Elder Molric moved to a large cabinet in the corner of his laboratory. "Now, before we begin, let me get the practice materials." He opened the doors, revealing rows of neatly organized equipment. "Contrary to what you might have read, no one expects initiates to create their Fundamental Rune on their first attempt."

He paused, a distant look crossing his face. "Back in my day, of course, we didn't have all these safety measures. They just threw us in a room with a knife and told us to figure it out." He shuddered slightly. "Most of us either turned into monstrosities or exploded. The Failure Garden was much larger back then."

"That's... reassuring," I muttered as he gathered various items from the cabinet.

"Oh, don't worry!" He said cheerfully. "We've refined the process considerably since then. Now we only lose about one in twenty initiates during rune creation." He must have noticed my expression because he quickly added, "And those are mostly the ones who ignore their master's instructions and try to rush things."

I watched as he placed the equipment out on a workbench with surprising precision for someone who kept exploding plants.

"This," he held up what looked like a silver pen with crimson inlay, "is a resonance stylus. It allows you to channel your energy in precise patterns without... well, without your arm melting off." He smiled at my expression. "Just a joke! Usually it's only the fingers that melt."

"Master," Azure whispered in my mind, "I don't think he's joking."

"And this," Elder Molric continued, pointing to what appeared to be an ordinary potted plant with pure white leaves, "is a Blank Canvas Lily. Bred over hundreds of years specifically for rune practice. Its only purpose is to accept runic inscriptions without transforming or exploding."

He stroked one of the white leaves almost affectionately. "The academies used to use regular plants for practice. Lost quite a few promising students that way. But these beauties..." He beamed with pride. "They're completely stable. Well, mostly stable. Sometimes they develop consciousness and try to escape, but that's quite rare."

"And what do I use for the inscription?" I asked, eyeing the stylus.

"Ah yes!" He produced a small vial of crimson liquid. "Resonance ink. Similar properties to blood but much less... permanent. Perfect for practice." He paused. "Though do try not to get any in your eyes. That batch of students took weeks to stop glowing."

I was starting to understand why the academy had so many liability waivers.

"I have hundreds of Blank Canvas Lilies prepared," he added, gesturing to a shelf lined with identical white plants. "Though I expect you'll need less than thirty attempts. You seem..." he studied me thoughtfully, "unusually stable for an initiate."

He then brought out another plant, this one with leaves that seemed to shift between crystal and organic matter. "This is a Meridian Lotus. When you've perfected your design, you'll use your blood with the stylus to inscribe the final version here. Then simply press it to where you want your Fundamental Rune to manifest, and it will merge with your body."

A thought occurred to me. "Couldn't someone else create the rune using my blood? Someone with more experience?"

"Everyone asks that!” Elder Molric laughed. “But no – the rune pattern must be created using your own red sun energy. Using another's energy would make it incompatible with your body." His expression darkened. "People have tried. The results were... unfortunate."

"How unfortunate?" I couldn't help asking.

"Let's just say we had to add a new wing to the Failure Garden." He cleared his throat. "Now then, shall we begin?"

I nodded, picking up the stylus. It felt warm in my hand, almost alive.

"Remember," Elder Molric said, "this first attempt is just to get a feel for how your energy interacts with the resonance ink. Don't expect too much."

I took a deep breath and channeled my energy into the stylus. The crimson ink began to flow, responding to my will.

"Start with the trunk," Azure suggested. "Follow the Celestial Spiral pattern we discussed."

I touched the stylus to one of the lily's leaves, trying to maintain steady pressure as I drew the main line. The ink spread smoothly at first, forming the beginning of the spiral. But as I tried to maintain the curve...

"Too much energy," Azure warned, but it was too late.

The line suddenly jagged sideways, ruining the perfect spiral. As if that wasn't bad enough, the excess energy I'd channeled caused the ink to bubble and spread, turning my elegant design into something that looked like a child's finger painting.

"Ah," Elder Molric murmured, "I see you've discovered why we use practice plants." He pointed to the ruined lily, whose white leaves were now stained with random crimson splatters. "The resonance ink responds to both physical pressure and energy flow. Too much of either..."

"Makes a mess," I finished, studying my failed attempt. At least it hadn't exploded.

"Indeed. Try using shorter strokes for the spiral. It's easier to maintain consistent energy flow that way." He glanced at a complicated sundial near the window, "Actually, I have a class to teach." He sighed heavily. "Politics, you understand. They insist all elders must maintain some teaching duties, no matter how much valuable research time it wastes."

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"You don't enjoy teaching?" I asked, though I could guess the answer.

"Teaching itself isn't the problem," he replied, gathering some materials. "It's the curriculum. So rigid, so... limited. 'Stick to the approved techniques,' they say. 'Don't confuse the students with experimental theories.'" He shook his head in disgust. "As if innovation itself wasn't born from questioning established practices!"

As he headed for the door, still muttering about the inconvenience of teaching, I prepared another lily for my second attempt.

"Let's analyze what went wrong," Azure said. "The initial energy flow was stable, but you lost control trying to maintain the curve."

I nodded, picking up the stylus again. "Shorter strokes then, like he suggested?"

"Yes. And perhaps we could use the Genesis Seed to help regulate the energy flow."

The second attempt went better... until I tried adding the first branch. The angle was wrong, disrupting the harmony of the spiral. The whole pattern destabilized, though at least this time the ink didn't splatter everywhere.

