"As I thought," Joe said with a knowing smile. "You were the right person to share this information with."
Adrian’s brows rose slightly. "You knew I was trying to reach the fifth thread?"
"I guessed," Joe replied calmly. "With the pace at which you’ve been advancing through each stage, not just but many others have started to believe that the world might soon witness another fifth-grade Runesmith."
"That’s quite an assumption," Ruby said with a soft chuckle.
The gap between the fourth and fifth thread was enormous—the difference between climbing a small cliff and scaling the tallest mountain in the world.
Learning the fifth thread wasn’t just difficult; it was almost forbidden by circumstance. Notes, records, and experintal logs on the subject were rarer than ancient relics, buried by ti and lost to history.
It was said that during one of his expeditions, Borodicus Clark had co across a fragnt of knowledge left behind by the God of Runes—Avirin himself. That single discovery had beco the foundation of Clark’s rise.
That was why Ruby reacted the way she did. And yet, deep down, she knew Adrian could never be compared to other Runesmiths.
He existed beyond such asures.
An anomaly.
A monster when it ca to runes and the speed at which he understood and mastered them.
"Well," Joe continued, breaking the brief silence, "Clark sees Sir Lockwood as a threat. That’s precisely why my decision carries so much weight."
Adrian humd softly, his tone curious. "A threat? I’ve only t him a handful of tis, and each conversation was pleasant."
Joe chuckled lightly. "That’s exactly why. He knows what you’re capable of. Your thods of Runesmithing are unconventional—strange, even—but undeniably efficient. That alone has kept him on edge."
Annabelle frowned slightly. "Why would being efficient be a threat to soone like him?"
Ruby answered without hesitation. "I can think of several reasons. First, his reputation. If Adrian—who is barely a third of his age—creates an armant far superior to his, people will start questioning whether Clark has truly been judged correctly. Second, wealth. Clark knows that if Adrian ever steps into the market, every major Tower, powerful trader, and even entire nations would rush to send him proposals."
Annabelle grinned and glanced at Adrian. "Darling... you’re quite popular."
Adrian chuckled softly, then shifted his attention back to Joe. "If he’s truly wary of , then why did he invite to his celebration?"
Ruby blinked, puzzled. "Yes..." She turned to the bespectacled man. "If he’s cautious of Adrian, shouldn’t he be trying to keep him as far away from his invention as possible until it’s released to the public?"
Joe humd thoughtfully. "I’ve only been working with him for the past six months, but from what I’ve observed, he lives by a simple motto—keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer."
"Enemy, huh?" Adrian let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "Who would have thought the greatest Runesmith alive would see in such poor light."
Joe shook his head. "As I said, he is wary of you. And if you interfere with his new project..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "That wariness will turn into hatred without a doubt."
Annabelle frowned, her expression tightening as a quiet alertness settled into her gaze. She knew exactly what kind of man Clark was—and what n like him did when their pride was threatened.
She had disliked him long before this conversation ever took place.
In a world where her Darling existed, people still dared to call Clark the greatest Runesmith. That alone was enough to sour her mood. Then there was his daughter—the sa girl who had once tornted her Darling without consequence. And now, this audacity.
I have more than one reason to erase your existence now, Clark, the raven-haired woman muttered inwardly, her fingers curling slightly at her side.
Not long after, Joe exhaled and said, "Now, I will take my leave."
As he rose from his seat, Ruby stood as well, her brows knitting together. "What do you plan on doing now?"
Joe shrugged, but there was no humor in the gesture. "Possibly change my identity. Live far away. Survive for as long as I can." His lips pressed into a thin line. "Because I’m certain that if Sir Lockwood intervenes—and Clark’s new invention fails to reach the masses—the second person he’ll target will be ."
His gaze flicked toward Adrian, and he muttered almost under his breath, "Of course, the first would be you."
Adrian laughed softly, entirely unbothered. "Then you should decide where you’re going to migrate soon, Joe." His eyes glead with sothing sharp and unreadable. "After all, I’ll be eting Mister Borodicus soon."
The room fell silent.
Joe froze for half a second before nodding slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. Annabelle’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile, while Ruby glanced between them, sensing that whatever ca next would not leave the world unchanged.
....
Ariana was displeased.
The mont she found a sliver of ti for herself, she had returned to the room to check on Adrian—only to find a neatly written note waiting for her. He had stepped out with Ruby and Annabelle. An urgent matter, it said.
