Is it wrong to have a Celestial Grimoire in the Dungeon ?

"So you really need to chant those long incantations just to cast a spell at someone?" I asked, starting to feel bored after spending hours reading through the book so I decided to hold a little conversation with the resident super genius undead mage. I was truly curious about magic, after all this was going to be the tool that'll allow me to go back to Earth.

"Yes," Fels said, his voice steady, "chanting is essential for most mortals when casting magic. It's incredibly rare for someone to bypass it, and that alone makes your abilities… unusual."

I frowned slightly, leaning in as I listened. "So, how does magic usually work here?"

"In this world," Fels began, adjusting one of the flasks on his table, "magic is primarily derived from the Falna—the blessings granted by the gods. When someone receives a Falna, they may develop magical abilities unique to them. To activate those abilities, a chant is typically required. The length and complexity of the chant often correspond to the power of the spell; longer chants produce more potent effects."

I nodded, taking it in. "And what happens if someone messes up the chant?"

"If a caster loses focus or control during a spell, the magic can backfire catastrophically. This phenomenon is known as an 'Ignis Fatuus.' The result is often fatal for the caster and anyone nearby. That's why most adventurers can't move while casting spells—it takes their full concentration. Moving while chanting is called concurrent chanting, and it's considered an advanced technique that few can master."

"That's… a lot to think about," I said quietly, my mind running through what he'd just told me. "So, the Falna doesn't just make you stronger—it decides what kind of magic you get, too?"

"Exactly," Fels confirmed. "The magic granted by the Falna is often a reflection of the caster's innermost desires. It's an incredibly personal gift."

I sat back in my chair, letting the information settle. "And my magic?" I asked hesitantly.

Fels paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "Your magic doesn't follow the rules of this world," he said finally. "It doesn't come from the Falna or the gods. It's something entirely different, as though you're pulling from a separate source of power that operates on different principles altogether."

I stayed quiet, unsure how to respond.

"Your abilities are an anomaly, Almus," Fels added, his tone softer now. "That uniqueness could lead to something remarkable if you're willing to explore it."

I gave a faint nod. "I'll do my best," I said simply, not sure what else to say.

After a moment, I stood and brushed off my clothes. "I should go—it's been a long day. Oh, by the way, when do I get the money I was promised?"

Fels gestured toward the attic. "You can take one sack from up there. It's old Valis, but it's still accepted. Lord Ouranos will provide the rest of your payment later."

"Got it," I said, heading toward the attic. I found the sack easily enough. The coins looked ancient, worn with age, but as long as they worked, I wasn't going to complain.

With the sack slung over my shoulder, I made my way back down and noticed the quiet. It seemed whoever had come to see Ouranos earlier had already left.

"You can take the same passageway you used before," Fels said, his voice cutting through the silence. "It will lead you back to the Dungeon, and from there, you can return to the surface."

"Alright. Thanks," I said with a small wave before stepping back into the eerie corridors. The quiet was unnerving, but at least I knew my way now.

–

I flopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I'd booked the same inn as yesterday, and honestly, it was nice to finally have some time to think without distractions.

So, now I am officially part of Ouranos's Familia. Except, according to him, it's kind of a secret. Technically, the Ouranos Familia doesn't even exist anymore—or at least, it hasn't for the past 50 years.

There hadn't been any officially registered members for half a century. Which, honestly, just made the whole thing feel even stranger.

Well, I guess it's not that strange. Ouranos didn't want people thinking he was secretly ruling the city or anything. Makes sense, really. With the Guild's support, any adventurer has a chance to become strong someday, and if people thought the Guild wasn't impartial, it could lead to riots or worse.

Pretty smart move, honestly.

Except for that group called Evilus. Seriously, Evilus? The name alone makes me laugh. It's like they sat down and said, "Let's make this as corny and over-the-top villainous as possible."

Apparently, after Zeus and Hera's defeat by the Black Dragon, Evilus started stirring up trouble in the city. Why? Who knows. It's like their sole purpose was to make everyone miserable. Totally dumb and pointless, if you ask me.

