Published: April 19th 2025, 7:44:59 am
“And on the seventh day, the cadets rested. But unlike the cadets, the Scholar had many things to do,” I said, examining the runes on Red’s enchanted flail.
It was a difficult one, even with [Rune Identification] on my side. The flail had two enchantments, one in the mace head and the other in the handle, but they worked as one. If it were possible to activate them individually, I didn’t know how. When I first tried to decode the runes, I didn’t expect to get anything new. Byrne’s notes—or rather, the memory of Byrne’s notes back in his cabin—had already given me a bulky dictionary of runes. But I was wrong. The flail had one Rune that had avoided my collection so far.
I scribbled on a piece of paper. The mace head had a Force-Direction string engraved on its surface, while the handle had a User-Attract sequence. Although the two pieces had no physical connection, they worked as one.
“Hence, the missing rune should be Link,” I muttered.
The problem was that I already had the Link rune in my [Rune Encyclopedia].
I summoned [Rune Debugger] and wrote the flail’s enchantment into the test box, but replaced the mysterious rune with the Link rune. [Rune Debugger] turned yellow. Not a dangerous combination, but not a useful one either.
“That is strange. The flail should work just like the Twin Rings but replacing the Guide rune with a Force-Direction string,” I muttered.
I summoned the [Rune Encyclopedia] and reviewed the recipe list. The Notification Bracelet used a Link-Vibration string, which was activated when the Detection Pins detected elevated levels of environmental mana within range. Much like Red’s flail, the Detection Pin triggered the enchantment, but the Notification Bracelet produced the effect—the vibration.
“What is different?” I asked.
[Foresight] answered the question for me. The Notification Bracelet and Detection Pins were two different items whose effects were associated with a Link rune. The mace head and handle were parts of the same object, the flail—parts of a whole, like the blades of scissors.
I leaned back in my chair and scribbled a few notes—in English, just in case someone saw them. I couldn’t help but feel that the effects of the Link and the mysterious rune overlapped. I activated the enchantment, and the handle of Red’s flail shot into my hand. I swung the weapon over my head. My biceps tensed, and my shoulder complained. The weapon was heavy, even by Ebros' standards.
The mace head hung lifeless as I activated the second part of the enchantment—the Force-Direction string. Suddenly, the mace head shot up without applying force to the handle or the chain. Luckily for me, there was no lightbulb above my head.
“A treacherous weapon for a treacherous man.”
I wasn’t expecting it to give me so many headaches.
“Care to give your champion a hand?” I asked, looking at the ceiling.
A shiver ran down my spine as the System prompt appeared before my eyes.
New rune learned!
A new entry has appeared in the Rune Encyclopedia: Couple.
“Are you there?”
No response.
I closed my eyes and entered my mana pool
Empty.
With a sigh, I summoned the old book, which opened to the desired page.
Couple. Effect Rune. Rank II. [Rune Identification]: This rune represents the link between things that remain apart. Affinities: Copper, Pewter, Wood. Mana threshold: 1000.
“Couple,” I muttered.
The flavor text felt oddly familiar.
I turned back the pages of the [Rune Encyclopedia].
Link. Effect Rune. Rank I. [Rune Identification]: This rune represents the unseen connection between faraway entities. Affinities: Copper, Pewter, Wood. Mana Threshold: 100.
“Not the most insightful description,” I said.
[Rune Identification] didn’t explain the difference between the runes. The descriptions felt interchangeable, even. The Link rune, however, had a Mana Threshold of only a hundred, which meant Couple was several times stronger. If I had to guess, the Couple rune could connect stronger enchantments. Was that the only difference?
I summoned the [Rune Debugger] without fear of being caught. Much like the Character Sheet, [Rune Debugger]’s prompt was invisible to anyone but me. If anyone barged into my bedroom, they would see me hunched over the scribbled sheets of paper.
For the next hour, I toyed around with the runes, using the recipes stored in the [Rune Encyclopedia] but exchanging the Link rune for Couple. In most cases, the test box turned yellow—a safe, but unusable enchantment.
