I stayed up late that night, unable to rest. As silently as I could, I snuck out of our bedroom, closing the door gently behind me. The soft fire from a single candle still burned in the main room of our humble abode. I carefully picked it up.
I still hadn't gotten the chance to fully explore this place.
I walked down the hall and came across a door I hadn't entered yet. With curiosity biting at my heels, I turned the knob. The candlelight revealed a room dominated by a stone table, its surface burnt and crisped from past alchemical attempts.
The floor was a mess, riddled with dust and scattered chalk sticks. Books and ripped pages—some of them scorched—were strewn about.
"An alchemy room?" I pondered, stepping inside. Books on the topic lined makeshift shelves. I set the candle down on the table and grabbed the first volume I could find, flipping through the pages.
I sat there reading for what felt like hours, becoming fully immersed in the studies of the man I had replaced. So far, I'd only managed to learn the basic elements by sheer luck in that dungeon. It looked like if I wanted more powerful spells, I needed to use rune circles…
"So…" I took a piece of chalk from the floor. I tried to draw a circle. It wasn't as complex as the ones I'd seen in light novels, but I was sure it would do the trick!
The lines connecting the runes to the output circle were a bit shaky, but it was probably fine... right? I tried to imbue the circle with my magic. A single, uncontrolled burst of flame shot toward the ceiling before swiftly dissipating into nothing but smoke.
The sudden gush of flame sent me tumbling backward, my eyes wide with shock.
Or not…
***
Okay, this took me a while to figure out. From what I understood, what I had was an alchemical language—a kind of grammar for magic. Every symbol carried a concept: a piece of how the world understood reality. Combine those concepts, and you built meaning the same way you formed a sentence.
This language was called the Language of the Sun. Its runes burned with energy and motion, perfect for elemental magic. This world had three written languages for different purposes, but other worlds had their own, too.
I wondered—did they cross over at all? Or were they useless here? Would something from another realm provide some use to us in this world, something we hadn't even begun to think of? Just the thought made me want to test it, but that was far beyond me right now.
I dusted my fingers with chalk and drew: an outer ring, two inner circles, and symbols etched between them. Each rune represented a concept—earth, fire, gold.
"If I just add the runes for heat generation, propulsion, anchor, and cycle…" I murmured, connecting them with precise lines. "And link them all to the innermost circle…"
The magic answered, reading each mark like a command. The symbols flared, their power channeling into the center. A sustained burst of flame erupted from the stone table like a geyser, the sheer force of it kicking up a light gust of wind that sent papers fluttering. The heat shimmered in the small room.
"Amazing!" I exclaimed, though my knees began to feel weak from the mana drain. As quickly as I could, I stumbled forward and wiped the circle with my sleeve, breaking the flow. The flame vanished instantly. I lay my head on the now-warm table, my eyes shutting with a soft, exhausted sigh.
"Maybe this guy isn't totally useless after all."
[Skill Unlocked!]
Oh, right. I'd unlocked a skill. I'd forgotten to check this since I was in the labyrinth with Rukia. I stood up, watching as the UI unfolded before me, growing so tall it touched the roof of the hut and as wide as the walls.
It showed a massive screen of text, all interconnected—a skill tree that stretched further than I could read. The only two options highlighted were a merchant ability and an alchemist one.
Without hesitating, I selected them both. The UI split into two screens, each forming a skill tree under their respective categories.
[cunning words] [Flame bolt]
| |
[raise or lower the bargain of [cast more concentrated flames without the
A deal with ease! Though it help of a rune, and preserve more mana.]
depends on the target's
will/wisdom.]
Interesting…
These skills weren't impressive, but to be fair, I was at the very bottom. It seemed like the other guy hadn't made any progress at all.
Out of curiosity, I scrolled upwards on the merchant tree to see what kind of skills I could get late-game. I felt like I was scrolling for a good minute before the list finally slowed, stopping at what felt like the middle.
[Summoning Lvl 99]
[Summon adventurers or commoners who are devoted to you. These can be individuals who owe you life-debts or have sworn their loyalty.]
Woah, talk about an upgrade! To think I could get a skill like that…
But the description brought a recent memory crashing back. I buried my face in the table, my ears burning. The text on the screen seemed to mock me, its definition of "devotion" and "loyalty" painting a vivid picture of Rukia.
I could almost feel the steam from the bath again, the heat a stark contrast to the cool wood beneath my cheek. The memory wasn't just an image; it was a sensory overload. The slick press of her skin against my back, the weight of her arms around my shoulders, the low, teasing murmur in my ear that had short-circuited my every thought. I had been paralyzed, a statue of pure, virginal panic, while a goddess treated me as her husband.
A frustrated groan escaped me, muffled by the table. I wasn't just not ready. I was hopelessly, utterly out of my depth.
Why world…