It was easy to leave the mansion.
No one stopped me. I passed a couple of guards by the gate—one of them barely even looked up, and the other sighed like it was just another day.
As if watching the black sheep leave was nothing worth noticing.
'No respect at all.'
Not that I minded. I'd earn that soon enough.
The road to the guild wasn't long—just a few minutes through cobbled streets—and then I was inside the bustling heart of the city.
It was everything a fantasy world promised.
Vendors lined the streets with trinkets and oddities I could never name.
Spices scented the air in waves, mixing with the smell of baked bread and clinking metal.
Every few steps brought a new accent, a new dialect, a new kind of fashion I had only ever lectured about in theory.
As a former professor of history, I couldn't help but admire the culture woven into each stitch and colour of the garments.
'No doubt about it. This world lives and breathes history.'
As I walked, I noticed something—no one looked at me.
No curious glances. No whispers behind my back.
That meant Vancroft's reputation, for now, was neutral.
That was a blessing.
'At least I won't have to deal with some tired 'infamous trash' trope.
In the quiet of my thoughts, I opened a conversation with the system again.
By now, I'd decided that calling it "System" felt too cold. It had a personality—a tone, a rhythm.
It responded like it was more than just code.
So I named it.
"Damian", I said, trying the name aloud.
"Your name's Damian now."
[Name registered. I will respond to 'Damian' from now on. A practical designation.
He even sounded pleased. Or maybe that was just my imagination.
"Alright, Damian. Based on my current stats and capabilities, what should I be looking for?"
[Assessing... Based on your physical limitations, mana pool, and compatibility with runes... Low-grade mana stones are recommended. They are stable, low-output, and ideal for beginner-level applications.
"Good," I nodded just as the Guild Hall loomed before me.
"Let's get started, then."
I stepped through the massive oaken doors. Inside, just like in the memories, the place buzzed with energy.
Adventurers and mercenaries shared stories of their adventures while laughing over drinks at the antique tables.
Leather, steel, sweat, and pride—it was all here.
I approached the receptionist's counter. She looked up with a familiar gaze, brushing back her silver hair. Her name clicked from memory.
"Ah, Vancroft," she said, her voice polite but distant.
"Same request as always? Rabbits and night-wolves?"
"Yes," I nodded, smiling faintly.
"I would also like to exchange the pay for mana stones."
Her eyebrows raised slightly, but she nodded.
"That's possible, of course. How many grams?"
"About the size of a small rock."
She didn't question it.
She reached under the counter, fetched a pouch, and slid it across.
It felt light in my hand—maybe forty grams total. Not much, but enough.
"You know the rules," she said.
"Finish the mission by the end of the day or it becomes a debt."
"I understand. Thank you."
She registered the exchange, handed me a sealed token, and sent me on my way.
I didn't head straight for the quest site. Instead, I detoured to a nearby inn.
One bronze coin got me a small room for an hour.
Time to begin.
The room smelt of old wood and lavender-scented soap.
I locked the door, sat on the floor, and unwrapped the mana stones from their pouch.
"Damian", I said, fingers brushing over the stones, "instead of engraving the sword, what if I etched the runes on my body?"
[Warning: Bodily rune inscription carries significant risk. The pain tolerance threshold may not—
"My sword won't survive. It's worn and brittle."
[...Understood. Compensating. Suggestion: Divide the level-4 fire spell Ignia Shardus into four casting segments. One segment per middle and index finger. Result: Fast, efficient activation.
"Perfect. Let's do it."
[Initiating guidance.]
The mana stones began to pulse faintly as Damian directed the flow. I used a carved sliver of bone as my stylus, dipping it into crushed mana dust.
The first line went across my left index finger:
"Ignis."
It stung—like dragging a hot needle across exposed nerves.
Next, the second line curved around the left middle finger:
"Infractum".
I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.
The third segment wound across my right index finger:
"Fractura".
My vision blurred. Sweat dripped from my chin.
My hand trembled.
And finally, the fourth line etched itself on my right middle finger:
"Exuro".
The pain hit like a hammer to the skull. It felt like my bones were burning from the inside out, as if the fire had already been lit beneath my skin.
"Ah... fuck!" I groaned, collapsing back onto the floor, breathing hard.
Blood oozed from the incisions.
My hands trembled as I brought them together.
The lines shimmered—each rune glowing faint blue with threads of crimson beneath.
It was done.
I clenched my fists.
"Let's get to testing."
***
The trees were thick with mist and scattered beams of golden light. The Rookie's Battlefield, as it was called, looked serene at first glance—but it was far from forgiving.
It was a place meant for beginners, but that didn't mean it was safe.
Many had died here underestimating the creatures that lurked within.
I traced my fingers over my left hand, feeling the still-fresh pain of the runes carved into my flesh.
Using the rest of my mana stones, I had engraved two additional spells—'Vigilis' to enhance my senses and 'Fortis' to strengthen my body.
I crouched low in the underbrush, hand steady, breath calm. Vigilis, the rune on my right index finger, pulsed faintly. My senses widened like a spider's web.
Every tremor of movement, every sound—a rustle, a paw pressing against leaves—registered in my mind.
Found it.
Just twenty meters ahead, nestled near the roots of a fallen tree, was a Night Wolf. Its black pelt shimmered under the sunlight, blotched with crimson from a fresh kill.
Rabbit corpses lay in pieces at its feet.
It hadn't noticed me.
Not yet.
I tapped Fortis.
A sharp pulse surged through my veins, like lightning threading through muscle. My limbs tensed, vision sharpened.
My breath became quieter, my stance more balanced.
Now.
My left hand rose, fingers parting.
Infractum activated—the air shimmered as a spectral frame of a bow formed from light and smoke.
Fractura followed—the sensation of a taut string appeared, vibrating with invisible force as my fingers mimed drawing it back.
With my right hand, I willed Ignis.
Heat bloomed around my palm, dancing with crackling fire as the elemental rune began weaving shape.
Then, Exuro—the fire compacted, sharpened, drawn into an arrow of burning magic.
I exhaled.
The runes on my fingers glowed. Bow and arrow met in perfect synchronisation.
The wolf's ears twitched.
It was already turning, instincts screaming—but it was too late.
I lost the shot.
The fiery arrow shrieked through the trees, a streak of red and gold that collided with the wolf's shoulder in a burst of flame and force.
It yelped, stumbling sideways, fur scorched and skin cracked—but not dead.
So they really are tougher than they look.
It locked eyes with me, its pupils dilating as it charged forward, rage eclipsing pain.
I tapped Fortis again—my body surged, leaping backward onto a tree root, dodging the wolf's snapping jaws.
Vigilis pinged—another movement to my left.
A second wolf?
No—just a rabbit fleeing. I focused again.
The wolf lunged.
I rolled aside, dirt caking my coat. It was fast, but not beyond me now.
My fingers lit up—Ignis, then Exuro. Another arrow, formed mid-dodge, blazing through the air.
The impact hit square in the beast's ribs. It tumbled, snarling.
I didn't stop.
Infractum. Fractura. Draw. Exuro.
Another arrow.
Ignis.
Final shot.
It struck through the eye—ending it clean.
Silence.
I stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling with steady breaths.
My fingers trembled from the channelling.
Blood trickled from a rune on my knuckle.
I wiped it with my sleeve.
"Good work, Damian." I murmured in my mind.
[Affirmative. Efficiency rating: 72%. Recommendations will be compiled for review.
I let out a breath, the fire in my fingers dimming.
One down. Many more to go.