The Runic Alchemist

The Highsword Island was nearby, so instead of opening a waygate, Damian decided to fly there while enjoying the view. Almost half of Ashenvale had already seen the strange metal ship by now, and rumors about it must have spread. He was curious to hear what people thought of it.

Only the regions controlled by Vidalia and a few powerful lords still had some semblance of order; the rest were chaotic, plagued by constant skirmishes, and full of abandoned villages with no one left behind. Even if Damian stopped the fighting temporarily, more conflicts would arise as soon as they left. Stability needed to be restored in Ashenvale.

He had hoped that some form of quasi-government—a coalition of the remaining lords—would band together to resist foreign invaders. But it seemed that all the capable leaders had been lost in the war. Those who remained lacked the ability to organize such a movement for their country.

They landed peacefully on the open campus of Highsword Academy.

The academy term had just started, and few people were seen freely roaming the campus or the city below. Still, Damian decided to take a couple of days to rest. On the third day from now, they would enter the dungeon with everyone.

The news of the Dawnstar King’s return had not yet spread—it had only been a day since it happened. But in the near future, it would shake the Four Kingdoms. Eldoris likely already knew the full details, but the others were in for a massive shock.

Damian spent the day resting with Toph and Reize in his room. Only after dinner did he head to his lab to work on a few things. He had already made all the necessary preparations for the dungeon dive, but he double-checked everything and packed all the important items in his lab. In case he had to leave immediately after returning from the dungeon, he would be ready. He took only essentials—blueprints, rare metals, and other valuables—while leaving behind the common supplies.

***

The next day, he gathered everyone participating in the dungeon expedition in their training room. He arranged benches for them to sit on and had even spoken with Mindseer, who agreed to carry the massive 8×8-foot steel spatial storage cube for them.

Also present were Kamisen, Alex, the girl who had once asked Damian to dance, the commoner boy who worked for him, Simean and Tom (his companions from the survival exam), Evante (the flute player), and several other noble and talented students.

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Damian asked everyone about their preparations, checked if they were ready, and addressed any concerns they had. After this, he still had to retrieve Maelor from Dawnstar’s capital.

Standing before the group with his friends, Damian declared:

“The main goal of our expedition is to go as deep as possible into the dungeon, level up to the best of our abilities, gather resources, and, if we’re lucky, obtain dungeon relics. But above all, we must return alive—every single one of us. Let me make this clear: I don’t care about your personal beliefs, but inside that dungeon, the 50 of us are one team. If I catch anyone discriminating or trying to sabotage others unprovoked, I will personally kick them and their friends out—no matter how they got into this group.

Our lives will be in our own hands. We have to work together. Some of you already know what it’s like to fight for survival, but most of you have never had to. So let me share a piece of wisdom from my experience—make more friends than enemies, or you will die. You cannot do this alone. Even third-ranker Highswords enter the dungeon with a team.

Everyone will have the chance to grow and earn rewards, but don’t get so caught up in personal gains that you lose sight of the bigger picture. That’s all. If you have questions, ask them now. Otherwise, be at the Bastion Gate tomorrow at sunrise, ready to depart.”

A murmur spread through the group, but no one raised any objections.

Finally, a voice broke through the noise.

“How will we split the rewards?”

It was Alex.

Splitting loot was always a tricky issue—small monster drops were straightforward, but high-ranked monster rewards often caused disputes. Damian, however, viewed runic dungeon relics as mere blueprints he could replicate. Unless it was an enchantment of significant value, most ancient relics weren’t worth fighting over for him.

“For smaller monsters, the loot belongs to whoever lands the finishing blow,” Damian explained. “For larger creatures that require teamwork, we’ll roll dice at the end of the day.”

Silence fell over the room as everyone stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

Traditionally, rewards went to the party leader, who distributed them based on performance. This often led to people competing against their teammates rather than working together, arguing over who contributed the most. Damian’s method removed all room for debate.

“A dice?!” Half the room—including Mindseer—echoed in disbelief. With her childlike appearance, she blended in seamlessly with the other teens.

Damian simply nodded.

He pulled out three dice from his storage, each marked from 1 to 6. They would roll all three, and the highest number out of 18 would determine the winner.

When he explained this, the group still looked at him like he was insane, but no one objected. Eventually, they all agreed.

The bigger reward was experience, after all. No one expected to find dungeon relics in the first 10–15 levels anyway—that was the furthest any students had ever gone.

Dungeon relics were different from regular monster loot. They had hidden conditions and an extremely low drop rate, usually appearing only after defeating particularly odd and powerful monsters.

***

A small waygate opened above Maelor in a room adorned with all the pomp and luxury one might expect in a noble princess’s chambers. It was full of shiny, princely things. Damian stepped out of the waygate and landed near Maelor and a young girl sitting beside him. Maelor smiled upon seeing him, though the young girl was having a hard time believing her eyes.

“You ready?” Damian asked.