Third attempt: The trunk spiral was perfect, but the branches were too rigid, creating harsh angles that clashed with the natural flow.

Fourth: Better branching, but the leaf motifs at the ends looked more like thorns. Definitely not the effect I was going for.

"The problem," Azure observed during attempt number twelve, "is that we're trying to force the pattern. Look at how plants grow naturally – they don't plan their branches, they respond to their environment."

That sparked something. "You're right... we're approaching this like architects when we should be thinking like gardeners."

The next attempt, I tried something different. Instead of planning every line, I let my energy flow more naturally, using the Genesis Seed's instincts for plant growth. The result was... better. Not perfect, but the pattern had a more organic feel.

"Good," Azure encouraged. "Now we just need to balance that natural flow with the mathematical precision of the Celestial Spiral."

Hours passed as I refined the design. Each attempt taught me something new:

* Attempt 15: Too much focus on symmetry made it feel artificial

* Attempt 17: Too little structure made it chaotic

* Attempt 19: Finally achieved the right balance, but the energy distribution was uneven

* Attempt 22: Perfect structure, but the flow was blocked at key junction points

By attempt 24, I felt it. Everything aligned – the mathematical precision of the spiral, the natural flow of the branches, the perfect harmony of the leaf motifs. As I drew the final line, the entire pattern seemed to come to life.

I sat back, studying my work. The design was beautiful in its simplicity: a central trunk following the Celestial Spiral, with branches extending at key points that corresponded to natural growth patterns. Each branch terminated in a leaf motif that echoed the spiral's curve, creating perfect resonance throughout the entire pattern.

"Impressive," Elder Molric's voice made me jump. I hadn't heard him return. "The integration of natural growth patterns with geometric precision... very elegant."

He leaned closer, studying the pattern. "And you've incorporated subtle reinforcing elements here and here," he pointed to places where secondary lines strengthened the main pattern. "Very thoughtful. This design should allow for significant expansion as you advance."

"Thank you, Master."

"Are you ready to create the final version?"

I nodded, though my heart was pounding. This was the moment of truth – creating the pattern that would permanently mark my body.

Well, "permanent" until I inevitably died horribly or reset the loop, but at least I'd get to keep the knowledge of how to do it right next time.

Elder Molric handed me a small knife with a crystal blade. "Just a few drops in the ink reservoir," he said. "The resonance stylus will mix it with catalysts that make it suitable for inscription."

I pricked my finger, letting several drops of blood fall into the stylus's chamber. The crimson liquid swirled, taking on a subtle glow.

"Now," Elder Molric said, placing the Meridian Lotus before me, "remember – this must be perfect. Once the pattern is complete, you'll have only moments to press it to your skin before the energy destabilizes."

I took a deep breath, centering myself before I touched the stylus to the lotus leaf.

This time, everything flowed perfectly. My hand moved with absolute certainty, guided by hours of practice and the Genesis Seed's natural affinity for plant-based patterns. The blood-infused ink spread in perfect lines, each stroke exactly where it needed to be.

As I drew the final leaf motif, the entire pattern began to glow crimson. The lines seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat.

"Now!" Elder Molric commanded.

I pressed the leaf to my chest, directly over my heart. There was a moment of searing heat, then a sensation like roots spreading through my entire being. The pattern seemed to sink into my skin, becoming one with my body.

Elder Molric released a long breath I hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"What was that about?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He gave a slightly sheepish smile. "The moment of merging... it tells us whether the rune and body will accept each other or, well..." he made a small explosive gesture with his hands. "Oh, don't worry though - the chance is extremely small, only about three percent!"

"I thought it was a five percent chance of exploding if we didn't follow instructions," I said. "You mean even doing everything perfectly still has a three percent chance of going wrong?"

"Ah," Elder Molric's smile turned slightly strained. "Well, the statistics are... complicated. But don't worry, I would have stepped in and removed the rune before any explosion could occur. That's why I was watching so carefully. Though it would have been quite painful for you," he added as an afterthought.

Even though I hadn't been in any real danger of becoming a new decoration for the Failure Garden, his attempt at reassuring me didn’t make me feel much better.

Still, there was no point dwelling on what could have happened. Instead, I turned my attention to what had actually worked. Looking down at my chest, I couldn't help but admire what we'd created...

The Fundamental Rune had turned out exactly as I'd hoped - a silver tree that seemed to live just beneath my skin. Its trunk curved in a graceful Fibonacci spiral, with branches sweeping outward and up, each ending in a delicate leaf pattern. The whole thing was about the size of my palm, it sat right over my heart, glowing softly like moonlight on water even at rest.

Now I just had to figure out how to recreate this same pattern in my inner world - and without any of the specialized equipment that had made it possible here. That would be the real challenge.

“Master, the status of this body has updated,” Azure informed me.

Before I could respond, Elder Molric let out a loud cough into his sleeve, pulling me from my thoughts.

"So, how does it feel?" he asked.

Pushing aside my curiosity about my new stats, I closed my eyes and focused on the heat radiating from the rune.

"Like... like I've always had it. Like it’s filling a part of me that was missing."

"That's exactly how it should feel," he said with a nod of approval. "Your body is already adjusting to its new foundation."

"And what’s next?" I asked.

"Rest," he said firmly. "Let your body fully integrate with the rune. Tomorrow..." he smiled, and I felt a slight chill, "tomorrow we begin your real training."