When Soran stepped toward the pile of core stones, the green card in his pocket pulsed and absorbed them all in a flash.

His moment of triumph soured instantly.

"Argh! This stupid thing!" he cursed, his excitement collapsing into raw frustration.

After venting, he stopped himself. Wasting more stones like this was pointless. He turned sharply toward a companion.

"Eliza, hold my card. I'll pay you later."

Without hesitation, he tossed the green card. Eliza caught it smoothly, giving a silent nod.

Now free of the card's interference, Soran pulled out a silk pouch and began scooping up the remaining core stones. One by one, glittering treasures disappeared into his pouch. The others looked on, jealousy burning in their eyes, but none dared make a move.

When the last stone was stored away, Soran strolled out of the room with a broad, self-satisfied grin.

"Don't worry, everyone. I'm just lucky today. Your turn will come." His voice was thick with pride and arrogance.

Many glared daggers at him, but not a single voice rose in defiance.

The Glimmerveil Household moved forward as a group, their presence filling the white corridor. Zane followed at the rear, silent but watchful. Hatred still lingered in many of their gazes, but he ignored it.

On the next floor, they found more treasures—strange objects of unknown purpose. Torches, combs, silverware, even chairs and tables were seized and stuffed into silk pouches. To them, everything here was alien, rare, and therefore priceless.

And they were right.

But Zane's focus was elsewhere. The System chimed within him, instructing him to collect murals and drawings instead. So while others looted furniture and oddities, Zane carefully pried murals from walls and rolled up ancient sketches.

The nobles noticed, sneering openly.

"Murals? Really? Humans can paint too," one muttered, disdain thick in his tone.

Their philosophy was simple: alien technology equaled wealth, while art was worthless.

Zane only smiled faintly. All the better. If they're ignoring these, that means they're mine alone.

At first, he had planned to head straight for the top floor to claim the piece of the prototype weapon—said to be strong enough to slay Titans. But as he moved, he realized three Glimmerveil members were shadowing him like hawks, watching his every step.

He clenched his jaw but forced himself to remain patient. Charging ahead now would only draw suspicion. For the moment, he decided to blend in, biding his time.

Better to wait for the right moment… than risk everything by being reckless.

As the group pressed on, they reached the third floor. A vast hall opened before them—every wall lined with shelves, every shelf stacked high with countless books.

Some of the nobles eagerly grabbed a few volumes, flipping through them in curiosity. But their excitement quickly turned to irritation. The pages were filled with alien symbols no one could read. With scoffs and curses, they tossed the books back onto the floor.

"Waste of time."

"Forget this. Let's try our luck on the next floor."

Their discussion quickly ended, and the group agreed to move on. None of them wanted to waste even a second puzzling over alien writing.

Just as Zane considered following, the familiar chime echoed in his mind.

Ding!

[Collect all the books here!]

He froze. "Why?" he asked aloud, frowning as dozens of questions swirled through his head.

The System didn't respond.

"Alright, good talk," he muttered with a crooked smile, shaking his head. Still, he trusted its judgment. Without further hesitation, he began stuffing books into his silk pouch.

Unlike most spatial pouches, his was vast, but it wasn't infinite. Even so, the System's demand couldn't be without reason. He worked tirelessly, hauling tome after tome, shelf after shelf. The others paid him no mind, sneering again at his "pointless" haul of alien scraps.

Hours passed.

When he finally slipped the last book into the pouch, sweat clung to his brow. By his rough count, there were over two trillion books now resting in his possession.

A slow grin crept onto his lips. This entire floor… a special library for the whole city. And now, I'm carrying it with me.

Sure enough, another notification appeared before his eyes.

[Permission to scan the Spatial Silk Pouch and access stored data. Y/N]

"Yes. Go for it," Zane answered without hesitation.

An invisible pulse of energy spread from the System, seeping into his pouch like a wave. Zane didn't interfere—not that he believed he could. In that moment, he felt a raw glimpse of the System's power. Cold. Boundless. Omnipotent.

He reminded himself that the System wasn't the only mystery inside him. There was also the secret seed—another force shaping his growth. For now, they were allies… tools for survival and ascension. But both carried unknown dangers.

Shaking the thoughts away, Zane pushed forward. He had already lost hours here. Time to move on.

Climbing to the fourth floor, he stepped into another colossal hall.

This time, his breath caught.

The chamber was an armory.

Weapons of every kind filled the space, displayed in neat rows and aisles. An entire corridor of katanas gleamed beneath the artificial light, stretching endlessly. Swords, spears, javelins, daggers, darts—every type of weapon imaginable, crafted to perfection, each radiating dense mana.

Further down, he even saw guns and ammunition. Yet, even from a glance, Zane knew: the so-called ancient melee weapons here carried more lethality than human machine guns, ray rifles, or even laser cannons.

The fifteen nobles scattered across the hall, each struggling to pry weapons from their shelves. One after another, they failed. The blades and spears didn't budge an inch.

Zane narrowed his eyes, scanning more carefully. His mana sight picked out glowing inscriptions carved into the shelves, the walls, even the very floor.

"Those must be some kind of instructions," he murmured under his breath.

As he walked further into the hall, the other noticed him. Everyone gave him a sideways glance, and they went on to what they were doing.

Zane tried to pick a sword. He couldn't pull it off. Now he understood why everyone was trying so hard.

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