The Runic Alchemist

Oh, it was a named blade. But what's with this Child of Time stuff...? Was it because of his foreign origin? The system clearly knew about him, then. With blessings being a thing, Damian didn't quite know how far he could trust it.

It had some kind of consciousness, though. It wasn't just his opinion; many scholars had concluded that the way the system named things and knew the happenings and truths of the world showed it to be, at the very least, somewhat sentient. Most attributed this to a sign of their gods and moved on. But were the two connected—or completely separate things?

Well, the situation had turned out better than expected. That much would have to do for now. The third class was about to begin in five minutes. Damian washed up, picked up the still-napping Toph, and hurried to class.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

It was Potion Crafting again. Even as he moved through the hallways, he noticed people whispering and stealing glances at him. That was bound to happen. Schools and rumors were like two sides of the same coin. They'll forget it soon enough, he thought.

In both classes, students kept whispering about him and his deed. Somehow, they even knew about the punishment he'd received. Finally, the classes ended, and Damian made his way back to his lab, ignoring the idle chatter around him. There, he finished working on the blade's handle and sharpened its edge, adding all the necessary finishing touches. Once the sword was completed, Damian sat back at his premium-quality table, surrounded by a myriad of papers.

The first thing he wanted to create was armor—one with runic imbuements on all the separate parts. Building something like that famous comic superhero's mechanical suit had been a fantasy for many engineering students. Even though Damian had studied chemistry, he, too, had imagined creating such a thing. But that was far from realistic. Crafting full mechanical armor would require highly precise, finely-tuned machinery—even assuming he could power it. Besides, the end result wouldn't be much better than custom runic armor pieces, which were far more practical.

Steel was another consideration. As sturdy as it was, it wasn't exactly a good conductor for magic. Runic armor pieces would periodically sustain damage, and having spares would be essential. If he made one big suit, repairs would be much more difficult. Plus, his sword and spear attacks required flexibility, something a full suit wouldn't allow.

He had scoured the markets for better metals for runic items crafting but found nothing extraordinary. Many shops boasted "best mana conductivity" metals and alloys, but barely any surpassed steel's performance by even 10%. Sacrium was the only metal that could create runic items capable of lasting decades. However, no one knew how to process the damn thing. Damian himself had bought several ingots with his war credits, but they were still just as he had received them—unused. He had all the chemical reactions possible under the moon and it had reacted with nothing.

Fire? It didn't even get warm at temperatures reaching thousands of degrees. High-pressure water proved equally ineffective. He had even tried cutting it with a diamond—and still, nothing.

The few ingots Damian possessed held immense potential. With his mana sense, he could perceive the interior of the metal to be far larger in space than its actual physical size—or perhaps it was the opposite. The complexity baffled him. Either way, the metal was riddled with countless mana-compatible gaps, a structure that could enable the creation of exceptional mana nodes. Damian could only imagine what a resource like this could achieve for any project.

He had attempted to imbue the ingot directly with his mana, but unlike any other material, this one simply refused to hold it. Clearly, some unknown condition needed to be met for the ingot to be usable. Most scholars believed it required a special flame—frequently referred to in ancient texts as a "Divine Flame." Yet, for all its mentions across various literature, there was no information about the origin of the term or what this so-called Divine Flame truly was.

Some unique monster materials could outperform steel in conductivity and durability, but those were never available on the open market. Such items could be acquired through contacts, but Damian refrained from asking the Elves—such requests always came with strings attached. Maybe now he could think about making some inquiries, but for the time being, steel would have to suffice.

Dawnstar's dungeons were rumored to house exceptional metals and materials ideal for runic tools crafting. However, those resources were tightly controlled by the major houses, with barely anything slipping onto the black market. Procuring them was risky business, too. In Eldoris, every move he made was under watchful eyes. It had been six months since he started his attempts to search. After receiving his third class, which was. Though no contact was reliable enough to trust, and he barely had time to fully focus on it.

Perhaps now was the time to change that. He could improve the armor later once better materials became available.

As he scribbled notes and sketched ideas for the armor and other runic items—alongside modifications for certain spells—Damian realized it had already grown dark outside. He considered putting his work aside and heading out for dinner when a knock on his door broke the silence. He sensed Reize on the other side, so he gathered the papers, stored them in his spatial storage, and picked up Toph before heading for the door.

Opening it, Damian smiled at Reize and shut the door behind him.

"How the hell did you learn to do locking runes on your own? And with custom words, no less?" Reize asked as soon as he stepped outside, keeping pace beside him as they moved.

"I just did," Damian replied flatly. "Are you coming for dinner?" Explore more at empire

"Yes, that's why I came to get you. But what do you mean you just did...?" she persisted.

Damian glanced at her with a more serious expression. "Do you really want me to tell you?"

Reize caught his meaning instantly—an unspoken 'Give me something of equal importance, and I'll give you an answer.'

"Right," she said with a nod. "Forget I asked."

Good, Damian thought. He appreciated people who understood with minimal words.

"We're eating with my friends from the Spellborne Legion. You okay with that?"

"Ah, sure," Reize replied, unfazed.

It had been quite some time since Damian had a dinner with them, so he decided to do so. Plus, he wanted to give Einar the sword.