Chapter 253 : Chapter 253

Chapter 253: CPU Overload

Deep ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍within that shell that had been judged to be utterly drained of Mana, there was another scene entirely.

There ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍was no darkness.

No ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍chaos.

There ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍was only light—an endless, surging ocean of light, formed from the purest knowledge and information.

Ryan’s ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍consciousness—if that cluster of awareness, still struggling to remain awake and maintain itself within the torrent of information, could still be called consciousness—was suspended in the center of that ocean.

Or ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍perhaps suspended was not the right word.

He was submerged, scoured, and overwhelmed, as endless streams of information filled with flashing, strange runes, complex formulas, three-dimensional array diagrams, and fragments of ancient language poured into him, engraved themselves into him, and filled him to the brim.

At the moment he had forcibly activated the two Gospel arrays within the ruins and then collapsed from exhaustion, it was as though the core of the arrays at his shoulders had been triggered by that final eruption.

In any case, the knowledge inheritance Serandil had branded into the depths of those two arrays—knowledge pointing toward the complete Twelve Elven Gospels—had burst open like a sealed treasury of compressed information.

A colossal system of supreme knowledge, vast enough that even high-tier mages might spend multiple lifetimes without fully digesting it, suddenly appeared in Ryan’s mind all at once. It spanned magical theory, energy application, the nature of life itself, and even touched upon certain aspects of the world’s underlying laws.

Ryan felt as though his mind were an old calculator that had suddenly been forcibly linked to the central database of the Empire’s highest magic research institute, then flooded with every archive in existence under maximum authority. Information overload. The soul itself humming under strain.

That was the true reason his body remained unconscious.

His outer flesh and basic consciousness had entered the deepest possible standby state in self-preservation, concentrating all energy and all processing capacity upon his inner awareness so that it could deal with this mad torrent of unimaginable fortune crashing down from the heavens.

At first, it had been a chaotic, overwhelming flood that left him dizzy.

But gradually, after the initial impact had passed, the essential nature of Ryan’s soul—one tempered by an age of information explosion—began to display a frightening degree of adaptability and processing ability.

His consciousness turned into something like invisible tendrils, moving through the ocean of light, classifying related information, linking it together, and constructing preliminary frameworks.

He saw the completeness and profundity of the elven magic system: from basic elemental perception and Mana shaping, to higher-order compound forbidden spells, to taboo fields involving time and space. The theory was complete. The paths were clear.

Many of its approaches were utterly different from the current human system of magic, yet they faintly pointed toward levels much closer to essence itself.

He read countless exquisitely intricate Magic Circle diagrams—destructive arrays for battle, absolute defensive barriers, spatial anchors for teleportation, life-giving healing arrays...

Many of those array structures left even him, a student of Magic Tool Application, stunned and enthralled. They were the pinnacle of the art of understanding Mana’s essential nature and exploiting the laws that governed it.

He even came to understand Serandil’s foundational and revolutionary theories in alchemy, potioneering, Enchantment, runes, and other fields. Even the smallest fragment of those discoveries, if leaked, would be enough to ignite a revolution in its respective domain.

And all of that immense knowledge, so exhilarating in itself, became little more than appetizers or background material once he touched the true core—the complete inheritance concerning the Twelve Elven Gospels.

When that blueprint of the Gospels slowly unfolded within Ryan’s consciousness—a blueprint formed from countless three-dimensional runes complex enough to make the soul tremble, energy-flow diagrams, formulas for material proportions, inscription procedures, and even partial warnings left behind by ancient elven sages from their own experience—even Ryan, with all his composure, felt pressure.

It was precise.

It was intricate.

And it was exacting to the point of almost being impossible to replicate.

The inheritance made it clear: this was the supreme secret art created in the height of elven civilization by Serandil and several other Great Sages, who had gathered the wisdom of the entire race in order to explore the ultimate form of life and Mana evolution.

Because the demands it placed upon its bearer were so extreme, and because the process was so difficult, it had been sealed away with utmost caution, not to be granted to any except those with tremendous will and extraordinary fortune.

