As Corkus approached the bookshelf, he noticed that one of the books was different from the others. It was a bit bigger than other books, both in size and pages.
' That's weird,' he thought as he picked up the book.
When he looked at it, he noticed that the cover was made from leather from the skins of different animals.
All of it was stitched together by iron bindings. The cover had a snake circling a huge eye. Its body was coiling into a spiral, tightening around the eye as if it was constricting it.
And its head had fangs that were ready to bite the eye.
As Corkus looked at the eye, a strange feeling crawled up his spine.
For a brief second, he could have sworn the pupil shifted—just slightly—fixating on him.
A cold shiver ran through his body, his fingers tightening around the book instinctively.
He blinked.
The eye was still, exactly as it had been.
Corkus exhaled slowly.' Must've been my imagination. It seems that the stress is getting to me.'
As Corkus opened the book, a cloud of dust rose from its seemingly aged pages, carrying the scent of old parchment.
The first page wasn't filled with words. Instead, an intricate illustration was drawn across the page, inked in deep green and red.
It depicted a scene straight from a nightmare:Grotesque demons with elongated limbs and twisted, laughing faces danced wildly around a towering bonfire.
Their bodies contorted unnaturally as if caught mid-movement in an eternal, frenzied ritual.
At the edges of the page, humans twisted in agony—some chained, some kneeling, their eyes reflecting the flames.
Their expressions were frozen in terror, mouths open in silent screams. One figure reached out, its fingers stretching beyond the illustration as if it were trying to escape the page itself.
A chill crept over Corkus; he swallowed hard.
'What the hell is this book? Is this the perk that Hermes mentioned to me? Will I dabble in Satanism now?
If my parents were here, they would be so disappointed in me and would beat me up as well.
As Corkus turned to the next page, he was greeted by a large amount of words:
[Introduction to Dark Magic]
[Oh, look at you. Another grubby little fool thinks he can grasp what he doesn't understand. How cute.
Magic. You probably think you know what that word means. Maybe you've seen a nature mage prance around, begging the wind to listen.
Maybe you've watched a priest grovel before his 'god' like a starving dog. And maybe—just maybe—you've been dumb enough to envy them.]
[Let's make something clear. Dark magic is not for the weak. It does not beg. It does not borrow. It takes—from you, from others, from whatever unfortunate soul happens to be standing too close.]
[Most mages are leeches. They cling to spirits, gods, or whatever idiotic forces will pity them enough to share power.
A nature mage, like the ones those little witches use? They get on their knees and ask the Four Elemental Lords for a little taste of magic. Some higher beings decide whether they're worthy. Sickening, isn't it?]
[A priest? No better. They whimper to their invisible masters, hoping faith alone will grant them miracles. 'Please, holy one, let me heal thy wound!' 'Oh, divine whatever, let me smite my enemies!' Pathetic.]
[The Kushans? Ah, now they're at least amusing. Their magic is based on control, binding spirits like a leash around a rabid dog. But even they have limits.
The moment they lose control, their magic turns against them. Dark magic? Dark magic does not turn on its master. Dark magic does not demand faith. It is not borrowed, and it does not bow.]
[It is the only magic that is truly yours. But it comes at a cost. Always.]
---
[The Nature of Dark Magic]
[Let me put it in a way your tiny, feeble mind can understand.
Imagine Od as water. You are a flask. Some flasks are full, some cracked, and some are little more than damp rags pretending to be useful.]
["Nature magic works like this: instead of drinking from their flask, a mage cups their hands beneath a waterfall, hoping the spirits allow them to sip.
Priests? They kneel beside a lake, waiting for their god to hand them a drink.
Kushans? They try to steal a bucketful, hoping they don't drown in the process.
Dark mages? They don't wait. They don't beg. They take. When your flask is empty, you **break open someone else's and drink until there's nothing left.
A nature mage loses their spirits? They're useless.]
[ A priest loses faith? Powerless. A dark mage? They are never empty-handed. There is always something to take—Od, life, suffering.
When you use dark magic, someone always pays. The question is, will it be you? Or will it be them? But don't worry.
