The Runic Alchemist

Another roll of spells successfully formed runic circles, and Damian, too tired and in too much pain to bring them to him with mana threads, staggered towards them. Struggling to see clearly, he activated the spells up close raising his hands. Fortunately, they were five healing spells—another of his special runic healing roll.

He had grabbed them at random from his storage, not knowing which scrolls he held in his rush to counter Threadripper. But it had served him well, maybe 3 LUC wasn't that bad.

All five spells activated simultaneously, mending Damian's body and mind with a warm relief. Slowly, he felt alive again. His vision cleared, his focus sharpened, and he hastily drew a simple earth rune, powering it with Vidalia's mana to form five walls around Threadripper—on all sides and above—who was still slicing away at the invisible box.

Tristan and Aramis looked on in shock and confusion, unsure of what was happening until Damian sealed the crazed swordsman from their sight. It must have been dark in there.

Only then did Damian allow himself to collapse onto the snow, lying on his back and breathing heavily. His small body lacked the nutrition to endure five advanced healing spells; he was starving and felt severely drained. Moondancer and Vidalia, still busy with their own fight at a distance, hadn't seen what was happening clearly.

The strain on his link with Vidalia, as she moved in and out of range, added another layer of pain he had to endure.

'Keep her busy. Don't let her get here at any cost...'

'Huh? What did you do? What is that wall?'

'Just trust me and do as I say...'

'I don't have much choice here anyway...'

Moondancer could complicate things, but Damian couldn't afford to care. It felt wrong to deceive Vidalia and the others, but Damian never claimed to be a saint. Tristan and Aramis ran toward Lysandrea and the pugilist to aid them, thinking Threadripper had somehow given them a brief reprieve, unaware of the true situation behind those walls.

They didn't know what Damian had done. Vidalia might have guessed, but she hadn't seen Threadripper hacking away at the invisible wall before Damian sealed him with the earth walls.

Damian didn't enjoy unnecessary fights—he usually tried to avoid them—but when he did fight, he never went in half-heartedly. Vidalia and her companions had hoped to injure one of them enough to force a stalemate and set up another camp, but that was naïve. They would keep harassing their camp as long as they could, just as people in power always do to those weaker than them.

The problem with Ashenvale wasn't their numbers, their advanced waygate tool, or even their two third-rankers—it was their arrogance. They treated this like a game, playing with thousands of lives, thinking they couldn't lose because of their many advantages and the treaty protecting them.

They needed to pay. They needed to understand the cost of unnecessary conflict and suffering. They needed to see that even with countless advantages, they could still be hurt. They were not invincible as they believed. Well, let's see what treaty protects them from him. How glorious will their story be when they return home with one of their best fighters dead?

Vidalia and her companions didn't know what was happening—and that ignorance was, in a way, saving them from the knowledge that Damian was about to murder the swordmaster. No treaty would be violated, no fault committed. Damian had signed no treaties. He could kill whoever he deemed fit.

"I told you to beware of bugs, Threadripper…" Damian whispered, a smile creeping across his face. It didn't suit his age—it was ominous and full of malice.

Suddenly, Damian felt a surge of power coursing through him. His vision sharpened even more, and he felt like he could crush stones with his bare hands. Then it hit him.

'I leveled up.'

Only a massive leap in levels could explain this feeling. Which meant... Threadripper was dead. He had killed a third-ranker. Along with the power, though, came something darker—a creepy, cold energy surrounded him. His aura had turned more ominous, and a strange red mana pulsed beneath his chest.

It wasn't his, nor had he seen or sensed any spells nearby. It just... appeared with his level-up. He'd have to check his status later to understand what was happening.

For now, though, he had achieved his goal. Granted, he hadn't deliberately planned to kill someone today, but he had hoped for the opportunity—and when it came, he hadn't hesitated. It might seem presumptuous to pass judgment like this, punishing people for their crimes against humanity, who was he to do so..? But no one else here was even considering it.

They were all driven by greed, arrogance, and pride. Was it wrong of him to act as judge, jury, and executioner? Maybe. But it was better than watching thousands die for nothing. Those people could only hope and pray for better times, while Damian had the power to act—and that counted for something. That made him responsible, in a way.

At least, that's what he told himself as he accepted the fact that his rage toward Threadripper and Moondancer had led him to kill one of them in cold blood. It was a battle, yes, and they weren't playing around—Threadripper and Moondancer's every attack had been aimed to kill him. Maybe Damian could excuse it as self-defense.

But what about all those nights spent thinking about how to kill a third-ranker if given the chance? He had no excuse for those..

Damian stood, feeling stronger and more powerful than before. Tristan and Aramis had used potions and healing items to help their friends, giving them some relief. Damian walked slowly toward the sealed earth walls encasing Threadripper. Quietly, he broke a small part of the wall from the side where no one could see and slipped into the dark enclosure.

His invisible box spell was still active, powered by him with Vidalia's mana of course.