The air tasted different.
Eshu Dio stood on unfamiliar soil.
One moment, the void.
The next, this.
Sunlight, warm and real, pressed down.
A gentle breeze rustled leaves he didn't recognize on trees he'd never seen.
He was here. Another world.
Alright. New place. New rules, probably.
He felt an odd calmness.
A preparedness that settled deep in his bones.
His innate advantage.
Instant Learning.
Information wasn't just acquired; it was known. Understood. Integrated.
Passively, the world fed him knowledge.
Actively, he could seek it, grasp it, master it.
No fumbling. No tedious study. Just… knowing.
A flicker of movement near his feet.
Paper.
A discarded newspaper, caught against the gnarled root of an alien-looking tree.
Words. Script. Alien, yet… not.
He stooped, fingers brushing the slightly coarse texture.
The moment his gaze fell upon the printed characters, comprehension flooded him.
Not just the language, but the nuances, the context, the implications.
The ink seemed to bleed directly into his understanding.
Headlines spoke of guilds. Of magic. Of Fiore.
A map, crudely drawn but detailed, highlighted a significant location.
Crocus. The capital.
Crocus. Sounds important. A good place to start as any.
The paper stated it was close.
Half a mile.
He knew, with absolute certainty, which direction that was.
The information wasn't just on the page; it was now part of him, as if he'd lived here for years and known the path instinctively.
He also knew the information was current. Reliable.
His learning ability sifted truth from error, effortlessly. This newspaper, thankfully, was accurate.
He straightened, the newspaper still in hand, though he no longer needed to look at it.
The path to Crocus was imprinted in his mind's eye.
A faint track, barely visible through the undergrowth, led in the correct direction.
Convenient.
He began to walk.
Each step was firm, decided.
The forest was dense here, but not menacing. Strange birds called from unseen branches, their songs complex and melodic.
Magic, huh? That'll be interesting to learn.
The thought was less a question, more an anticipation.
With Instant Learning, "interesting" was an understatement.
It meant new, limitless avenues of knowledge to absorb.
Power to wield. Skills to master.
The world was an open book, and he was its most eager student.
He moved with an easy stride.
The half-mile felt short.
The trees began to thin.
Sunlight grew stronger, less dappled.
He could hear a new sound now.
A distant hum.
The sound of civilization.
Or at least, something more than a forest.
Excitement, a cool and steady current, flowed through him.
This was it.
The beginning.
He emerged from the treeline.
Before him, bathed in the afternoon light, lay a city.
Crocus.
It was… impressive.
Walls, high and strong, gleamed white.
Towers, slender and elegant, pierced the sky.
Buildings clustered within, a vibrant tapestry of colors and shapes he hadn't expected.
A massive roadway, paved with smooth, grey stones, led to a grand arched gateway.
People.
Dozens, hundreds, moving in and out.
Carts laden with goods. Travelers on foot. Some even riding strange, horse-like creatures.
The sheer volume of new information was staggering.
And exhilarating.
His mind processed it all.
The style of clothing.
The architecture.
The subtle cues in their posture, their interactions.
He learned. Instantly.
He understood snippets of their overheard conversations, the concerns of their daily lives, the common currency, the names of prominent figures whispered in passing.
All of it flowed in, sorted, and settled.
This cheat… it's beyond anything I imagined.
He started towards the main gate.
No hesitation.
He looked like he belonged, or at least, like he knew where he was going.
Confidence was easy when backed by instant, perfect knowledge.
He noted the guards at the gate.
Their armor, their weapons, their stance.
He knew their probable training, their likely reactions to trouble.
He wasn't looking for trouble.
Just entry.
And then, more learning.
The capital city of Fiore.
A hub of magic and commerce.
Yes, this was definitely the place to start.
———
The guards at the gate had given him no trouble.
A polite inquiry, a scan of his unfamiliar but unthreatening demeanor, and he was through.
Crocus unfolded before him, a labyrinth of sights, sounds, and smells.
He needed a direction, a purpose beyond simply existing in this new world.
Work. That was a tangible goal.
He approached a stall vendor, a man selling brightly colored, steaming buns.
"Excuse me," Eshu began, his voice blending seamlessly with the local dialect and accent, a product of the linguistic knowledge already absorbed. "I'm looking for work. Anything available?"
The vendor, a portly man with a flour-dusted apron, looked him up and down.
"New in town, are ya?"
"Something like that."
"Not much for day labor in the capital, not proper work anyway," the man said, flipping a bun with a practiced hand. "Most folks 'round here, if they want steady pay and a bit o' excitement, they join a Guild."
"A Guild?"
"Aye. Mages, mostly. Or adventurers. They take on jobs, get paid. Good life for some. But there ain't no Guild Halls in Crocus itself, not the big ones. They're scattered across Fiore. You'd have to travel."
Eshu nodded. That made sense. Centralized power often disliked competing organizations on its doorstep.
Guilds. Right. File that away. But first…
A spark ignited within him.
This city. This capital.
It was a repository. A treasure trove.
Generations of knowledge, skill, and arcane lore, all concentrated in one place.
The people walking these streets, each one a potential wellspring of information.
