He let out a long sigh as he slowly rose to his feet.

  “I need a bath,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose at the thick layer of sweat and smoke clinging to him.

  Leaving the smithy behind, he made his way toward the main complex. The hallways buzzed with unfamiliar faces—new commanders or workers, by the look of them. As he walked They greeted him with crisp “Sir!”s while he responded with a curt nod, too tired for words.

  Once inside his room, he tossed the freshly forged armor onto the bed and headed straight for the bath.

  Only half an hour later, he emerged, steam still rising from his skin, the grime and exhaustion washed away. After the heat and hours or work at the smithy, he felt almost reborn.

  Wearing his armor once again, he turned his thoughts to his next subject of study: Runes.

  ‘What do people normally use to draw runes? he wondered. If it’s anything like writing… then maybe a pen? A brush? Fingers?’

  His brow furrowed. ‘Can I even use my fingers to draw them?’

  Pulling out the Array Basics booklet, he quickly flipped through the worn pages, eyes scanning until they settled on the first rune. He lowered himself to the ground and began focusing Mana into the tip of his left index finger.

  Slowly, he traced the rune onto the floor.

  But almost immediately, he felt it — a misstep.

  The Mana surged chaotically, unbalanced. What appeared on the ground looked very similar to the rune, at least in shape, but it was hollow. It lacked the essence, the connection to the world that gave runes their power. Just a shell of a symbol.

  Mulling over the failed experiment, he didn’t rush to repeat it blindly. Instead, he meticulously retraced each step, scrutinizing every detail.

  ‘Was the Mana not entirely under my control? Or did I simply misjudge the quantity? Maybe it was the flow... No, I’m certain I had control over the Mana.’

  To be sure, he decided to test his Mana control directly. With his Will, he gathered several dozen particles of neutral Mana and began manipulating them, shifting and shaping them as he pleased. At first, it was effortless. But as the minutes dragged on, a growing strain crept into his mind.

  ‘Why is it so exhausting to control external Mana for just a few minutes? If I tried to handle a hundred particles, would I even last ten seconds?’

  Driven by curiosity and frustration, he focused on the problem, letting his thoughts spiral into solution after solution—or at least, possible methods to extend the time he could maintain control over Mana.

  ‘It has to be one of three things—my Will, my Mana Core, or my Intelligence stat’, he thought, eyes narrowing. ‘What I’m sure of is that it’s not a lack of Wisdom; controlling a few dozen Mana particles shouldn’t need divine insight. My brain’s processing power should be more than enough.’

  Then a new possibility surfaced.

  ‘What if it’s not about low Stats at all? What if I’m just inefficient—wasting too much energy to control too little? Mana control should come naturally to most beings, right? I mean, there's no way a newborn has more Will than I do. If that’s the case, then maybe... Mana control is like a muscle—something that can be trained, refined, pushed beyond its limits without needing to raise any Stat.’

  Emboldened by the idea, he immediately shifted focus, drawing neutral Mana particles from the air and concentrating them at the tip of his index finger.

  Minutes passed. Eventually, he let his focus relax. The particles gently dispersed, drifting away like dust caught in a breeze.

  ‘I’m too damn stubborn,’ he admitted with a quiet chuckle. ‘There’s a better way.’

  Rising to his feet, he took Dreadscape out from his Inventory. A small smile played at his lips as he muttered:

  “I’ll just draw arrays with the spear.”

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  He focused, and in an instant, he became one with the world. His senses sharpened to an almost unnatural degree, and his connection with Mana deepened, solidifying into something stronger, more fluid.

  ‘I shouldn’t need weapons to achieve this...’ The thought flashed in his mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp how to achieve the same state on his own, without an anchor. The idea eluded him, slipping through his fingers like water.

  With a frustrated shake of his head, he refocused. He reached out and began drawing Mana particles toward the tip of Dreadscape's spearhead.

  In less than five seconds, a hundred particles had already gathered there, silently swirling in place, as if they were soldiers awaiting orders, their stillness poised for action.

  ‘Much better,’ Nova thought with satisfaction. He gripped the spear tightly with both hands, taking a slow, deliberate breath, before pointing it toward the wall, his movements steady and precise.

  ‘Second attempt.’

