The crowd slowly dispersed as the second trial came to an end. Zend and Chris, both bruised and sore from their intense battles, walked side by side through the plaza toward their inn. The sky above Skyviolet City had turned a gentle orange, casting long shadows across the grand marble streets.
As they reached a fork near the bustling market square, Zend suddenly paused.
"Chris, you go ahead. I want to walk around a bit."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "Alone? You sure?"
Zend nodded. "Yeah. Just need to clear my head."
"Alright," Chris shrugged. "Don't get into trouble."
With a wave, Chris turned toward the inn. Zend, now alone, wandered deeper into the twilight-washed streets, the noise of merchants and laughter filling the air.
A Shadowed Corner
As Zend explored a quieter alley lined with faded tents and worn stalls, something unusual caught his eye a cloaked figure standing behind a small table draped in black velvet, lit only by a single flickering lantern.
The stall was filled with strange artifacts cracked crystal orbs, withered scrolls, glowing stones, and weathered books written in ancient languages.
Among them, a book bound in black leather with silver etchings caught Zend's attention. On its cover was a symbol he didn't recognize: a circle of arcane letters surrounding a spiraling rune.
He stepped closer.
"Interested, boy?" the cloaked merchant asked, his voice low and gravelly.
Zend picked up the book. Its weight felt odd, as if it were drawing in the ambient mana around it. Flipping through, he saw diagrams of runes, magical circles, and incantations for binding, enhancing, and transmuting energy.
"What is this?"
"A guide to Rune Magic," the merchant replied. "A rare art… nearly lost to time."
Zend's heart raced. Rune magic. He'd only heard of it in whispers. It wasn't flashy like elemental spells, but it was said to be incredibly powerful if one could master it.
"How much?" he asked, cautiously.
The merchant raised a gloved hand. "Ten gold coins."
Zend's eyes widened. That was nearly all the money he had left. He hesitated.
"Too expensive? Then perhaps"
"No," Zend interrupted. He looked at the book again. Something deep inside him urged him not to let it go. After a long breath, he reached into his pouch and handed over the coins. "I'll take it."
The merchant chuckled softly, wrapping the book in cloth before handing it over.
"May your mind be sharp, and your will unbroken."
Back at the Inn
Later that night, Zend returned to the inn where Chris was already lying on his bed, tossing a small ball of lightning between his fingers.
"Took your time," Chris said, sitting up as Zend entered. "Did you get mugged or something?"
Zend grinned and held up the wrapped book.
"Found something interesting."
Chris leaned over as Zend unwrapped the cloth, revealing the rune-covered leather.
"Rune Magic?" Chris frowned. "Seriously?"
Zend nodded. "Have you heard of it?"
"Yeah… and I've heard why no one uses it. Rune Masters are like ghosts. Only a few in the world. You need insane focus, precision, and brains. Most people give up after their first rune explodes in their face."
Chris yawned and leaned back. "Also, you need a carving tool made from beast core. Incredibly rare. Even harder to make properly. Nine out of ten break during crafting."
Zend didn't respond. He was already flipping through the pages, his eyes locked on the detailed illustrations. Runes weren't just magical symbols—they were mathematical, geometric, and alchemical patterns, each etched with extreme care. The book even described the mental training needed to endure hours of concentration and the dangers of even the smallest mistake.
No wonder so few choose this path.
But Zend felt no fear only fascination.
This is exactly the kind of challenge I want.
Chris glanced at him and sighed.
"Just don't blow up our room."
Zend chuckled. "I'll try not to."
That night, while Chris slept, Zend sat under the lantern light eyes fixed on the book, mind racing with possibilities. As the world outside faded into silence, the symbols on the page seemed to pulse faintly with power.
A new path had opened before him not of brute strength or elemental destruction, but of patience, understanding, and precision.
And Zend Kly, with a needle in hand and a storm inside his mind, would walk it.
That night, Zend eventually fell asleep, the black-leather book resting on his chest, his thoughts swirling with symbols and theories. But just as his mind drifted into unconsciousness, the world around him began to distort.
Suddenly, Zend found himself in a vast, empty white space silent, motionless, infinite.
The air shimmered slightly, and from the swirling mist ahead, a figure emerged.
Zend recognized the aura. This was not the first time he'd had this dream. But now… the person was clearer.
He saw a tall man, cloaked in flowing robes of dark indigo trimmed with gold. His face was sharp and ageless, eyes like silver starlight, with three glowing runes etched across his right arm each of them pulsing gently as if alive.
His presence was overwhelming, ancient, yet calm.
"You've taken the first step, child of the needle," the figure spoke, his voice echoing like a deep chime in a cavern. "The rune has found you."
Zend stepped forward, feeling both awe and curiosity.
"Who are you? Why do I keep seeing you?"
The figure did not answer directly. Instead, he lifted his hand, and with a slow motion, drew a rune in the air using his finger. The symbol hovered and shimmered with faint blue light.
"Rune Magic is not merely a tool. It is language. It is soul. And the path you walk is one that few dare tread.""But know this: your Aether is not what it seems. The needle… is only its first shape."
Zend's eyes widened.
"What do you mean? Can it… evolve?"
The man nodded slowly.
"All things have potential. But only those with eyes to see, and hands to shape, can bring that potential to life. If you seek the truth… you must unlock what lies within yourself."
Then, the man placed his hand on Zend's forehead.
Zend felt a surge of energy, and in that moment, he saw images flash through his mind ancient runes carved into mountains, massive Aethers transforming into mythical forms, and a black needle splitting into countless radiant shards.
Then darkness.
Zend awoke with a jolt.
The lantern was still burning dimly in the room. Chris snored quietly in the bed next to him.
Zend wiped sweat from his brow, heart pounding. He looked down at the book still in his hands. His fingers trembled slightly, not from fear but from excitement.
The needle is only its first shape...
The dream had felt more real than any before. And now, more than ever, he was certain his path wasn't ordinary.
Something was calling him.
And he would answer.