The Most Arbitrary Wizard

Old people really do sleep soundly. He was out cold in an instant.

The abruptness of it all left Sean at a complete loss.

’So when Mr. Scholar said, "don’t come begging him later," did he mean don’t beg him to wake up?’

Sean didn’t have the energy to snark. He quickly went over, squatted down, and checked to see if the old man was breathing.

’Thank goodness. He’s still breathing. Not dead yet...’

Sean let out a huge sigh of relief.

’That was terrifying.’

Once he’d calmed down and thought it over, Sean felt a little foolish. He couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle. The old man was a bona fide Grand Mage, after all. How could he possibly die at the hands of a mere Tier Three like himself?

He’d poured knowledge into the old man, not poison. The dose had just been too large all at once, knocking him unconscious.

The reality was just as Sean had thought.

Although the way the old man collapsed and the sweet expression on his sleeping face were eerily similar to Zajik’s, he was not Zajik. He was immeasurably stronger. He had simply been careless, not expecting Sean to present him with so many problems at once—a veritable ocean of them. He hadn’t had time to rebuild his mental defenses in that first instant, which was why Sean had managed to knock him out cold.

But the old man had no regrets.

Not a single one.

His name was Laelando, and he was a Reshaper.

Counting from the Era of Polymath, he had now lived almost five lifetimes, approaching four hundred years. In every single life, he had belonged to the Hall of Truth; that much had never changed. It was why Her Highness the Saintess valued him so greatly.

Back then, Mr. Blake, with his keen eye for talent, had also held him in high regard.

When the Hall of Truth still stood, he was the administrator of the library’s fourth floor, and the students respectfully called him the "Librarian."

Back then, he had a good friend, a colleague he shared shifts with. He was responsible for the day, while his friend handled the night and also oversaw nighttime security. Thus, the students called him the "Night Watcher."

Unfortunately, in this life, he had been separated from the Night Watcher. He didn’t know where the other man was, or if he had even succeeded in reshaping.

’If he did, the Night Watcher is probably working in some bookstore too, right?’

Just like him. Having been a librarian for lifetimes, the habit was deeply ingrained. It was one of the reasons he’d agreed when Her Highness Diana asked him to help watch over the books in False Heaven. With the Night Watcher gone, only books could bring him a sense of familiarity and peace.

If nothing unexpected happened, he would once again grow old alone in this life, then reshape and walk the same path all over again.

Someone else might find it tedious, but not him.

Because he had the Truth Techniques to accompany him.

Reshaping makes one forget the experiences of their past life, with the exception of memories engraved deep within the soul.

They would awaken at the opportune moment, allowing the Reshaper to recognize themselves anew.

It was like your past self and your present self meeting by chance in the intersecting currents of time and space.

For an old academic like Laelando, reshaping was actually a rather romantic notion. But it had one infuriating drawback: the power of time was insurmountable. No matter how deeply one buried their memories, they would be silently, gradually erased over the long years.

In other words, with each lifetime, a Reshaper’s memories of their very first life would dwindle.

Laelando was no exception.

This explained the notebook Sean had seen on the desk, the one with the somewhat elementary notes on Paradoxical Technique.

Laelando’s previous understanding of Truth Technique was far beyond this. It was no exaggeration to say that in the entire Hall of Truth, not even a few dozen people would have dared to challenge him to a contest at the round table.

Of course, Mr. Blake himself didn’t count.

This was a private matter for the disciples and grand-disciples; the founding ancestor was barred from competing.

Regrettably, Laelando had forgotten nearly all of these experiences, retaining only memories of the Night Watcher and some rudimentary Truth Techniques. Consequently, the moment Sean poured that vast ocean of problems into his mind, Laelando was completely blown away.

Sealed memories could be reawakened, and Sean’s problems had awakened in him a deeper understanding of the Truth Technique.

The problems Sean gave were numerous.

So numerous they were impossible to count.

Laelando looked around to find himself surrounded on all sides by letters and symbols. It was a sea of problems in the most literal sense, enveloping him like ocean water. What surprised him most was that these were all High Tier problems, each one far exceeding the difficulty of the Achilles Paradox he was currently researching.

Laelando hadn’t been this excited in a very long time.

Yes.

He was an academic masochist, or an "acadomasochist" for short.

After all, he was from the Hall of Truth. Without a related kink, one couldn’t endure its atmosphere of single-minded scholarly pursuit.

In short, the harder the problems, the more excited Laelando became, as if he had opened the door to a New World.

Amidst his excitement, Laelando was also shocked by Sean’s origins.

This "student" he had just taken on actually grasped more Truth Techniques than he did, and more advanced ones at that!

And that just made him even more excited.

He was caught in a strange loop.

At this very moment, Laelando’s mind was filled with question marks—about the problems before him, about Sean’s origins—but one thing was very clear to him: he wouldn’t be taking this student on today...

On the contrary, it should be Sean taking *him* on as a student.

Let the one who is more skilled be the teacher.

Laelando was no pedantic old man. Having lived for several hundred years, he’d long since seen through it all. Things like saving face were useless and unimportant. Only knowledge was real, and it was as captivating as one of Aunt Susan’s grilled sandwiches from next door.

And so, inside the room...

Just as Sean was frowning, wondering why this Mr. Scholar hadn’t woken up yet, Laelando’s eyes suddenly snapped open and he shot to his feet, giving Sean another fright.

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