The Night Wolf's body collapsed in a heap of scorched fur and twitching limbs.
The scent of burnt flesh lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of the forest.
But there was no time to rest.
[Vigilis active. Life signatures detected—two, closing from the northeast.
"Already?" I whispered, shifting my stance.
The rune on my right index finger pulsed again, and sure enough—two more wolves emerged through the underbrush.
Their black pelts rippled like oil, lips curled in a snarl.
They're hunting in packs.
I gritted my teeth.
Another arrow formed—Ignis. Exuro. Flame sparked to life as I slid into cover behind a gnarled tree root.
Infractum. Fractura.
The bow snapped into shape, string drawn.
I leaned out.
The lead wolf lunged first—faster than the first, its claws raking the air as it pounced.
Loose.
The fire arrow burst forward, striking its leg and sending it sprawling midair. The second wolf circled, more cautious.
Smarter.
I ran left, vaulted over a bush, and circled behind them.
Fortis.
My legs tensed with reinforced strength.
The ground blurred beneath me.
The wounded wolf limped, trying to rise.
Another arrow. Right through the chest.
It didn't get up.
The last one snarled, baring its teeth. I could see the hesitation. Wolves were predators—but even they knew when they were outmatched.
It pounced.
I met it head-on.
No time to form a bow. I activated Ignis straight in my palm and slammed it into the beast's face.
Flame burst, searing fur and flesh. The wolf yelped and retreated—only to meet my foot squarely in its ribs, enhanced by Fortis.
It crashed into a tree.
Didn't move again.
I stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling, steam curling from my fingers.
[Three targets eliminated. Rune activity stable. Physical fatigue: 38%. Mana depletion: 54%.]
"Not bad," I muttered.
But the ache in my hands, especially where the runes were engraved, was becoming noticeable.
I gathered proof of the kills—three black pelts and claws, the usual tokens the guild required—and turned back toward the city.
***
The city bustled just as before, but this time, I walked with more purpose.
A small ache throbbed in my muscles, but it was the good kind—the kind that told me I survived.
Inside the guild hall, the noise of chatting adventurers and clanking armour greeted me.
[Note: Recommend low-activity tasks for recovery. Rune usage beyond the current limit may result in nerve strain.
"I'll keep that in mind, Damian."
At the counter, the receptionist glanced up.
"Oh. You're back already?" She asked, slightly surprised.
I smiled. "Three Night Wolves. Got pelts and claws."
Her eyes widened, just slightly. She took the proof and began tallying.
"That's… more than you usually bring in."
"I had help," I replied, tapping my temple with a faint grin.
She nodded slowly, curiosity in her expression, but didn't ask further.
"Alright. I'll mark the quest as complete. Your credit will be adjusted."
She handed over a small pouch—several bronze coins, plus a few coppers.
Not much. But enough for a meal and maybe more engraving stones.
As I turned to leave, Damian's voice rang out in my head again:
[Progress logged. Initiate sequence for advancement suggestions?
"Not yet," I said softly. "Let me eat first."
***
The inn wasn't far—just two streets down from the guild.
A cosy, two-storey building wedged between a blacksmith and a tailor's shop.
A wooden sign hung above the door, depicting a fox curled around a tankard.
I stepped inside.
Warm air and the scent of roasted meat greeted me like an old friend.
A few adventurers lounged around, nursing drinks and quietly sharing stories.
I approached the innkeeper, placed a bronze coin on the counter, and asked for a private room for the hour.
"Back room's free. You know the way," the old man said, barely glancing up.
I gave a nod and made my way up the creaky staircase to a room with a small bed and a window that looked out into the city square.
Collapsing onto the bed, I exhaled deeply.
"That… was exhausting."
[You handled it adequately. Your physical performance exceeded expectations.
I chuckled lightly.
"That's good to hear, Damian."
[However, rune-induced strain has reached 43%. A recovery period is recommended.
"Understood. I won't push myself."
Silence settled for a moment as I stared at the ceiling.
"I've been thinking… The rune system is more complex than I assumed. Can you search my current knowledge for any gaps?"
