Another of the eye-catching things Gerald found, was a full bookshelf dedicated to the Elixir of Life and Fire.

They all had the same author, for the most part, the famous Royal alchemist, Bob.

And the dates went more than a hundred years into the past! If you consider he started working for the Royal family in his early years, maybe his late twenties or early thirties when he became knowledgeable enough, then the man was about 140-150 years old! Well, he sure looked like it anyway…

But the thing was… The Elixir of Life didn't really extend your life, that was only a rumor. Sure, it was a life-saving medicine, however, it came at a cost. The only thing it saved was the body, and even then it left you weak for quite a while since it consumed the flesh to keep you alive.

The author speculated this happens because it's a poor imitation of Phoenix's powers of rebirth, and only keeps you from dying for a little bit instead of granting you true rebirth, both body and Soul.

"Soul…" Gerald murmured, "Does such a thing even exist?" He was not religious, but the concept of souls was nonetheless something he was quite familiar with. However, he remained skeptical of their existence, especially since there was no evidence for it.

But then he remembered what happened when beings died around him, how he sometimes got to feel their feelings, experience their memories… Hell, he even had a conversation with some. Was he absorbing their Souls? Was he eating Souls? How? Why? Other people didn't seem to be able to do so…

But at the end of the day, did it really matter?

If the fact that he could consume the Souls of the dead was true, did it even make a difference? Ignoring the fact that he became stronger because of it, of course.

What happened with the Souls otherwise? They didn't seem to be hanging around the place for long, so where did they go? Reincarnate? Slip into another dimension?

Did a Heaven truly exist? What about Hell?

Gerald had so many unanswered questions. Questions he didn't even have a clue where to begin searching for answers.

He put away the book, closed his eyes, and breathed out a long sigh of helplessness, letting it vent through his nose. The library fell into silence.

'Maybe someday,' he mused, determination filling his eyes as he clenched his fist. 'Someday I'll know it all!'

Later he opened a book about magical herbs and flowers. One of the rare specimens was especially attractive as the name and words describing it both contained many references to a Phoenix.

***

A few more days have gone by, and Gerald already found everything he wanted. He went home to take a shower and get a warm meal to relax for a bit. He also told Toby the sad news about him not being able to become a Bloodhound.

The damn glutton just shook his tail and panted with an opened mouth, expecting food. He totally didn't hear what Gerald just said.

"You are hopeless…" Gerald shook his head and gave him an Orc bone.

The rest of his team also got a few gifts, though those were in the form of precious books he 'borrowed' from the King.

After taking a few hours to clear his mind, he went back to the Palace and requested an audience with the His Majesty.

He was denied, of course. Not because he wasn't worthy of King's audience, but because the damn guy was lazying in bed!

Well, the words the servant used were, "Recovering in the infirmary," but who cares. Luckily Gerald knew how to be an annoying Karen and complained for days(Not)! When finally a higher-ranking person/servant/guard came, he embodied the role to the fullest and managed to convince the man to at least go and ask, before sending him away.

Surprisingly, the guy came back and ushered Gerald in while barely holding back his surprise. Who knew what crazy thoughts went on in his head.

King Robart was slowly recovering in his personal Royal hospital, with well-trained medical staff, Royal Physicians, and Alchemists that were keeping him comfortable and in good health.

The place was supposed to be only for the Royal family, but now they had a few extra guests. Namely, the four Guardians and their sons.

The three young men were still feeling some residual effects after being subjected to the Elixir of Life, but were now recovering nicely. However, their fathers seemed to be in a much worse state, exuding a weakness that should be only found in men in their old age.

"Hello everybody!" Gerald loudly greeted as he was escorted in. Everybody was awake as they were just having lunch and chatting with each other.

"Ah, Gerald… Good day to you," Robart greeted him first as he was currently in the best shape among the patients.

"What is he doing here?!" Ewat Holt nearly jumped out of his bed. But then his head started spinning and he weakly collapsed back.

"Relax," Robart said, not bothering to even lift his voice. "I owe him for saving my life and defeating the Giant. We have really underestimated that monster. I can't even imagine what would have happened if he didn't lend us a hand."

Now it was general Crag's time to freak out. "HE defeated the Giant?" he exclaimed. "By Innos! I never would have guessed you had it in you, boy!"

"Err, thanks…" Gerald answered with a deadpan expression. "Anyway," he turned towards the King, "I have come here because I still have some unanswered questions, and I'm having a feeling some stuff was missing from the library…"

He squinted his eyes at the King. The latter just chuckled and pretended not to know anything.

"You let him in the library?!" Ewat Holt jumped up again and fell back down immediately after. "Well, I guess the manuals are safely stored with you, huh?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," King Robart denied immediately and smiled at Gerald, "Well, I can answer your questions, of course. I owe you, after all. But first, may I get the Sacred Hammer back?"

"You let him take the Scared Hammer?!"

"Shut up already, you old coot!" Razor Northendark hurled insults at Ewat, having grown tired of his shouts. His Soul was damaged and he was having a splitting headache. The constant yapping of his fellow Guardian was quickly getting on his nerves.

Gerald didn't concern himself with their arguments and casually took out the hammer and handed it over.