You'll learn all about that soon enough. One way or another.]
---
'Why do I always end up with the most narcissistic people the world has ever seen?
So it is what I thought it was.
Even though now I know that this is my first perk and something that gives me an advantage, I don't feel so.
Also, I didn't expect that magic existed; I thought that Berserk was about knights, swords, and bows.
But when you think about it and look at people like Griffith, those beings that can change forms, somehow it makes some sort of sense.
I should keep reading for now,' he thought with interest.
---
[On Od—The Core of Magic]
[Od. The 'mystic force' flows through all things. If you had half a brain, you'd already know this. But since you're an ignorant little whelp, I'll explain.]
[Every living thing has Od—whether it crawls, slithers, or whimpers. It is the essence of life, the current that moves between flesh and spirit. Without it, you are nothing but dead meat waiting to rot.
And yet, most creatures are too stupid to use it for anything other than keeping their sorry bodies upright.]
[Some are blessed with more than others. A mere rat? A trickle. A wolf? A stream. A man? A river—usually shallow and pitiful, but a river nonetheless.
And then, there are those with oceans inside them—raging, endless, terrifying. These are the ones worth killing.]
---
### **How to Sense Od**
[Ah, so you want to see the river? Do you want to feel the current beneath your skin? Well, congratulations. You've finally asked a useful question.]
[Most people drift through life like blind fish, completely unaware of the ocean they swim in.
But if you want to wield magic—real magic—you must learn to see beyond your pathetic human senses. You must drown, in a sense, before you can swim.]
[Close your eyes. No, not like some trembling child afraid of the dark. Shut out everything. The wind on your skin. The ache in your bones. The sound of your worthless breathing.
Find the silence beneath the noise.]
[There. That pulse. That flicker of something just beyond reach.
That is Od. It is not a thing you grasp—it is something you allow yourself to perceive.
Like a whisper in a crowded room, faint but persistent.
You will not hear it at first. You will only know its absence, the way a blind man knows the difference between darkness and light. But keep listening. Keep searching.
Eventually, you will feel it, like a second heartbeat hidden beneath your own.]
---
[How to Use Od]
[Sensing it is one thing. Using it? That's where things get… entertaining.
Od is like blood. It moves; it flows.
And just like blood, it can be drained, controlled, and weaponized. But unlike blood, Od does not care for the limits of the flesh. It is the bridge between what is and what could be.]
[A weakling lets their Od trickle out of them like a leaky wineskin, spilling power with every useless breath.
A master controls it, shaping the flow, damming it when necessary, and releasing it when it serves them best.
And a dark mage? A dark mage does not merely control their own Od. They rip it from others. They carve it from the world itself.]
---
A Basic Exercise in Control (If Your Feeble Mind Can Handle It)
[Enough theory. Time to see if you're anything more than a waste of flesh.
Sit still. If you twitch, I will mock you endlessly.
Breathe, but do not focus on your breath. Focus on the space between.
The silence. The emptiness.
Now, imagine your Od. Not as an abstract thing—imagine it as something real. Water, fire, chains—whatever your simple mind can handle. Feel it move within you, twisting, turning.
Do not force it, do not push it—command it. It is yours. It always has been.
If you cannot do this, then close this book and find a ditch to die in. You will be of no use to anyone.]
---
One month has passed since I discovered the Codex.
During that time, I struggled to adapt to my new life while also attempting to sense Od.
At first, it was frustrating.
---
1st week
'Oh, my God! Why is it so hard? I would have given up days ago, but thinking that I would prove the bastard who wrote the codex right gives me the motivation to keep going so I can prove him wrong.
I have tried meditating by doing yoga poses, by saying "ohm" like monks do, yet I feel nothing.
---
2nd Week
"I've calmed down a bit. Maybe screaming at the air won't magically help me sense Od.
After failing repeatedly, I decided to take a more methodical approach.
I started experimenting, trying to focus on different parts of my body, controlling my breathing, and even meditating in complete silence.
No luck.
But... I think I felt something for just a split second yesterday.
It was a strange feeling, like someone was tickling me deep inside. Or maybe I'm just going crazy. Just kidding, my judgment is never wrong.
