The cold rain fell like a knife, slashing obliquely on the ruins of the abandoned clock tower.

  The night-shrouded town of Umber was like a corpse gnawed by time, with broken streets and mottled walls. Only the occasional barking of dogs and thunder in the distance reminded people of the existence of some kind of life.

  Aaron Hastings hid in the cellar of the clock tower, holding the parchment scroll tightly in his arms with both hands. The wind and rain poured in through the cracks, bringing a teeth-trembling chill, but he didn't care about it. Cold sweat rolled down his forehead, and his eyes were filled with fear and suppressed despair.

  He was on the run.

  A few hours ago, he was expelled from the Vestulan Scribe Apprentice Academy for fabricating experimental data, tampering with original runes, and attempting to copy the forbidden scroll.

  But he didn't do those things. The information was indeed modified, but not by his hands.

  It was just a letter, a trap.

  Framed, expelled from the academy, deprived of his apprenticeship, expelled from the city, and even hunted down.

  "'They' are watching me..."

  Aaron whispered, his face pale.

  Three days ago, he accidentally picked up a broken "blank scroll", which was the most mysterious forbidden item in the scribe system - it did not belong to any rune system, but could "accept all will writing".

  But this scroll was "alive".

  He had seen it rolling on its own in the middle of the night, with blurred lines emerging, and those lines seeping out like blood, and then turned into whispers in his dreams.

  "Record me... record me..."

  From that night on, he began to dream of an indescribable black tower, a flowing sea of ??words, and a feather pen that tore the world apart.

  It was also after that that his life collapsed.

  He didn't know who was chasing him, was it a spy from the scribes? Was it a heretic from Talles? Or... the scroll itself attracted some kind of "unspeakable" existence?

  "Am I going to die..."

  Aaron panted in a low voice. His physical strength was almost exhausted, and there was a knife wound on his left abdomen. The blood had soaked through his clothes and was still dripping faintly.

  Just when he was about to faint, the blank scroll suddenly unfolded by itself.

  Snap——

  In the cellar, a blue-white light suddenly lit up. The sound of rain and thunder seemed to stop in an instant.

  There was no handwriting on the scroll, but a series of strange ancient texts began to flash - not any known rune system, but some kind of "original text" that hit the soul directly.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  [Book of Destiny·Binding Confirmation...]

  [Scanning host soul fragments: Matching degree 87.4%]

  [Copying authority detection... Minimum authority has been unlocked: Primary Writer]

  [Activation conditions met: near death, awakening will, carrying a blank carrier]

  [The scroll has recognized the owner, and the system has successfully bound]

  Boom!

  Aaron's mind seemed to be struck by lightning, and countless unfamiliar information swarmed in. He saw a world built by runes, saw that knowledge could tear space, saw that words could build weapons, and saw that language could form the framework of the world.

  He fell to the ground with his head in his hands in pain, and a clearer line of text appeared in his eyes:

  [You have obtained the career path: Scribe]

  [Current status: dying, 0 mana value, severe mental load]

  [Reward trial opened: Survival·First Print]

  [Goal: Use the power of runes to survive and repel the tracker]

  The next moment, a familiar footstep came from outside the clock tower.

  "Here, hurry! The little beast is nearby!"

  It's the tracker.

  Aaron almost instinctively wanted to escape, but his body was no longer obedient. At this moment, the scroll flew out of his hand and floated straight in the air. Then, a stream of light slowly extended from the scroll and condensed into a feather pen made of light.

  "Write." The voice in his mind sounded again, as deep as a god.

  [Trigger the first attempt to write]

  [Provide optional basic runes: Defense-Barrier, Perception-Vibration, Attack-Ember]

  Aaron chose [Barrier] almost without thinking.

  The feather pen automatically dipped a wisp of magic residue in his mind, and with a light wave, a clumsy and blurred rune quickly emerged on the ground.

  Boom!

  The door of the clock tower was kicked open at this time, and three trackers wearing gray cloaks and blurred faces entered one after another.

  But their forward steps were suddenly blocked.

  "Barrier?" The leader hummed in a low voice, "Rune array? Who gave you the right to copy?"

  Aaron did not answer. He was feeling the vibration feedback of the [Barrier] rune. It was a strange feeling - as if every stroke of his pen became a reality, and a visible wall of power surrounded him.

  "This is impossible, he is just an apprentice whose qualifications have been revoked!"

  "Go, kill him, don't let him complete the trial!"

  The three trackers suddenly attacked, and different colored spells and halos appeared in their hands. They were obviously low-level members of the "Outland Writers" who could attack with heretical texts.

  "They... are not normal scribes!"

  Aaron gritted his teeth and tried to write the second rune: [Burning Embers] under the prompt of the scroll.

  Before the strokes were finished, a sharp pain came from his mind. His magic power was not enough, and his mental strength was on the verge of collapse.

  But at this moment, the scroll emitted a bright light on its own, which supplemented his lack of energy and poured it into the rune.

  Whoosh!

  A blazing rune flame suddenly rushed up from the ground and pounced on the leading tracker.

  The man opened his mouth in horror and formed a seal, and a "blood-marked shield rune" with red stripes appeared in front of him. But that "burning ember" seemed to be more than just an ordinary attack rune, but a "pollution-penetrating" rune!

  Boom!

  The flames exploded, rolling up half of the rubble of the bell tower, and the air was filled with charcoal and curses.

  Aaron barely held up his body, his eyes grim. He was not a warrior, not a swordsman, but a writer - a scribe who "constructed reality with words".

  And at this moment, he was no longer the useless apprentice who was at the mercy of others.

  He lowered his head and looked at the next prompt that appeared on the scroll.

  [Trial stage completed]

  [Reward unlocked: Rune Memory, Magic Energy Storage Pool (Primary), Scroll Space +1]

  [Promotion task opened: Become a true scribe]

  [Goal 1: Kill a heretic scribe]

  [Goal 2: Imitate and successfully write your own runes]

  [Current promotion status: Apprentice → Scribe (0/2)]

  The rain fell through the broken skylight and sprinkled on his pale face.

  He slowly raised his head and looked into the depths of the night sky, where a bolt of lightning tore through the sky.

  His scroll slowly closed, as if everything was just beginning.

  "My story is not finished yet."