The Runic Alchemist

Letting Toph rest on the bench, Damian draped a warm woolen blanket over him. He wore some warm clothes himself—cloaks would have to suffice until the potion's effect wore off, removing his wings. It shouldn't be long now.

First, Damian deactivated his eye skill. The purple layers of runic circles were making him dizzy. Then, using a wormhole, he re-entered the barrier and quietly approached the half-broken statue that bore the runic array on its side.

Carefully, Damian checked all the runes, comparing them to his own copy. Now comes the question—how to complete it? Mimicking the method he used for new metal runic imbuement, Damian infused the throne-like seat with his mana threads, other runesmiths had to do this part with few mana threads and carefully check each section - He could just use an overwhelming amount of mana in a single large mana thread covering the whole thing. At that point it was more like a mana pillar than a mana thread. As he probed the full runic array within, he began to understand the situation.

Just like iron runic tools became useless when even one rune was disrupted by damage, this array had missing chips and cracks, rendering the spell inactive. But who in their right mind would inscribe a runic spell onto stone? Of course, it would break easily. The surprising thing was that the remnants of the runic array, imbued with foreign mana, were still present. Shouldn't unfinished runic circles disappear upon the caster's death? At least, that's what Damian had observed so far. For spells it was instant cancellation of the spell, the moment the caster lost focus. For imbuement of mana thread nodes though, it could sustain itself for a while as runesmith could undo small mistakes and continue.

Now he was concflicted. Should he complete it or not? There were too many peculiarities here. The runic array he'd completed earlier only had a storage-like effect, so it shouldn't cause anything catastrophic. But what if this array was somehow connected to the giant spell?

Overthinking again. 'It's just a simple spell. It can't have any other effect', Damian told himself.

Based on everything Damian knew about spells and runes, there was no known way to connect two spells. Besides, this runic array seemed far newer than the giant five-layered runic circle hovering above the area, the source of which was centered on the middle of the seven-statue circle.

Damian silenced his paranoid thoughts and began filling the empty gaps in the runes with his mana threads, creating nodes where necessary. He used the entire side of the stone seat as a base for the spell.

He doubted it would work with half the spell powered by foreign mana and the other half by his own, but to his surprise, the strange mana yielded full control to him as he finished the spell.

Instantly, the array activated. A black and purple runic circle, lined with light-element gold, flared into existence—and vanished a second later. What remained was a palm-sized wormhole encased in a protective, transparent layer of gold. The spell had activated perfectly.

The moment Damian touched it, the same chiming sound echoed in his head as before. He activated his status and saw:

—

PROTECTION KEY: _____________

—

"Ah, there was this thing too.." Damian muttered. What could it be?

Assuming the structure was originally built by the Primordials and the hero's party had stayed here for a night… Who named it 'The Path Taken'?

It couldn't have been the Primordials; was it the hero's party? Did one of them create this runic array? But for what purpose? Not like he had any more choices for answers and Damian also wanted to see what would happen if he entered it wrong so without thinking much he wrote it down.

—

PROTECTION KEY: THE PATH TAKENn/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

—

For a tense moment, the golden layer stayed still. Then, it dissolved.

"It worked. That was too easy," Damian murmured.

Now, for the real thing—what was inside?

Damian steadied himself and reached into the palm-sized black void with his left hand. His fingers brushed against something—leather? He grabbed it and felt around for anything else, but there was nothing more. The space was very limited, like a small chest size. That made sense though, the more mana, the bigger the spatial storage space one could make. And only really high leveled runesmiths could make premium storage items.

He pulled it out: It was a.. Book. Not a traditional one, but a premium-quality, leather-bound, custom-made book with no title. There were no names or initials on it either.

Curious, Damian opened it. The pages bore no name, no dates—only barely recognizable handwriting, with some lines blacked out as if someone erased it on purpose.

The first page read:

"They insisted I join. The Elders called it a divine purpose, a necessity to walk alongside the 'chosen.' I accepted because refusal wasn't an option—not truly. The group seems competent—bright-eyed, eager, filled with the kind of hope I'd forgotten could exist. It should feel comforting. At least, that's what I hope for."

Damian turned the page.

"We've been traveling for weeks now. He's impressive, I'll admit that. People flock to him, thanking him with teary eyes. The others bask in his glow, thriving on the way he makes the impossible look effortless. Yet, I can't shake this gnawing unease. They're too perfect—or at least they want to be seen that way. Something about that… troubles me."

Another page:

"Today was harrowing. A village on the brink of destruction. He rallied us, of course, and we saved them. The children cried out his name with joy. He doesn't seem affected by the weight of it all, but shouldn't he be? Shouldn't we all? The others celebrated as if we had no part in the ruin that came before the rescue. I'm not sure if I'm judging them or envying them."

Damian stopped reading.

"What in the hell is this?" he muttered. A diary? Of one of the hero's companions? Why would he or she feel the need to hide it..?