Selfless Ideals

"Is there any way to get my hands on this magic entry?"

The Holy Scripture is a tool the monk carries with him every day for chanting and spellcasting; I can't exactly just walk up and ask him for it...

Shane quietly crawled up from the hard floor, tiptoeing past the snoring merchant uncle.

The moon hung in the center of the sky.

The Monastery was deathly quiet.

Aside from the snoring coming from the small wooden cabin behind him, there were only the occasional chirps of insects and the rustling of leaves.

Following the light, Shane arrived outside the study of Beryl the monk.

Rustle, rustle, rustle—

An oil lamp sat on a wooden desk. Beryl sat before it, holding a quill and busily copying something down.

Perhaps because the light was dim, or perhaps because his eyesight was failing with age, every time he finished a line, he had to put down his quill, pick up the book in front of him, bring it closer to the lamp, and squint for a long while before putting it down to continue the next line.

The scratching of the nib against the paper was, as a result, intermittent.

Shane listened quietly to the movements inside the room, calculating what he should do.

Should he say he wants to learn magic?

But such profound Goddess magic requires one to become a monk to learn and use it, and he wasn't ready to abandon his worldly desires just yet.

However... he couldn't just leave such a fantastic entry right in front of him.

Unlike those crude healing or disease-detection spells, the Goddess's Barrier is a divine artifact.

In the future, if he encounters a powerful enemy, he can just run into some obscure corner, hide, and activate the barrier. Even a mage of Frieren's caliber wouldn't be able to find him, let alone ordinary monsters.

Unless the Demon King is resurrected, he would be invincible.

He absolutely had to find a way to get his hands on this level of magic!

The monk inside the room did not notice Shane beneath the window; he remained focused on copying the book in his hands.

One page, two pages, three pages...

The wax in the oil lamp was replenished several times, yet the monk did not stop his pen.

Hoo—

Hoo—

"Hmm? Where is that snoring coming from?"

After an unknown amount of time, the monk was interrupted by the sudden sound of snoring. He stood up slowly from the desk, walked to the window, and leaned out to take a look.

At this moment, Shane was half-sitting, leaning against the wall, having fallen asleep without realizing it.

The monk smiled slightly, said nothing, turned around to pick up his coat from the back of his chair, and draped it over Shane.

The next day.

Shane woke up with a start and sat bolt upright.

He scanned his surroundings in a daze; it was still the same small cabin where everyone had rested last night, and he was still in the same spot on the floor where he had fallen asleep in the middle of the night.

"When did I come back? Or... was I actually dreaming, and I never went out at all?"

Just as Shane was muttering to himself, Frieren walked in.

She handed a small piece of black bread to Shane and said expressionlessly:

"The old monk said you didn't sleep well last night and told you to sleep in. This is the breakfast he left for you."

After saying this, Frieren turned to leave, but as she reached the door, she turned back to add: "Please sleep properly at night. The old monk's legs aren't what they used to be; it's very strenuous for him to carry you. Don't cause trouble for the old man."

With that, she gave Shane a stern look.

"..."

Shane scratched his head.

What kind of mix-up was this?

And what was up with that old man? Seeing someone appear outside his room in the middle of the night and not asking a single question, just carrying him back? He had absolutely no sense of caution!

"No! To get that life-saving magic, I have to come up with a plan quickly!"

After much deliberation, he decided to cozy up to the monk during the day and play the emotional card.

Arriving at the study once again.

Beryl was still sitting at the wooden desk just like last night, diligently copying a classic.

It seemed that working at the desk for so long had left him exhausted; he couldn't copy more than a few lines before he had to stop to rub his eyes or his neck.

Shane pushed the door open and greeted him, "Old man, may I copy books with you?"

Upon hearing Shane's words, a beaming smile spread across Beryl's face:

"Oh, young Mr. Shane, you wish to transcribe books? That is truly wonderful; I am in dire need of someone to assist with the copying."

"No problem at all. Where should I begin?"

Under the monk's guidance, Shane pressed one hand against the tattered book while holding a quill in the other, rapidly transcribing the contents onto blank parchment.

The pages of the old book were filled with numerous annotations made by the monk himself.

As Shane copied, the monk stood by his side, explaining the text to him.

The two worked in perfect tandem, and the speed of transcription became exceptionally fast; content that would have taken the monk several days to copy on his own was finished by Shane in little more than half a day.

"Excellent, truly excellent. The content is complete, the handwriting is neat, and the annotations are perfectly accurate."

"All the requirements for the transcription have been met perfectly, and the speed is beyond imagination. Mr. Shane, you are truly a blessing sent by the Goddess."

The monk continued to shower Shane with praise, which made Shane feel somewhat embarrassed.

"May I ask, why do you feel the need to transcribe these books?"

Hearing Shane's question, the monk smiled and closed the book in his hands. He placed his aged, calloused hand over the cover and said in a solemn tone, "Because I wish to pass on the Goddess's magic to future generations."

He recounted how, in his youth, he had traveled throughout the Southern Nations, witnessing soldiers wounded in the chaos of war and children perishing from plagues. The loss of those innocent lives had caused him great heartache.

From that moment on, he had vowed to spend his entire life deciphering the magic of the Goddess, hoping to find a way to heal more people.

"I am a monk without much talent, living a life of obscurity. This is the greatest contribution I can make to the cause of human magic."

"Enduring the bitter cultivation in these deep mountains, the most agonizing part is the loneliness. Yet, every time I recite the Holy Scripture in my hands, I am able to draw the courage to persevere from the Goddess herself."

"Mr. Shane, you are the most outstanding young man I have ever met. Before you, many travelers came to this Monastery, but you are the only one willing to help me copy these chaotic books and listen to an old man ramble about the past."

"With young people like you around, the future of humanity is truly something to look forward to."

As he spoke, he looked at Shane with eyes full of affection, reached out to pat Shane on the shoulder, and thanked him once more with sincerity.

Shane felt his face burning with heat.

What kind of development was this! This wasn't right! He had been secretly coveting the man's Holy Scripture and approaching him with ulterior motives, yet he was being treated with such genuine sincerity. What was he supposed to do?

After hurriedly offering a few perfunctory pleasantries, Shane turned on his heel and fled, oiling the soles of his feet.

"Oof."

Running too hastily, he collided with the merchant uncle around the corner.

"Sorry, my apologies."

"Ah, it's Mr. Shane. I was just looking for you. We've recovered a carriage nearby and are planning to set off for Gostan City first thing tomorrow morning. I wanted to ask if you and Ms. Frieren would still like to travel with us?"

Hearing the uncle's words, Shane glanced back at the monk's study not far away.

The struggle within his heart ultimately outweighed his thirst for magic; he did not want to spend the rest of his life wishing he could slap himself every time he remembered this day.

"Yes, let's depart together tomorrow morning."