The Runic Alchemist

'Why would you tell them about me?' Damian asked, since it was bugging him. Also, flying hadn't felt as thrilling as he had imagined it would, anything to keep his mind off of how small the things looked on the ground.

'So I'll know when they come after you.'

'Wait! I'm a bait?'

'You always were, kid.'

'This is so unfair! I've helped you more than any of those fancy lords ever did, and I still get treated like this... Does Eldoris really not know how to appreciate effort?'

'Fine... What do you want? Provided it's not something too unreasonable...'

'You... You don't get to use that word! I want my spatial storage back, with as many parchments as you can provide, and tons of mana ink.'

'You're planning to make more of those scrolls?'

'If you're going to fight, I'll have to fight too. I don't want to go into another battle unprepared. The better the quality of the material, the better I can assist you, you know...'

'You could just as easily use them to betray me...'

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'Either give me what I need, or keep me as a burden. They'll figure it out sooner or later, and who knows—maybe with this connection, my death will cause more harm to your mind than you realize. Even if your body can handle it...'

'I'll let you have your freedom on one condition.'

Huh? Damian hadn't asked for freedom in her massive wooden building. He wasn't bothered by being there, but she was offering it anyway? Maybe he was wrong about her being unreasonable...

'...if you agree to wear a runic device willingly. It will kill you upon activation, controlled by me, of course...'

Nope. He spoken too soon. This damned elf had trust issues bigger than Mount Everest. What kind of life did someone have to live to become this paranoid? Then again, it made her a great fighter...

'Fine, at least with that, I'll get some semblance of my life back.'

'You don't mind wearing it?'

'You could kill me anytime anyway, so what difference does a runic tool make? If it gives you peace of mind, sure, why not.'

No one dreams of wearing a death collar, but Damian had only told half the truth. Runic tools, no matter how powerful, still relied on mana. Damian had experimented with several of them, especially the ones for day-to-day use, and had managed to sense the mana thread used for remote activation. His invisible box could block those threads.

He would deal with it for now—what mattered was getting his stuff back.

---

After a nice, warm bath, Damian ate what had been provided and spent some time working on his spell modifications before falling asleep. His body needed the rest, even though magic had healed his injuries. The law of conservation was absolute—his body still required some nutrition for the magic to be fully effective.

When he opened his eyes again, it was already evening. The guard informed him, there was no way to tell time in this place. One of his usual two guards left as soon as Damian popped his head out of the door, presumably to inform someone. After quickly refreshing himself, Damian was led to another room. It was similar to the previous meeting room but much more spacious.

Not exactly empty, the room was filled with books, documents, metal pieces, and all kinds of various crap things. Well, not crap—everything would be of great value to a commoner, but to a noblewoman, especially royalty, it was just random crap.

In one corner were five large stacks of parchments and enormous jars of mana ink. The stacks of parchment were tall enough to reach above a grown man's head, and there were five of them. The ink jars were about Damian's height, and there were plenty of them. There was no way she had acquired all this so quickly. It must have already been here, maybe for her own use or for some other lord or runesmith.

Not that anyone used parchments for battle when they had runic armor and magic swords anymore. A bonus for Damian, though—he got to use their stuff. At least his suffering was starting to pay something off.

"Here... Julia told me to give you this," one of the guards said, handing Damian his runic bracers.

Damian immediately checked his belongings. Most of his items were there, though some scrolls were missing, likely taken for examination by the commander or another runesmith. His money was still there, along with his clothes and some mana stones he had managed to get his hands on. Most importantly, his rune recording book that he made collecting all the runic circles he came across was still intact.

No doubt the conniving elf had taken a look and maybe even copied it. Damian wasn't sure if it would work for her or anyone, though. For someone to use these spells, they would need to see how they worked at least once. Then again, the scrolls just needed creator's mana, so who knew? Someone might be able to replicate them.

Before going absolute crazy over it, Damian decided to eat. If he didn't, he will definitely forget about it. The guards followed him as he entered the dining room, where several maids were cleaning or tending to other chores. Julia, the mother of Sena—the cute green-haired child—noticed him and prepared a plate.

Usually, his food was brought to his small room, but it seemed he could come here whenever he was hungry from now on.

"You guys gonna eat?" Damian asked the two guards.

Julia also glanced at them. After some hesitation, one guard nodded, followed by the other. The three of them sat at one corner of the dining table, eating their meal in peace. For the first time, they removed their helmets. Both looked of Eldoris origin, with well-structured faces and sharp jawlines. Midway through the meal, Damian caught one of them glancing at him so he asked.

"So... what are your names?"