The Runesmith

Chapter 510: A Bad Dream?

“...”

"Where am I... I’m sure that I was..."

Roland clutched his head, struggling to piece together his scattered thoughts. His mind was a foggy mess, memories slipping through his fingers. The last thing he remembered was drinking tea that his wife had given him. Then he’d woken up here, lying on a wooden floor, in a strange, unfamiliar place. The room felt oddly surreal, like something from the magical institute where bookshelves floated mid-air.

As Roland took in his surroundings, a disorienting sense of familiarity washed over him. The architecture around him looked bizarre, a warped imitation of a place he knew well. The walls bent at unnatural angles, and furniture floated lazily around the room, as if gravity had taken a vacation. He took a tentative step, only to realize he was standing on the ceiling, and yet he didn't fall.

"Is this... the Arden estate?"

He murmured with a confused tone filling his voice. It looked like his family's estate, but everything felt distorted, as though the estate were trying to remember itself and failing. The tapestries were worn but still beautiful, their scenes shifting and changing subtly whenever he looked away.

Roland tried to ground himself, tracing his way down a corridor, which stretched and wobbled like a reflection on water. A faint, elusive memory stirred at the back of his mind - the mostly abandoned wing of the estate, his childhood sanctuary, and the library there that he used to attend. He moved as the world distorted around him but with each step, the scenery became more grounded. The memories started coming back and with them the mansion started to solidify more. Finally, he stood before a door he hadn’t seen in years, the one that he arrived into this world, the original Roland’s room.

After taking a deep breath, he reached out and turned the handle. The door swung open with an almost silent creak, revealing his childhood room just as he remembered it - or close enough. The bed was small, covered in a faded quilt he recognized as his maid’s handiwork. Most of the rest was empty space, no toys or paintings, just a bed with an addition that he did not expect to see. There was a figure on the bed, a child whose face he couldn’t truly see.

The child was probably around the same age Roland had been when he first arrived in this world - about five. The boy didn’t look at him, instead was staring out the window at a view hidden from Roland’s sight. Eventually, though, the child sensed someone else in the room and glanced over his shoulder. His features were coming into focus, though a haze still blurred Roland’s vision.

The boy said, his voice small yet steady. Roland’s heart skipped a beat. He recognized that voice as it belonged to him when he was a child in this world. He tried to speak, to ask the child who he was, but his lips refused to part. Instead, he felt drawn forward, each step slow and heavy, like walking through mud. With every step, it became harder to move, but the boy continued speaking.

“You shouldn’t be here… if you stay, it will notice you.”

Roland froze mid-step - or perhaps he simply couldn’t move any farther. At the boy’s words, a deep rumble began to shake the entire estate. The window, once obscured by mist, started to clear, revealing something lurking beyond. Through the haze, he could finally make it out: an enormous, monstrous eyeball, eerily familiar, like something from a forgotten nightmare.

It seemingly floated in some kind of empty void, massive tentacles protruding from it with many smaller eyeballs everywhere. Each tentacle wove through the air like it was breathing, its smaller eyes blinking in erratic patterns as they were looking for something. Roland couldn't place where he'd seen this creature before, nor why it filled him with such dread. The boy on the bed remained still, his gaze locked on Roland.

"You have to leave..."

The child said in a low, urgent whisper.

"If it sees you…#$^@”

Suddenly, the boy's words turned into loud, distorted static, drowning out whatever he was trying to warn him about. The gigantic eyeball outside wasn’t looking directly at them, but its massive, writhing tentacles were creeping toward the estate, slowly coiling around it. The walls started to constrict around them, bending and warping as if responding to the approach of the creature outside. Roland's pulse quickened as a claustrophobic feeling crept over him. It was as if the room itself was afraid, trying to protect itself.

The child sat still on the bed, staring at him through a haze, his face unclear. For a brief moment, it seemed as if he was smiling - a soft, soothing expression that puzzled Roland greatly. Then, suddenly, a radiant light erupted from the boy, flooding the entire estate in white. The monstrous entity outside let out a deafening roar, its tentacles recoiling as they were engulfed in the warm, pulsating glow. Roland could feel the light’s strange warmth wash over him, both fierce and comforting, as if it was warding off the darkness inching closer.

