"Bruce, wake up. Bruce..."
Bruce opened his eyes in a daze. All those dazzling sights had vanished, and he was still in his study, with Fawcett and Ghost staring at him anxiously.
Was everything just now only a dream?
Bruce felt somewhat disoriented. What were those strange visions that had appeared in his mind-the enormous golden hand, the enormous black hand, and those giants towering higher than mountains?
They seemed to have been shouting a name over and over. Behemoth?
Wait, he seemed to have forgotten something else.
Frowning, Bruce carefully recalled the various visions that had appeared in his mind and all those clamorous voices, especially the names he had heard at the beginning.
They should have been names. Bruce had even heard one he recognized: Hozniya.
Bruce was already familiar with the name Hozniya. He had heard it when he touched the wall sealing away the Dark Bible, and now he had heard it again.
Besides Hozniya, there had also been Gilnigi, Azharaka, and others. Since they had appeared alongside Hozniya's name, they were probably the names of certain gods.
"Bruce, are you all right?"
Fawcett spoke uneasily. Bruce's sudden loss of consciousness had given both Fawcett and Ghost quite a fright. Neither had ever heard of anyone passing out after taking a potion. People either became Extraordinaries or became Fallen.
Taking one and falling asleep afterward was certainly a first.
Bruce shook his head. Aside from a slight pressure in his head, everything felt fine. His thoughts were exceptionally clear, so for now, he could only put those confusing, unfathomable names out of his mind.
He opened his hand, and silver threads appeared in his palm. At his command, they formed all sorts of patterns, proving highly malleable.
These silver threads were spirituality power, something only Extraordinaries could wield. The fact that Bruce could use it already proved that he had successfully acquired the Wizard identity and become an Extraordinary.
"It worked."
Bruce's face lit up with joy. So this was what becoming an Extraordinary felt like. His physical attributes and perception had improved, though not very noticeably. That was probably because he had acquired the Wizard identity, which did not focus on strengthening the body.
If he had chosen Warrior, he would surely have become a muscular man brimming with strength.
After becoming a Wizard, Bruce only felt light and relaxed all over, full of energy, with every thought sharper than before. Perhaps the Wizard identity focused on strengthening the mind?
Bruce would still need plenty of time to adjust and explore exactly what extraordinary abilities the Wizard identity offered.
Fawcett and Ghost were delighted as well. Bruce's advancement to Wizard meant he was one step closer to what they needed.
Now that he was a Wizard, Bruce could finally use the magic in the Dark Bible. He simply did not know whether he could successfully cast those spells yet. He would have to try, but he restrained himself.
Use magic in Lane Village?
That would be far too reckless.
Too many Night Watchers patrolled around Lane Village, and it was dark now, when their senses were even keener. No matter how subtle or weak his magic was, he could not risk casting it. Bruce dared not take that chance.
Aside from those strange names, another question lingered in Bruce's mind. What were those enormous figures? Giants?
And what did the Behemoth those giants were shouting about refer to?
Bruce sat up, got off the blanket, and began searching for accounts of those enormous figures. He seemed to remember reading a description of them somewhere.
"Bruce, what are you looking for?"
Fawcett was puzzled. Why had he started searching for something as soon as he woke up?
"Found it."
Bruce found a description of the enormous figures in Tales of the Four Continents. The giants of the Giant Tribe on the Northern Continent matched them exactly.
The figures he had just seen towering higher than mountains were giants, but the term Behemoth did not appear.
What did the Behemoth they shouted about refer to? Why did I see a scene that looked almost like the creation of the world? Bruce opened his mouth, but ultimately could not bring himself to utter the name.
He worried that Behemoth might be the name of another god. Now that he was an Extraordinary, he might not be as lucky as the first time if a god noticed him again.
"Did you see or hear something? A strange name?" Seeing Bruce's reaction, Fawcett, who had been through this before, understood at once.
Fawcett was also intensely curious. Bruce really was different. Few people could perceive strange visions repeatedly.
"If you want to investigate the origins of a name or a vision, there's somewhere you can go. You should be able to find relevant information there." At that moment, Fawcett remembered a place that might help Bruce.
"Where?"
"The National History Museum. There's one in Metropolis, in the Rune Kingdom. You can go there," Fawcett said.
"Does it have more complete records? Didn't you say their names couldn't be recorded?"
Bruce knew of the National History Museum. It was something of a landmark in the Rune Kingdom, and it certainly held a great many books and records. But some information could not be written down.
Gods' names could only be represented by substitutes, yet what Bruce had heard might have been their true names, and he had no way of knowing their substitute names.
"Yes, they can't be recorded, but there's one kind of person who is an exception. Their Extraordinary identity is Recorder. They know many secrets-the names of gods, the influences of history. Whatever appears will be recorded. Their spirituality can create the Book of the Recorded World. Those things can be written in that book without attracting attention."
"I had dealings with them when I was a Secret Prayer. You should be able to meet one there."
Fawcett explained that although it had been several hundred years ago, there were definitely still Recorders in the National History Museum.
Bruce nodded. To think there was an Extraordinary identity like that. He could go and learn more when he had the chance.
"Grrr..."
Bruce rubbed his stomach, feeling a little hungry.
Only then did he remember that he had not eaten dinner. Preparing the potion had also taken quite a bit of energy. He looked up and out the window. Half the sky had darkened, with a streak of red and yellow adorning the black curtain.
Although preparing the potion had felt like it took a long time, it had actually been quite quick. He had not been unconscious for very long either. Altogether, no more than half an hour had passed.
Ravenous, Bruce could only go downstairs to find something to eat. After rummaging through the cupboards, he finally found a little dry bread. He made do with some bread dipped in meat sauce to ease his hunger.
Honestly, this hard bread was not to his taste at all, and it had no flavor. It was completely unlike the soft, tender bread rich with milky fragrance he had enjoyed in his previous life. He had never learned to bake bread, either, so he did not know how to improve it.
If he knew how to improve bread, perhaps he could become a bread tycoon with a new kind of loaf.
Start a bread business?
The thought flashed through Bruce's mind, then was swiftly forgotten. Rather than bread, he wanted meat-braised pork, grilled chicken wings, all the piping-hot delicacies of his homeland. Even noodles with pickled mustard greens and shredded pork would do.
Lane Village had no little eateries, either. Going out would only leave him hungry in the cold, and if he went to someone else's home to cadge a meal, he would probably get nothing but dry bread. There was no hope of meat.
Bruce had looked into the food eaten at the Rune Kingdom's three daily meals. Besides milk and bread, roast meat and red wine, afternoon tea, and the other Western foods he remembered, cooked dishes and stir-fries prepared in the style of his homeland also existed. Supposedly, those methods had come from overseas. There were restaurants specializing in them, but they were mostly in cities like Metropolis.
They were practically impossible to find in the countryside.
In other words, there might be a country overseas similar to his homeland. Could it be on the Eastern Continent?
Leaving aside the continent discovered along the new sea route, of the four continents, the descriptions of the Eastern Continent fit best.
As he ate the unappetizing bread, Bruce missed the food of his homeland terribly, along with his family.
Suddenly, sensing something, Bruce looked toward the door.
Someone had come-a lone visitor had reached the gates of Wayne Manor.
Then he heard barking outside and the sound of knocking on the iron gates.
The two guard dogs only barked furiously when outsiders approached the manor, so his senses had been right. Someone really had arrived at Wayne Manor.
"My senses are unbelievably sharp." Bruce marveled. The sensitivity brought on by his increased mental strength was on full display.
But it was already so late. Who would come over at this hour?