The only downside to the debugger was that I couldn’t test the effect of the enchantments, but only know if they were viable. I didn’t feel safe runeweaving in the Academy. High-level warriors had keen mana senses, and I didn’t want my ‘gift’ to be prematurely exposed to the world.
“Despite the description, Couple doesn’t work like Link,” I said, writing down on the paper. “Most probably, Couple links enchantments within the same object while Link connects enchantments between different objects. Practical experiment required. Low priority.”
I put down the quill and stretched my back.
Creating magical gadgets was entertaining and extremely useful, but my main goal was the System’s source code—editing skill values, adding effects, and eventually injecting my own functions. After developing a few hidden amenities for Whiteleaf Manor, I had poured all my attention into Byrne’s notes and the System’s code. It would've been much easier if the Man in Yellow had copied a programming language. However, the runes had more quirks than I liked. At times, runeweaving felt more like using a natural language than a programming language, which opened a whole universe of little semantic problems.
“Any insight?” I asked the ceiling.
If the System Avatar was listening, he remained silent.
I glanced at my desk. Scribbled papers, ink, quill, the flail of a man I killed, and a purple Energy-Boost Potion with a high toxicity level. I let my mind wander. The talking Fountain. Natural magic. Magic affinities. The fact that the System Avatar said my body would take time to get accustomed to the high-power runes required to fix the System.
Was everything connected? The picture was too diffuse to make anything out of it, even with [Foresight] boosting my brain function. The System Avatar knew the answer but wouldn’t tell me anything anytime soon.
There was another person who might know something.
“Byrne.”
Byrne knew something, and he believed the System had no fix—or at least not the fix the Avatar wanted to implement. Would he tell me if I asked? Probably not. Byrne was at odds with the System, after all.
Was Byrne right in refusing the System’s solution to Corruption?
The Lich didn’t trust the System for survival either, and he was one of the main developments. The Lich mentioned the ‘bigger and meaner’ things that inhabited the Deep Farlands several times—the Lions, Tigers, and Bears. His solution was to gather power and fight back.
Was the Lich’s call the right decision?
For the past two years, the same doubts have assaulted me whenever I let my mind wander. The uneasy feeling came in waves. A slight itch in the back of my mind tells me I am getting complacent despite all my efforts to develop Whiteleaf Manor. I had a big house, a loving girlfriend, and a lot of passion for my job. I’ve never felt so whole, yet the little voice tells me I should pour my soul into saving the world instead of enjoying slow afternoons with Elincia and the kids.
For two years, I had no way of answering those questions. Now, however, Byrne was within easy reach. He lived at the Library, not twenty minutes from the Academy.
“Should I show myself?”
Would Byrne suspect I was a Runeweaver? Most probably. The System Avatar needed someone like us, an otherworlder, and not many of us were available in these lands. Byrne will guess I was the next in line to save the System.
“I wish you were here with me, Eli.”
A knock on my door derailed my train of thought.
“One moment!”
I gathered the sheets of paper, but then I remembered that only two people in the kingdom could understand the words. I rubbed my eyes. I couldn’t tell what was more stressful, the selection exam or the System Avatar’s silence.
“It’s open,” I said.
The door opened, and a young novice dressed in the black and red robe of the Academic Circle entered the room.
“Lord Clarke, your mail is here,” he said, pulling a thick envelope and squinting his eyes to read the sender. “From Lady Rosebud, Empress of the Potato Court?”
I snorted, suddenly all my worries washed away. It was about time. Even with the Alchemists Guild expediting the process, they told me my letter would take a week to reach Farcrest. Elincia must’ve replied instantly because two weeks had passed since I sent my first letter. The aide handed me the envelope and retreated to the doorway.
“Wait,” I said, reaching for my coin pouch. “Do you know Archivist Samuel Byrne?” I asked, putting a silver coin in his hand.
The coin disappeared up the aide’s sleeve faster than a hare chased by hounds.
“Of course, Lord Clarke. I haven’t talked with him personally, but everyone knows Archivist Byrne,” he said.
“Is he famous around here?” I asked.
The novice nodded.
“Well, he is an Archivist, so yes. Archivist Byrne is quite famous. He’s the supervisor of the Arcane Circle, and some even say he should be the next Grand Archivist despite… you know, the size of his Circle,” the aide said.