Whatever, I thought, closing my eyes. I was still a little groggy from my Dungeon dive, and I could feel that my mana had fully replenished. My body felt heavy, and before I knew it, sleep pulled me under.

––

Huh?

I opened my eyes, startled by a noise. Except… I wasn't in my room anymore. Instead, I was standing in a vast, endless void of darkness. Well, not complete darkness. There was a blue light shining in the distance, and as I focused on it, I saw the figure of a man.

He had tanned skin, blue hair, and piercing blue eyes, and he looked at me with a serene smile that somehow felt a little… devious.

"Welcome, child," he said, his voice layered with hundreds of murmuring tones—men, women, young, old, all speaking at once.

I squinted at him, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. His appearance seemed to shift every time I looked at him, like he couldn't settle on a single form.

"You don't need to be afraid," he said softly.

I sighed, crossing my arms. "I've heard that one before. So, what's your deal? Are you a god?"

"Me?" His smile widened, his voice calm and almost amused. "No, of course not. I'm just a servant… just like you."

"A servant? I'm no one's servant," I said firmly, narrowing my eyes.

He tilted his head slightly, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Oh, but you are a servant. You've already bent the knee to Ouranos, haven't you? But that's not why I'm here. My master simply has questions—he is a very curious being, you see."

"Alright, second Fels," I said with a hint of sarcasm. "Don't tell me I need to make another contract with some other god. I've already pledged myself to Ouranos, and one god is enough for me."

"Oh no," he said, his smile growing wider. "Your contract was already sealed the moment you gained his mark."

"Tzeentch," I muttered under my breath.

"Indeed," the man said, his tone almost cheerful. "The Changer of Ways has one of his many eyes on you." He raised his hand, and a glowing ball of light appeared, hovering above his palm. "And he brings you a gift."

As he floated closer, his feet never touching the ground, I instinctively stepped back, raising a hand in warning. "Whoa, hold it right there! I'm not taking anything from some stranger in a dream—or whatever this is!"

I pointed my hand at him, trying to sound more confident than I actually felt. "Careful. I know magic!"

He didn't stop, continuing to float closer, so I gathered the Winds of Magic. Shadow Bolt, I intoned in my head, ready to cast. But just as the magic formed, I felt it being ripped away from me. The energy I'd summoned swirled out of my control, twisting through the air and gathering around the man's hand.

"Using magic in front of a servant of Tzeentch?" he said with a smirk, his tone dripping with mockery. "How delightfully absurd you are."

"But don't worry," he said, appearing in front of me in an instant. Before I could react, he pressed the glowing orb against my chest. I flinched, expecting some horrible pain or searing agony as the light sank into me.

But nothing happened.

"What…?" I muttered, completely confused.

[Perk Gained: Chaos Sorcery]

[You can now harness the power of Tzeentch's domain, unleashing devastating spells and twisting fate to your advantage.]

[Perk Gained: Chosen of Tzeentch]

[Tzeentch, the Chaos God of Fate and Magic, has focused his gaze on you more intently than ever. He claims to have seen your future—or has he? The Grimoire shields you from malicious influences, ensuring Tzeentch cannot control you as easily as he would a mortal.]

[ALERT: Interference detected. A great power is attempting to override the system. The Grimoire will shut down temporarily to evolve and combat the threat.]

[NOTICE: Perks will not be granted until the Grimoire reactivates.]

The robotic voice faded, leaving me frozen in place.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" the man roared, his voice shaking the void around us as if a titan had slammed its fist into the earth. The ground beneath me trembled violently.

"Oh great Wind-lord, AID ME!" he bellowed, his voice filled with desperation as purple flames erupted from his hands, blazing toward me.

"Fucker!" I shouted instinctively, diving to the side as the twin fireballs scorched the air around me.

I watched as the sorcerer gathered even more of the Winds of Magic, babbling in some strange, guttural language that sent chills down my spine.

"SHADOW BOLT!" I roared, pouring every ounce of my will into the spell. A beam of pure darkness erupted from my hand, slamming into his right arm and tearing it apart in a gruesome explosion of flesh and bone.

But it didn't stop him.

