The Runic Alchemist

Damian moved through the lines of soldiers going about their day, doing whatever was necessary to survive in the camp and fight for another day. Their faces were much more strained and serious now compared to when he had first seen them. The newly enlisted ones had lost all feelings except exhaustion and coldness.

Did the soldiers he had spoken to that one night by the campfire survive? Or had they long since perished?

Tracking Valoris's mana signature, Damian slowly made his way toward him. Many soldiers recognized him, following his movements with tired eyes. Some gave him smiles, while others shot him angry or confused looks. Most, however, were either sleeping in their tents or performing some sort of menial task. Chattering and laughing was nearly nonexistent—people spoke only when necessary.

'Man, this place is depressing as hell,'

Valoris was in one of the smaller wooden buildings, a single-room structure with just one door. Wood-style mages often worked for others in exchange for money or favors, and these simple structures were their craft. Most of these mages belonged to the high-mana-quantity Eldoris upper class, though there were exceptions—some worked out of friendship or loyalty.

These wooden buildings were plentiful in the camp, providing better protection than tents.

No one stopped Damian as he entered. The guards glanced at him briefly, either recognizing him or assuming he was just a child. Inside, Valoris sat in a chair near a window, reviewing some papers. The rest of the room was filled with resting soldiers from Pyron camp and Valoris's household knights, some of whom Damian had traveled with before.

One soldier catching Damian, started rubbing his eyes, then pointed at Damian and called out, "Maximus! The boy lives!"

The room burst into excited commotion as the others took notice.

"Woah... It really is him!"

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Who the hell said he was dead?"

The ruckus drew Valoris's attention. Damian smiled, trying not to feel awkward as the rough, bearded men—smelling of battle and sweat—crowded around him. Eventually, they parted, allowing him to approach Valoris, whose face lit up with pleasant surprise.

"I'm glad to see you're doing well," Valoris said as the two of them stepped outside, walking toward one of the quieter areas of the camp.

"Thanks... I'm glad to see you're still here too," Damian replied. His expression mellowed as he asked, "I couldn't sense Makayla anywhere. Did she...?"

No matter their allegiance, faith or beliefs the Kiyama siblings had shown him kindness, and in a world like this, Damian had learned to value that deeply.

"Oh, no," Valoris reassured him. "She's with one of the units that went after those Ashenvale bastards. I asked to go too, but my request was rejected. They want me here, managing things for some reason."

Damian felt slightly relieved. "And my friends?" he asked, meeting Valoris's eyes.

"The two in Mira's unit were asking about you," Valoris said. "They're stationed at the edge of the camp, serving as the first line of defense. It's their turn this week. As for the other three... they were supposed to regroup here with their unit, but there's been no sign of them.

I was thinking about sending a search party, but we're short on people, and the route is still swarming with monsters and hidden Ashenvale forces. Their camouflage ability is a real pain in the ass."

"Captain Mira's unit?" Damian asked. "The pugilist cousins?"

"Yes, those two," Valoris confirmed. "I'll send someone to guide you."

"Hmn, thanks," Damian nodded.

"It's been miserable around here, but now that Lady Vidalia is with us, things should start improving," Valoris added.

"Yeah, they're making plans," Damian said, offering a glimmer of hope. "They also have a tool that could give you guys a real advantage. If they play their cards right, even if they don't defeat the Ashenvale forces outright, they might at least push them back into the Dreaded Lands."

Valoris's face visibly brightened at the good news.

****

Sam's sword sliced through the air with sharp, precise strikes. He moved steadily, each step sure, as he dodged and parried the blows of yet another Ashenvale soldier group launching a surprise attack on them. The sounds of battle surrounded him, but his focus remained unshaken. The others could take care of themselves.

His blade found its mark again and again, dropping soldiers with swift, practiced swings. Sam could feel strength surging through his body like never before—he had leveled up significantly and was now only four levels away from unlocking another job in his Pathfinder rank.

Sweat dripped down his face, and his muscles ached from the effort, but he pressed on. There were no flashy moves, no lightning bursts from the power within him. He could have tapped into the reservoir of electricity deep inside, but he chose not to—not until it became his only option. For now, it was just raw skill.

The skill of a fighter who had spent months perfecting every motion, every strike, until they became second nature.

With the last man dead beneath his feet, Sam exhaled a sigh of relief. A few steps away, Einar stood, his sword bloodied, panting hard. Yovan, along with the white-haired, plus-sized kid who had been hurling spells from behind the entire time, finally lowered their wands, catching their breath.

The four of them were the last survivors of Unit 3. For reasons unknown, the Ashenvale soldiers holed up in the cave had spared them. Einar explained that their leader had offered them women they had kidnapped in a twisted effort to lure them to their side.

From what they had seen, the leader was more of a bandit boss than a proper army captain; they had clearly gone rogue some time ago acting on their own.

After Sam finished off the last of them with his lightning, they searched the cave and found a steel trunk containing gold, valuables, a runic dagger—which was claimed by Sam—and a strange bag filled with deep green, unnatural-looking beans.

The beans were too solid to eat and looked strange, but they definitely were valuable to these people, so Sam stored them along with the gold, which they split among themselves. Maximus would haunt him for lifetime if he had let that opportunity slide, Of course, they weren't heartless; they gave a quarter of it to the women they had rescued.

Many of the women were in shock and traumatized, but most were just happy to be alive. Perhaps having a little money would give them a second chance at life.