Chương 60: Chapter 59 – Fear and Firelight

My first day working with the conscripts ended better than I'd expected. Every one of us was exhausted, filthy, and bruised, but we finished the day's trench section ahead of schedule. The sergeant had even looked pleased, and that was victory enough. From the next morning onward, we kept up our small competitions. Each of us had our own ten-meter stretch, and pride did what discipline couldn't. My only complaint was that I always lost, not surprising, really. They were Tier 2 and physical monsters.

Even with all the skills and attributes I'd gained, their sheer strength was on another level. Standing among them, I was constantly reminded of my height; they were all giants, and I looked like a kid in comparison. Still, that just made the work more interesting. We turned it into a proper competition, carving tallies into a plank I'd scavenged. I promised that whoever had the highest count by the end of the month would get his shield's rune array repaired.

It wasn't a major prize, but to the conscripts, it mattered. Their shields were recycled stock, low-grade, with mostly damaged runes. A fresh reinforcement rune could make the difference between a cracked plate and a life saved. Maybe because of that, I never had to think about using the badge in my pocket. I'd debated the idea for days, whether to use it if things went wrong, or even to show it at all, and decided against both. I'd mention it only if the men started slacking off, and even then, only as a warning.

I couldn't let my morals compromise the safety and lives of everyone in the fort, but I was determined to use that badge only if someone's life was truly on the line. Until then, it would stay tucked away where it belonged. Evenings at the fort had settled into a rhythm. After dinner, the noise of drills faded, the forge quieted, and most men drifted toward rest. Some lingered by the fires, trading stories or mending gear; others found quiet corners to sharpen blades or write home.

I often stayed outside, near one of the smaller fire pits along the eastern wall, a mana lamp flickering at my side. I set the badge on my knee and began tracing its lines again with the tip of my knife. Forty-seven runic marks, I'd counted them enough times to be sure. At first, I could only recognize a few: the intake circles, activation spikes, and triangular converters. Those were the basics, the kind any trainee in Rune Ops could etch into stabilizing plates. But the rest… the rest were beyond me.

Half the badge was a labyrinth of nested rings, triple circles cut at almost imperceptible depth changes. That shouldn't have been possible. Normally, layered etchings bled mana between grooves, shorting the pattern, but here each ring held its own flow perfectly sealed. Whoever carved it had mastered containment down to the grain.

Between those circles, I found symbols that didn't match any from the manuals, looping crosses, spirals that seemed to twist in and out of themselves, and mirrored triangles joined at the tips. Every dozen or so, a small cluster repeated, slightly altered, as if the design were running constant checks on itself. I closed my eyes and let [Mana Sensitivity (C)] stretch outward, tracing the flows through the metal.

Lines of faint light appeared in my mind's eye, mana drawn from my own blood, pulled through conversion triangles, then branching into the outer web before looping back again. A circuit. Command issued, confirmation returned. At the badge's center pulsed a node of solidified mana, no larger than a grain of sand. From that node, a single unfamiliar symbol extended outward, a thin line curved into a shape I couldn't name. It wasn't one of the known operators. Its edges shimmered faintly whenever I focused on it.

I realized then what it was doing. The rune wasn't for command or control. It was for binding. It connected the badge to me, to my blood and mana, forming a closed circuit that tied its function to my presence.

"You still playin' with that damn thing?" The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The voice startled me. I turned to see Owen standing at the edge of the firelight, hands in his pockets, that familiar half-smirk on his face. Colin and Jack were with him, each holding a cup. I sighed.

"You all make a habit of sneaking up on people?"

"Only when they look like they're courting a piece of metal," Owen said. He dropped to a squat near the fire, the light catching the scars along his jaw.

"What's a scholar like you doin' in the army anyway? Should've joined one of those scholar academies, worn fancy robes, written long books no one reads." I shrugged.

"Honestly? My father's creditors wanted me dead. The army seemed safer. And they feed you." For a moment, the three men froze. Then Colin started chuckling, low at first, before Jack broke into laughter. Owen blinked, caught completely off guard.

"What?" I asked.