---
3rd Week
"I'm sure of it now. There's something there.
It's faint—so faint that if I weren't obsessing over it, I probably wouldn't have noticed.
It feels like... a new way to sense what is happening around me.
Is this the legendary sixth sense people were talking about before dying?
I tried concentrating on it, but the moment I did, it slipped away.
It's like trying to grab smoke with my bare hands.
Still, it's progress. For the first time, I feel like I'm getting somewhere. You stupid wizard, I will make you eat your words!
---
4th week
I think I am getting somewhere; let's do this. Then he sat cross-legged, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady.
'I should try to empty my mind now and then try to replicate how I felt when I sensed it for the first time.' He thought.
--
2 hours later
This is such bullshit, and I feel so tired; maybe I should try again tomor—'
Then he sensed it. It was faint like a heartbeat.
'It doesn't seem to be physical;
I feel it coming from a deep part of my body, my very own soul.
So this is Od...I did it! He thought but then dismissed his thoughts, focusing on the feeling, trying not to let his excitement break his concentration.
'If I can sense mine, then doesn't that mean that I can sense the Od of others?' He thought, his curiosity piqued.
His eyes moved towards the room his father was spending most of his time in.
Corkus took a slow breath and reached out with his newfound sense.
And then he felt it.It was weak, almost pitiful in quantity, but what little Od father had... felt tainted and bitter.
'Does Od allow me to peek into people's mental being, seeing their true self?
I should experiment with it,' he thought.
If that's true, then I have to say that my father is disgusting.
No wonder the man was the way he was.
Even his od felt rotten.
Does the environment a person grows up in affect his Od?'
---
'Even if one month has passed since then, it still feels so surreal to me.
It seems like a dream, but then I understand that it is my current reality,' Corkus thought as he looked outside.
Looking at the sunny weather and the multitude of houses together, we're essentially creating what is a town.
"What are you spacing out for?
Stop lazing around and help me with the preparations." A well-known voice said to him.
Corkus blinks, turning to face him. "Preparations? For what?"
"It's the 990th year since the founding of the Holy See. You'd know that if you paid attention to my words a month ago," his father scoffed before tossing him a few coins.
"Go to the market and buy what's on this list."
"This time don't repeat the same mistake," he warned before slamming the door as he left.
'Whatever, old man, you should know that the great Corkus never makes a mistake twice,' he thought before moving his gaze to his palm, where the coins were.
There were four coins in total, four argents.
Argents were the main currency of the kingdom made from silver.
'According to the old man, the coins are split between lesser argents and argents.
Lesser argents don't have much value. They are used for minor purchases and as wages for the peasants.
Meanwhile, argents are the main currency used for daily transactions.
From what I remember, the exchange rate is:1 argent = 10 lesser argents.
I think there was a third coin, but I didn't pay much attention. He thought before he also got outside of the house.
'Let's check the list first.'
A few sheets of paper, oil, fabric, ribbons for decorations, meat, fish, bread, wine, candles, and incense.
Hmm, paper is 1 whole argent; who would have thought that it would become so cheap in the future? Well, time to get going.
As he was walking toward the market, he couldn't help but look at the environment around him.
Many of the roads were made from dirt except for the ones that were leading either to the church or to the market that he was going to.
As for the houses, most of them, if not all of them, were made from wood with thatch being used as a roof.
Wealthier households were made from stone with tiled roofs, like the church, for example.
'Hmm, a lot of leaves are starting to fall. It seems that autumn is approaching. And after autumn comes winter.
Ah, I hate winter! I always would end up catching a cold. Even though I am in Berserk, nothing outrageous has happened yet.
Except if you include that disgusting smell of the livestock, he thought as he pinched his nose.
"Moments like these make me appreciate that I was born in the 21st century. People don't appreciate what they have until they lose it." He said with a sigh.
--
2 hours later
'Finally, I bought everything; it cost 3 argents and 9 lesser ones.
So I was left with one lesser argent.
Should I keep it or use it? This is thy question, he thought with a smile as he looked at the coin that was in his palm.