The searing light grew brighter, pulling Roland further from the strange room and the monstrous figure outside, until everything around him melted into a surreal blur. He felt himself slipping back, a gentle tug as if something was guiding him away. Then, the light receded, and when Roland opened his eyes, he found himself lying on his own couch, staring up at the familiar ceiling of his home. The lingering warmth from the dream filled him with confusion. His heart pounded as the memory of that enormous eye, a sinister presence filled his memories but soon the thoughts faded and he found his mind at peace.

“What was that… I’m sure, I’ve seen that eyeball before, everything felt so real…”

He mumbled to himself as he tried to recall the strange dream he'd just had. The enormous eyeball and the child’s words echoed faintly in his mind, leaving him unsettled. He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples as if to chase away the last wisps of the dream. The feeling of the boy’s presence and that protective light lingered, blending with the quiet of his home. He glanced around, half-expecting the walls to waver or the couch to sink into some other dimension, but everything remained solid.

“I’m not in an illusion at least.”

After activating his debugging skill and scanning his surroundings, he was certain he wasn’t trapped in any abyssal cult illusion. The dream felt too vivid, and he wondered if there was more to it than met the eye. It was simply too surreal to dismiss as an ordinary dream. This world was built on powerful magic, inhabited by strange entities and forces. His instincts told him it might be unwise to ignore the dream, but at the moment, he had other concerns demanding his attention.

“My level hasn’t gone up in a while, has it?”

Roland sighed as he looked at his status screen. His progress had stagnated, and seeing it laid out in such detail only reminded him of the mountain of work ahead. The eerie dream he’d just experienced left a faint echo in his mind, but practical matters pulled him back to reality. The fleeting memory of the child’s warning and the monstrous eyeball wouldn’t fade, though.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt he’d encountered that entity before. It was somewhat similar to the monster that was responsible for Bernir losing his arm, so perhaps it was just a nightmare from feeling guilty over it. He shook his head and focused instead on his surroundings - the quiet home or Agni’s muffled snores just outside his home’s main door through which he could not fit in anymore. A note on the counter caught his eye. He recognized Elodia’s handwriting immediately.

*There’s some food in the runic refrigerator. Don’t let Agni eat it, he has already been fed and has been getting fatter since you’ve been so busy. I’ll be with the other children and return after nightfall.*

Roland chuckled, imagining his overgrown wolf poking his head through the kitchen window, sniffing hopefully at the fridge, and getting some treats from a disgruntled Elodia. Agni, unfortunately, had outgrown the house a while back. He usually stayed in his stable-sized doghouse but it seemed that he preferred to stay closer to his master, even if that meant blocking the way in. He decided he’d let Agni continue his self-appointed role of guard dog for now, as he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

A clock directly in front of him indicated it was close to seven in the evening. Judging by the note, his wife would probably return in an hour or two. The dormitory he had built for all the orphans wasn’t far, so he wasn’t too concerned about her safety. Robert and Lucille were still fast asleep, as they hadn’t gotten a sleep resistance skill as he had.

Even though he’d been drugged by a potent sleeping agent, it had only lasted for about ten hours. He’d have to talk to his wife about it once she returned, but he understood her reasoning. He’d been stuck at the institute for a long time, and when he finally returned, he was either leaving again or absorbed in crafting Bernir’s runic prosthesis. It was clear she was worried about him overextending himself. Still, he knew that true rest wasn’t an option yet. His recent adventures had shown him that he was far from strong or independent enough to feel secure.

‘Will I have to reach tier 4 before I can ever relax?’

After sighing, he headed to the runic fridge, where he found some treats from his wife - a well-prepared meal with meat, roasted vegetables, and even garlic bread, one of his favorites. To no surprise, his armor was still mostly on him as he had only managed to remove his helmet. Somehow, Elodia had managed to get him onto the couch though, probably with the help of a levitation spell which was possible through some of the inventions in his home to which his wife had access to.

“Should I remove her runic privileges for that?”

He chuckled to himself as he stood, waving a hand to cast a spell of silence. His steps needed to be quiet so as not to disturb Agni and his brother, who were still slumbering. Soon, he was seated at the dining table, savoring his meal while contemplating his plans. His first priority was rescuing Bernir, but there was much more work ahead.

For one, his level had been stagnant for some time, so he was planning a return to the dungeon. With the help of his various runic creations, he hoped to make quick progress through the undead temples. Roland was counting on encountering higher-level undead monsters there, which would let him grind for experience once more. His old method of using runic schematics had reached its limit, and he wasn’t expecting to discover any tier 4 runes anytime soon. To achieve that, he’d likely need to infiltrate the Dwarven Union’s main facility, where the greatest craftsmen guarded their secrets.

