For 140 points, the [Runic Inscription Art] was a method of allowing the mundane to transcend; allowing all types of energy, from world energy to blood energy, to interact with materials in a permanent manner. Different runes at different levels would provide different effects to their host.
Silas was vaguely aware of Runes as much of Ilnea’s technology required it to function. Even the Refineries used runes in some capacity as far as he could tell. The Airships that occasionally dock at Ironside are the most popular example of such a thing, powered by a mix of deium oil and runes in what was simply called a Rune Engine.
Several things were known for limiting people from becoming Runecarvers. Willpower, energy, and resources. Each carving of a rune sapped one of their willpower and energy, while resources were required to make and sustain the runes themselves. Add that on to the privatisation of such knowledge and it led to Runecarvers being a rather rare profession. The Runic Inscription Art however was just a low level introduction, useless in making any proper Rune Equipment.
[Bullets, not equipment]
Without hesitation, Silas bought the Art and a small book instantly appeared in his hands. At most a few dozen pages, its cover was worn and weathered, the author's name too faded to read out. On the first page was a signature nearly impossible to read.
He snapped the book shut and took stock of what he could still do. With only 80 points left, Silas could still buy Catalysts. Upon another suggestion from the Lotus however, he only bought one.
Sixty more points disappeared from his account and a block of ice appeared in his palm, so cold he had to quickly wrap it up and put it away. That would open his fourth gate. For the rest of his points, he managed to acquire a few different mundane materials as well as a few other supernatural things. By the end he had a big bag of stuff and no money to his name, again.
According to the Runic Inscription Art, Rune Equipment was graded from One to Six Unities, with unknown Tiers above that. What it taught him to make, however, wasn’t even that. It hardly even mentioned the requirements of making such items.
It instead detailed making one time use items, something that fit perfectly with what he wanted. This was not a long term investment after all, he simply wanted another leg up on survival. Silas willed his mind to leave and he returned to his makeshift abode without a sound, materials in hand.
To carve a rune according to the book after a quick read, you needed a few things. A subject, a chisel, and a medium. The medium was both the easiest and the hardest part right now, as it actually meant a medium between you and the chisel. The Art described this as a tattoo of runes that completely encircled your hand, from the palm to the back.
These runes would allow your willpower to influence and transmute the chisel into the respective runes being carved. Of course, the chisel was a whole other matter.
For the chisel, you needed materials that fit the runes being carved as well as a generous dose of the carver’s own blood. Then the Runecarver would, through the medium, use their willpower to transmute a piece of the chisel into the rune with every strike. If any of the chisel was left when you were done, you likely fucked up the piece’s quality. If the chisel ran out before the rune finished, you made a Dead Rune. If your willpower runs out before the rune is done, you made a Dead Rune.
Silas bought the materials for more than a few chisels and he had more than enough bullets to carve with, the issue was a medium and actually making the chisel. The chisel didn’t necessarily need to be metal either but Silas only bought such materials. He’d need two things, then. A workshop, and another tattoo.
He suddenly had a lot of things to do while healing.
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A few days had passed since his return and few things had changed. With every day that passed by in peace Silas felt lucky and yet every day made him feel more and more on edge. While the world hadn’t ended, it was getting there. And yet..
Nothing happened.
Silas had been allowed into the Refinery briefly and led to their makeshift workshop. It wasn’t anything like a forge or a proper smithy, but they had a wide array of tools he could use. Once he verified they had a few knives, tongs, hammers and even a blowtorch, he hadn’t stepped back inside again.
Instead, a majority of his time passed by focused on the other two issues- learning Runes and finding a way to get the tattoos. Each rune must be carved in extreme detail if one wanted to invoke their effects. Any deviation, however slight, would make it all useless.
Similarly, any deviation in the tattoo would also make it useless. Silas needed someone with intricate knowledge of the runes involved and a steady, skilled hand. Not to mention the equipment. If anyone could do so, they’d probably be in the Lower City, assuming they’re still alive.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
While he did want to go to the Lower City again, he wasn’t at all sure where anyone would really be. If they weren’t still at the Manor, then aimlessly wandering in search of them would just be suicide. He had to find another way.
And he did. Kind of.
In exchange for learning a specific few runes plus the ones needed for the tattoo, Lilith oh so graciously offered to tattoo it for him once she was adept enough with them. In reality, she rummaged through his things, found the book, read it, and then offered her services in exchange.
The moment he displayed any sort of rage at the display, Lilith's hands instantly lit ablaze. Considering he still liked living, and would benefit from the deal, he ‘agreed’ to her terms. When he asked why she was rummaging at all, she just said one thing.
“I was curious.”
