The Runic Alchemist

Chapter 778: A World Too Full of Light

[In a deep underground bunker, somewhere in the new Empire, Ryonen’s POV]

The dark, damp place had once again started to make sounds. The darkness was so rich, and the sound of dripping water droplets so constant, that Ryonen sometimes entirely forgot where he really was. Only when some disruption came to his screaming silence did he realise he was also once a human and darkness and silence were not his natural state of living.

He was imprisoned in a small, dirt cell with iron bars. For a pathfinder, even a first ranker, it wouldn’t have been enough at all, but Ryonen was fortunate enough to have the mana in him. He knew he wasn’t alone here. There were hundreds of people confined to the endless, dark cells, placed at regular intervals in the twisting, dark tunnels. But it always remained eerily silent.

Their throats were sore from screaming for help, and with time, they had learned to save their strength. Food was neither enough nor regular.

With loud footsteps, the hooded figure passed through the dark hallway with a little lamp in hand. The warm light was assaulting Ryonen’s senses, but still, he managed to take a peek. He always managed to take a peek; the light was good compared to the deep, eternal darkness. It was the last act of rebellion against his captors that he still held on to.

It was the priest again.

The goddamm red priest.

Once, he too believed in the golden faith. The sun god was the oldest of them all. If the stories he was fed from childhood had even an ounce of truth, then the god of burning light had done a lot for their people in the primordial age and even after. But clearly not everything was true.

The knights from the red temple had attacked the wagon Ryonen and his family were travelling in. He was still a foolish youth then, 19 years old. How many years had it been since then? Five? Ten? Or more?

According to the knights, there was a demon spy amidst them – a woman with a large leather bag that stored numerous papers and colourful vials in it. Ryonen had even found her very alluring, even with her being a decade older than him. His older brother and sister-in-law teased him whenever they noticed his eyes wandering towards the pretty lady.

Was she a spy? The question was never answered; the red knights had put five swords through her chest before without asking any questions.

Ryonen had heard rumours circulating in their small town that the red knights needed no reason at all to brand someone a demon spy; the rulers of three kingdoms had given them the right to execute any suspicious person they believed to be working for the demons. Thousands of people had been branded a spy. To Ryonen, they seemed strict and ruthless but still true to their duty until it was his turn to face the armoured brutes.

Ryonen’s jaws tightened just thinking about that day. His brother.. The bastard listened to not a single word of anyone. Just because they were travelling together, the red knights killed and captured the whole wagon full of travellers, even the rider. Because of his mistake of becoming an unnecessary hero.. His brother had paid the price.

They beheaded him, right in front of him and Soreiya. The horror on her face.. Ryonen shuddered just thinking about the vacant look in her eyes. He instinctively pulled himself back from the iron bars, welcoming the dark embrace. It was comforting.

Ryonen felt disgusted just thinking about the man he had turned into. But he had to live. He had lost a brother; he will not lose Soreiya either. No matter what happened, no matter how many years went by, Ryonene had to get her out of this hell.

***

[In a deep underground bunker, somewhere in the new Empire, the Red hooded priest’s POV.]

It smelled like a latrine pit. Cornilius always found it strange that, compared to caged animals and monsters, humans smelled even worse. A few years of filth was too much for his senses. This was the way. He had to do this hidden from every single pair of eyes – even from his own fellow red temple followers. This honour was just his and his alone; no one was yet worthy enough to present themselves in front of his lord.

Cornilius moved swiftly through the dark, familiar tunnels till he finally reached the enormous stone door. He breathed in, even though he had done this thousands of times before, it required the same amount of focus every single time. Opening his eyes, Cornilius touched the large stone gate. His muscled arm, glistening with the runic lamp’s light. It showed the impressive physique that always remained hidden behind layers of his priestly robes.

The stone came alive, from the tip of his fingers to the end of his shoulders, the stone moved forward as if it were water, and the two arms were its only path to flow. He was a hybrid. Born an esper, but his lord had helped him ascend in a way that Cornilius had acquired a way to use his mana for any spell possible.

He was no longer restricted to just his own esper mana. There were some minor inconveniences with his hybrid nature, but they were nothing compared to the gains Cornilius had received from his special class. After all, who in all of mainland could boast of being over three centuries old without being transcendent and beyond?

With his pure physical strength, Cornilius pushed the enormous stone doors wide open and entered the giant stone hall. The statues of various men, beasts, and monsters filled the side walls. The murals on the ceiling and parts of the stone wall were illuminated in the light of numerous burning torches.

This was the true seat of primordials. The murals and statues told a story that would give a shock to any scholar of this age. Cornilius had taken great care to hide this ancient relic of the past from the changing seats of power. He did not serve any fleeting kings; to him, there was only one entity worthy of his devotion – and that was no man, his lord was divinity itself.