The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

Ravian had finished studying everything he had wanted to learn about soul power, mana, and meditation techniques.

He could finally project mana beyond his body in a stable form without any trouble. Magic made far more sense to him now, and he could cast spells of his own if he wished.

The thought was tempting enough that he glanced down at his hand, remembering the tiny gray flame that had burned above his fingertip. There were several things he wanted to try while the principles remained fresh in his mind.

That would have to wait, however, since he might accidentally damage something valuable inside the library. After finding himself in so many dangerous situations because of minor mistakes, he had become almost paranoid that even the slightest recklessness would bring another unexpected threat to his life.

A ruined hand inside a simulation could be restored with another thought, but a mistake here might injure him or destroy material he had yet to read.

The fear left behind by Fate’s power still lingered within him, even though he had already confirmed that the power itself had been removed.

’What was that saying again?’ Ravian rested a hand on his chin as he searched his memory, then remembered.

’Right!’

It was something older people had always said:

Prevention is better than cure.

From now on, Ravian intended to follow that principle to the letter.

Having finished the reading he had set out to do, he returned to the lower floors, which were far more crowded than the upper levels. Students in Academy uniforms moved all around him, occasionally chatting in voices that scarcely rose above a whisper, though even those quiet exchanges were rare; most were far more interested in studying and acquiring knowledge than in talking to one another.

He passed desks crowded with open volumes and handwritten notes, watching students compare passages or pause over a line before returning to the beginning. Their progress was slower than his, but he could hardly fault their dedication.

Among the things Ravian had read were a few passing references to the Academy’s founder—or rather, its founders.

They were known as the Light of Humanity.

They had been a handful of Awakened who had reached the higher ranks of soul power and repelled an invasion by the Children of Sin thousands of years ago, before founding the three human empires and gathering all their knowledge within this Academy, specifically within its vast library.

Ravian did not believe any of it, however, and he was certain that the library did not contain everything those hailed as the Light of Humanity had known.

Why?

Because amid all the legends about those heroes repelling the Children of Sin and the world wars that had claimed millions of lives, the accounts gave far too little attention to the role of this world’s most important powers.

The Taboos, of course.

References to them were extremely scarce here, and even those that did exist treated them more like figures from mythology.

This had happened, that had been done, some other event had taken place.

Yet all those passages ultimately offered nothing beyond the outcome.

For example:

Humanity had triumphed with the help of a certain Taboo.

In another battle, the humans had been routed, and the Calamity leading them had been killed with the aid of some other Taboo’s blessing.

But how had any of it happened, and why?

None of that was explained.

Had that blessing strengthened an army, weakened its enemies, or allowed someone to kill a being they could never have defeated otherwise? Those were different possibilities with different implications, yet the accounts gave him no way to distinguish between them.

It was as though the Academy were telling its students not to think too deeply about any of it: what had happened was over, and they should focus only on humanity’s present and future.

Yet that was precisely what made Ravian distrust the information recorded here. Certain Taboos received far more cursory treatment than others, even when they belonged to the same group, whether the Saviors or the Deadly Sins.

He found himself paying as much attention to what a passage avoided as to what it actually said, comparing the treatment of each Taboo against the others instead of reading their names in isolation.

Who could order that, or decide what humanity’s most promising young minds should be taught?

The answer was simple, and a few history books had been enough for Ravian to reach it.

A Taboo was behind all of this—or rather, several Taboos working together.

Humanity’s leaders had, of course, agreed, and the arrangement must have served human interests as well, because Ravian was certain that there were humans capable of standing against the Taboos, even if only indirectly or by working together.

Standing against a Taboo did not necessarily mean matching its strength in a direct confrontation, and he was careful to keep that distinction in mind.

In fact, a theory had first occurred to him when he had faced Truth’s descent, and while reading about her here, he had repeatedly encountered a rather unusual title:

The Scorching Maiden.

It might sound difficult to believe, but that was the title the books used for the Taboo of Truth. She was invariably described as a blind maiden who could nevertheless see, distinguished by her white eyes.

Ravian remembered how Robert had looked when Truth descended into him, his eyes turning entirely white as though he had lost his sight.

That memory only strengthened the suspicion taking shape in Ravian’s mind.

What if the Taboos had originally been humans who had reached unprecedented heights of soul power and comprehension of Laws, eventually allowing them to become Taboos?

’Well, I’d probably believe that if I hadn’t seen that massive snake with my own eyes in my dream and heard it call itself the Taboo of Fate.’

His thoughts kept turning, and his body shuddered involuntarily whenever he recalled those enormous, star-filled eyes gazing at him in his dream, as though they were looking into the depths of his soul rather than at him.

The histories reduced such beings to names inserted into accounts of victory and defeat, but a name on paper could not convey what it felt like to stand beneath that gaze.

Worse still, Ravian knew that one day he would have to uncover the secrets of those beings if he wanted to continue advancing in this world of soul power.

He was still only at the Ninth Rank, yet the System was already asking him to find something called the Golden Scriptures before he could ascend to the Eighth—something that seemed almost impossible to find without putting himself in danger.

How did he know?

He had checked catalogues and indexes, then followed references that seemed likely to lead him toward religious writings or accounts of the Taboos. Whenever a title looked promising, he examined the volume, careful not to dismiss unfamiliar terminology too quickly.

All the while, the light beyond the windows continued to fade, bringing him closer to the time when Shmichael’s carriage would return and Patrick would expect him at Viola Manor.

Yet even in this absurdly vast library, housed within humanity’s largest academy, after using every moment he could spare before his return, Ravian had not found so much as a single word about anything called the Golden Scriptures.