Next on his agenda was modernizing Albrook, perhaps by constructing a few larger facilities for assembly. Coming from a more advanced world, the idea of building factories for part production was natural to him. However, in this world, everything revolved around the class system. A seasoned, high-level blacksmith could do the work of ten or twenty lesser blacksmiths alone. There was no real demand for factories, as levels and skills were what mattered most.

But Roland’s mindset and abilities differed. While factories in his old world required skilled workers, his vision here was different: he imagined a mechanized facility powered by runic technology, independent of class-based skills. Machines and runic cabling could operate tirelessly, assembling parts or even entire structures, bypassing the limitations of individual skill and enabling true mass production. This approach could create a steady supply of advanced items, potentially leveling the playing field for those without high-tier classes.

One issue with the factory concept, however, lay in his incomplete understanding of rune crafting, the method of creating runes. For some reason, even if he meticulously carved out perfect rune paths manually, they wouldn’t activate unless his skill was in use. He couldn’t transfer his skill to automatons, and even his runic vision didn’t provide any answers. Still, he had been working on a few theories and alternatives to make a runic factory viable. In theory, he should eventually be able to produce parts, but it would take time to make this vision a reality.

Then all around strengthening of Albrook was also in order which included his brother. He was a well-trained knight with proper training and had served during battles in the north of the kingdom. He would be a fine addition to Arthur’s troops. The other Valerian sons were still out there and with Albrook’s lord gaining power things would start to move. Roland could see him being invited to noble parties and perhaps them clashing with opposing troops. There were ways of taking over territory and that town he rescued a few street urchins from seemed dissatisfied with their leadership.

Fallout also awaited him from the Headmistress, and potentially from his own father. Previously, he had thought Wentworth cared little for family, seeing them as nothing more than expendable pawns. However, Wentworth had struck deals with Count Graham De Vere and the Castellane House when Lucienne was involved. It was possible he would eventually come searching for Robert as well.

‘Then there is also the church… this really blows…’

Agni was treated by them as a kind of holy beast, making it difficult to take him anywhere. Once Roland sorted his things out, he planned to bring Agni into the dungeon for some adventures, but with Solarian fanatics everywhere, that would likely be a challenge. With a sigh, Roland finished his meal, wiped his hands on a cloth, and glanced out the window. The night outside was quiet, but his ears picked up something - familiar footsteps and breathing.

‘Hm, I guess Elodia came back early.’

It was his wife, trekking through the compound that had automatic lights to show the way and turrets to defend her from harm. Roland felt a sense of calm wash over him as he heard Elodia’s footsteps approaching. It was reassuring to know that despite all the chaotic things demanding his attention, here, within his own home, there was peace - however temporary it might be.

‘She did drug me with that potion…’

A grin appeared on his lips as he moved closer to the entrance. He made sure that no light would shine in the corner that he was standing in and then waited. Elodia approached from the front but he knew that she wouldn’t use that door as it had been blocked by a large wolf. Instead, she needed to circle around and use the backdoor instead where he was already waiting. Finally, the door creaked open, and Elodia slipped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.

“Welcome back!”

Roland shouted while jamming both his index fingers into Elodia’s waist from the back. She was quite ticklish near her sides and would always flinch in a comedic fashion if he inserted both his fingers there at the same time.

“ACK!”

Elodia leapt forward, nearly dropping the bundle of books and papers she was holding as she spun around to face Roland. Her wide eyes softened the moment she saw him grinning mischievously in the shadows, and her glare turned into a bemused smile.

“Roland!”

She gasped, clutching her chest with one hand.

“You scared the life out of me!”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he took a step back.

"I couldn't resist. That’s for giving me that special tea.”

Elodia rolled her eyes, shaking her head in annoyance but under her pouty gaze a smile started to form.

“It was for your own good. You needed rest more than anyone I know, and I'd do it again if it means you actually get some sleep."

He raised a hand in mock surrender and then closed the door behind her. There were some things they needed to discuss but perhaps, that could wait.

“Ah, I know but next time, perhaps just ask?”

“As I that would ever work~”

They both knew how thickheaded Roland could be and after a little pause, the couple found themselves in each other’s embrace. While time here was fleeting and there was much more work to do, Roland savored this moment as tomorrow he needed to finalize his plans and decide how to tackle the Bernir issue.

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