The silence in the pagoda's main hall was absolute. Elara's whispered plea—"May I... become your disciple?"—hung in the air, heavier and more shocking than any Forbidden spell.
Lila and Sylvie, standing behind her, were paralyzed. Their minds simply could not process the scene. This was Archmage Elara. The Psychic-Hand. A Level 8 powerhouse, one of the 33 rulers of the entire continent. She was a being on par with their own celestial-princess (Sylvie). And she was... prostrating herself... on their floor.
Kalagar S. Sully was, for his part, also stunned.
But for a very, very different reason.
A disciple? he thought, his mind racing. Her? The nice, normal, humble scholar-lady?
He was, in a word, elated.
Finally! A real student!
His other disciples were... well. Lila was a sweet-but-fanatical "life-gardener." Valerius was a "void-zipper." Boro was a "golem-engineer." Sylvie was a "tree-whisperer." They were all artists and fanatics.
But Elara! She was a scholar. She understood philosophy! She appreciated rigor!
She wasn't asking to join because of some (misguided) religious fervor. She was asking to join because she was intellectually humbled! She was a true academic!
"My dear woman," Kalagar said, his voice brimming with a warmth his other disciples had never heard. He stepped forward and—to the abject horror of Lila and Sylvie—placed his hands on the Archmage's shoulders and helped her to her feet.
"Disciple? You?" he said, beaming. "A scholar... a true philosopher... wants to study with me? After all this time with... well..." (he gestured at his other disciples) "...it's an honor! Yes! A resounding yes! Of course I accept!"
Archmage Elara looked up, her face pale, her mind still reeling. He... he accepted? Just like that? He touched her? He wasn't demanding a trial? He wasn't requiring a blood-oath?
He was... happy.
The sheer, casual, joyful acceptance of an Archmage into his service... The arrogance was so profound, so absolute, it was indistinguishable from kindness.
And as she stared into his warm, smiling, Level 0 eyes, the System made it official.
[System: New Disciple: 'Elara' (Level 8 Archmage) has been accepted.]
[...WARNING! A high-level, politically-significant entity has joined the Sect!]
Kalagar's smile did not waver, but his blood turned to ice-water.
He had seen the prompt.
The prompt that had appeared just as he was shaking her hand.
'Elara' (Level 8 Archmage).
His mind, his fast, academic, brilliant mind, put every single piece together in one, horrifying, adrenaline-fueled microsecond.
She is not a 'humble scholar'.
She is Archmage Elara. The Psychic-Hand. The... the ruler of the Arcane Empire. The one from the books. The one who... whose...
...whose entire school of magic I just broke with a 'folk song'.
...whose continent's water supply my disciple just broke by 'tapping'.
...whose drought my other disciples are 'fixing' with a 'water-pump'.
She didn't come here to 'investigate'.
She didn't come here to 'arrest' me.
She came here... because she thinks...
...oh, no...
She thinks I am a Primordial God... and she is so unimaginably terrified of me... that her only survival strategy... her only political move... was to submit. To beg to become a disciple. To put herself under my protection before I 'scolded' her, too.
Kalagar S. Sully was no longer a confused cult-leader.
He was, officially, the unwilling jailor of a Level 8 political hostage.
His smile became fixed, a strained, waxy rictus that his disciples interpreted as "profound, divine serenity."
"Well," Kalagar said, his voice (impressively) only trembling a little. "A new disciple. Wonderful. Especially one... so... esteemed."
Elara bowed her head, her mind (thankfully) too broken to notice his micro-panic. "I am not esteemed, Master. I am... nothing. I am a blank page. Please... teach me."
She was waiting. For her first lesson. Her first divine truth from the man who had redefined Cogito ergo sum.
Kalagar's mind was completely, utterly blank.
What do you teach an Archmage?
What do you teach the person whose mind you broke?
He couldn't teach physics. He couldn't teach botany. He couldn't teach "folk songs."
He had to give her a task. A safe, academic, non-magical task.
His eyes darted around the hall, and landed on his bookshelves. His collection of books from his old world, which Boro had dutifully moved into the pagoda. They were in a complete, chaotic mess.
"Right," Kalagar said, clearing his throat. "Your... your first lesson. A... a test. A test of humility... and... rigor."
