Records of Rebirth

I squinted in suspicion at the notification. What further proof did I need?

It was like the system was trying to warn me, especially after seeing their campground.

I looked closely at the people. It mentioned hostages, an elf commander, and a grandmaster, but I saw none of this.

Aside from the tense elves, they all looked like normal people sitting anxiously around a fire, if you ignored their glowing red eyes.

I even spotted the female elf wandering aimlessly through the camp, she ignored the members of her party, and they didn't pay much attention to her either.

So maybe they were inside.

Were they really after that Journal? Or was it the jewel in my possession? Or maybe the ring?

Once again, I felt the itch to bury them all for coming after my treasures. They couldn't reach inside the Shadow realm, so they couldn't get their things back even if they came after me.

But if their target was me, then my nestlings would be affected. 

With that thought lingering in my mind, I quietly slipped back into the shadow realm.

Were my spoils really worth all the trouble?

I quickly found my hammock where all three items were waiting. I already knew how dangerous the relic was, its petrification powers were just as potent as the day I found it, but inside the box, the unique resin suffocated its effect.

As for the ring, it was completely mine. After being powered by the Abyss, it posed no threat to me anymore and only responded to my signature. If [Dimensional Box] didn't surpass its quantity, I would have used it as my own, but alas.

I already designated it as an apology gift for Ophelia.

Which left the journal.

It supposedly belonged to a Grandmaster, but the item itself was ordinary. It was bound centrally like a book and made out of leather, or at least I thought it was leather.

[Appraisal] revealed the pages were actually the skin of an extinct race of mortal, which was so creepy that I hurled the book away the first chance I got.

What the hell. Why mortal skin?

How gross!

I had to question the sanity of its creator.

I cringed just thinking about how the dark fae had slept between its pages. I even used it as a headrest several times in the cave!

In itself, it was far from the worst thing I'd seen, but it did make me hesitate to touch it again, and even now I couldn't get over its shiny waxy texture.

But far more complicated than the journal's materials were its contents.

I started off simply by opening to a random page. 

Written painstakingly by hand, every inch of the Journal was covered in beautiful text, but this text was not always in the Elf tongue. Some were a mishmash of other known languages that I had to decipher with [Glossary of Aeon]. They were mostly mortal in origin but the same language never repeated itself twice in a single line. 

The writer was seemingly unable to finish a sentence before switching to another language. I reasoned it was some type of protective measure and fortunately, I had [Glossary of Aeon] to help. 

However, after reading for a while, my 20 language limit started to fill up fast!

If I kept reading I would have to choose which language to let go. Either I would never talk to the nestlings again, the Nymph, or Sylrin, even the Abyssal monsters were at risk of abandonment.

Still I kept reading, and by the time I finished one page, it felt like hours had passed.

But the result was less than satisfactory.

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖕𝖔𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: 12873

𝕬𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝕸𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞: 8

𝕱𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞: 28 

𝕬𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞: 400

What was this?

It went on to detail pages and pages of every single possible plant, livestock and ingredient produced and consumed per household in excruciating detail, for what seemed to be a medium sized town.

Just reading it made me annoyed.

What was the purpose?

Sidrian, Axael, Native Uhir, Dagnor, I couldn't stop counting all the strange languages I amassed just from reading its pages.

And for what?

To detail farming supplies? A harvest? 

Why did I need to know different types of plant diseases?

All of this led me to conclude the writer was insane. Why go through all this trouble to guard something that equated to a list.

I glared at the words in annoyance. 

Should I keep reading? Or was my time better spent capturing some elves?

I decided to go all the way to the beginning to see if there was more. 

There had to be a reason the elves were after this thing.

𝕿𝖔𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊. 𝕴𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝕴 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊. 𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝕴 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖊. 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕴 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊?

Hm?

𝕿𝖔𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖆𝖜𝖓. 𝕱𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖕 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖆𝖗𝖒, 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖇𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖚𝖘. 𝕷𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖘𝖍 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖕𝖔𝖔𝖗 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖘𝖙, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘, 𝕴 𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊.

Hmm?

𝕿𝖔𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖗𝖒 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉, 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖘𝖊𝖙 𝖎𝖙 𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖎𝖟𝖊𝖉 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑. 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖕 𝖈𝖗𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌.

𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖚𝖙 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖒 𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓.

I had to do a double take. 

What the heck did I just read?

𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓. 𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖞. 𝕳𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖞𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖔𝖒𝖘 𝖘𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖘. 𝕴𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖎𝖉𝖑𝖞, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖘𝖞𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖔𝖒𝖘 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖇𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖊𝖉. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖉𝖎𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖊𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖓. 

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙.

I sat up from my bed…why did this sound like medicine?

Who was this person? Was Talia his sister? 

I had so many questions.

𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝕴 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖜 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖞𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋. 𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖗𝖚𝖉𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖞 𝖒𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖊?

