The Runic Alchemist

"It won't be nothing, though; he is a sinner and he will pay the price for his sins. Just not with his life. Twenty lashes every day right outside this building until the day comes when Lord Aramis Viranil himself says he has had enough." With that, the judgment was passed, and the meeting concluded.

Damian felt lifeless and empty inside. It was as if the world had suddenly become less vibrant around him. Lady Vidalia, the commander of the army, stood up and left the hall with some of her close acquaintances, including several old veteran lords and high-level second-rankers.

And with her all the lords and knights that had come to attend this meeting also stood up, some murmuring amonsts groups of three and four while some just walked out of the building entrance without so much as a glance back.

Damian, on the other hand, was left alone in the middle of the hall until the female queen's guard, who had almost killed him earlier, walked beside him and took the chains from Valoris's hands.

Valoris and Makayla approached him, their eyes filled with conflicted emotions, and said nothing. Well, that's what liars get—not that he had actively deceived them. Somewhere in their hearts, they knew the truth from the begining; it was now just confirmed.

The queen's guard member dragged him behind Lady Vidalia, up to the third floor of the commander's building, and pushed him into one of the rooms. It had a simple bed and some necessary items—nothing too fancy, most likely a servant's room. He was surprised he had even gotten this, he expected her to bring him to a dark cell and just throw him in.

The room had a window, but it was too small, he could't jump out of it even withhis small frame. Hundreds of tents were visible down there, even if he jumped, he wouldn't be able to run far without his spells or scrolls.

Left alone, Damian focused to the best of his ability, trying to reach for even a few particles of mana, but found nothing. He could clearly feel the vines inside his body slithering; they felt materialistic, a type of solid mana. Maybe if he could use the same spell the commander had used...? It had been too confusing and complex though.

He didn't even remember 30% of all the sections of the multi-colored runic circle. What else could he do? There was no mana ink to make spells on other surfaces, and chanting didn't work either—he had tried. He still had his stats, but physical powers were meaningless against something entirely made of mana. Maybe aura? But he didn't know the first thing about that...

Maybe he really did bit off more than he could chew this time. He could have run anytime while traveling with Valoris, but his arrogance clouded his judgment. He thought he could fool them all, that he could somehow save the situation and return to his friends. He had become complacent with prolonged peace. More power indeed makes the mind weaker.

He was more cautious when he was weaker and on the contant run. Well, it was too late for regrets. At least he was alive...

He would be beaten every day but he will still be live. There was one insane thing he could try, though. He had just thought of it, but he needed a good medium for it. There were no papers or anything around him, and the wood was not good enough. If he could just somehow get his hands on parchment, but even with that, this curse or whatever the petty elf had placed on him would remain. He couldn't run.

If he did, his powers would be forever sealed. Damian didn't like to admit it, but he had to. His fate was now in the hands of the lady commander of this damned army... All his mana-based skills would be useless too.

The group of powerful individuals with the commander, who most likely made all the strategies and important decisions around here, were also nearby, in one of the rooms on this third floor of the wooden building. With nothing to do, Damian lay down on the small bed and closed his eyes. At least it was peaceful and warm here.

With a loud bang, the door to his small room opened, breaking his sleep rudely. The female knight entered again—she was the same queen's guard who had demonic fury in her eyes while trying to chop his head off a few hours ago. Damian guessed it had been a few hours; he didn't know how long he had been asleep, he still felt tired though.

He looked out the window, not that it helped much, with night and day being same here.

His hands were still tied, but the chain dragging him had been loosened when she brought him in. She gestured with her head towards the entrance, her face still filled with displeasure and anger. Clearly, she disagreed with whatever reason the commander had for sparing his life.

Without question, Damian followed behind. It wasn't necessary, though; he soon figured out where he was going. It shouldn't have been a few hours since the commander and her small group of close aquintances were still in the same room that he remembered them being in before falling asleep, still discussing their plans. It looked like they were bored of war talk and were now interested in him...

The door to the large, ornately decorated room opened, and the angry knight led him or more like threw him in. The most powerful second rankers and even some Transcendent seeds like that Aramis guy that were present in this camp were seated around a big round table, still talking about their defenses and having a better response system against the occasional attacks on their waygates.

Seeing him and the knight, they slowed down a bit and observed his face as if all his secrets were written there.

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