She knew better than to question it. If Ruby had decided sothing required Adrian’s presence, then there truly was no alternative.
That realization, however, did nothing to soothe her irritation.
Letting out a slow sigh, Ariana turned toward the door, ready to leave and return to her office.
That was when the air shifted.
Her breath caught violently in her throat.
An invisible force wrapped around her neck, crushing, suffocating. Her vision blurred at the edges as pressure mounted, her pulse roaring in her ears. She instinctively tried to raise her arms—but the mont she did, a familiar sensation assaulted her consciousness.
The sa terror.
The sa paralysis.
Just like the day the academy was amused.
Her body betrayed her completely. Not a single muscle responded.
Slowly, she was lifted off the ground. Her toes hovered inches above the floor, her head tilting back unnaturally, as though unseen fingers were tightening around her throat once more.
The room dimd, shadows bleeding into the corners, swallowing the light.
Then, he appeared.
A familiar figure stood before her—yet twisted, darker, seething with fury. The air itself seed to recoil from his presence.
Nytharos.
Ariana’s heart pounded wildly as her mind scread in protest. This isn’t real. She repeated it again and again, clinging to the thought like a lifeline.
It didn’t change a thing.
The angered God stared into her, not at her—but through her, as though her soul itself lay bare before him. His gaze burned with cold regret and murderous intent.
"I made a mistake," Nytharos said, his voice heavy with restrained wrath, "not giving in to my temptation and killing you right away that day."
The words sank into her like a blade.
And the grip around her throat tightened.
"Khak... fuck..." Adrian clawed at the invisible restraint around her throat. His body barely functioned, every movent screaming in protest, yet he refused to stop.
She struggled. Flailed. Did everything she could to force *sothing*—anything—to change.
Nytharos snickered. "You truly believe this would stop ?"
His grip around Ariana’s neck tightened.
Instantly, her body went limp. Her arms fell uselessly to her sides, her eyes glazing over as consciousness slipped away. Air no longer reached her lungs. Her heart slowed, each beat weaker than the last, her thoughts dissolving into nothingness.
Then—
The ring on her finger grew warm.
And in the very next instant—
"**Aria!**"
Nytharos flinched as Adrian’s furious roar thundered through the room.
He was just about to finish it—about to close his grip and snap her neck—
Only to find Ariana’s body dissolving into smog, dispersing into the air and vanishing entirely.
Tracing the mana instinctively, Nytharos snarled.
A red-haired woman stood where Ariana had been monts ago, her gaze sharp, fury barely restrained.
"Not this ti, you bastard."
Nytharos barely had ti to register her presence.
Adrian charged.
The Fallen God snarled and thrust his arm forward, fingers straightened like a blade, aid directly at Adrian’s throat.
But to his shock—
Adrian *dodged* at the last second.
His body tilted sharply as he pivoted past the attack, slipping behind Nytharos in one fluid motion. Arms locked around the god’s torso, Adrian lifted him clean off the ground.
**DHAKK**
The wooden floor exploded with cracks as Nytharos’s head slamd into it.
Shock rippled through the Fallen God’s mind.
The sa mortal who had been pitifully weak just days ago now possessed speed, strength—*control*—that defied reason.
Adrian didn’t give him a second to recover.
He climbed atop Nytharos, fist drawing back—
The Fallen God shut his eyes.
Darkness swallowed the room in an instant.
"Where did he go?!" Annabelle shouted, rage bleeding into her voice as she clutched Ariana tightly in her arms.
Adrian rose to his feet, eyes scanning the void, senses stretched to their limit.
Then a voice echoed from nowhere.
"I see you are eager for a battle."
Adrian snarled, teeth bared. "And you are clearly a coward. What happened to your godly pride?" His voice was cold, cutting. "No wonder you’re regarded as a false deity."
Nytharos chuckled softly. "If only you knew..."
A brief pause followed, heavy and deliberate.
"Let’s end this, Runesmith. Once and for all. Just you and ." His tone sharpened. "If you wish to protect your woman—whom I can reach *any ti*—et where the Ancient Creature currently resides."
Silence.
Then the threat landed.
"Run away, and your lover dies."
"Appear before , and I’ll make sure you never see tomorrow’s sun."
The darkness lingered.
And Adrian’s answer was already decided.
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