Adrian sat in his office, a book about runes open in his hands.
He wasn't reading it to learn anything new. Instead, he was comparing its writing style to the books he had studied back in the ti chamber.
And honestly? It was frustrating.
These books made everything feel more complicated than it needed to be. Every sentence was cramd with technical terms, forcing the reader to constantly reach for a dictionary and scribble down notes just to keep up.
In contrast, the book provided by the system had felt like it was written with actual care. It spoke simply, explained concepts clearly, included diagrams, examples—even docunted failures. It guided the reader through the process, almost like a patient ntor, helping them identify where they might be going wrong and how to improve.
'This one feels like it was made to confuse people… while the real knowledge stays locked away,' Adrian thought, exhaling as his eyes landed on the cover—specifically, the symbol of the Tower printed there.
Every book on runesmithing seed to be published by the Tower.
In this world, the Towers weren't just institutions. They were brands—massive producers of magical armants. Most weapon-supplying companies had deals tied up with them, especially for First Degree equipnt. Standardized, mass-produced, and ready to sell.
But anything beyond the First Thread? That required the hands of a true Runesmith. A real one.
And the cost?
'Inscribing the Second Thread alone costs around three thousand gold coins…' Adrian mused, 'And if it's done by a Tower Master, probably ten tis more.'
He closed the book slowly, the weight of the world's system sitting heavy in his mind.
For the context, ten gold coins are enough for a middle-class family to survive for a month. So yes, runesmiths earn a fortune daily.
'In a way, this competition could work for to advertise myself...' Adrian was about to learn how to draw the second Thread which he could display in the quiz.
Nobles from different regions would be present there, so if Adrian performs well in the contest, he would make himself a na in the market.
'Until I don't beco strong enough to protect myself, I would need to earn huge to hire a Warden.' He inwardly muttered.
It was then, that he heard a commotion from down the building
He got up from his seat and approached the window.
His window opens to the training ground.
He knew that the second and third years were doing joint training...but what caught him by surprise was the current battle happening in the middle of the ground.
The other students have ford a ring around the duo.
Both of them were identifiable since both were his top students.
"What in the world is Elana doing...."
....
Sylvie gritted her teeth, her tongue covered with her blood as she glared at her senior.
Elana calmly stood there, holding her tal batons in her hands and waiting for her opponent to get up.
Sylvie picked her mace and used it as a crutch to push herself off the ground.
The students were either concerned or excited to see Elana destroying the Princess in the arena.
The instructors were, naturally, concerned. Not because Sylvie was the Princess but rather because this spar was taking a dangerous turn.
"Should we stop them?" One of the instructors asked as he saw Sylvie's lip bleeding and her left hand trembling a little. Overexerting herself to hit soone who is impossibly faster than Sylvie, has caused the girl to self-harm.
"This isn't a spar about teaching or anything, right?" Sylvie asked in a grim voice. A smile of mockery danced on her lips.
"I don't know what you are talking about. I am trying to teach you a few lessons here."
Sylvie clenched her hand around her weapon before she burst forward. Her armant was lit by flas as she swung it down in a vertical arc—her speed amplified by adrenaline and her mana.
Elana didn't budge from her spot; rather, she raised her baton—*CLANG*—and took the full force of that attack on her armant.
The shockwave was felt by the audience but their face soon contoured in a wince when they saw Elana stabbing her baton into Sylvie's abdon.
"Khuk!" She recoiled back, her hold from her weapon slipping.
"Don't let it fall, junior. You need to keep ahold of your weapon." She supported the mace with her armant before she said, "Now co at again."
The pain wasn't subdued, but the Princess attacked, her sanity being taken over by anger.
"Aahhh!" She swung her mace, this ti in a horizontal swing that could have exploded a normal person's head.
Elana simply ducked and the mace went past before the silver head struck Sylvie's knee—making her buckle and kneel on the ground.
"Agh..." Sylvie groaned but she had more coming,
*Dhak*
Elana got up and delivered a kick to her chin with the flow.
Sylvie's head snapped back from the brutal kick, a spatter of blood arcing from her lips as her vision swam in and out of coherence.
Her body wavered, knees trembling, yet she gritted her teeth and forced herself upright.
The taste of iron and humiliation burned on her tongue, her grip tightening once more on the mace's shaft as her breathing turned erratic—labored, but defiant.
Elana remained composed, her posture inscrutable, one baton resting lazily against her shoulder while the other spun lightly in her opposite hand, making soft whirring noises.
There was no malice in her eyes—only an aloof precision that enraged Sylvie even further.
"I understand now....you are taking revenge...for what I did to the Professor..." Sylvie spoke, through her labored breathing. Her eyes were barely open, her arms trembling, and her legs about to give up.
"Took you long to understand," Elana spoke, her tone carrying the weight of the emotions she felt.
Sylvie looked at the senior with a smile as she said, "He doesn't deserve your affection...He doesn't deserve anyone's affection...he is a cheater...a liar..."
Elana gritted her teeth and launched forward.
How can she decide what he deserves?! How can badmouth him?!
"No!" The instructors ca into action since Elana's approach appeared lethal.
The students gasped as they saw a silver blur approaching Sylvie at a pace that they surely would have failed to dodge.
Allen also burst forward instinctively, his sword hems tightly in his hand.
Elana held her baton with a reverse grip, ready to deliver a blow that surely would take off her jaw.
However, just as she was about to strike her,
"ELANA!" A voice, loud and clear, brought her body to a sudden halt.
She couldn't be wrong...this voice belonged to him...
*Thud*
Just as the baton stopped before Sylvie's face, she collapsed and fell unconscious.
°°°°°°°°°
A/N:- Elana would have been possibly imprisoned if that attack had landed. Drop a comnt.
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