjects he wasn't confident on and instead recommended other authors when the need arose. The fellow seemed to truly devote himself to disseminating knowledge.

Reading through the rest of my self-recommended books was mind-numbing. It was a large information dump, but it did help me catalog the effects of [Basic Knowledge]. There were random subjects I knew the bare minimum in that I could hold a passing conversation in. While not a powerful effect, it definitely helped someone in my position who was lost to the world. For instance, math. I knew nothing initially, but as I began I realized that wasn't entirely true, I had been supplemented with the most basic operations.

This cataloging of effects was something that The Origin of Skills and Abilities noted people often did naturally. That, to me, seemed the obvious conclusion, but nonetheless. During my tangential reading wherein I took a mental breather and perused more interesting topics, I realized something as I read through The Art of Combat.

Coming up from my seat, I bookmarked my spot and closed the book thoughtfully. My eyes found the marble statue, admiring the captured knight's magnificence, but staring at his sword with all the curiosity in the world. I approached the knight and in what might've been a terrible breach of respect if he were real, reached for his sword. Again, there was a hum of power, of mana, but I pulled away with sword in hand.

It was heavy still, much too large for my hands. And yet, when I closed my eyes my body eased into itself. I knew my grip, I knew how to slash and how to stab. Nothing else, just that, but confidence in those basics. My eyes sparkled with intrigue and I returned the knight his sword.

That, admittedly, was not the most useful in my current predicament. A sword would do little to help me fend off whatever creatures existed at this depth. My eyes drifted to the breach in the library against my better judgment. I could not see the breach, but all the same I knew it was there. There was nothing, physically, stopping anything from entering and a shiver ran down my spine.

All I had was the guarantee from my past self. It had to be enough until I could take my life into my own hands. I sat and thought, really thought, about what I was to do. I needed a plan, to manage my time and optimize whatever it was I was doing.

My days were my own. This meant I could sleep and eat at my own pace. I would keep myself on a strict regimen of eating as little as possible without compromising myself. The books on the body helped me understand the importance of activity, so in the interest of preventing muscle atrophy while conserving food, I would do the bare minimum and stretch. In this way, I could string out my supplies.

But, the most important part would be reading, coming up with ideas. This library, more and more, I had the strangest feeling it was grand. Magnificent. My time here would be wasted if I didn't peruse its shelves, learning while I could. This was crucial, the knowledge from the books I had left myself had allowed me to survive thus far. What more could I learn if I sought them out myself?

I began today.