  With fluid precision, he began to carve the rune into the wall. His movements even more precise than when he used his finger. Once finished, he stepped back, his eyes locked onto the newly formed symbol as it began to pulse faintly with light.

  Nova remained still, his gaze fixed, waiting. But as the seconds stretched into minutes, the rune never fully illuminated.

  ‘Something’s missing... but I’m certain I used the right amount of Mana,’ he thought, frustration creeping in as he lowered his head. His mind replayed the process, over and over, searching for any flaw, any hidden mistake.

  Minutes passed. He finally exhaled sharply and lifted his head. A quiet realization settled over him.

  “It must be the flow,” he murmured. “I might’ve gathered the right amount of Mana, but if the flow’s off, the rune will never work.”

  Taking a breath, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink his senses deeper into the Mana, feeling its current, its pulse, its essence. He focused, searching for that delicate rhythm, that perfect alignment.

  He began to write the rune again, but this time, his movements felt different—calmer as if each stroke he made was the primal, purest word of the Universe itself. And in that moment, it truly was.

  As he finished the rune, eyes still closed, he immediately sensed the flow of Mana radiating from the wall. It pulsed with life, as if the very wall were breathing, alive with energy.

  When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the rune, now fully illuminated, its glow pulsing in time with a steady rhythm, as though it was drawing in Mana, feeding off it, thriving before it soon dimmed but he could tell, the rune was still active.

  A smile tugged at his lips. “So this is how you write runes…” he mused, his voice barely a whisper. “Deciphering them is certainly easier than writing them.”

  If other civilizations knew it had taken him only hours to craft his first rune, they’d scramble to seize him—eager to dissect both body and mind for any hint of how he’d done it.

  He walked forward and reached out to touch the rune, eager to experience the difference between this and a normal word. But as his hand made contact, he was met with an unexpected stillness.

  There was nothing—no surge of energy, no rush of power—only the faintest stir of air, so subtle that a normal human would have missed it entirely.

  ‘Does that mean if I couldn’t feel the Mana in the air, I wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference between this and a normal word?’ He chuckled softly at the thought, realizing how easily he might have mistaken a simple scribble for a rune. Stepping back, he returned to his stance.

  ‘Again.’

  With that thought, he repeated the motion, this time with a subtle increase in speed. The movements flowed more naturally, his focus still as sharp as ever.

  For hours, he continued to write the same rune, each iteration smoother, faster, more precise. At one point, the strokes became almost automatic, his body acting on muscle memory alone. The rune was no longer something he merely wrote; it had been engraved into his very essence.

  Lowering the spear, he nodded to himself, satisfaction evident in his expression. “As I thought. It’s all about training the Mana flow, just like any muscle. Now…”

  “The second rune.”

  Without hesitation, he moved to a blank section of the wall, untouched by the scattered scribbles, and resumed his stance. The new rune waited to be brought to life under his hand.

  Time became irrelevant. He was absorbed completely in the task, each stroke of the spear an extension of his will. Hours slipped away unnoticed—the sun dipped below the horizon, only to rise again, marking the passage of an entire day.

  It wasn’t until two days later that he finally paused, his body drenched in sweat, his breath shallow and erratic.

  “I’ve only… learned nine runes...” he muttered through ragged breaths, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

  A few minutes passed as he regained his composure. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Nine runes… they’re enough to set my first rank 1 array.”

  Fueled by the momentum of his progress, he flipped open the Array Basics booklet with a decisive flick and began scanning for the simplest arrays to construct.

  ‘Rank 1 Defensive... Rank 1 Offensive... Rank 1 Illusion... Rank 1 Binding... Rank 1 Concealment...’

  “What? Rank 1 arrays don’t even get names?” Nova scoffed, skimming through the list, his tone dripping with mild disdain. But as his eyes moved down the page, they suddenly froze on one entry.

  “Rank 1 Mana Gathering,” he murmured, reading the name aloud, his curiosity piqued.

  Without a second thought, he moved closer, instinctively gravitating toward the description.

  “Gathers Mana from the surroundings to aid with training…”

  Beneath the primary description, a smaller section caught his eye.

  Pros: Gathers and concentrates Mana, creating a denser environment for faster training.

  Cons: Limited range.

  ‘Why didn’t I study array earlier?’ Nova thought, frustration flickering briefly. He smacked his lips and immediately flipped to the section detailing the process for setting up the array.

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