Chapter 16

  Ren sat at his desk, hands folded as he stared down at his notes. His mind wasn’t on the midterms, nor on the strange irregularities hidden in the Academy’s sigils. Instead, his thoughts kept circling back to one unavoidable truth—he was unprepared for the Summer Tournament.

  Not just unprepared. Woefully, utterly behind.

  He had spent weeks refining his theoretical knowledge and deepening his understanding of magic, but when it came to actual combat, he had nothing. No offensive spells, no real defensive techniques, and nothing that could give him an edge over opponents who had trained for years. He didn’t even have a weapon.

  Ren exhaled, pressing his fingers to his temples.

  Nobles had everything they needed—elite training, instructors guiding them, and in many cases, enchanted weapons forged specifically for their mana signatures. Commoners? They had to make do with whatever they could scrounge together.

  His thoughts drifted to the Runic Magic class. More specifically, to the runic steel Professor Orlan had given him to practice with outside of lessons. At the time, he had considered it just another study tool, something to use for sigil experimentation. But maybe…

  His eyes flickered toward his drawer.

  Slowly, he pulled it open, revealing a small, ingot-like slab of dark gray metal. It was cool to the touch, humming faintly with dormant mana. Runic steel—a rare alloy designed to hold inscriptions more efficiently than normal metals. He picked it up, turning it over in his palm.

  A weapon. He could make one himself.

  The idea took root. Most mages relied on weapons to enhance their combat potential, especially those without overwhelming mana reserves. He didn’t have the luxury of throwing around massive spells, but if he could forge a weapon and inscribe it with the right runes…

  Ren stood, determination settling in his chest.

  Mages could shape materials using mana, bypassing the traditional forging process. It wasn’t perfect—true forging was still more efficient, and a dedicated smith could refine a weapon far better—but in a pinch, it worked. It was one of the first practical applications of magic he had ever read about, though he had never attempted it himself.

  He placed the ingot on his desk and took a slow breath.

  Mana shaping required focus, control, and a clear vision of the final product. He had all three.

  Closing his eyes, he let his mana flow into the runic steel. The material reacted instantly, glowing faintly as the mana spread through its structure. Slowly, carefully, he began guiding it, compressing and elongating the metal with sheer will.

  The ingot shifted, stretching like molten wax yet remaining solid. It was strange—watching something so rigid bend and twist under his control. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he worked, shaping the steel into a sleek, dagger-like form.

  Minutes passed.

  Then, with one final push of mana, the shaping process ended.

  Ren stepped back, staring at his work. The blade was rough, uneven in places, but it was undeniably a weapon. A simple dagger, nothing ornate, but it felt solid in his grip.

  Now came the crucial part.

  He reached for his notebook, flipping through pages of runes he had memorized over the years. He needed basic enhancements—nothing too advanced, just enough to make the blade more effective.

  Sharpness. A rune designed to refine the edge, ensuring it could cut through more than just flesh.

  Mana Conduction. Essential. Without it, the weapon would be nothing more than regular steel. This rune would allow him to channel spells through the blade, giving it more versatility.

  Durability. The shaping process had weakened the steel slightly. This rune would reinforce its structure, preventing it from breaking too easily.

  Ren pulled out a small carving tool. Unlike traditional runes, which were drawn onto paper or temporarily formed in the air, inscribing onto physical objects required precision. One mistake, and the rune wouldn’t activate properly.

  With steady hands, he began carving.

  Time slipped away as he worked, lost in the meticulous process of inscription. Each rune had to be exact, every line carved with intent. When he finally finished, he sat back, exhaling deeply.

  The runes glowed faintly, embedded into the steel.

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  He picked up the dagger, channeling a trickle of mana into it. The runes pulsed, activating in sequence. The edge shimmered with a barely perceptible gleam, the mana conduction rune sent a faint hum through the blade, and the durability rune settled into place.

  Ren gripped the weapon tightly, rolling it over in his palm. The blade was crude, the edges slightly uneven, and the balance was off. A real blacksmith would probably scoff at it. Even with the runes reinforcing it, the end product was most likely worth less than the raw runic steel he had started with.

  And yet, a quiet sense of pride settled in his chest.

  This was the first weapon he had ever made. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was his. His effort, his mana, his work. He had shaped it, inscribed it, breathed life into it.

