Sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor, Constantine allowed his eyelids to drift shut. The pulse of mana thrummed steadily through his hand. He had already exhausted all four combinations, even attempting to substitute the darkness rune with fire. Each try had led to results that were far from what he’d expected. Frustration churned within him as he pondered his dwindling options. ‘Either the merchant overhyped this Firefox,’ he mused, his brow knitting in thought, ‘or there’s something else I’m missing.’

His exhale was slow, a controlled whisper in the silent room. Then, without warning, his eyes snapped open, a spark of realization igniting within them. ‘Could it be?’ His thoughts raced. ‘Implant, replay the attempt where the shadows shifted. Slow it down. Filter out the sensations from the rest of my body and leave only those in my hand. Amplify them.’

Darkness engulfed the room as his senses dulled, the world around him fading into silence. The steady throb of mana in his hand remained. The warmth of the first summon rune flared, spreading gently through his fingers. Constantine gave a slight nod. As the darkness rune ignited, his brow furrowed in concentration. He felt it now—a faint pulse of mana, a subtle connection from the first rune to the second and back. ‘It’s there,’ he confirmed, his face lighting up. ‘Implant, amplify the sensations in my hand even further.’

The moment the second rune accepted the surge of liquid mana, a small pulse ricocheted back to the first. The feedback loop sent a shiver of excitement through him.

‘Stop it,’ he commanded, and his surroundings snapped back into focus. A grin spread across his face. The answer had been hiding in plain sight. ‘So the connection between runes isn’t one-way but a two-way flow. Maybe thinking of them in purely linguistic terms isn’t enough. There might be a few new combinations I haven’t tried.’

He felt the mana surge again as he guided it into his hand. The alpha rune glowed with a steady light. His heart raced. ‘It didn’t collapse,’ he noted, his excitement mounting. ‘So, the summon rune doesn’t have to be first.’ With careful precision, he directed the mana straight into the summon rune. His grin widened as the energy responded. ‘It seems to work.’ Without hesitation, he linked the darkness rune to the summon rune.

The runes pulsed with life, the mana coursing between them in a tight loop. The darkness around him stirred, no longer sluggish and heavy but alive, vibrating with energy. It swirled violently, shadows dancing around him in chaotic patterns.

Beside him, the wolf wagged its tail, its crimson eyes gleaming with a curious light as it watched the swirling shadows. Constantine’s smile softened, though his mind was already racing ahead. ‘What is your meaning? Accelerate? Move? But why this order? It isn’t chronological. I should first summon the darkness, then move it.’ His thoughts tangled, the understanding he’d begun to grasp unraveling before him.

But he had no time to linger on uncertainties. He directed the flow of mana from the summon rune to the last unused one—the Beta Rune. The shadows shifted once more, their form becoming more controlled, yet still writhing with barely contained energy. He drew a deep breath, focusing as he dissolved another layer of the core. Darkness poured from his open palm, surging forward in a thick, chaotic stream before dissipating a short distance away as they dispersed in every direction.

His pulse quickened, eyes widening with realization. The stream of darkness had moved forward, though not far. Cutting off the mana, he let his fingers tingle with residual energy as he pondered the implications. ‘Why so short? What do you lack? More mana?’ After a moment’s contemplation, he nodded, an idea crystallizing. ‘The alpha rune seems to make the shadows move, but it’s erratic. The beta rune gives direction. In this case, forward, as it drives the shadows to the space in front of my palm.’

There was still one more combination to try. His fingers twitched, eager to channel more mana. ‘If linking the forward rune to the summon rune makes it summon things in front of the rune, then linking it to the move rune should make it move things forward instead of swirling around chaotically.’

With each breath, the core in his hand shrank as he funneled more mana into it. Heat surged into his hand. The move rune flared to life, connecting to the summon rune, which in turn linked to the darkness rune. The shadows surged, swirling and thrashing in wild patterns around him. Excitement sparked in his eyes as he linked the move rune to the forward rune.

The effect was immediate. The chaotic shadows straightened, shooting forward in a single, focused direction, exactly where his palm pointed. Mesmerized, Constantine moved his hand, the dark beam following its path like a shadowy spotlight, emitting darkness instead of light.

The wolf perked up beside him, its paws batting at the stream of darkness, its eyes gleaming with playful intent. Constantine watched, amused, as the wolf’s tail swayed in rhythm with the beam. But when he cut off the flow of mana, the wolf’s ears drooped, its tail going still. He chuckled softly, “Why are you acting like a cat with a laser pointer?”

His thoughts drifted back to the experiment, replaying the sequence in his mind. ‘Implant, replay the scene for me. All in slow motion.’

The sensations returned, mana flowing through his fingers as the runes lit up one by one. The shadows moved erratically, then, with the fourth rune, shot forward in a concentrated stream. Over and over, he replayed the scene, each iteration sharpening his understanding. Eventually, he dismissed the replay with a flick of his hand.

He nodded as the logic fell into place. ‘So, linguistically, it would mean: Move forward the summoned darkness.’ Yet, something still felt off. He frowned, sensing the limitations of natural language in capturing the complexity of the runic structure. ‘Truly thinking of it as functions rather than words would be better. The shadow rune would serve as an input for the summon rune, and the forward direction and the result of the summon rune would be inputs for the move rune. As for what rune can be used as input for what runes, again, common sense applies.’ He paused and commanded, ‘Implant, open scribble.’

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

His fingers moved through the air, leaving glowing lines behind them. His eyes, now distant, focused on the symbols and words he etched into the space before him. With a final stroke, he stepped back, assessing his work.

