Tavern of the Spear: Desire for Pleasure

The first rays of morning sunlight fell on Evand's face, waking him from a light sleep. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, lifted the tent flap, and saw Tarn's tall figure. Tarn had already gotten up and was standing by the lake, gazing into the distance, the morning light gilding his silhouette.

Evans stepped forward somewhat apologetically: "Sorry to have kept you waiting so long."

Tarn turned around, a gentle smile on his face. "It's alright, I just woke up too. Are you ready to explore the temple?"

Evand nodded, his excitement evident. The two packed their belongings and headed towards the temple in the middle of the lake. As they approached, the temple's outline became clearer. The marble walls, which had once gleamed in the sunlight, were now weathered by time, exuding an air of vicissitude and mystery.

The moment Evand stepped into the temple, he held his breath. The soaring dome, the ancient stone pillars, and the dust-covered yet still exquisite murals all spoke of the building's former glory. Although time had mercilessly left its mark on every stone, Evand could still imagine what it looked like in its prime—priests solemnly performing ceremonies, believers praying devoutly, and the entire hall echoing with hymns and prayers.

Tarn stood at the entrance to the prayer hall, his gaze turning serious. “Evand,” he said, “I need to go into this room to meditate. In the meantime, you may look around.” He pointed to the left, “That’s the back room, filled with many ancient books. The Minotaur tribe believes these books once belonged to the temple’s master.” Then he pointed to the right, “Over there is a huge tree; its very existence is a miracle.”

Following Tarn's directions, Evand was awestruck by the magnificence of the towering tree. Its branches stretched out in all directions like the arms of a giant, its lush foliage seemingly embracing the entire temple.

“If you’re interested, you can look around here,” Tarn continued, “or, if you’d like, you can meditate with me.”

Evand hesitated for a moment, then decided to explore alone. He watched Tarn enter the prayer hall, and then began his own adventure. He first went to the back room, where the bookshelves were piled high with ancient books, some of them tattered but still exuding a rich historical atmosphere.

Evans moved carefully among the bookshelves, his fingertips lightly brushing against the ancient spines of the books. The air was filled with the scent of old paper and leather, as if telling the story of the temple's long history. His gaze swept over the rows of bookshelves, most of which were empty or piled high with tattered and worn-out books.

He reached for a seemingly intact book, only to have it crumble into dust the moment he touched it. Evans sighed and continued his search. Many book covers were blurred, and the ink on the pages was barely legible due to the erosion of time. A pang of regret welled up within him; what wisdom could these lost treasures possibly contain?

After a long and patient search, Evand finally discovered three relatively intact books among the many tattered manuscripts. He carefully held them in his hands, examining the titles closely: *Art - A Window to Other Worlds*, *Society*, and *Paintings Through Time*. These mysterious titles immediately piqued his curiosity.

Evans found a relatively clean corner to sit down and began to read the first book.

The book is called "Art: A Window to Other Worlds," and the author is Galahan, who has no surname.

Only the last page of this book is readable.

……

In conclusion, after my mentor, the great Hailey Stark departed from the research of creating new magic.

I have already begun to study his great attempt, the Fate Spell.

All of this requires neither exhausting a person to the point of death nor risking the sacrifice of a life; it is as simple as picking up a bucket of water.

Furthermore, these paintings appear to remain effective even after repeated use.

Oh, I can write down what I see in other worlds.

This spell may have great potential in sustaining our race and could open up a whole new realm of magic for us.

Open another book, *Society*, by Abel Links.

The book contains the following:

Our world embodies the phrase: "The strong prey on the weak."

If there is a great creator somewhere, he must have a morbid sense of humor.

In this book, I discuss the history and hierarchy of our society.

We learn about this by observing the food our group eats: carnivores, herbivores, and omnivores.

Carnivores and omnivores are naturally larger, stronger, and more robust than other animals, and they dominate the hierarchy.

They will have power, such as the positions of king, queen, and noble.

Herbivores are usually servants of carnivores and omnivores.

They either work on farms or, at most, become shop or hotel owners.

Some people have magical talent, while others do not.

Children with magical abilities are sent away from birth to take over the nation's construction, which is run by mages.

Because we are users of magic, we are superior to ordinary people.

