A/N[1]
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For half an hour, Anant focused quietly on his assessment.
Seated at the small desk prepared for him, he held the writing tool with steady hands. His expression remained calm, almost thoughtful, as he began recalling what he had seen inside the book.
However— he was careful. Very careful.
He only wrote about what other descendants usually saw.
Nothing more.
He began with the war against demons.
Writing in neat, controlled strokes, he described the strategies used by his ancestor, Samaya, and his people.
The battlefield, as he noted, was located along the bank of one of the great rivers— the same river that flowed from west to east and passed by the Vatsya estate.
If one were to describe its position more precisely, it lay within the western region of the Vatsya Duchy, touching parts of what would later become the empire's capital landmass, while also bordering another duchy.
It was not just a battlefield.
It was a strategic point.
The war itself had taken place near one of the empire's most powerful temples.
Even in the present day, that temple still stood.
A miracle.
Because, as history recorded— it had once been on the verge of destruction.
Despite being protected by a powerful holy shield, the surrounding land had been devastated. The battlefield had turned into a river of blood, its soil soaked so deeply that even time had struggled to erase it.
Anant paused briefly. Then continued writing.
He did not include the gore. He did not describe the overwhelming brutality he had actually witnessed.
Instead— he focused on reasoning.
Why had Samaya chosen to enter the battlefield late?
Because it ensured victory.
The demons had already lowered their guard, believing no reinforcements would arrive. At that time, there was no unified empire— only small dynasties and temples that governed scattered regions.
So there was not any coordinated defens or large-scale alliance.
Samaya's arrival— Changed everything.
His intervention struck at the perfect moment.
And that single decision— Turned the tide.
However, It also created conflict.
Anant continued writing.
Other nearby dynasties had their own intentions.
They had wanted the temple destroyed.
To seize it.
To claim its power.
Samaya's decision to protect it— Went against their interests.
This led to tension.
Conflict.
Political friction between Samaya and other human factions.
Yet—
Ironically—
That same decision became the foundation of his rise.
The temple, recognizing his actions, proposed something unprecedented.
The establishment of a new dynasty with their support.
And thus— the Samaya Dynasty was born.
Anant wrote all of this clearly.
Without exaggeration.
Without unnecessary detail.
He even added a brief note on the temple's political reasoning.
How supporting Samaya created stability.
How it allowed them to maintain influence without direct conflict.
And finally— He mentioned the peace treaties that followed.
Agreements formed not out of trust—
But necessity.
Anant leaned back slightly. Looking at what he had written.
"That should be enough, I think."
There was a faint look of satisfaction on his face.
He had completed his assessment— in just half an hour.
'First day… and already homework.'
The thought passed through his mind with mild annoyance.
'And this is after I "just learned" the language a few hours ago.'
Of course— that part— Was only true from others' perspective.
With the assessment done, Anant placed it aside. Then he shifted his focus.
For the next half hour he tried something else.
He sat down properly. Cross-legged. And closed his eyes.
He began trying to feel— Mana. The most fundamental step toward magic.
Inside the book, he had learned how it worked. Those who were connected to the ancient gods could sense mana immediately during the awakening ceremony at the age of ten. But It was not impossible to feel it earlier.
With enough concentration And effort. One could learn to sense it naturally.
However, It was extremely difficult.
Even the founder— Samaya himself— Had taken seven years to achieve it.
Anant recalled that clearly. He had also seen many descendants. Some talented ones— Managed to sense mana within five years.
'Five years…' Anant considered it, 'That should be enough for me as well.'
He wasn't aiming for anything extraordinary.
Not yet.
The awakening ceremony itself was mostly a tradition.
From what he had observed— many descendants, including his father and grandfather, had already learned to sense mana before reaching the age of ten.
And doing so— had its advantages.
Because during the ceremony— the ancient gods granted abilities.
If someone had already achieved a certain level, they would be compensated with additional skills.
A form of balance. A quota.
Time passed. Thirty minutes. Anant remained still. Focused. Trying to feel it.
The flow. The presence. Anything.
But— Nothing came.
After a while— He slowly opened his eyes.
'…As expected.'
It wasn't surprising.
Just because he understood the concept Didn't mean the body could follow immediately.
At that moment, The door opened.
Duke Babasahab Felix Vatsya entered the library.
His gaze immediately fell upon his son. Sitting in a lotus position.
Eyes just opening— Calm as well as focused.
The Duke froze. '…Is he trying to sense mana?!'
For a brief moment he was completely dumbfounded.
Because what he saw should not have been possible.
No child— On their very first visit to the book— Had ever come out understanding something like this.
Let alone attempting it. And yet, His youngest son was already trying.
[1] It’s not like I’m focusing too much on the world’s history—I’m just giving a vague idea. The pacing may feel slow, but the introduction is important; otherwise, if I lose track of the plot, the story might go on an indefinite hiatus, just like my other web novel, The Lazy Genius With 999x System: Missing Pieces.