The Lord walked up the stairs to the top floor of the tower, the inspection of the obelisks now complete. He stopped before a wooden door adjacent to his own chamber. He took a slow, deep breath, steadying himself. In his mental space, the two spell models already at work, [Spell: Emotional Dampening] and [Spell: Cognitive Focus], glimmered. He pushed more of his spirituality into them, turning their effects to their fullest intensity.
A much more cold clarity washed over his mind, scouring away all traces of hesitation, warmth, or unease. His expression, already controlled, became pure, clinical detachment. His eyes, emotionless, now held the empty focus of a researcher about to check a specimen.
He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft push of telekinetic force. A wave of his hand ignited the torches in their sconces, casting a flickering orange light across the room.
The chamber was bare. A single narrow window slit. A large, sturdy table. A simple desk and chair. The most conspicuous object, however, was a long, sealed metal coffin leaned against the far wall.
He approached the coffin. Another subtle gesture lifted the heavy lid with a creak of hinges, setting it aside. A plume of white, frozen mist immediately billowed out, fogging the air near the floor. Inside lay a naked male corpse, perfectly preserved in a rime of frost.
The Lord first inspected the series of [Frost Runes] inscribed along the coffin's interior, ensuring their preservation magic was stable. Satisfied, he gestured again. The frozen body rose from its icy bed and floated across the room to settle upon the large table.
For the next several hours, the room was silent save for the scratch of a quill on parchment. The Lord leaned over the corpse, his gaze intense. He was not looking at the man, but at the intricate web of magical scarring etched onto the skin and beneath… the failed runic inscriptions. He focused his spirituality into a fine-pointed probe, scanning the patterns over and over, feeling for where the energy flow had fractured, where the intent had warped, where the man's body had rejected the foreign power.
Each observation was meticulously recorded in notes on the desk. Diagrams of rune clusters. Notes on tissue rejection. Theories on magic conductivity.
Finally, his examination complete, he directed the body back into the metal coffin and resealed the lid. The freezing mist subsided. He gathered his notes and left the room, entering his own adjacent chamber.
He placed the papers on his table. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room, where a simple wooden bucket sat. He fetched it and set it on the floor before his chair. Then, he deactivated the two sustaining spells.
[Spell: Emotional Dampening] - OFF.
[Spell: Cognitive Focus] - OFF.
Immediately came the after-effect. The artificial calm shattered. The full weight of the last few hours: the memories of the dissected corpse, the cold-blooded focus and the lingering smell of frost and old blood, crashed down upon him. A heavy, greasy nausea twisted his gut. He bent forward over the bucket and vomited, his body wracked by dry heaves long after his stomach was empty.
Still not used to it, he thought, the words an internal rasp between heaves.
Months of this, and his body still rebelled every time.
When the spasms finally ceased, he remained hunched for a moment, breathing raggedly. He conjured a handful of clean water to rinse his mouth and wash his hands. Then, with a tired flick of telekinesis, he sent the bucket floating out the door, setting it down in the corridor.
A thread of thought was sent down.
"Tanesha. The bucket outside my door. Have the maid clean it."
Alone again, he turned his focus to the notes on the table. The heading was clear:
Project: Upgrade of [Bronze Body Rune].
The [Bronze Body Rune] was a composite rune, similar to the [Spirit Spiral Rune] used in the Spiral Meditation Method.
Composite runes were not like the fundamental runes, such as the [Earth Rune] or [Water Rune], which could be deduced by observing the flow of magic already bonded to an object or phenomenon. They were artificial constructs, created by splicing together specific segments from other runes to forge a new, unified structure with a unique function.
In this way, composite runes were similar to the spell models, but with a key difference. A spell model was a complex lattice that used entire runes as interconnected components. A composite rune used only parts of runes, stitching them together to create a single, new runic "word." They occupied a middle ground between fundamental runes and the spell models.
The effect of the [Bronze Body Rune] was to gradually transform living tissue to a density and resilience comparable to solid bronze. It did not turn a man into a literal statue; it reinforced the biological structure with a metallic magic, providing immense defense while retaining most mobility, albeit with a slight stiffening. The reinforced tissue would develop a dull-gold color, hence the name.
The rune focused purely on defense, allowing the bearer to withstand melee strikes from most cold weapons as well as arrows and crossbow bolts from a distance. It conferred no inherent strength enhancement, though a fist reinforced by the rune would hit with the impact of a metal hammer.
The application process was brutal. The rune had to be inscribed directly onto the skin and the bone. This was done by using focused spirituality as a carving scalpel, etching the magical rune into the living subject. It was excruciatingly painful and traumatic. It had taken the sacrifice of five guards, men who died in agony during the experimental phase, before he had successfully deduced the precise structure of the [Bronze Body Rune] and perfected the method of attaching it to a human body so it could be activated or deactivated with a thought.
Olyvar's mate Halden was one of those 5 sacrifices.
The successful creation and application of this rune had also fulfilled the final prerequisite for his fourth and last Tier 3 class: the [Flesh Shaper]. Like all his previous classes, its creation had granted him a flood of relevant knowledge and technical memories, deepening his understanding of biological manipulation using magic and spirituality.
