Meanwhile, miles away from the warm, celebratory glow of the Dale household, a heavy silence filled Room 304 of the "Starlight Inn."
The room was clean and modern, typical of the city's budget accommodations, but Asher sat on the pristine bed as if waiting for an execution. The neon sign outside cast a rhythmic, blood-red light through the blinds, painting stripes across his bare torso.
He sat cross-legged, stripped to the waist, his lean muscles trembling violently. A thick, folded washcloth was stuffed between his teeth, his jaw clenched tight enough to snap bone.
In front of him lay a heavy container lined with dampening velvet. Inside rested a jagged, fist-sized stone. It pulsed with a deep, menacing violet rhythm, distorting the air around it.
It was an Ancient Rune Stone.
A relic from the Pre-Collapse Era, a crystallized fragment of a "Prime Law."
Asher stared at it, sweat dripping down his nose.
In his memories of the ruined future, this rune belonged to a monster.
Three months from now, a notorious S-Rank villain known as "Karn the Butcher" was destined to stumble upon this relic while hiding in the abandoned ruins of the Sector-7 Outskirts. Karn would unknowingly bond with the rune, gaining the power to vibrate his blades at frequencies that could slice through the city's defensive barriers like wet paper.
But today, that future died. Asher had spent the entire week crawling through the toxic mud of Sector-7 to find it first.
'...' He looked at his own hand, then at the stone.
'Gulp...' He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as a cold drop of sweat traced a path down his spine. The silence of the room felt heavy, amplifying the thumping of his own heart.
Asher possessed a unique, innate ability called [Runic Absorption].
It was a biological anomaly that allowed him to bypass the standard rules of Artificing. Instead of inscribing Runes onto cold steel or parchment using stabilizing tools, he could etch them directly into his own physiology, turning his body into a living artifact. It promised the potential to scale his power infinitely with every Law he consumed.
However, the risks were horrifying; forcing the volatile logic of a Rune to coexist with human flesh required a brutal physiological reconstruction, a process that promised agony beyond imagination and a high probability of death.
He had possessed this dormant cheat even in his "dreams"—in that doomed future timeline. Yet, across all those years, he had never dared to activate it. Not even once.
Because the fear had paralyzed him.
The stories of people exploding when trying to graft Runes onto their flesh had terrified him.
So, he had chosen safety. He had chosen to rot in mediocrity, hiding behind a facade of hollow luxury within the city walls while the world crumbled around him.
And because of that cowardice, everyone he cared about had died.
While he himself died even more pathetically.
"N-Never again..." he choked out around the cloth.
He reached out, his hand trembling, and pressed his right forearm directly against the pulsating violet stone.
He triggered the ability.
The Rune Stone reacted violently to his touch. The solid crystal instantly destabilized, liquefying into a searing stream of raw, conceptual energy that poured directly into his skin.
"MMMPHHH!"
Asher bit down into the cloth, a muffled scream tearing at his throat.
The sensation defied description. The Rune, embodying the "Law of Oscillation," aggressively overwrote his biology. It demanded that his flesh vibrate at the frequency of destruction. His Rune Vein flared to life, straining to process the overwhelming complexity of the ancient code and weave it into his nervous system.
Violet lines bulged along his forearm, glowing bright enough to illuminate the entire room.
'Subjugate the Law.'
Asher forced his green-grade arcanum reserves to surge. He wrapped his energy around the violet intruder, guiding it with a desperation born of regret. He locked the Rune into the metaphysical pathways of his arm, forcing the ancient power to submit to his will.
Hiss.
The original stone on the bed crumbled into fine gray dust.
On his right forearm, beneath a layer of sweat and red irritation, a complex, violet geometric pattern glowed intensely. It slowly settled into the skin, fading into a dull, black brand resembling a jagged lightning bolt running from his elbow to his wrist.
Asher spat the shredded, saliva-soaked cloth onto the floor, gasping for air. He collapsed backward onto the mattress, his chest heaving as the aftershocks of the integration racked his body.
"Hah... hah..."
After a long minute, the tremors ceased. He held up his right arm. The Rune of Oscillation, Karn's future weapon, now existed as a part of him.
He clenched his fist, attempting to channel his Arcanum into the new circuit.
VMMMMM.
A low, menacing hum filled the room. The air around his fist blurred.
"Ghh...!"
Asher immediately cut the flow of energy, clutching his wrist. His face twisted in pain. For a brief second, his own radius and ulna had started to rattle violently against his flesh.
"I can't use it directly," he hissed, glaring at the tattoo. "My body is too weak. If I punch someone with this now, my own arm will shatter before their skull does."
He needed a conduit.
A medium to take the stress of the Rune.
He reached into his travel bag and pulled out a cheap, standard-issue steel combat knife. With his other hand, he picked up a grey river stone he had brought specifically for this test.
He gripped the knife. This time, he guided the Rune's energy out of his body and into the blade.
VMMMMM.
The steel blade began to sing. The edge vibrated at a microscopic frequency, turning the solid metal into a blur. The handle grew hot in his palm.
Asher brought the knife down on the river stone.
Zzzzt.
There was no impact sound. No clatter of stone.
The blade passed through the solid rock as if it were cutting through warm butter, slicing it cleanly in half. The two halves of the stone fell onto the bedsheets with a soft thud, the cut surfaces perfectly smooth and polished.
CRACK.
Suddenly, the combat knife shattered.
Asher dropped the hilt as the steel blade disintegrated into jagged shards of scrap metal on the floor. The cheap alloy couldn't withstand the stress of the Rune for more than a few seconds.
"A-Amazing..." Asher whispered, staring at the sliced stone.
Then he looked at the ruined knife pile.
"...But costly."
A feral, pained grin stretched across his face. He had the ultimate offense, but it came with a high cost. He would need a constant supply of weapons, or eventually, a weapon of legendary grade, to sustain this power.
However, he had no other choice.
This was the path he had chosen.
His own path.
"Ding!"
A sharp, digital chime cut through the silence, emanating from his Arc-Link wristband on the nightstand.
Asher froze.
"The Academy..." he muttered, his voice raspy. "Results must be out."
He stared at the blinking notification light. In his dreams, he remembered receiving this message with trembling hands, only to find a mediocre score that placed him in the invisible masses of Class-D.
"I wonder which place I got this time."
However, he didn't rush to check it.
He looked down at himself. He was a wreck. His lip was swollen and crusted with half-dried blood, and his torso was drenched in cold sweat and grime from the sewers.
"Discipline," he reminded himself.
He grabbed his toiletries and headed to the cramped bathroom.
Ten minutes later, he stepped out, the steam trailing behind him. He looked cleaner, though the exhaustion was etched deep into the dark circles under his eyes. He dressed in fresh clothes, then methodically swept up the sawdust and metal shards, disposing of the evidence of his illegal modification.
Only when the room was pristine again did he sit down on the edge of the bed.
He picked up the Arc-Link device.
As he activated it and pressed the letter, a holographic screen flickered to life, projecting the crest of the Stellar Nexus Academy. He skipped the polite introduction, his eyes scanning rapidly past the breakdown of his scores.
________
OVERALL RANKING: 8th
ASSIGNED CLASS: S-CLASS
________
Asher stared at the number.
Rank 8.
He had broken into the single digits. He, a Green Core "nobody," stood amidst the prodigies and monsters of the generation.
He... He had defied his destiny.
A faint, trembling smile etched itself across his lips. It wasn't the feral grin of the Rune integration, but a genuine, fragile expression of relief.
"I..."
He clenched his fist, feeling the hum of the Rune beneath his skin.
"I did it!"