Chapter 48: Books Are Power!
Time rewound to a little earlier.
Once again.
Aeron had come yet again to the study of Porto-Veno Castle. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been here since arriving at Fisalia.
Ever since Cantarella had caught him and brought him to Porto-Veno Castle, he'd been coming here every single day. Was there really no other presentable place around here?
Of course, this time was definitely different in one aspect.
The entire study was now occupied by Aeron alone, who was staring gloomily at the collection of knowledge passed down through who-knows-how-many generations of Fisalia.
Truly worthy of Fisalia—the books were either "Complete Collection of Poison Formulas," "Fisalia Family Secret Recipes," or "108 Toxic Substances You Didn't Know About."
Aeron's purpose in coming here was simple: to see if there was anything he could learn, something that might be of some use. The result was that there really wasn't.
He had originally held a faint hope of finding niche, extreme books like "Hundred Poisons True Classic" or "Mysterious Darkness Divine" in the library, but his martial arts fantasy remained unfulfilled.
While "poisons" weren't completely unworkable, they simply required too high a cost—needing both experimental environments and materials, and Aeron definitely didn't have that much time to prepare at this stage.
The knowledge and experience that generations of predecessors had spent years summarizing—to try to master it in a few days and work on projects alone was simply too difficult.
Besides, if he really wanted to learn this stuff, why bother reading books? Going directly to Cantarella would be much more straightforward.
After that conversation with Cantarella in the sanctuary that day, although their exchange had been quite confrontational at the time, the family head seemed ultimately satisfied with Aeron's response. She left after saying "Fisalia looks forward to your future performance," giving him freedom to move about.
Judging by the outcome, that family head should be quite satisfied... probably?
In any case, Aeron had demonstrated his value—he had connections that could help Fisalia overthrow the Order, reduce Threnodian's influence on Ragunna, and secure Montelli's assistance.
For Cantarella, there should be no reason to refuse Aeron, since these were all resources that Fisalia urgently needed at present.
"..."
But this raised another problem.
Setting aside how Cantarella might react subsequently, there was another matter that concerned Aeron more at the moment.
Why had he and Cantarella happened to come together at such a perfect timing?
It was Fenrico—the one who should have gone on pilgrimage but instead delivered him into Fisalia's hands.
If this were just in the game, Aeron's impression of him wouldn't be bad.
But unfortunately, here he was not only Aeron's superior, but also someone who had conspired with Fractsidus to kill him. The only thing Aeron wanted to do now was eliminate him.
Aeron had deliberately made such a big scene earlier precisely to get the Order to notice him, then report himself, and finally give all the credit to Phoebe. This series of maneuvers had gone quite smoothly.
Could it be that the old man was really hiding something extraordinary? It seemed he would need to find an opportunity to talk with Cantarella about this.
"...Though I never expected you to come, Gilberto."
Aeron looked toward the study entrance, where stood the Fisalian who had previously escorted him to Porto-Veno Castle—Gilberto.
He stood swaying unsteadily by the doorframe, his expression clearly tormented.
"Aer...on...run...now!"
"What's wrong?"
Before him, Gilberto's face showed signs of abnormal erosion, one eye already turned pitch black.
Struggling against the corruption and the incessant whispers in his ears, Gilberto's body lurched uncontrollably toward Aeron. Yet, fighting his own consciousness, he ultimately collapsed face-first at Aeron's feet.
"It's the Dark Tide...stay...away..."
He could barely form coherent words, his only intent to warn Aeron.
But Aeron ignored his plea and stepped closer, then—
"Ugh!"
—drove a fist into Gilberto's abdomen. The sharp pain instantly robbed Gilberto of mobility, yet paradoxically cleared his mind further.
Aeron then dragged him aside, propping him against a bookshelf on the floor.
"You..."
Gilberto tried to speak, but Aeron cut him off.
"Enough. Rest here quietly. Save your strength."
Aeron gave Gilberto a once-over, delivered two measured kicks to his side, then abruptly slapped his own face with startling force.
"?????"
Witnessing this bizarre series of actions, Gilberto was utterly dumbfounded.
Wasn't he the one being corrupted? Why did this guy seem even more unhinged?
"Good. This time it's not an illusion."
"You idiot!"
Forgetting the Dark Tide's corrosion, Gilberto finally snapped and cursed.
"Ah, no need for that. Our esteemed family head once pulled a similar trick on me—can't be too careful."
Feeling the sting on his cheek, Aeron glanced outside to see more Fisalians displaying symptoms like Gilberto's, most already robbed of reason.
Aeron recognized the Dark Tide's corruption, but why now? Why at Porto-Veno Castle? Neither timing nor location made sense.
No matter—this wasn't the time for speculation, and Aeron's mind had already moved on.
So, faced with former colleagues who'd worked beside him, and this horde of corrupted Fisalians—colleagues of colleagues—what was Aeron truly thinking?
"Perfect opportunity!"
He'd been wondering how to earn Cantarella's favor, and here was the chance, arriving sooner than expected.
But as they say, two fists can't defeat forty hands. Empty-handed against so many, Aeron stood no chance.
Moreover, since they were Fisalians, killing them outright felt excessive. Using "Arsène" might prove lethal—they'd done him no wrong, so better to hold back.
With that, Aeron's gaze fell upon the nearby bookshelf.
Not exactly his area of expertise, but it would suffice.
Still, these were precious Fisalian texts. Wasting them would weigh on his conscience—he needed to choose carefully.
Soon enough, Aeron found the ideal weapon... wait, no, it was a book.
"The Tyrannical Minister Falls for Me"... What the hell is this?"
Judging by the title, it seemed to be some kind of romance masterpiece. Aeron weighed it in his hand—thick and hard. Perfect!
"Instant Mastery, activate!"
With the activation of the System's ability, a massive amount of knowledge instantly flooded into Aeron's mind!
"Chapter 1: Here's One Million Star Coins, Choose for Yourself!"
"Hey, wait—this isn't what I wanted!"
At that moment, the first corrupted Fisalian charged toward Aeron.
Aeron sidestepped, swinging the corner of the weapon... no, the book, hard against the attacker's head.
A dull thud echoed, and the opponent collapsed to the ground.
Did that sound satisfying? If it did, then it's a good book.
Soon, more corrupted Fisalians stormed into the study, but clearly, they were no match for the power of literature and Aeron's skills.
As the saying goes: Use a brick in a fight. Now Aeron understood the logic behind it. (Confucius: Kids, I never said that.)
Striking joints, smashing the back of the neck, slamming faces—
The once thick romance masterpiece was now serving a purpose it had never dreamed of in Aeron's hands.
Its thickness replaced brains, its cover substituted for thought. Aeron admitted he'd been somewhat biased against romance novels. Who said only women enjoyed them? In a man's hands, they were just as useful.
Finally, relying solely on "The Tyrannical Minister Falls for Me," Aeron single-handedly held off the endless waves of attackers.
"Whew—"
After knocking out the last charging foe, Aeron let out a long sigh. The book in his hand was merely slightly loosened.
No matter what, he decided he must borrow this from Cantarella later for a proper read.
Meanwhile, Gilberto, who had originally come to warn him, stared dumbfounded at the unconscious bodies scattered around Aeron.
"You... what have you been secretly studying behind my back?"
"Wrong. I was openly reading."
Aeron replied nonsensically. After confirming that none of the fallen could move, he strode out of the study.
"Where are you going...?"
"To find our esteemed family head, of course."
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