The Runic Alchemist

“All your spells are in a weird language…” Evrin said, looking at Damian. “If, before meeting Sam and Einar, you were in Dawnstar—which Lucian confirmed—where exactly did you learn such strange spells?”

“He is not the only exception in this…” Vidalia answered before Damian could say anything. “I have never seen it myself, but there were rumors in the decades I have lived that some dungeons house intelligent species. Sometimes, humans make contact with them and learn spells with unique chanting.”

“Do you know anyone who has done this?” Damian asked curiously.

“None that are alive,” she replied simply. “There was a man who once revealed to me that he learned fighting techniques in a village of powerful orcs. He never said whether it was in a dungeon or part of his trials.”

‘Like how I learned to use Lord’s Respect and mana powder spells from those Elder Runebreakers’, Damian thought.

He had also seen an army of powerful orcs during his runesmith trial. Interesting, indeed. There was always a lingering doubt in his mind about whether the trials were real or not. Everything suggested they weren’t, but there was always a possibility.

‘That makes me wonder.. If I find some tree in my future trials and learn its ID, and if I figure out the waygate modification spell.. Could I reach those worlds? If they were real at all.. That would be the ultimate confirmation test.’

There was so much hidden in this world. Damian wanted nothing more than to put everything else aside and conduct experiments all day. But it would all be meaningless if there were no people left on this continent to share those discoveries with. Once he had his own city—one with rules that actually made sense—he could truly reveal his thoughts to the world. Maybe through an academy? Writing books? Publishing newspapers?

Only when people started discussing these things openly would more researchers get involved, and more answers would emerge. No one person could uncover and explain everything alone. Of course, the followers of the various gods would be his biggest obstacle, but for some to be proven right, others had to be proven wrong. That was simply the way of facts and science.

Your next read is at My Virtual Library Empire

Vidalia continued when she noticed Damian was too lost in thought to answer Evrin’s question. “Most of us believe gestures are associated with the direction of our spells and their aim. Some even connect gestures with specific words, creating a combination that only makes sense to them. As I said, spellcraft is a very personal thing. I shouldn’t even be teaching this to anyone younger than forty. But I will make an exception for you.”

Vidalia looked at Damian as she said this, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Wait a second! Not for people under forty? Evrin is forty?!” he said, surprised.

But both elves skillfully avoided answering his question, and Vidalia simply continued teaching them about spellcrafting.

For Damian, though, most of it was useless information. From day one, he had learned runes first, then spells. His mind perceived runic circles—both the ones he created and the ones formed when others chanted—as the true essence of spells. The gestures and words people associated with them meant nothing to him. Of course, with his Eyes of Truth, his situation was unique.

In short, he could never craft spells through chanting. If he wanted to, he would have to study his runic circles for years, breaking them down to understand precisely which rune corresponded to what effect. There was simply no shortcut. Creating brand-new spells was already difficult for normal people—ten times harder for him.

But there was a silver lining. If he had access to someone else’s research—records of their perceptions of each word in a chant—he could still work with spellcrafting in a roundabout way. No matter how different people associated words with spell effects, in the end for him, they all created a runic circle. And Damian could see those associations in real time. He could tell them what words they unconsciously associated with what effect.

So, if he observed hundreds of spells from a single person, he could theoretically write chants tailored to that individual, creating unique spells they could learn—and then copy those spells himself. He needed another person for the process, but in a way, he could still craft new spells.

The book Vidalia showed him contained hundreds of words she had cataloged over centuries—terms she had linked to various spell effects, whether consciously or unconsciously. It was the work of a genius spellmaster, developed over generations. Spellcrafting was no joke. She had truly shown him everything she had, holding nothing back.

Just this one hour was all he needed. Still, Damian paid close attention to everything she said.

After two and a half hours, Vidalia finally concluded the lesson and dismissed them. She even mentioned that in future lessons, they would work together to create a simple spell.

Evrin begrudgingly left when Damian and Vidalia asked her to. She was acting particularly clingy with her aunt, constantly turning around to glance back at them as long as they were in view. Vidalia simply smiled at her niece’s antics.

“What is it that you can’t say in front of her?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“If everything you said is true… I can never create original spells on my own,” Damian replied, his voice unusually serious.

She locked eyes with him, and whatever she saw there convinced her that he was telling the truth.

“Why is that?” she asked.

Should he tell her? He wasn’t sure how much he trusted her yet. If only she weren’t associated with Eldoris, she would be… what, exactly?

Huh? Perfect? What the hell was he thinking? There was no such thing as a perfect person.

All that she was—all she had learned—was shaped by her mistakes and experiences as an elf princess. It was selfish of him to imagine she could exist apart from that. Eldoris was hers far more than it belonged to its current queen.