The Runic Alchemist

It was late afternoon, and well into the evening, when their small meeting finally ended, and the course for their future was set. Damian had done his best, without revealing more than what was already known about him, to help prepare for what was to come. The plan was ready, and they would execute it at dawn the next day. That was the fastest they could mobilize the entire army.

Damian handed his iron golem to the runesmith, as it needed to be as strong as possible. In addition, the runesmith promised to craft some equipment for Damian, since he would be fighting as well. Damian noticed the change in the beastman runesmith's attitude but, with bigger things to worry about, he had no time to dwell on it.

After giving instructions and the list of spells he wanted, Damian, along with Vidalia, dismissed the runesmith, allowing him to return to his forge.

The entire camp was in a frenzy, hastily packing and preparing for the upcoming retreat. Their part in this was to ensure the success of the strategic withdrawal while delivering a crippling blow to the enemy. Their goal was to slow the enemy down and give their forces a fighting chance.

Vidalia had taken one of the noble's modest building as her temporary office, where she met with nobles and key figures to assign tasks appropriate for the retreat. Meanwhile, Damian was in the next room, surrounded by tens stacks of premium-quality parchment taller than he was and several large jars of mana ink.

Half of the supplies were already stored in his spatial storage, which was now so full that he could barely fit anything else of significant size in there.

The fastest solution was also the simplest: he would create several wormhole scrolls. They couldn't use the waygate tool for travel unlike their enemies, but with the scrolls, they could move quickly, bypassing the enemy's defenses before they even had time to react.

He had many helpers to sew the parchment together, making the task much easier than it would have been alone. Yet, Damian still had to draw runic circles, one after another, in the same pattern, so ingrained in his mind that he could probably do it in his sleep after this.

It required a massive amount of resources for such a seemingly simple travel plan that it felt like a waste, but with time so short, it was the best he could come up with. His helpers worked tirelessly, sewing nine pieces of parchment together for all the stacks, even using some of Damian's own stored parchment.

The battle could go either way, and it was better to be overprepared than caught off guard.

After creating half the wormhole runic rolls required to travel from their current position to a kilometer ahead of the enemy's blockade and back, Damian restocked his used runic rolls. His muscles ached from the repetitive work, which had consumed him from the late afternoon until just before midnight.

Finally, he took a much-needed break, stepping outside to find a quiet spot near one of the campfires. There, among the soldiers, he sat down, letting his body and mind rest for a while.

Vidalia had also worked tirelessly until late evening but had eventually taken a break to clean herself and nap. The walls between their rooms were thin, and if Damian strained his ears, he could hear everything happening on the other side. Only someone of second rank and stats could hear so clearly; the first-ranker helpers wouldn't have had such an ability.

Around him, the soldiers were talking in small groups, their voices blending into the background as Damian enjoyed the cold evening fresh air. The breeze was refreshing and cold, though calling it "nice" might have been a stretch. The warmth of the fire felt good on his hands. Now, if they somehow survived tomorrow...

how could he free himself from this cursed divine vine link that had made his life so difficult? If he were free now, he would've run away from this place without a second thought. Or so he told himself.

His best chance was to tell Vidalia that he had copied her spell and wanted to figure out who controlled the spell so they could ask questions and be done with it. But now wasn't the time for that conversation. Surely, if they survived this, his efforts would earn him enough favor with Vidalia to prevent her from being angry about his "borrowing" her spell.

Still, more than her potential anger, Damian worried about what might happen if he revealed his ability to learn any spell he saw just once. Would she let him go? Many nobles would kill for such an advantage, and Vidalia was clever. She could find a hundred better uses for his abilities on the battlefield than he ever could.

Suddenly, Damian noticed the soldiers around him moving away, bowing toward someone approaching from behind. His chain of thoughts broken, Without looking back Damian sensed the mana behind him. It was the old second-ranker veteran, Lysandrea. What was she doing here? Didn't she have important matters to attend to, like the other nobles? Or was she here for a break as well?

"Hope you don't mind if I join you, little warrior..." Lysandrea said as she came up beside him and sat down on the large log someone had conjured around the campfire using a wood-style spell.

"Uh... sure," Damian replied, uncertain how to react to the sudden intrusion on his quiet moment. The other soldiers had given them space, finding other fires to sit by or other tasks to occupy themselves with.

"How are your injuries?" Lysandrea asked, stretching her hands toward the crackling fire, a warm smile on her face.

"They're better now. How about you?" Damian asked in return.

"They healed me as much as they could. My old body can't take much more, they said," she laughed, sounding much like a kind grandmother from a candy shop. Except she was far more fit and strong—not to mention a seasoned killer. But she was definitely getting on in years. Damian wondered how skilled and fearsome one had to be to survive on the battlefield for as long as she had.

Her experience was the real deal here.