Without wasting any time, I called up my interface and focused on the rune stone in my hand. The translucent system window appeared, crisp and clean, displaying the details exactly as I remembered, but somehow, seeing it here, after all the work and planning, it felt even more impressive.

  I couldn’t help but grin as I read over the description, nostalgia bubbling up with every line. I had once made use of this very rune in a different character, a run that had consumed months of grinding and preparation, collecting eyes from every spawn and trading with other npc’s for the components just to craft a full set.

  I remembered that character like it was yesterday. After all that work, I had managed to create five of these runes, carefully inscribing each one onto a separate piece of armor—helmet, chestplate, pants, boots and gloves,. Since the rune could be applied to any armor piece and its effects stacked, I had turned my character into something ridiculous: immune to just about every negative status, shrugging off poison, bleed, stun, and curse like they were nothing but a mild inconvenience. With five runes cutting status durations again and again, I had become a walking fortress.

  That was my first real tank build, and it was… memorable. His signature skill was called Hot Iron, an passive ability that massively boosted defense, but with a painful twist: every time he got hit, he would ignite, setting himself on fire for a few seconds. The whole idea was ridiculous, so much defense he could barely be scratched, but always running around with his armor smoldering, flames licking at his boots.

  I had named the build Heatank, a mashup of his burning skill and his role. He wasn’t the best, but he had a stubbornness that made him last far longer than most of my characters.

  Now, staring down at the Rune of Maledictive Chance,I didn’t hesitate, a use that almost no one else would consider. Not applying it to my armor, nor to my slimes’ weapons. No, I was going to bind its power to my newly acquired Crimson Wolf Fang Bolt.

  Most adventurers would never consider using such a rare and precious rune on a single-use item like an arrow or a bolt. That’s precisely why the effect was so extreme when inscribed onto damaging consumables: it was balanced around the idea of being a one-and-done, single use.

  But my circumstances were different, radically so. Thanks to my slimes, I wasn’t bound by the usual rules. Their ranged forms allowed them to endlessly recover and reuse the same bolt, shot after shot, turning what should have been a one-time effect into a renewable, nearly abusable power source.

  And it got even better. If I could amass an army of slimes, all armed with copies of my enchanted bolt, and they focused fire on a single enemy? Every single hit would trigger the effect. If the enemy wasn’t outright immune, they would be slammed with every status ailment in the book, one after another, until resisting became impossible. Poison. Bleeding. Paralysis. Confusion. Burning. Freezing. Layered and overlapping, relentless.

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  In anyone else’s hands, this rune would be a trump card for a single attack. But for me? For my build, this was the key to turning impossible fights into victory.

  I couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. My hands were steady as I took out the Crimson Fang Bolt, and carefully hovered the Rune of Maledictive Chance above it.

  A deep, resonant hum vibrated in the air, and the system’s interface flickered into view.

  I stared at the prompt, heart pounding, not from doubt, but from the thrill of bringing a long-planned idea to reality.

  Without hesitation, I pressed confirm.

  The rune in my hand shimmered, its etched symbols glowing brighter and brighter. In a slow, deliberate motion, the rune began to disintegrate, fine motes of iridescent dust breaking off, drifting down onto the Crimson Fang Bolt.

  As the dust touched the bolt, it sizzled and sparked, runic patterns etching themselves along the shaft and into the blood-red fang at the tip. The two items fused seamlessly, the bolt pulsing once with a deep glow.

  A moment later, the light faded. The process was complete.

  Almost immediately, a new interface appeared, displaying the details of my newly enchanted weapon:

  I stared at it for a long moment, a slow grin spreading across my face. This wasn’t just a weapon anymore.

  It was the beginning of a new kind of power.

  As the last shimmer of light faded from the bolt, I became aware of the silence behind the counter. The owner of the shop was staring at me, her violet eyes wide, lips parted in genuine disbelief.

  She stepped forward, voice low but sharp with curiosity. “Why would you use such a potent rune on a single-use bolt?” she asked, almost unable to hide her surprise. “That enchantment could have been used on your weapon or armor. Are you sure you won’t regret it?”

  I glanced at her, meeting her gaze with a calm smile. “I have my reasons,” I said simply, tucking the enchanted bolt safely away.

  Her eyes lingered on me, trying to unravel my logic, but I didn’t elaborate. Some advantages were better left unexplained.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I said, giving her a polite nod, “I have other matters to attend to.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I turned and strode out of the shop, feeling the weight of the newly-empowered bolt in my pack and the anticipation of everything it would change.