“I understand.”
The Imperial Library was divided into six Circles: Nature, Academic, Artisan, Magicians, Arts, and Arcane. The Arcane Circle was the smallest one, and nobody seemed to know what they really did in there, other than ‘strange stuff’. Talindra told me they gathered all sorts of rare and unique classes deemed too esoteric for the other Circles.
“Do you know what his current work is about?” I asked.
The novice stopped to think.
“If I’m not mistaken, Archivist Byrne works on portal magic. It’s been a decade since we had someone with affinity with portal magic, so the royal family is very pleased with his work,” the novice said. “Would you like me to arrange an appointment?”
I shook my head.
“It will not be necessary. Maybe after the selection exam,” I replied. “You can go.”
The novice bowed and exited the room as fast as he arrived.
I was a fool not to guess Byrne’s research was about portals. I rocked in the chair, letting [Foresight] help me connect the dots. Byrne opposed the System Avatar’s plans, but did that mean he completely gave up on fixing the System? Portals had little to do with fixing the System’s source code.
Was Byrne heartless enough to let a whole world die?
“...or are you planning to teleport everyone to somewhere safe?” I whispered.
I could only think of one place where Corruption could never follow: Earth.
Although logical, the idea of Byrne transporting everyone back to Earth didn’t satisfy me. When I first met Dassyra, she tried to kill me because Byrne had told her earthlings were dangerous. I couldn’t help but agree to a certain extent. Ebros was a paradise of untapped natural resources, and everyone would want a share. Bringing Earth’s technology would improve people’s quality of life, yet part of me wanted to keep this place a secret, free of Earth’s own troubles. If I had to guess, Byrne thought the same, at least when he arrived at Farcrest for the first time.
I shook my head. With incomplete information, I couldn’t produce a solid answer.
I opened Elincia’s letter and a bunch of instant pictures fell on the table; the little ones eating breakfast half asleep, Izabeka and Ash training with the older ones, Lyra and Ginz with their faces covered with grease and what seemed to be a bicycle prototype in the back, Risha giving a piggyback ride to Astrid.
I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t.
Dearest Robert:
I knew the moment you left Whiteleaf Manor, you’d get in trouble. I still can’t decide if it’s a Scholar thing or a you thing. Probably both. Worry not—I already prepared my heart for that eventuality. Knowing you are looking over the kids over there puts my heart at peace.
Nothing has happened here in Farcrest. The Ant Repellent Potion is working better than well (as expected). The kids are studying hard. Everyone is doing well, except for Astrid. She is very bored without you around, and she’s getting antsy. I might use the repellent on her.
We all miss you a lot.
I attached some photos so you don’t feel so sad.
Let me know how the kids are doing.
Yours truly.
Potato Empress Eli.
PS: I also attached a special photo so you don’t feel alone.
PPS: You better be a good egg.
My heart skipped a beat. On the back of the letter was a selfie of Elincia lying on the bed in her white winter onesie and white nightcap. I couldn’t help but laugh. My abs burned, and my eyes teared. Then, I laughed a bit more.
“A blessing. A blessing from the Lord,” I muttered, feeling like a teenager.
The System prompt hit me without warning.
For satisfying your aesthetic needs, you have obtained Vigor Lv.1. Temporary.
A shot of adrenaline surged through my body, and I felt invigorated. I haven’t gotten a System prompt like that one since the System Avatar stopped tormenting me with [Denial] stacks. For a moment, I was awestruck. Was this a signal of some sort?
“Avatar? Are you there?” I asked the ceiling, but as usual, I did not get an answer.
I took another peek at Elinica in his onesie. She smiled back at me. She was quite photogenic. This time, however, I felt I was standing at the edge of a cliff. I have never felt so whole in my life, yet I had unlocked a new fear: losing what I had.
“This time, I will not be reckless,” I said, looking at the picture.
Elincia would be proud of me. Probably.
It was safer to assume Byrne was a threat, which meant I had to be prepared to face a high-level mana manipulator just like me. Luckily, I had a good idea of my own weaknesses. I examined the paper sheets one last time and used [Minor Pyrokinesis] to reduce them to ashes.