Before guilds, before any grand journey… I learn.
Everything.
A predatory glint flickered in his eyes, unseen by the bun vendor.
This whole city… it's a library. And I have the only key.
He thanked the vendor, bought a bun – its taste, texture, and ingredients immediately analyzed and understood – and moved on.
His spree began not with a shout, but with a quiet, intense focus.
He found the public archives first.
Rows upon rows of scrolls and tomes. History. Law. Commerce. Cartography.
He didn't read in the conventional sense.
His eyes scanned the pages, and the information became his.
Not memorized, but known.
Ancient wars? Mine.
Trade routes and economic theories? Mine.
Legal precedents of the last five centuries? All mine.
He learned of the Magic Council, its structure, its power, its recorded history.
He learned of the different types of magic prevalent in Fiore.
Maker Magic. Holder Magic. Lost Magic.
The words were labels; the understanding behind them was now intrinsic to him.
Days turned into a blur of absorption.
He wasn't just reading. He was observing.
He found the city guard's training barracks.
From a discreet distance, he watched them drill.
Swordsmanship. Spear work. Unarmed combat.
Their forms, their techniques, their strengths, their weaknesses.
He saw a captain instructing recruits in a particular sword stance.
The captain was skilled, experienced.
But Eshu saw the slight imbalance, the almost imperceptible hesitation in the downswing.
His stance is flawed. Good, but not perfect.
The knowledge of the perfect form, the most efficient execution, bloomed in his mind.
He could feel it in his own muscles, the phantom sensation of executing the move flawlessly.
That captain's decades of practice? Mine. And improved.
He moved through the artisan districts.
Blacksmiths. Jewelers. Enchanters.
He watched them work.
The clang of the hammer, the intricate setting of a gem, the careful tracing of a rune.
The an intricate magical script being etched onto a blade by an old, focused man.
The mana flowed from the enchanter, guided by years of practice.
Eshu watched, and the entire art of enchanting – from the theoretical underpinnings to the practical application of every known rune and their synergistic effects – became his.
He knew the old man's entire repertoire.
And he knew how to combine them in ways the old man had never conceived.
Your life's work? Your mastery? Mine.
He found places where mages gathered, perhaps for informal duels or to showcase new spells.
Sparks flew. Ice shards formed. Light bent.
A young woman conjured a wolf of pure water. Impressive.
Her control was fine. Her intent clear.
But Eshu saw the wasted energy in its formation, the structural instability in its aquatic bindings.
He knew, instantly, how to make it stronger, faster, more resilient, with less expenditure of magical power.
That elegant water construct? Mine, and better.
His internal monologue was a relentless chorus of acquisition.
Subtle healing magic practice in that quiet hospice? MINE.
The intricate footwork of the street performer, honed for agility and balance? MINE.
The knowledge of herbs and potions sold in the apothecary? Every single one, MINE.
He wasn't just learning skills; he was absorbing entire fields of expertise.
He walked into a dojo where a martial art unknown to him was taught.
Students grunted and strained.
The master, a stern-faced woman, moved with lethal grace.
Eshu observed.
He didn't just learn the moves. He understood the philosophy behind them, the pressure points they targeted, the flow of combat energy they utilized.
He absorbed the accumulated wisdom of that dojo's entire lineage.
In an hour, he possessed the skill of their grandmaster, polished to a theoretical perfection they might never reach.
Your ancient martial art? Every kick, every strike, every counter? MINE! And I'm already better than your best.
He learned stealth from the shadows that clung to the city's underbelly.
He learned persuasion from the merchants in the grand market.
He learned strategy from observing the city's complex logistical operations.
There was no limit. No fatigue in the learning. Only a vast, ever-expanding ocean of understanding.
He was a vortex, drawing in everything.
Crocus, the vibrant heart of Fiore, was becoming a part of him.
Its secrets, its strengths, its very essence.
He felt powerful.
Not just physically, though the combat knowledge hummed within him, ready to be unleashed.
But powerful in a more profound way.
The world was transparent to him.
Challenges were merely puzzles for which he instantly held the solution.
He spent weeks in this silent, voracious pursuit.
He needed little sleep, fueled by the sheer exhilaration of growth.
He ate when he remembered, his senses guiding him to the most nutritious and satisfying foods.
He learned which street vendors were honest and which were not, just by the subtle tells in their speech and the quality of their wares – knowledge his cheat intuitively confirmed or denied.
Finally, there came a point, not of satiation, but of… transition.
He had absorbed the accessible knowledge of Crocus.
The libraries yielded no more undiscovered texts of substance.
The public displays of skill offered diminishing returns, echoes of what he now knew with greater clarity.
The city had given him its surface, its common knowledge, its observable masteries.
Alright, Crocus. You've been generous.
But the real adventures, the truly potent magic, the unique skills… they lie beyond these walls.
The bun vendor's words echoed in his memory.
Guilds.
That was the next step.
He now possessed a foundation that few in this world could likely claim.
A breadth and depth of understanding that would make him a prodigy in any field he chose.
Or all of them.
He smiled. A thin, confident smile.
"Time to find a Guild."