Two voices spoke.
They overlapped, tangled, familiar.
One was calm, measured—almost amused.
The other was sharp, impatient, simmering with hunger.
Rex couldn't see anything. Couldn't move. Could barely think.
All he could hear were fragments.
"…getting too smart…"
"…too strong…"
"…one of us will win this game eventually…"
A pause.
A smile he couldn't see—but felt.
Then—
Rex woke up.
He bolted upright in bed, breath sharp, heart pounding. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then the shelves came into focus. The smell of old paper and ink. The low hum of protective wards in the walls.
The library.
Not Velkohr's library.
Dorian's library.
Rex sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his face. His body ached in that deep, satisfying way that meant you lived. The battle replayed itself in his mind—fire, screaming forest, Star-Rot burning away like rot scraped from bone.
Hectic didn't even begin to cover it.
But it taught him things.
Fire was powerful—but it poisoned the air. He'd almost suffocated himself.
Light armor gave him mobility he loved. Flexibility mattered more than brute defense.
And the spells…
Gods, the spells.
Lightning ripping through hordes. Healing magic keeping fighters on their feet. Control spells shaping entire battlefields.
Rex stared at the floor.
Could I make those?
The thought wouldn't let go.
He stood—legs protesting a little, but he ignored it—and stepped into the hallway. His destination was clear: the rune book and the Mistica Arcanum.
He found them quickly, tucked where Dorian always kept dangerous knowledge just out of casual reach.
Then straight to the ritual room.
Rex sat cross-legged on the floor, books open, paper spread everywhere. He read. Compared. Scribbled. Crossed things out. Read again.
Hours passed without him noticing.
He found it—
A heal rune.
Rex actually grinned. "Oh, that's beautiful."
Carefully, deliberately, he planned.
The Lightning Spell
Runes selected:
Bolt
Direct
Hold
Release
Lightning
Charge
Multishot
Shockwave
Eight runes.
Maximum complexity.
He double-checked every interaction. Read every warning twice. The charge and shockwave runes especially—those were infamous for killing impatient mages.
The Healing Spell
Runes selected:
Heal
Emit
Direct
Hold
Control
Smoke
The smoke rune wasn't for damage—it allowed the healing energy to spread gently instead of violently. Subtle. Elegant.
Satisfied, Rex stood—
And froze.
"…I forgot my Gauntlet."
Twenty minutes later, after checking literally everywhere except the obvious place, he found it under his bed.
"…I hate myself," he muttered.
Back to the ritual room.
He placed the first pure focus onto the pedestal. Carefully carved and aligned each rune pedestal.
Gauntlet on.
Activation.
Nothing exploded.
No violent backlash.
No homing purple death lightning.
Just a few weak arcs snapping harmlessly into the air as the runes dissolved into the crystal.
Rex blinked.
"…that's it?"
The focus settled into a cool, steady blue.
He felt a little disappointed—then relieved. "Yeah, no dodging death bolts while half asleep is probably good."
Second focus.
Heal. Emit. Direct. Hold. Control. Smoke.
Activation.
Again—smooth. Quiet. Almost too clean.
The focus glowed red, warm but not hot.
Rex leaned back, exhaling slowly.
He looked at his pouch.
Fire.
Air.
Earth.
Redirect.
Healing.
Lightning.
Six spells.
Versatile. Dangerous. Growing.
Rex smiled to himself.
"…I'm getting scary."
Somewhere deep in his mind, two voices listened.