The inscription of the first two arrays was merely the beginning—the most fundamental foundation of all foundations. From the third onward, the difficulty rose explosively.

Each new array that was added had to enter into perfect resonance with all the previously inscribed arrays, forming a compound magical ecosystem that continuously strengthened itself while also restraining itself.

The required materials became increasingly rare. The inscription process demanded extraordinary spiritual strength, bodily endurance, and precision of Mana control. Any error could lead to failure. The inheritance vaguely mentioned that, in history, a small number of previous candidates had been gravely injured through insufficient preparation or by forcing progress too quickly.

But correspondingly, every successful step brought an astonishing leap in power.

According to the descriptions and deductions within the inheritance, if one could inscribe the third and fourth arrays, then Mana quantity, control precision, and spell power would all undergo a qualitative transformation, allowing one to step securely into the realm of what humans called a Legendary-Rank mage.

As for what lay beyond that, the information became vague. It merely hinted at domains beyond the imagination of ordinary mortals.

The inheritance also mentioned a strange concept called the Philosopher’s Stone. It seemed to have been one of Serandil’s late-life lines of research, something related to stabilizing and harmonizing the power of the Gospels. But the record was incomplete, more like an unfinished conception than a completed theory.

“To inscribe the Twelve Elven Gospels with a human body...” Ryan’s consciousness evaluated the information within the inheritance. “According to the description, it is extraordinarily difficult. The demands on talent, disposition, and resources are all brutally severe. But it is not impossible. At the very least, the path is clear.”

Ryan was not wholly without caution. Nothing good fell from the sky for free.

If Serandil had left behind this gift, then he certainly had some intention. Perhaps he was searching for an inheritor. Perhaps it was something else. For the moment, Ryan did not know.

But right now, the value of this gift was undeniably real.

Power itself was neither good nor evil. Everything depended on how it was used and whether one could bear the price.

This knowledge, especially the parts concerning the nature of magic, the application of energy, and the structure of runes, was real beyond doubt. Its value was impossible to measure. Even if he did not continue inscribing the Gospel arrays for the time being, merely digesting this knowledge would be enough to spare Ryan decades, perhaps even centuries, of detours upon the path of magic.

And the power of the Gospel system...

It was the strongest and most direct path of advancement presently available to him.

A shortcut—a shortcut whose difficulty was already known, but whose destination was radiant and clear.

Just two foundational arrays had already given him the explosive force to reverse the entire battle situation within the ruins in an instant. If he could inscribe the third and fourth...

The risks and rewards seemed plain enough.

He had to take it.

No matter what Serandil might be plotting, at this stage this was the best possible answer for Ryan to quickly obtain power and face the crises ahead.

Another thing that drew his attention was the occasional mention of the Dragon Race within the inheritance.

They were different from the dragons of the current continent, which were regarded as powerful Magical Beasts—intelligent, yes, but living more as scattered tribal groups.

The Dragon Race described in the inheritance was older, more ancient, and seemed to have once been a glorious civilization in its own right, perhaps even one that had engaged in profound contact or conflict with the elves.

Fragments of Serandil’s research notes vaguely revealed that in his later years he had been investigating the nature of the Dragon Race and the mystery of its decline, and that he seemed to believe this was connected to some deeper secret of the Gospel system.

“Are the dragons of today and the Dragon Race Serandil spoke of actually the same thing?” Ryan’s consciousness let the question pass through it. It might be a direction worth exploring, but it was not the most urgent one.

Having settled on his fundamental approach to the inheritance, Ryan’s consciousness rapidly archived this vast body of information for future analysis and turned its attention to a more immediate reality.

Life at the academy was only a hothouse.

Beneath its harmonious surface, a storm was already approaching.

According to the original game plot, fewer than five years remained before the large-scale resurgence of the Demon Race, the collapse of the borders, and the Empire’s descent into internal and external crisis.

Five years, in the realm of magic, would pass in the blink of an eye.

And more than that—he was not even certain he would safely survive the next five days.