[Confirmed. Based on your memories and Vancroft's inherited knowledge, rune theory is severely lacking. To proceed effectively, I recommend obtaining external resources.
I nodded. "A library, then."
***
The city's public library wasn't large—certainly not as grand as the royal ones you'd find in a noble capital—but it was quiet and, most importantly, free.
Rows of worn books lined creaky shelves.
A few scholars and robed individuals sat scattered across the reading tables, lost in their studies.
I browsed slowly, letting instinct guide me. And then I saw it.
A Newbie's Guide to Using Runes
It was old, dust-coated, and tucked into a corner of the shelf like it had been waiting for me.
[This book contains references to the origin of the Rune Function. Request permission to record.
"Go ahead."
I opened it and flipped through the pages. Diagrams of runes, faded sketches, notes in tiny, cramped handwriting.
"According to this… the Rune System was initially developed as a linguistic bridge."
"Its earliest users were philosophers and enchanters who believed language itself was the purest magic…"
[Correct. Early rune practitioners sought to embody concepts rather than manipulate elements directly. It was meant to mimic the divine language of creation.
"And yet, they abandoned it," I muttered.
[Due to inefficiency and lack of progression.]
But then, a passage caught my eye:
'It is said that with enough mastery, a rune caster can engrave living runes—concepts that evolve, grow, and adapt. But such skill requires more than knowledge. No one has yet to reach that stage.'
"Resonance?" I repeated aloud.
[The ability to synchronise a rune with its user's essence—allowing the rune to change as the user does. Highly advanced. Currently impossible at your level.]
"I see…" I closed the book gently. "Still, it's good to know it exists."
I checked the front page—thankfully, this was a borrowing library.
After signing my name into the registry, I tucked the book under my arm and made my way back home.
Night had fallen by the time I returned.
The mansion loomed like a shadow at the edge of the city, silent and cold.
I slipped in through the creaking doors without issue.
Just like this morning, no one paid attention. No one cared.
It didn't matter.
I had the book. I had Damian.
Sitting by the single desk in the corner of the dusty room, I opened the book once more under the pale light of a cracked crystal lamp.
"Let's see just how far we can go."
[Beginning learning protocol.]
Time passed as I read through the book; the sun began to rise.
The morning light cracked through the dusty glass panes of the mansion's tall windows, casting long streaks of gold across the wooden floor.
I stirred beneath a worn blanket, the weight of the old book still resting over my eyes.
I blinked and groaned softly.
Even with the guide practically pressed into my skull, I hadn't learnt much of immediate use.
"I guess it wasn't a waste."
I sat up and rolled my shoulders. They ached from sleeping on the hard floor again.
Among the runes detailed in the book, one stood out—the concealment rune. A simple yet clever construct that, when etched correctly, could hide visual traces of other runes.
With that, I could finally cover the glow and blood-etched lines along my fingers.
[Concealment rune successfully registered. Suggestion: Engrave on the back of each hand using diluted mana stone fragments.
"I'll do it later. Not exactly a high-stakes target right now."
I leaned back against the wall and stared at the low ceiling above. Thoughts swirled in my mind.
To reach the next stage—to make real progress—I needed rare resources. High-grade mana stones, rune-quality materials, engraving tools… All of them were prohibitively expensive.
Damian had been proposing standard options—contracts, long-term gathering jobs, dungeon diving—but each would take weeks. Months, even.
I didn't have that kind of time. Not in this world.
Not in this body.
Then it hit me.
A ridiculous idea.
An insane idea.
And yet…
I grinned. "Damian. How good are you at analysing games?"
[All games within known parameters—chess, dice, card-based, tile-based, mana flow manipulation, logic grids, and probability models—fall within my analysis capacity.]
The voice was as confident as always.
"Perfect. Then I know where we're headed next."
[Query: New destination.]
I stood and grabbed my torn coat. Slide the sword over my back.
"The underground gambling centre."
[Processing...]
[Acknowledged. Updating survival path.]
I smirked as I walked out of the mansion once more.
"Time to make the world gamble on me."