He barely flinched, his remaining arm rising toward me as his twisted smile grew wider—a smile that promised nothing but murder.

I braced myself and jumped, desperate to dodge whatever hellish magic he was casting. That's when I felt it—my body shifting, changing. I glanced at my right hand, and to my horror, it was no longer a hand. It had transformed into a massive pincer, alien and sharp.

"DIE!" he roared, a bolt of blue fire surging toward me.

I scrambled, trying to think of a counter. I searched for spells in my perks, but the only one I knew how to cast was Shadow Bolt. As I panicked, the changes continued. I lost sensation on the left side of my face, replaced by a writhing, squirming feeling that made my skin crawl.

"You won't leave this dream alive!" the sorcerer cackled like a lunatic, his voice echoing through the void.

Then I remembered—Dream Manipulation.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the ability, trying to feel what I could control. Suddenly, the oppressive darkness around us melted away, replaced by a sunlit clearing with a bright, beautiful sky.

"What?" the sorcerer muttered, visibly thrown off for a second.

But only for a second. He recovered quickly, hurling another bolt of fire toward me. I dodged, but slower this time, the magic grazing my side and burning through my flesh. I winced, feeling the pain lance through me.

"You'll die here—either by me or by the mutations consuming you!" he roared, his smile growing even more deranged.

I locked eyes with him, and while he ranted, I focused on one thing: his mana. Slowly, carefully, I began siphoning it, absorbing as much as I could without him noticing. If I couldn't outcast him, maybe I could outlast him.I focused on my new powers, feeling something stirring deep within me. A single thought sparked in my mind, clear and sharp: Burn, you scum. Bolt of Change.

The magic surged through me like wildfire, gathering at my fingertips before I unleashed it. A crackling bolt of searing energy shot forward, slamming into the sorcerer with brutal force.

The impact sent him stumbling back, but the real horror began almost instantly. His body ignited in a blaze of unnatural flames, flesh bubbling and twisting as if alive. He screamed, his voice raw and filled with agony, as his arm stretched and split into writhing tendrils of muscle and bone.

His torso swelled grotesquely, new limbs sprouting at random, clawed and malformed. His skin rippled, changing colors as scales, feathers, and patches of raw flesh erupted all over his body. His once-human face elongated, jaw unhinging unnaturally wide as a chorus of inhuman shrieks poured out.

The flames continued to consume him, but they didn't just burn—they transformed, mutating him into a nightmarish monstrosity. Eyes opened across his chest and arms, blinking independently, each one reflecting the madness that had overtaken him.

He staggered toward me, his twisted, barely human form collapsing into a heap of smoldering flesh and writhing limbs.

The air was thick with the stench of burnt meat, mixed with something even worse—something foul and unnatural.

Before I could process what I'd done, a cry of pure rage tore through the void. The world around me shattered like glass, fragments splintering into hundreds of mirrors. Then, everything went dark.

I jolted awake, my eyes snapping open. I was back—in the inn.

Something was wrong. My stomach churned, and a strange pulsing sensation ran through my body. I stumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before throwing up.

There went my hard-earned meal.

Gasping for air, I glanced at my right hand and froze. It was normal. The pincer was gone. I exhaled sharply in relief, my heart still racing.

I reached up to touch my face, running my fingers over my skin. No writhing, no changes. Everything was back to normal.

"Thank god," I muttered, sinking to the floor. I leaned against the wall, letting the cold tile steady me as my head swam with everything that had just happened.

"So," I said aloud, trying to make sense of it all, "Tzeentch isn't a benevolent god. Fantastic. And now I'm marked by him."

I let out a shaky sigh, my mind racing. I can't go back to sleep, I thought. Not after whatever the hell that was.

Pushing myself up slowly, I steadied my breathing. I needed answers, and the first person who came to mind was Ouranos. Maybe he had a way to help me. Then again, dreams probably weren't his specialty.

Fels, I thought suddenly. Fels might know something. If anyone had a solution to whatever nightmare I'd just gone through, it was probably him.

With that in mind, I got myself together. There was no way I was dealing with this alone.

–