The Runic Alchemist

Damian let his body sink into the large wooden bathtub filled with warm water, releasing a satisfying sound. It just felt right. Maybe humans had a suppressed desire to return to the water one day, that's where all life began right..? Or maybe he was just tripping…

Three days had passed since their fight against the Ashenvale third-rankers. They had planned to create a minor problem for Ashenvale to keep them from attacking, but instead, Damian had eliminated one third-ranker entirely, and another had no way to reach them without being caught by the hundreds of scouts spread out across the snow-covered plains.

The Eldoris camp was located at the edge of the forest, bordering the Dreaded Lands. Waygates checkpoints were set up along the entire perimeter, forming a circular line from mountain to mountain, surrounding the plains. They had spread out, the main camp was smaller now with just three defense mechanism pillars.

It was a good old stalemate. Eldoris could launch an attack, but they didn't have the numbers, and they could use the time to prepare better. Unless absolutely necessary, they would wait for Bonecrusher to arrive in their small dome, protected by three massive defense pillars. At least, here, day and night were clear enough once you ventured deeper inland.

Nothing reminded Damian how far he was from home more than looking up at the clear night sky and seeing millions of stars—far closer and clearer than he ever saw on Earth. He was often dragged along with Vidalia when she went into the forest for one reason or another.

One good thing that came from these trips was that he finally learned the runic circle for the wood style. It was more complicated than other spells, though. First of all, it used three elements: water, earth, and light. Then, every action Vidalia performed with her spell—like erecting walls, building roofs, or creating decorations—used a different runic circle.

Still, the more Damian studied, the more he could figure out the essential parts that would give him more control over the basic spell to manipulate and create wood. Also they kept asking him about Threadripper but he said not a single word, staying firm on his earlier statement that he had send him far off with a special wormhole.

Finishing his leisure time, Damian dressed and left his new room in the wooden building Vidalia had built for herself. It was just as large as the last one. No one looked after him or guarded him as he moved through the corridors; the maids and soldiers were too busy hurrying to complete their tasks. He had been given a room far larger and nicer than any he had received before.

Supplies were scarce, so he had to make do with what was left from the five stacks of parchment he'd received—half of which he had foolishly stored in his broken spatial storage.

The runesmith beastman had said the storage could be fixed, but only an expert in repairs and mending could do it properly. The runesmiths specialized in different aspects of runic tools, and his specialty was weapon-making, which was why he was here. Vidalia had given Damian a temporary storage plate as a replacement, but it was annoying to carry.

He had ordered new bracers with the same runic inscriptions, and the runesmith said they would take a week to make—and even then, they would have reduced capabilities compared to the originals.

After the fight, Damian was treated with newfound respect by everyone in the Eldoris army camp, who knows who talked about those stuff behind his back. When he walked through the hallways, soldiers stopped and bowed their heads respectfully to let him pass. Nobles, of course, didn't do that.

Instead, they treated him like a rare, extinct animal, each trying to lure him into their "zoo," claiming theirs was better than the others. He did his best to avoid them, but when forced to interact, he insulted them left and right. Unfortunately, this group was more shameless than the average commoner. They smiled through it all, like masochists, which creeped Damian out.

Compared to them, even Tristan seemed like a decent fellow—and that thought terrified him. A world where Tristan was considered normal could only be a psych ward.

He arrived at the room he spent the most time in, aside from his own. Vidalia's extra books and random clutter filled it, but in one corner, Damian had set up a table and chairs and a little space near a big window, and it was clean. This was where he worked on understanding and expanding his runic knowledge, coming up with random ideas, and, if they seemed feasible, even acting on them.

When he opened the door, the room was, as usual, mostly empty. Occasionally, though, a green blob haired girl would come to sit in one of the chairs, looking sad and miserable. In her words, 'This is the only place where people don't come to find me,' so she would occasionally intrude on his work.

Having dealt with many children in his life, Damian had tried everything to comfort her about her mother, but nothing worked. The children he dealt with had never known their parents or had been abandoned by them. Losing a parent—he could only imagine how that felt. It must be worse to have something and then lose it than never to have had it at all… Maybe...

"I think Daphne was looking for you," Damian said as he settled into his favorite chair, pulling out his research papers and tools from the spatial storage.

"They're all looking for me.." she muttered, her voice muffled as she kept her head down on the table.

"Maybe they have something important to tell you..."

"Like, 'I understand your pain,' or 'Everything happens for a reason,' or 'It's some grand plan by goddess Astraea to keep everyone happy..' How in the hell does my mamma dying make anyone happy?" she said, sounding more emotional than usual. Someone must have said something especially stupid to upset her, besides the clichés.

"Fine, stay here then. But I warn you, if this room explodes and someone asks me why it happened, I'm blaming you," Damian joked. He wasn't great at it, but he tried—anything to make her feel a little better.

"I can't blow things up! No one would believe you," she said, finally lifting her head. There was a slight redness around her eyes—another night of crying herself to sleep, huh?

"They'll believe anything I say these days. I'm their hero, you know…"

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