Elated by this success and armed with new insights, he had immediately attempted an ambitious project: to create an upgraded, more powerful version of the [Bronze Body Rune]. He applied this experimental, unstable design to the next, sixth guard. The process failed miserably. The man's body rejected the flawed runic structure, resulting in a painful death. Unwilling to let the subject's death go to waste, the Lord had the corpse preserved with [Frost Runes] and stored it in the adjacent room. This was the corpse he had just spent hours meticulously studying.
After that sixth failure, he halted further risky experiments on living subjects. He instead used the stable, proven version of the [Bronze Body Rune] to successfully enchant the remaining four guards, transforming them into the world's first Runic Knights.
Since all of them now bore the same enchantment, he gave them new designations: Bronze I, Bronze II, Bronze III, and Bronze IV, named in the order they were transformed. It was a command to abandon their past lives and begin anew as living weapons.
Aegon sighed, pulling his mind from the past. Without forging the 'Lord' persona… that mask of absolute apathy…. progress like this would have been impossible in just over a year. The spells [Emotional Dampening] and [Cognitive Focus] were the tools that made it possible and tolerable. The violent nausea that followed their deactivation was a price he had learned to pay. For the results, he judged it a worthy cost.
His next task was to discover a way to make the [Bronze Body Rune] into a wearable focus, like a ring or pendant, that could activate passively in response to danger. He would never cross the line of inscribing such runes directly onto the flesh of his family. That was a boundary his morality, however strained, would not breach.
He sighed again, a soft sound in the quiet room, and slowly walked to the window. He looked down at the thatched house where the five new boys were held, his expression unreadable, thoughtful.
At the base of the tower, the five boys were sweeping the dusty floor of their thatched house under the watch of a Runic Knight. The air was heavy with the scent of damp wood and unspoken fear.
Another armored knight approached, whispered something to the supervisor, and left. The watching knight nodded and turned his helmeted head toward the boys.
"On your feet. All of you," the knight's voice grated. "You stink of sweat. Clean it off. The Lord summons you in an hour. He will judge if you are worth the air you breathe. Disappoint him, and you will learn what true waste is."
The boys shuddered. They exchanged quick, frightened glances but moved without protest. Discipline and order had been ground into them during their short time on the island. They fetched water from a wooden barrel, scrubbing their faces and hands. Some ducked into the small sleeping area to change into the plain, clean shirts and trousers that had been provided. Within the hour, they were assembled in a neat, silent line outside the hut. Their expressions were hollow, already resigned to their current lives.
The supervising knight gave a curt nod. Another knight arrived and, with efficient motions, used a key to unlock the heavy iron balls chained to their ankles. The restraints clanked to the ground. No one tried to run. They had seen the wall of fog. They knew there was nowhere to go.
"Move," the knight commanded.
They were led in a silent file toward the stone tower. Inside, the air was cooler. They were ushered into a room on the ground floor. The boys trembled as they entered.
Inside, a handsome man with brown hair sat calmly in a high-backed chair. His eyes, chillingly empty, watched them enter without a flicker of emotion. Beside him stood Lady Tanesha, her face solemn.
"Silence!" Tanesha's voice cutting through. "You are in the presence of our Lord." She gestured with a sharp look. "Now kneel!"
The boys dropped to their knees immediately. They kept their heads bowed, not daring to look up at the man in the chair.
Silence.
Then the Lord spoke, his voice calm.
"I am the Master of this place…"
"The creator of the Cursed Murk."
"...A Wizard."
As he spoke, spheres of elemental power began to materialize in the air around him. A fist-sized ball of flickering orange fire. A swirling orb of clear water. A clump of dark, shifting earth. They floated silently, a display of impossible power. After a moment, he let them vanish, leaving the boys in awestruck, terrified silence.
"You must be curious why you are here," he continued.
"This…is an opportunity."
"Each of you was chosen because you are smart, or quick-witted, or known as such."
"These were the qualities I bade my men to look for when hiring new blood."
He stood up slowly, looking down at them as if they were insects on a table. "I am looking for apprentices. Those who will follow me and gain the power of a wizard one day. Magic. Witchcraft. All the stories you have heard could be at your command. With that power, you could tame highborn lords, take any woman you desire, or claim any treasure you wish."
He paused, his eyes scanning their faces. He saw a few pairs of eyes widen, sparks of ambition behind the fear. He continued, gesturing toward Tanesha. "She will be responsible for teaching you the beginnings. This will also be a test. Those who succeed will be accepted as my apprentices. Those who fail will be reduced to servants, working for those…who succeed."
He let his gaze sweep over them. "Look at the faces beside you. They will be your greatest competitors."
The boys glanced nervously at one another, the new dynamic of rivalry taking root in their terror.
Then, a heavy, invisible pressure slammed down upon them. It forced the air from their lungs and pressed them flat against the cold stone floor. They groaned, unable to move, crushed by the weight. The Lord's voice came again, clear above their suffering. "Of course, if you create problems, you will meet a much worse fate."
As suddenly as it came, the pressure vanished. The boys gasped, their limbs weak and trembling as they struggled to push themselves up.
"Now," the Lord said, his tone returning to its indifferent calm. "Time to get your brands."
***
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