The Runic Alchemist

When his eyes opened, Marcus was already in chains. Silas and Warren were beside him, still unconscious.

When he finally laid eyes on the massive, ugly, metallic, and monstrous hybrid abomination of nature and magic from close, he could not believe his eyes. The trinkets the empire had used all these years were nothing compared to what they had unleashed the night before with these. The runic tools that could burn so bright they could turn the night into day—this would be the end of all of them.

That’s what he thought, and so did all the others captured alive with him. His people, commoner soldiers or noble prisoners, the empire cared nothing for them and just forced them all to pull the giant abominations towards their own home under the torture of their enforcers and barely enough food to survive a day.

Many died around them every day. They just walked over them, leaving their bodies to rot in the barren land. The civilians, not just from the Dawnstar border but many who seemed to be the empire’s own people. It was a living hell; pulling the giant chains in bone-bleaching heat during the day and blood-freezing cold at night.

Slave collars suppressed their access to mana, forcing all pathfinders—regardless of gender, status, or rank—to wear them. Among them, the pugilists suffered the worst fate. Shackled head to toe, their bodies bound in heavy chains, they were fed only once every two days through hollow pipes. These unfortunate souls bore the heaviest burdens of all.

Marcus pulled and pulled, each day bringing him closer to his death. Today was another night just like that. They only stopped to eat for three hours in the afternoon and three hours at night. Food, sleep, relieving oneself—all needed to be done in these six hours. Many even tried ending their own life, but the enforcers in the uniform with red whips stopped them from doing that and beat them until they bled and then still kept them on the job.

Their life had no other reason to exist than to pull, pull, and pull. The huge fires burning on the giant abominations lit the path enough to see a little in the night.

Something weird was happening today, though.

Suddenly, in the dark of night, a massive swirling water-colored wormhole came into existence right near him. It was just high enough to not involve the people pulling the chains beneath it. The enforcers started whistling their strange noise devices as a warning for others. The whole army stopped at once to look at the swirling, strange wormhole that was illuminating the surroundings with a bright sky blue hue.

Then, from within, came out a bird? But it was too big and metallic. No, it was a vessel that could fly. Goddamn these people, did they even have such a thing? That broke all common sense… such runic devices. What world were they living in? How could it change so much in such a little time?

“Marcus, look,” Silas drew his attention back up.

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Something was weird. The strange air vessel was being chased by aerial units, and they were launching spells after spells at the thing, but it was too fast and nimble. Whenever someone managed to close the gap, they inexplicably lost control of their magic and plummeted, forcing others to rush in and catch them. Minutes passed, and not a single soldier could lay a hand—or a spell—on the elusive craft.

An enemy of the empire? Who was it?

Marcus just sighed though.

‘Too bad. Their fate is sealed. Not only is the damned emperor here, but there are also four other Transcendants with him.’

Whoever the vessel belonged to, they had chosen a very wrong place to reveal themselves. Just as he predicted, all aerial units were called back, and just two figures alone flew towards the vessel. Marcus had expected the vessel to fly away upon realizing where they were, but it didn’t.

Instead, it landed right beside the monstrosity he was pulling, and a group of children jumped out of it. Marcus couldn’t see clearly in the night, but it felt like he knew them. But then his eyes fell on a girl with ice-blue hair, and his eyes widened.

Suddenly he was afraid; he had lost the ability to feel fear after losing all hope of getting out of here alive. But now the harrowing fear had returned—not for him but for his only daughter.

He could not let her get captured! But what was she doing here? How did she find such a vessel?

Before Marcus could think for a second, two massive aura signatures made everyone, including him, fall to their knees. That was Daskar—the strongest general of the emperor—and beside him was the turncoat Moondancer with her abyssal black face hidden under the hood.

“No!” Marcus screamed.

They were heading towards his daughter. He struggled to get out of his bindings, but it was pointless. He had already tried thousands of times before and had failed each time.

Suddenly the same giant swirling blue wormhole appeared again. The kids split; his daughter came straight towards him and Silas as if she could see them clearly in the black of night from hundreds of meters away.

The two third-rankers approached the vessel, only to find two figures standing between them and the steel craft.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, carrying a chilling edge. The stars vanished behind a shroud of dark, menacing clouds, and lightning crackled across the heavens. A massive bolt struck one of the boys, enveloping him in a radiant, electric-blue light.

Warren, wide-eyed, shouted over the deafening storm, “It’s him! It’s goddamn him! The boy who can control lightning!”

Marcus rose a little, his gaze locking on the scene behind his daughter. His eyes narrowed as he finally got a clear view of the two figures.

‘The Miracle survivor…? Then the boy beside him—’ Marcus froze, his eyes widening in recognition.

It was him. The Sunblade boy!