Two lines hovered in the air:

Move(Summon(Darkness), Forward)

Move -> Forward, (Summon -> Darkness)

‘Writing the runic structures in natural language is too inaccurate. I need to create an accurate notation and standards.’ Constantine scrutinized the lines, weighing their merits. The first followed the syntax of computer science, while the second was a more intuitive structure, based on the links between the runes.

A murmur from outside broke his concentration. “Hey, boss, do you think that brat has already returned?” “I hope so. No one will attack my men and walk off scot-free.”

With a flick of his fingers, the glowing symbols faded, plunging the room into a dense, suffocating darkness, save for the faint pulse of his runes. He stilled his breath, his senses sharpening, and his heart drummed. Amidst the tension, a spark of excitement ignited in his chest. ‘I am no longer as weak as I used to be.’

Outside, a voice bellowed through the night, cutting through the silence with a sneering edge. “Are you home, brat?” The voice was followed by mocking laughter, dripping with false sweetness.

Clenching his fist, Constantine rose. The wolf beside him growled, its crimson eyes glowing like embers in the dark. He would never bow to the scum of society again, now that he had power.

“Yo, boy, come out and pay up for what your fucking mutt did to Brother Bolgus!” another voice jeered, the sound laced with a drunken slur.

Mana pulsed through Constantine’s veins, surging into his hand, where his fingers tightened around the core. He stepped toward the door, his heart pounding with adrenaline.

“Haha, yes, come out. Don’t be afraid. Your uncles just want some compensation,” a third voice chimed in, laughter bubbling beneath his words.

Then a forceful bang made the door shudder, followed by the splintering crack of wood. The damaged door gave way, crashing to the floor in pieces. Three figures surged through the broken door, their silhouettes hidden in the darkness. Weapons gleamed in their hands—swords that would have been terrifying to his old self. But now? They were nothing.

‘Replace darkness with the lightning rune.’ The thought was instinctive. His mana moved with practiced precision, erasing one rune with a swift motion. He grasped the core tighter, his fingers itching with mana.

Constantine’s hand shot forward, and in that instant, the air around him seemed to warp, charged with an almost tangible energy. The runes etched into his skin flared to life, their intricate patterns glowing with an ethereal light. The energy thrummed within him.

With a single thought, he unleashed the gathered mana. It exploded from his palm in a blinding arc of lightning, the air splitting with a deafening crack that shook the very foundations of the room. The flash illuminated the bandits’ faces for a brief, horrifying moment—expressions twisted in terror and disbelief, eyes wide with shock.

The lightning struck with a force that sent shockwaves up Constantine’s arm, the raw power reverberating through his entire body. The bandits crumpled as the electricity coursed through them, their bodies convulsing in a grotesque dance. Weapons fell from their hands, clattering to the ground as flames ignited their clothes, the acrid stench of burning flesh and fabric filling the air.

Constantine’s eyes widened, his heart racing not from fear, but from the intoxicating rush of power. For the first time since awakening in this strange, new body, he felt truly alive. The power was overwhelming, exhilarating—like a drug. He could feel it in his bones, in the way his fingers tingled even after the last arc of lightning had faded.

Slowly, he let the power ebb, the warmth in his hand fading to a residual tingling. The three bandits lay still, their bodies charred and smoking. He had the power now—real, tangible power. And it felt good. Too good. ‘Three lives ended in a heartbeat.’

The wolf at his side growled low, its crimson eyes flickering in the aftermath of the lightning. In the darkness, it seemed to melt into the shadows, vanishing from his sight. More shrieks and curses echoed from outside.

Without hesitation, Constantine stepped over the bodies and exited the house. The wolf was already on the move, a blur of darkness and teeth as it leapt out of a shadow and tore into another bandit. The man’s scream was cut short as the wolf’s powerful jaws clamped around his neck, the sickening sound of flesh tearing and bones snapping echoing in the night. Blood spurted out, staining the wolf’s dark fur as the man’s life drained away in mere seconds.

Two more bandits stood a short distance away, their faces ashen, weapons trembling in their hands. The one closest to Constantine took a stumbling step back, his eyes wide with terror. “He’s a cultivator…” the man stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

The second bandit, a younger man, collapsed to his knees, his weapon clattering to the ground. “Please, young master, spare us!” he cried, tears streaming down his face. “We’ll give you everything—everything! Just don’t kill us!”

Constantine raised his hand, arcs of lightning still crackling around his fingers, reflecting in the blood pooling beneath the dead bandit. ‘No witnesses allowed.’ He knew better than to leave any loose ends. This time, there would be no mistakes.

“Your deaths will make this place better,” he declared, his voice cold and final. He recognized the bandit as one of those who had extorted the village, his face now twisted in terror. With a swift motion, Constantine unleashed the power again. The lightning surged forth, lighting up the pasture in bright light. The men screamed as the energy consumed them, their bodies writhing, their muscles spasming, and their clothes burning.

As the last arcs of electricity faded from his fingertips, Constantine stood amidst the carnage, his breath coming in slow, controlled gasps. The scent of ozone, blood, and burning flesh clung to the air, a testament to the power he now wielded.

The wolf returned to his side, its teeth bared and dripping with blood, its eyes still glowing with the remnants of his magic. Constantine let out a slow breath, feeling the last of the adrenaline ebb away, leaving behind a quiet, potent satisfaction. He finally had the power to defend himself.

He looked down at the bodies, his mind already moving on to the next task. ‘I need to drag them into the forest. Hopefully, the beasts will take care of the rest.’