"Did I say something funny?" Jack wiped a tear from his eye.

"He was jokin', lad! You didn't have to answer him honestly!" Owen barked a laugh and shook his head.

"Gods, Oxspell, you're a rare one. You know runes, sapper work, medicine, anything else we should know about before you start flying?" I smiled faintly.

"I can repair siege weapons." That earned a low whistle from Colin.

"He's not even braggin'. That's the worst part." Jack leaned in, handing me a tin cup.

"Alright, scholar. You're done studyin' for the night. Sit your ass down and drink." I pocketed the badge, and took the cup. The liquor was rough, but warm, and for a few moments, we just sat, four soldiers watching sparks drift into the dark. After a while, the fire crackled softly, and the mana lamp pulsed like a second heartbeat beside us. Shadows moved along the walls of the nearby supply shed, shaped by wind and firelight.

"I wanted to ask something," I said finally.

"How do you all deal with it? The fear, I mean. Of the grand tide. This'll be the first one for you too, right? I keep busy as much as I can, but when it's quiet… I start thinking about how easily I could die out there. Sometimes I dream of that Venelion tearing me apart." The others didn't speak right away. The crackle of fire filled the space instead. Colin was the first to answer, his voice rough and slower than usual.

"Fear never goes away. You just learn to walk beside it. Try to fight it off, it comes back meaner. The trick is to let it sit there. Breathe with it on your chest until it stops crushing you." Jack snorted, swirling the dregs of his drink.

"He's right. The ones who say they ain't scared? They're the first to freeze. I drink, I curse, I make noise. Whatever keeps the beasts in my head quieter than the ones outside." Owen poked at the fire with a stick, his grin dimming a little.

"Me, I make plans. Small ones. Like mending my boots tomorrow, or stealing Jack's blanket again. Keeps my mind thinking there's a 'tomorrow' worth getting to." That earned another low chuckle. Colin rubbed the scar running along his arm.

"The first tide I was in wasn't grand. Just a regular one. Still saw hundreds of men gone in a night. The noise gets in your bones. That's why I never sit still for long. The moment I do, the noise finds me again." We all fell quiet. The fire popped. A gust of wind rolled off the wall, carrying the cold smell of lime and stone dust.

"I thought it was just me," I said softly. Jack shrugged.

"It's all of us, lad. You just talk about it better." Around me, the others kept talking, swapping stories half-true and half-drunk. Their voices blended with the crackle of the fire and the low hum of the mana lamp. After some time, I made my way back to the Longhall, where I sat on the floor beside my bunk, legs folded into a half-lotus. The air was cool and still, the kind of silence that made you aware of every heartbeat. I set a mana crystal in my hand, its faint white glow flickering like a pulse.

I closed my eyes and began the meditation process, taking slow, deep breaths. Threads of mana seeped from the crystal, cold and smooth, sliding through my skin like mist sinking into stone. When I awakened months ago, the system had mentioned that my threshold for tier 2 was already broken. Yesterday, my mana cultivation level had reached a perfect hundred, yet nothing had changed. I hadn't advanced, no sign of a breakthrough. I was certain there had to be a process between tiers, but so far, I'd felt nothing.

Still, it had only been a day. If nothing happens within the next few days, I'd ask Colin or Walter. I steadied my breathing and sank deeper. The crystal dimmed as the flow increased. My absorption rate climbed until my chest felt heavy, as if pressure was building inside, thick and invisible. Each breath deepened the strain. My vision turned white even though my eyes were closed. The hum in my ears rose into a steady vibration that echoed through my ribs. Then, suddenly – Crack.

The pressure shattered like a dam giving way. Mana burst outward through every limb, flooding my body in a rush of light and sound. I gasped. For a heartbeat, the world tilted. Then everything went still. When I opened my eyes, the crystal in front of me had lost its luster, its light completely drained. But my vision, even in the dim room, was sharper. I closed my eyes again and felt the mana within me. It gathered near my heart, a mist I could will through my body at command.

But deeper still, I sensed seven faint nodes pulsing in the distance. I tried to focus on them, to delve deeper… and then everything went dark.