The strength of a late-stage first-tier martial artist didn’t provide Moen with enough sense of security. Just as facing the assassin earlier, it didn't do anything aside from making him run fast enough to block the knife for Celicia.
“The protagonist’s martial arts strength is probably only in the late stage of first-tier.”
“But she can use magic! She has divine blessings! And various artifacts!”
“Right now, if she encounters a pure magician or a pure martial artist, she could probably fight across two tiers and still win without much difficulty!”
Thinking about this, Moen became increasingly aware of the vast gap between himself and the protagonist, Ariel.
—In the original novel, Moen Campbell managed to dominate over the protagonist for those twenty chapters simply just because of his noble status!
...
After thinking for a moment, Moen added one final objective to his list on the paper.
→ Ensure he has the ability to protect himself when facing the protagonist Ariel.
“This will be my ultimate goal for now.”
Moen didn’t believe he could surpass Ariel, so he settled for the next best solution. Given that the conflict between him and the protagonist couldn’t be resolved for now, the least he could aim for was ensuring that he wouldn’t lose his life if Ariel seeks for revenge.
But that alone is very difficult to achieve.
Because he had read the original novel, Moen knew full well how overpowered the protagonist Ariel was.
After all, as a protagonist of a classic female power fantasy novel, how could she stand at the top without being ridiculously powerful?
“Ordinary methods won’t work. I need to find some other ways!”
...
...
Moen reached again for the Black Book.
After a deep pondering, he realized that the only thing with the potential to become his “cheat” was the mysterious Black Book—aside from automatically writing his diary and occasionally showing him unreliable prophetic dreams.
Moreover, Moen had begun to notice certain peculiarities about it.
“The evil god’s flame summoned by the assassin during the ritual... Even if that suit was an impressive magical defensive artifact, it couldn’t possibly block it! You must’ve done something!”
Moen stroked the mysterious Black Book while muttering softly.
“And at that moment, I did sense some kind of abnormal movement from you.”
“If you’ve got other capabilities, then reveal them to me now!”
Moen opened the Black Book once again.
The once blank pages he had seen when first opening it were now densely packed with detailed records of his experiences.
From the moment Moen acquired the Black Book up to the present, every little event—right down to the episode involving Celicia—was painstakingly documented.
“Damn it, I'm feeling like reading pornography now, and I’m the protagonist in it.”
Moen cursed under his breath and quickly skipped over that particular section.
Finally, he noticed something unusual.
“These letters are red.”
The entire Black Book was written in black text—but when it came to the assassin who assassinated Celicia, the word “assassin” was red like blood.
“Why? What’s the difference?”
Moen pondered for a moment before instinctively placing a finger on the two crimson words.
Suddenly, the red text unleashed a tremendous force, pulling at Moen’s very soul.
He didn’t even have time to cry out before his vision darkened and lost his consciousness.
...
“What's happening? Where am I?”
Moen stood up from the ground, looking around in confusion.
Moments ago, he had been in his room. Now, he found himself in a place he'd never been.
The surroundings were bathed in darkness, nothing can be seen in any direction.
“No, it’s not complete darkness.”
Moen looked down at his hands.
He was able to see himself, which meant the area wasn’t entirely devoid of light.
The illusion of darkness was caused by the black background—black walls, a black floor, and a black ceiling, all blending together without discernible boundaries. It felt like standing amidst a dense fog.
“Could this be the space inside the Black Book?”
“But what’s this for? A storage room?”
As Moen pondered this mystery, an odd sound suddenly broke the silence.
Click-clack.
It was the sound of heeled shoes—like the footsteps of a Duke’s housemaid walking on a marble floor.
Moen lifted his head.
His eyes widened involuntarily, revealing a look of astonishment.
Someone was approaching him from not far away.
A maid.
It was unmistakably the uniform of the Duke’s housemaids, so much so that even the footsteps were identical.
But her face...
It was the assassin’s face.
“How is this possible? You are dead!”
And why were they here?
The assassin didn’t answer. Her face lifted, revealing cold, mechanical eyes devoid of life.
A chill ran through Moen's heart.
B before he could do anything, he felt a flash before his eyes..
The assassin vanished.
The assassin reappeared.
Just as it had been during the attempt on Celicia, she seemingly crossed the distance between them in an instant.
Then... a cold gleam flashed.
Moen felt a sharp chill across his neck.
The world spun around him.
The last thing Moen saw was the bloodied dagger in the assassin’s hand and... his own headless body.
...
...
“Damn it!”
Moen woke up abruptly at his desk.
His violent move knocked over the chair, making him to lose his balance and fall to the floor.
But he paid no attention to the minor pain, instead frantically groping around his neck with both hands.
“Thank goodness... My head is still attached.”
Moen let out a sigh of relief.
He thought he’d truly died again.
“That... Was that just a dream?”
No. Something wasn’t right. That wasn’t a dream.
The sensation of death still lingered on Moen’s neck, its vividness far beyond what any dream could deliver.
Rising to his feet, Moen looked at the Black Book one more time.
The book lay in its original position, the crimson “assassin” letters eerily prominent, radiating an inexplicable allure.
“Could it be...?”
Moen suddenly had a bold hypothesis.
But proving it would require experimentation.
Extending his hand, he aimed to touch the red words again—though his fingers trembled slightly.
Even though the earlier experience had been quick and nearly painless, the thought of dying again was unnerving.
“Damn it. I’ve died more than enough times already. What’s left to be scared of?”
Suddenly determined, Moen gritted his teeth and slammed his trembling hand down upon that word.
...
In an instant, he was back in the pitch-black space—the same as before. The assassin wearing the maid uniform still stood there.
Her appearance, movements, expressions, and strength were all identical to Moen’s memories, with not a single detail out of place.
Except for one thing—her cold, lifeless demeanor, which clearly distinguished her from a living person.
“Of course. She isn’t the true assassin, but a construct created by the Black Book. Just like the detailed entries documenting me.”
“This record is somehow more vivid and realistic, almost indistinguishable from the real thing.”
Looking at the assassin, Moen suddenly seemed to understand everything, revealing a slightly manic grin to creep across his face.
“I think I’ve finally figured out the true power of the Black Book.”