Nobles can govern their cities, but we can shape the world.

Having finished reading the first page, Evans eagerly turned to the next.

Reproduction is our greatest miracle.

Hybridization between species is futile because it does not produce offspring.

Furthermore, in my view, everything related to childbirth is utterly absurd, but this book will explore it nonetheless.

All species are capable of producing offspring with or without intelligence, and the latter are what we call wild animals.

Although wild animals and their ancestors share a similar appearance, they lack the ability to speak and have virtually no logical thinking.

In a sense, they are flawed, even inferior to the lowest herbivores.

Having finished reading the second page, Evand turned to the next one.

As mages, we serve a great cause. Although those mentally challenged people without magic may not understand the logic behind our actions, in the long run, we are a superior species.

Overcoming the barriers that separate the rest of our world.

We will show them everything with our magic.

Evans finally finished reading the book and was about to close it to read the next book, "Paintings Across Time," when a small note fell out of the book.

"Wait, what is this?"

The top half of the note, where the date should be, has been torn off.

It looks like part of a story.

In the beginning of all things there was a God.

An omnipotent being with all power can shape the world as it deems fit and cut everything with its fingers.

It is unaware of the purpose of its existence, and for thousands of years it has been both respected and feared by people on earth.

Sometimes, it is a benevolent God, bestowing abundant harvests upon the world, or granting them boundless power in times of war.

If anyone dares to defy it, their city will suffer from famine and disease.

For it, all people are merely its playthings.

But there is one thing that its divine power cannot comprehend or possess, and that is human love and covenants.

Even though it can create so many miracles, the world will never consider it one of them; it will always be alone.

That concludes the information on the note.

Then, Evan opened the last book.

It appears to have been written in diary form, by a woman named Hailey Stark, the Archmage.

……

At the heart of all magical spells lies the concept of equivalent exchange.

If someone is talented and creative enough to discover what it takes to create a spell, then they could absolutely rule the world.

Of course, needless to say, the stronger the spell, the higher the price.

In this book, I will document my achievements in creating the greatest spell ever made: the spell to go back in time.

After months of practicing different spells and runes, I finally know how to use this spell!

It's actually quite simple, but of course, we can't go back to the past like we can jump between towns.

To even consider such an idea is both foolish and pointless.

However, one can achieve this idea by putting one's own fate in danger.

The idea flashed through my mind like lightning as I watched my assistant Galahan paint an absurd picture of the lake.

The painter infused his life into every stroke and every color, and this painting reflects a person's life.

So, what if I used magic to do the same thing?

We can now project memories as visible rays of light.

So why not go a step further and turn those memories into gateways to the past?

If a person pours their entire being into a painting.

Each drop of magic can create a specific moment within a certain timeframe.

So perhaps, just perhaps, one can step into that painting and then shape what they deem appropriate for the past.

……

I succeeded... but this damn painting caused me so much pain that I was unconscious for several days.

But everything it caused was destruction.

I chose to draw a simple scene, one that I knew wouldn't jeopardize anyone's future.

My mother cooked me a bowl of potato soup when I was a little child.

This was the most luxurious meal we could afford at the time.

She came up with the recipe entirely from imagination, and I really liked that soup.

So I walked into that painting and returned to the doorway of my old house.

In that dilapidated shack, there was hardly any farm growing potatoes.

My mother would leave the bucket of potatoes she used for cooking outside.

I took the painting before I left.

I was too presumptuous; technically, it was just a prank.

In reality, nothing will change.

When I returned after finishing this painting, I could still retain my earliest memory of that event—the first time my mother cooked that bowl of soup for me.

Then... when I went back to my house to see what had changed, what did I find?

My mother's right hand was replaced by a wooden prosthesis!

That bucket of potatoes cost my mother an arm.

Because she had to feed us, she asked the local alchemist for food that day.

After I left, the painting spontaneously combusted.

I can't even recreate it anymore; no matter how clearly I remember the original events, this painting will not be able to be drawn!

This damned curse, the way to change a person's fate, is chaos and uncontrollable.

She doesn't even remember making this recipe for the damn reason, my soup!

The last page is merely a summary, a drawing of destiny!

It allows the caster to enter into a moment of their life through a painting created from their very essence.