𝕱𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖍𝖎𝖒 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 𝖉𝖎𝖉, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖒𝖞 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖔 𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙. 

𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖉, 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖉 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝕱𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖞 𝖆𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖉.

𝖂𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖋 𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖉 𝖓𝖔 𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌.

𝕱𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖞𝖘. 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖘𝖓𝖙 𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆 𝖘𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖚𝖑𝖙. 

𝕴𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖒𝖘 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖜.

I couldn't believe what I'd read. 

My first thought was a reincarnate, but from how aged and weary the pages of the Journal were, it had to be at least a few centuries old, which ruled that out.

I had to conclude that this was simply a very gifted individual, perhaps a genius.

To be separated from his family at such a young age was a tragic event to experience, though I never got the sense that the writer seemed particularly bothered about it.

After this there were a couple of blank pages and by the time I got to the next entry, the story seemed to have skipped forward by a couple of years.

And then the mess truly began.

Through the bleeding ink I came across pages filled with detailed analysis of monsters both dead and alive, their dissected bodies filed several pages continuously, and the writer loved to detail his excitement at each new discovery with pages of descriptive text.

No longer were these the records of a farm boy, he seemed to have changed into some sort of mad sorcerer!

I had to flip through pages repeatedly when I came across a couple of unfortunate serpents, in order not to recoil, and I was so upset, I took a break from reading for a while.

But it wasn't just monsters, there were also mortals, elves, fae, mutant and other humanoid races.

I wasn't used to seeing such human-like depictions treated like pieces of meat, nor was I happy to see so many monsters filling the pages.

The author was likely the same because alongside these drawings were inventory lists much like the earlier farming records.

Only now, they were lists of ingredients, potions and body parts, the Journal becoming littered with records of experiments, spells, and other unsavoury ventures.

If the Journal's author was this elf Grandmaster, then he was a truly evil being.

All those poor monsters and mutants, someone ought to string him up and cut him open just to see if he bled.

The only reason I waited so long before reading the Journal was because Sensei was adamant that I didn't, and perhaps this was why. It wouldn't surprise me that he didn't want me to see such things.

But I was glad I read it.

Aside from the demented drawings, there were spells I could learn with practice, alongside information about this world that I wouldn't know otherwise.

Still, I had to wonder what happened to the farm boy in the beginning?

The pages that followed made me question if they were the same person.

Between the words were detailed maps of Labyrinths that matched none of the ones I stole from the elves – which meant they were not part of the Ailith Labyrinth!

According to it there were eight continents discovered so far.

Ailith, Maelgyn, Dyrsyn, Castellan, The Stormlands which were uninhabited, unnamed and overrun with mutants, the Crystal Isles where dragons roamed, Abeloth, a dark realm where demons lived, and the Aerie where guardians, beings of light made flesh, recorded the history of every living race since creation.

With eight known land masses, it meant there were eight other Labyrinths I hadn't seen, which meant Ailith was merely a tiny cog in a wheel much larger than I imagined.

Yet, even more unbelievable was the sorcerer's claim that each Labyrinth was connected through invisible pathways, which also happened to be…the roots of an ancient tree so large its roots spread across continents, with branches so tall they reached the Aerie in the heavens.

This also happened to be where he lost me. Because how could all the things it claimed, be true?

How could mere roots link land masses together?

Perhaps it was a metaphor or some figure of speech?

But this wasn't the end of the Journal's nonsense.

It details silly things like common rules and greetings shared between different races when they met for the first time. Apparently, a mortal must never look a giant directly in the eyes or it would feel threatened or be seen as small, which always ended in death.

And yet, the sorcerer made this very mistake and survived somehow – as if he wasn't already suspicious enough!

According to him, Elves were born from the fruit of this giant continent hopping tree and every fae creature and Nymph that existed were birthed from its flowers.

I had to pause because this was far from believable.

If the farm boy and the wandering sorcerer were the same then perhaps he had gone mad from his travels, or from his excessive record keeping.

From the earlier entries, I got the sense he was on a quest of discovery and power. But if he was going to lie, at least make it believable!

There were limits to these things!

I rolled around to give my wings a stretch, realising I'd been in the same position for too long.

I thought I would gain some insight to his discoveries by reading more, but the more I read the more I concluded the sorcerer had lost his mind.

It wasn't just the detailed experiments on monsters, elves and creatures he captured, there were even musings on the anatomy of demons – and other creatures I couldn't begin to describe.

He seemed to have a habit of gathering unique parts like a macabre collector, slaughtering whole civilizations for their parts was like a typical day in his list of misadventures.

The Journal also suggested this sorcerer had paid a visit to a Labyrinth once, although which one wasn't exactly clear. His notes explained each Labyrinth was created by a different god, of which there were seven – but I recall Sensei saying there were six gods.

And yet, this was only the start of the confusing rabbit hole I was about to embark on.