The runes swirled and twisted their way into existence, wrapping and twirling between his fingers and around his forearm as they grew more tangible. Each strand of the mist reached its desired position and began to seep into his skin, sinking in deeper and deeper as they formed into legible runes.

These runes were different, though. Much more pronounced than what Art had always seen from other people when he was younger, while everybody was excitedly showing off how quickly they could bring the mist into existence.

All of the empire's citizens had the same method for summoning their runes, and as a result, the runes always appeared in the same style. Once settled into the skin, they took on a bright white inky appearance, then would fade away quickly once the person released their summoning magic.

Art, however, was now looking down at his arm, covered in deep red runes.

His eyes widened in panic. Not only was he not in control of... whatever it was that was happening to his body, but he also now had the issue of something no one had ever seen before: red runes.

Finally, the pain subsided, leaving nothing but the runes behind. Still kneeling in the dirt, Art rubbed over them with his thumb. Nothing changed. Then, he hurriedly tried to perform the dismissal of the summoning magic he had never been able to properly use. Still, nothing changed.

What the fuck? What is this?

After examining them for a little while, it became clear that they were not the typical runes you would see when summoning. Not just in their colour, that much was obvious, but in their actual formation, too.

These were different, vastly so. The runes that everybody else could call upon had served as the foundation for the empire's standardised writing system. That decision had been made long before Art's time, yet it had remained that way. Therefore, everyone could read not only their own but each other's runes too.

Looking down at his arm, Art could see no resemblance to those common, jagged-looking runes with sharp corners and straight lines.

Instead, he saw an intricate mass of swirls and delicate patterns. It had an unsettling beauty to it, as if anyone that saw it would know it was out of place, and that something about it was... off, yet they too would be mesmerised.

The strangest part of all this? He could understand them perfectly. This was some kind of language that he had never seen before, and he considered himself well-educated (despite evading his tutors far too often).

Looking down at the runes, he started to read...

[Name - Arthur Beaumont]

[Rank - E]

[Skills - Tear, Adoration, Void Seed]

[Effect - Veil of the Other]

[Geas - Eternity Awaits]

What the fuck...

Art stared down at his arm, eyes wide in shock. Not only were the runes new and foreign, but he actually had something there to read. Before, there had only been pathetic wisps of mist, symbolic of his utter failure to succeed in anything magical beyond confirming his own miserable rank (which was still exactly the same). Yet now he had more, not just a little bit more, but an excessive amount more than he should.

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Trawling through his memories, he thought back on what his classmates bragged of. How many skills did they have at their lowest ranks? Two was good for an exceptional student; the wealthiest of the bunch could even have two more on top if their parents had sprung for extortionate tutoring.

Perhaps they wanted a fire mage for a son, or a healer for a daughter, and simply exercised an option very few could, to just buy their way in.

Jorin had tried that for Art, too. Though no amount of money ever fixed his total incompetence.

Still, here he was, well into his twenties and suddenly gaining not one, but three skills.

Incredible. But... What the hell is a Geas? And an effect? I've never even heard of that before...

As soon as the thought formed, the runes swirled into action once again. The "Geas" title grew rapidly, pushing away the surrounding symbols and making room for a few lines of smaller ones below.

Art ground his teeth in discomfort at the new sensation; it was akin to thousands of minuscule bugs scurrying around just underneath his skin. Not that he had ever felt such a thing, though that was where his mind went.

Looking at the new runes, he started reading again...

[Eternity Awaits]

[Deep beneath the Earth, buried from sunlight and far from humanity, a deal was made. A life for a life, an escape from death with a price far higher.]

He sighed at the description. The vagueness was disappointing, but not surprising. What else could he expect from a seemingly divine intervention that granted him such an enormous second chance?

Ominous, nice. I'll read into that later, I guess.

Focusing back onto the other titles one by one, he shifted his attention and tried to replicate what he performed with [Geas].

[Tear]

[Should you call for it, the void will answer. Space will tear at your behest.]

[Adoration]

[?]

[Void Seed]

[Potential is ruled by space. Without space, how much will you grow?]

He scrunched his face up, trying to make sense of the words on his arm. Whatever granted him these new runes, it seemed, had a penchant for being extremely unhelpful. How had they managed to say something and absolutely nothing at the same time?

With a shake of his head, he moved on to the final title.

[Veil of the Other]

[The realm shudders under the weight of your ability. The supernatural will sense your power when in use, seeing the world darken, hearing the hum of the void.]

Well, at least that one's specific.

Rubbing his eyes in frustration, he tried to piece it all together.

So I have some kind of power, but these things won't tell me what it is. That power is supposedly so terrifying that the realm can't handle it? Whatever that means? And apparently I don't even get a vague little riddle for Adoration. Fantastic.

Of course, he was being a little dramatic. Art could discern a thing or two from the descriptions despite their irritating nature.

For example, [Tear]. If he could tear space, surely he could move it around, or at least do something with it? There was enough of a description for him to guess he had some kind of movement ability. He (sort of) remembered covering spatial abilities in the few lectures he attended, but no textbook had ever mentioned something like this.

Then came the next problem. If it was indeed a movement skill, how could he actually use it?

Next, [Void Seed]. So presumably his potential had been increased? The description alluded to it being unlimited, but that should be impossible. No one in living memory had ever been so fortunate. Sure, there were legends of jaw-droppingly powerful warriors that had been passed across generations through countless retellings. But those were stories, this was real.

The idea should have been exciting, yet that excitement was dwarfed by the certain belief that he would have to pay for this, somehow.

Finally, [Veil of the Other]. What even counted as a "supernatural being"? Was it magical beasts? No, he thought, they existed as a part of the natural world. They had always been there, existing, causing problems. They were hardly supernatural.

That meant only one thing. There were other things out there, unknown in their silence, mixed among humanity. Things like Morrigan, whatever she was. The image of her slick fangs and unhinged jaw flashed back through his brain.

Yet Art knew he could worry about those things later, because it was finally getting dark again.

This time, out in the vast terrain of the Borderlands, he had little choice but to hide...