He pointed to the shelves.
"My library... is in disarray. It is... unacceptable. Your first task, Disciple Elara... is to catalogue my library."
Elara blinked. "...Catalogue...?"
Lila and Sylvie gasped. The Master was giving the Archmage... a chore?
"Yes!" Kalagar said, warming to his (safe, mundane) topic. "You will sort every book. First by author. Then by date of publication. Then by subject. You will create a... a catalogue-index. You will use the... uh... the Sully-Decimal-System."
He was, of course, just re-naming the 'Dewey Decimal System' from his old-world library. It was the most boring, academic, harmless thing he could possibly imagine.
Elara stared at him.
Then at the books.
Then back at him.
She did not see a chore.
She, a "comprehension-genius" of pure, academic logic, saw the truth.
He... he is not giving me a 'chore'...?
He is... he is giving me... access?
He is inviting me... to read... his entire, personal, divine library? The books from his 'homeland'? The source of his wisdom?
And... the 'Sully-Decimal-System'...
It's not just a 'system'. It's a... a key! A new philosophy! A... a new way of categorizing all of existence!
He is not telling me to sort books. He is ordering me to comprehend the very structure of his homeland's divine knowledge!
This isn't a test. This is a GIFT!
[System: Disciple 'Elara' is attempting to comprehend [Lesson: The Sully-Decimal-System (Library Cataloguing)]...]
[...Comprehension: SUCCESS!]
[Disciple's previous (shattered) mind-magic is being... re-formatted...]
[Disciple 'Elara' has comprehended: [The Akashic-Mandate of Knowledge (Conceptual-Indexing)] (Top-Tier Divine/Mind Art).]
Elara gasped. A wave of cool, white, informational light washed through her. Her old, broken, aggressive psychic powers (Mind-Reading, Domination) were gone.
In their place was something new. Something... better.
It was a passive skill.
She looked at Lila.
And she saw... not her thoughts, but her catalogue-entry.
[Subject: Lila. Status: Disciple (First). Core-Arts: [Aegis of the Stone Sleeper], [Anthem of Life]... Origin-Concept: 'Mountain Snoring', 'Photosynthesis'...]
She looked at the glowing, head-sized apple on the table.
[Object: Apple of Samsara. Status: Divine-Grade. Core-Concept: [Anthem of Life], [Samsara of the First Tree]. Effect: Cures all non-conceptual wounds, grants +50 years of life... Origin: Master's 'Garden-Lesson'...]
Her mind... her mind was back. But it was better. She was no longer a "mind-reader." She was a "truth-reader." She was an... Akashic Indexer.
She turned her new, terrifying, 'indexing' gaze... on her Master.
She looked at Kalagar S. Sully.
And she read.
[Subject: Kalagar S. Sully. Status: Master. Core-Arts: ...?... Origin: ...?...]
...
...ERROR.
...ERROR.
...MANDATE NOT FOUND.
...SUBJECT IS... [THE SOURCE].
Archmage Elara's last, lingering, 0.01% of doubt evaporated.
He was not a god. He was not a human.
He was, simply, The Source. The Origin of all these new, conceptual laws.
Her terror, her awe, and her worship were now absolute, infinite, and complete.
She fell to her knees, her entire body shaking, this time not from fear, but from ecstasy.
"Thank you... Master," she whispered, her voice thick with a devotion that put even Lila's to shame. "Thank you for this... this wisdom. For the System."
"I... I will not fail you. I will... catalogue... everything."
Kalagar S. Sully, who had just tried to give his new, Level-8-Archmage-hostage some busy-work...
...and had instead just invented a new school of divine, all-knowing magic...
...just... sighed.
He sighed, a long, drawn-out, utterly defeated sound.
"Good," he said, his voice flat and dead. "That's... good, Elara. You... you do that."
He turned, walked past his two, awestruck, original disciples.
He walked up the stairs.
He entered his study.
He shut the door.
And he locked his new, conceptual, [Mandate-of-Access] lock.
He now had five of them.
And the most powerful, most intelligent, and most important one was, at this very moment, giggling with joy as she "conceptually-indexed" his old, dog-eared copy of The Metaphysics of Morals.