Zandar's cheek twitched, and he nearly lost control of his expression.
His Adam's apple bobbed. His heart beat faster and faster in his chest, and his palms grew warm and clammy.
The last being to stir such powerful emotions in him had been his creation, before it ascended to godhood.
The time he had spent on Eric was not even a fraction of what he had spent on his creation.
Zandar knew all too well that one person's strength was limited.
Especially those who were a step ahead of everyone else, yet constrained by their era.
Take the Middle Ages, for instance, when technology could only carry people across the seas.
Captains and sailors at the docks were cheering the discovery of a new continent.
On the other side of the planet, a genius was gazing up at stars they could never reach in their lifetime.
Compared with his predecessors, trapped where they were and unable to venture into the cosmos, Zandar was undoubtedly fortunate.
As he read, he often came to recognize his own ignorance and narrow perspective.
Though he had long since mastered the contents, he still gazed through the pages before him, greedily seeking, with a mortal body, to explore the possibilities thousands, even millions of years into the future.
If it was a pilgrimage that required a kowtow with every step before a god would offer guidance, he would gladly emulate the fanatics and prostrate himself on the path of knowledge.
Zandar knew he was too greedy.
He did not merely want to absorb more knowledge. He wanted to eliminate his ignorance and narrow perspective altogether.
And what of the scholars who shared his thoughts?
Were they like him? Did their own ignorance torment them just as much?
What if there were a being capable of