  Ren exhaled, a small smile playing at his lips.

  This wasn’t just about making a dagger. It was about experience. And now that he had done it once, he could do it better the next time.

  The thought stirred something in him.

  He reached for another ingot.

  This time, he would refine the process. Make the blade smoother, the balance better, the runes more precise. His first weapon was a step forward, but it wasn’t the final one.

  And so, with renewed determination, he began crafting again.

  _________________________________________________________________________

  Ren exhaled, stretching his sore fingers as he stared at the growing pile of failures on his desk.

  The first attempt had been a disaster. The moment he tried to shape the runic steel, his mana surged unevenly, causing the metal to warp unpredictably. Instead of a dagger, he ended up with a misshapen lump barely resembling a blade.

  The second was marginally better—at least it had a point. But the balance was horrendous, and the mana conduction rune refused to activate properly, rendering it useless as anything but a crude stabbing tool.

  The third shattered outright. He had pressed too hard while inscribing the sharpness rune, causing a flaw in the structure. One test swing later, and the brittle weapon had snapped in half, forcing him to start from scratch.

  Failure after failure. Each time, a different mistake.

  On the fourth, the durability rune was misaligned, and the entire blade bent like cheap copper.

  On the fifth, he got too ambitious and tried to carve a heating rune without proper layering—resulting in a near-meltdown of the entire dagger.

  On the seventh, the mana conduction rune overloaded, causing a feedback loop that nearly burned his hand.

  By the tenth attempt, frustration was gnawing at him.

  The wasted runic steel. The repeated failures. Each mistake was costly—not just in materials, but in time. He clenched his fists. Was this all he could manage? Some pathetic, half-functional blades that wouldn’t last a single fight?

  No.

  He took a deep breath.

  Each failure had taught him something. The precise way mana flowed through metal. How the placement of runes could either reinforce or destabilize a weapon. The delicate balance between structure and enchantment.

  If he had to fail a hundred more times to get this right, so be it.

  So, he kept at it.

  The eleventh attempt was better. The blade wasn’t perfect, but it held its shape. The sharpness rune activated properly, though it was still weak. The twelfth was even closer, but he miscalculated the heat storage function, making it unstable.

  And finally—after hours of work, refining every flaw, adjusting every rune, and carefully layering mana—his thirteenth attempt lay before him.

  A true weapon.

  Sleek. Balanced. Deadly.

  The Tier 2 Sharpness Rune made the edge keen enough to slice through reinforced wood with ease. The Tier 1 Durability Rune gave it resilience, ensuring it could take a beating. The Tier 1 Mana Conduction Rune allowed him to channel magic through it freely.

  But the real success—the innate heat ability—was his proudest achievement.

  By carefully structuring the runes, he had created two distinct functions. One allowed the blade to superheat itself for two minutes, making it capable of searing through armor or flesh. The other, a dangerous overcharge function, allowed him to release all the stored energy in one burst, causing an explosion of heat and force—but at the cost of burning out the runes, leaving the weapon useless until repaired.

  He ran his fingers over the blade, feeling the faint hum of power beneath its surface.

  Compared to a masterwork weapon, this was probably worthless. A professional smith could forge something far stronger, with better mana efficiency.

  And yet, as he gripped the hilt, a smile tugged at his lips.

  This was his.

  Not something given to him. Not something bought. A blade created by his own hands, through his own skill and effort.

  The next one would be even better……

  At least, that’s what he would’ve liked to think.

  As soon as the excitement faded, exhaustion crashed down on him like a landslide. His arms ached from the precise mana control, his fingers were stiff from carving, and his mind was foggy from the sheer focus required. He had spent hours refining his craft, pouring every ounce of energy into the process.

  Ren let out a long breath, setting the blade down with a quiet clink against his desk. It was done. For now.

  His bed had never looked so inviting.

  Dragging himself up, he barely managed to place the dagger safely beside his notes before collapsing onto the mattress. A deep sigh left his lips as he sank into the sheets, warmth wrapping around him like a familiar embrace.

  As his eyes fluttered shut, a single thought crossed his mind—

  I did it.

  The blade might not be perfect, but he had taken the first step. He had learned. He had improved.

  And with that small, satisfied smile still lingering on his face, he let exhaustion pull him into sleep.