Selfless Ideals

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

The Holy Scripture was a tool monks carried with them every day for reciting and casting spells. He couldn't just ask them to hand it over...

Shane quietly got up from the hard floor and tiptoed past the snoring merchant.

The moon was high overhead.

The monastery was silent.

Aside from the snoring in the little hut behind him, all he could hear was the occasional chirping of insects and the rustling of leaves.

Following the light, Shane made his way to the study of Beryl, the monk.

Rustle, rustle, rustle—

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

Perhaps the lamplight was dim, or perhaps his eyesight had grown poor with age. Every time he finished a line, he set down the quill, picked up the book in front of him, brought it a little closer to the lamp, and squinted at it for a long moment. Then he put the book down and continued copying the next line.

As a result, the scratch of the nib across the paper came in fits and starts.

Shane listened quietly to the sounds inside the room, wondering what he should do.

Should he say he wanted to learn magic?

But such profound Goddess magic could only be learned and used by those who joined the clergy as monks. He wasn't ready to give up his worldly desires just yet.

But... he couldn't let such a valuable entry slip through his fingers.

Unlike those shallow spells for healing or diagnosing illnesses, the Goddess's Barrier was an incredible spell.

When he encountered a powerful enemy in the future, he could just hide in some out-of-the-way corner and activate the barrier. Even a mage on Frieren's level wouldn't be able to find him, let alone some ordinary monster.

Unless the Demon King came back to life, he'd be invincible.

He had to find a way to get his hands on a spell of this caliber!

The monk inside the room hadn't noticed Shane beneath the window. He was focused on copying the book in his hands.

One page, two pages, three pages...

The oil lamp was refilled several times, but the monk still didn't stop writing.

Hoo—

Hoo—

"Hm? Where's that snoring coming from?"

After who knew how long, the monk inside was interrupted by the sudden sound of snoring. He slowly rose from his desk and walked to the window, then leaned out to take a look.

By then, Shane was half-sitting against the wall, fast asleep without even realizing it.

The monk smiled faintly and said nothing. He turned, took his coat from the back of the chair, and draped it over Shane.

The next day.

Shane jolted awake and sat up abruptly.

He glanced around in a daze. He was still in the little hut where everyone had rested the night before, in the same spot on the floor where he'd slept during the latter half of the night.

"When did I come back? Or... was I dreaming? Did I never go out at all?"

As Shane muttered to himself, Frieren walked in.

She handed him a small piece of dark bread and said expressionlessly,

"The old monk said you didn't sleep well last night, so he told you to sleep in. He saved you this for breakfast."

After saying that, Frieren turned to leave. But when she reached the door, she turned back and added, "Please get a good night's sleep tonight. The old monk already has trouble walking, and carrying you was hard on him. Don't make trouble for the old man."

She gave Shane a stern look.

"..."

Shane scratched his head.

What kind of misunderstanding was this?

And what was with that old man? He saw someone outside his room in the middle of the night and didn't ask a single question. Instead, he even carried him back! That man had no sense of caution at all!

"No! If I want that life-saving spell, I need to come up with a plan fast!"

After thinking it over, he decided to spend the day getting to know the monk better and appealing to his sympathy.

Shane returned to the study.

Just like the night before, Beryl sat at the wooden desk, diligently copying an ancient text.

Perhaps the long hours bent over his work had worn him out. He could only copy a few lines before stopping to rub his eyes or his neck.

Shane pushed the door open and greeted him. "Sir, could I copy books with you?"

At Shane's words, Beryl's face lit up with a smile.

"Oh, young Mr. Shane. You'd like to help me copy books? That's wonderful! I could certainly use someone to help with the copying."

"No problem. Where should I start?"

Under the monk's guidance, Shane held down a worn-out book with one hand and a quill with the other, quickly copying its contents onto the blank pages.

The old book's pages were filled with notes that the monk had written himself.

As Shane copied, the monk explained them to him.

Working together, they copied at an astonishing speed. Shane finished in little more than half a day what would have taken the monk several days on his own.

"Very good, very good. Nothing's missing, the handwriting is neat, and the annotations are all correct."

"You've met every requirement perfectly, and you're faster than I ever could have imagined. Mr. Shane, you really are a blessing from the Goddess."

The monk kept praising Shane, making him feel a little embarrassed.

"May I ask why you're copying all these books?"

At Shane's question, the monk smiled and closed the book in his hands. He laid his aged hand over the cover and spoke solemnly. "Because I want to pass the Goddess's magic down to future generations."

He said that when he was young, he had traveled throughout the Southern Nations. He had seen soldiers wounded in war and children who died of plague. The loss of so many innocent lives had filled him with sorrow.

From that day on, he had resolved to devote his life to understanding the Goddess's magic and finding ways to heal more people.

"I am a monk without much talent, and my life has been obscure. This is the greatest contribution I can make to the study of human magic."

"Loneliness is the hardest part of studying in these mountains. But whenever I recite the Holy Scripture in my hands, I find the courage to keep going from the Goddess."

"Mr. Shane, you are the finest young man I've ever met. Many travelers have visited this monastery before you, but you alone were willing to help me copy those jumbled books, and to listen to an old man like me reminisce."

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

As he spoke, he gazed at Shane with deep affection and patted him on the shoulder, thanking him once more with genuine warmth.

Shane felt his face burn.

What was this turn of events? This wasn't right! He'd been secretly coveting the man's Holy Scripture and had approached him with an ulterior motive, yet the monk treated him with such sincerity. What was he supposed to do?

After hastily exchanging a few empty pleasantries, Shane beat a hasty retreat without looking back.

"Oof!"

Running too fast, he collided with the merchant around the corner.

"Sorry, sorry."

"Oh, Mr. Shane. I was just coming to find you. We found a carriage nearby and are planning to set out for Gostan City first thing tomorrow morning. I wanted to ask whether you and Lady Frieren would like to travel with us."

At the merchant's words, Shane glanced back at the monk's study in the distance.

His inner conflict won out over his desire for magic. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life remembering this day and wishing he could slap himself.

"All right. We'll leave together tomorrow morning."