Apparently the young Wayfinder had long been tattooing herself. Silas didn’t really ask for proof when she said most of them were on her torso, so he just decided to believe her. Worst case, she screws up and he finds a way to get rid of it.
As such, Silas formed a strange schedule as time passed. In the mornings he cultivated blood energy. Then he ate. At noon he cultivated the Anchored Spirit Art to train his energy manipulation. Then he ate. During the evening he studied runes, often being forced to answer Lilith’s questions.
And then he ate.
Silas didn’t want to attempt breaking through again with such heavy injuries, so he refused to use the Catalyst on the Fourth Gate just yet and the Nightmare Speed grew stronger almost entirely passively. All he had to do was remember to use his Innate Talent whenever he could and he was doing his part.
When the week rounded out and Silas finally took the sling off, his hand felt as good as new. Still a little stiff and the skin badly mangled, but there was no pain and the muscles loosened up as he exercised them a little bit.
He left the little infirmary the compound had set up and made his way through the fog and into one of the Refinery’s side doors. Silas walked down a familiar path and after a few minutes, stepped into his small little workshop. The tools had all been neatly arranged on a table and Silas poured out his bag of materials next to them.
Progress must continue. A solid foundation would benefit him far down the line. Just because he didn’t have the special rune chisel didn’t mean he couldn’t practise runecarving. They’d just be dead runes. Silas grabbed a rather heavy hammer off the table and moved around amidst the other tools, picking up the various chisels provided and finding the one he felt most comfortable with.
The bullets themselves were small so he used the smallest chisel provided, with a blade so thin it almost looked like a butterfly’s wing. Silas had roughly tested its durability before so he wasn’t worried about it breaking.
Runes were small and intricate like veins. Precision was always key, let alone with such a small subject. The memory and shape of the runes in his mind were still very clear, a benefit from his Nightweaver Pathway. Even so, it was almost like the runes resisted memorization. It took great effort to keep the image clear in his mind.
Once he was confident enough, Silas took out a large thin iron plate to practise on and got to work. The immediate issue was recoil and angle. Every strike shook the chisel and either ended up digging too deep or scraping across the surface.
With another adjustment, the chisel simply didn’t cut deep enough. With one more, he pierced straight through the iron. It was strictly a matter of controlling the hammer and chisel like it was part of him. Anything but simple.
Not realising the passage of time, Silas spent all day cutting up this piece of iron before he finally stood up straight and wiped a trace of sweat from his brow. The chisel in his hand was nearly dull and deformed, but in its last moment it succeeded. A single perfect rune was carved into the iron, depicting ‘lightning’.
Parts of his arms he didn’t even know he had screamed out in pain from the strain and yet the Nightweaver just grinned. He was sure of it. This rune, if alive, would invoke its namesake without problem. The issue was that it took him a day just to carve one successfully. If he did such numbers on his ammo supply, he’d simply run out.
More practice, then.
He was like a man possessed. Nothing else mattered to Silas for a whole other week. Nothing could shake him. He’d wake up and head straight to the workshop, meals being sent to him there. Just as the Darktide had reached its month-long mark, Silas tossed another dull chisel to the side and looked at the iron sheet in front of him.
It wasn’t one hundred percent, but it was already at a fifty percent success rate. The flaws still left behind were so minor that the eye could barely catch them and yet still enough to withhold perfection. Even so, fifty percent was something he could get behind. Silas didn’t even want to think about the amount of energy required to learn any other rune, content with this singular one.
Just as Silas picked up a fresh chisel and was getting ready to start again, the door to the shoddy workshop opened and Cassandra made her way inside, her gaze peeking around with a small bit of hesitation. Silas had noticed recently that she liked being clean, and this place was the exact opposite right now.
Broken tools were strewn about as were whole sheets of iron and the floor was barely visible beneath dust, dirt and grime. Even his tan skin was slick with sweat and grease, really having only been careful to avoid getting it on his glasses and hair. “They run out of people to send?”
“What?”
“Well, just, since you hate this kinda stuff, why not send anyone else?”
“It’s only right another Wayfinder summon you, no?”
“Summon?”
“Correct. Summon.” Cassandra nodded and finally looked at him straight on, though her expression quickly twisted with some semblance of disgust. “We’ll get you cleaned up first, then we’ll bring you to Amus.”
“What’s Amus want?” Silas wiped his face with a cloth and tossed it over his shoulder, clicking his tongue lightly. The duo must have been at least vaguely aware of what he was doing and why. Would they really summon him now?
His question was answered rather quickly as Cassandra sighed, stepping back into the doorway and motioning him outside with a genial smile. “The mutants are here for Amus’ breakthrough.”