Mm, this is probably the king of Midland, he thought as he looked at the coin.
The coin was small with a side profile of a man wearing a crown seemingly in his 40s. Below the face, there was a small inscription that said:
Alfred II
'His name was never revealed for some reason,' he thought while walking back home.
But after a while, he stopped and turned his gaze to his gaze where the square was.
The town square was packed. People of all ages stood shoulder to shoulder, some whispering to one another while others waited in silence.
At the front of the square, a stout man in his fifties, his face was weathered by the years.
He stood atop a raised wooden platform. He was the mayor.
He raised his arms, calling for silence, and gradually, the crowd quieted.
"People of Velstadt," he began. "We are gathered here today to honor a big moment that without it we would be nothing but sinners with no hope of salvation.
It is exactly the 990th year since the founding of the Holy See! Nearly a millennium has passed since the first priests spread the word of our faith across the land.
Through war, famine, and through the rise and fall of kings, the Holy See has endured, becoming a living example of what we call hope and faith.
All of us should follow its example."'He is right!' And a few nods followed from the crowd, who continued to listen with intensity.
The mayor continued, "As we celebrate this day, let us remember that it is our faith and unity that have kept us strong! May we continue to uphold the virtues taught by the Holy See, and may our children and their children do the same!"
Clap, clap, clap.
A round of applause followed, though it was brief.
"Now I would like, Father Lucius, to step up and deliver a speech. After all, he is the shepherd who will bring the lambs to the right path and a representative of the Holy See as the priest of our town.
Truly a kind man!" The mayor said with fervor, as he stepped aside for Corkus's father.
As he stepped up on the podium, he raised his hands.
Looking down at the crowd, who had become quiet, not even a whisper being murmured.
"Blessed are we, children of the faith, to witness this day."
His gaze swept over the crowd.
"Nine hundred and ninety years have passed since the first Holy Father received the divine vision!
It was He who guided our ancestors toward the light, He who established the laws that keep chaos at bay! And it is through Him that we stand here today, faithful and strong!"
"I could have said more, but still, it wouldn't be enough.
After all, there are not enough words to express my gratitude for that holy man who decided to die for our sins," he said solemnly.
The crowd, moved by the 'kind' priest's words, couldn't help but respond with a resounding: "Amen, amen, amen."
Corkus watched from afar as his father lifted a heavy tome, the holy scriptures, and began to recite passages.
He couldn't help but curse inside him.
'How hypocritical, claiming to be something that you are not and acting different from how you were supposed to be.
Even if the truth comes out, I am sure there will be countless people defending you with all kinds of excuses just because you are a man of God.
How sickening!
Well, enjoy your little celebration; I will not partake in it after all; I have other plans, he thought with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
---
(A/N: Don't get me wrong, guys; I am a man of faith as well, specifically an Orthodox Christian, but I won't act like I haven't seen the hypocrisy of some people.
Let me tell you a story. One time when I was little, probably below ten.
I was walking back home with my grandparents, my two sisters, and my cousin.
So while we were walking back home, we passed in front of one of the two priests the church had.
The four of us, my sisters, and my cousin didn't say anything to him. We continue walking, talking among ourselves.
It has to be noted that my grandparents were a bit behind us.
The priest didn't say anything to us but stopped our grandparents and said:
"You have such rude children; you should be ashamed! They didn't stop to greet me, kiss my hand, and say "Holy Father, your blessings."
Who the fuck are you supposed to be? A fucking king?
I thought that priests were supposed to be humble and full of kindness and not make big deals out of things that didn't matter.
He acted like we committed a grave sin or something.
And the fun part is that my grandpa came to us, told us what happened, and reprimanded us, saying that WE are at fault!
It doesn't make any sense.
Anyway, that was the chapter; share your thoughts...)
As for the huge codex text it will happen once again only cause it will repetitive at one point. So the goal is for you to get the gist of it and how you should expect to be.
Of course if you want I can make a different section where I put all of those. But in my opinion after you get the gist of it which won't take long.
The reason was for the readers immersion till he gets the point. Anyway sorry for the rant.
That's all if you have any opinion or suggestion feel free to share it.