Return of the Legendary Runesmith

Inside the conference room of the Tower, several core members had gathered to discuss the incident that had shaken the world nearly ten days ago.

It had taken time for them to assemble, since many of the Tower's leading figures were scattered across different continents, tied up in their own duties.

At the head of the long table sat Albec, naturally taking the lead.

Beside him, the seat reserved for the other Tower Master remained empty—as it usually did.

Tia almost never attended these meetings. She often called them a waste of her time, claiming that unless a matter involved a world-changing discovery, it wasn't worth her presence. Her opinion would be sought later, after a decision was made.

For now, Albec leaned forward, his voice steady but heavy.

"I would like to address the situation that arose during the ambush."

A member quickly asked, "Isn't this about the miraculous teleportation of the survivors?" Many still believed that to be the most baffling matter.

But Albec's reply carried a sharper edge.

"There is something far more urgent—and far more dangerous."

At his gesture, his secretary stepped forward and handed him a parchment. Albec unfolded it with a grim look, the faint rustle of the paper filling the silence of the room.

"This," he began, his tone sinking lower, "is the report of those who betrayed us. Tower members who went on a rampage, killing innocents the moment the barrier was cast."

The room fell still.

"Thirty-six of them were from Celestial Hall alone. In total, one hundred and fifty-four Tower members across the world betrayed their oaths."

The air grew heavy, faces darkening with disbelief and dread.

They had already been struggling against the rise of the Acolytes, who grew stronger each day with their ability to wield magic independently. And now, even their own people—those who had once sworn to protect civilians and uphold peace—were abandoning them.

Albec's voice grew harsher, frustration leaking through.

"What answer do we give to society, when we can't even hold our members together? What exactly is pulling them to the other side?"

Silence followed. Bitter, suffocating silence.

The situation was spiraling out of control. The public was furious, and rightfully so.

The Towers had been created for one purpose: to ensure that people could sleep safely at night without fear of monsters or war. Yet, hundreds had died in what was supposed to be the safest place on the planet.

Albec clenched his jaw, scoffing inwardly.

We've become nothing but a laughingstock.

Just then, a quiet voice rose above the silence.

"Maybe… it's insecurity."

Every gaze in the chamber shifted instantly, landing on the timid young man who had spoken. Barely in his early twenties, Joseph shrank under the sharp glares directed at him. His face, already pale, turned ghostly white.

Albec, however, broke the silence with a steady tone.

"Please. Speak your mind, Mister Joseph."

The young man hesitated, fingers twitching against the edge of the table, but finally gathered the courage to continue.

"The war… the one that happened two years ago—we lost, brutally. And I believe that loss has left a deep scar on the minds of our people."

Murmurs stirred at his words. Everyone in the room remembered that war.

It had been fought against a powerful faction of the demonic cult. The Towers had discovered their hidden base and launched a direct assault, certain of victory.

The outcome was far from what they expected.

Yes, a few Wardens had risen in rank during the battle—Ariana and Sarah among them. And yes, they had managed to bring down three of the cult's dreaded Generals. But beyond that, there had been no glory—only the grim toll of more than two hundred men lost in a single raid.

Joseph's voice trembled, but his words struck with clarity.

"Since then… with the rapid rise of new forms of sorcery, many have begun to lose faith. While the Acolytes are free to create and wield countless kinds of spells, we… we are bound to a single weapon."

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken agreement.

Joseph lowered his eyes, almost whispering now.

"And even then… a high-grade armament costs hundreds of gold. Not everyone can afford such protection. That… that explains why so many are flocking to the Acolytes instead."

No one raised a word against Joseph. After all, everything he presented was fact—recorded history etched into the Tower's own reports. And his assumption about why people were turning to the other side carried weight. It was not mere speculation; it was painfully plausible.

Albec exhaled heavily, leaning back into his chair, the weight of responsibility pressing visibly on his shoulders.

Before he could speak, the treasurer broke the silence, his tone measured but blunt.

"Even if we were to lower the charges for armaments, the commoners still wouldn't be able to afford them. And convincing our runesmiths to tune anything above first grade at a cheaper rate… would be nearly impossible."

His words struck with the same heaviness as Joseph's, leaving no room for false hope.

The Tower was not overflowing with resources. Every armament, every rune, demanded time, effort, and rare materials.

And the runesmiths—the few scattered masters they had—were not saints. They had no patriotic zeal that would drive them to pour their lifeblood into helping the masses for free.

Albec rubbed the bridge of his nose, his silence saying more than words ever could. The truth was bitter, but it was still the truth.

Just then—

*Click*

The door of the conference room parted and a member stepped inside the room.

Albec frowned…unless it was an emergency, no one was allowed to interfere.

Then that means,

"We received the letter just now through teleportation, Sir."

Albec looked at the crimson mark on the letter and a shiver ran down his spine.

The insignia of demonic cult Skulth.

Albeck took a deep breath before asking, "Did you inspect it?"

The messenger gave a short nod, "Nothing seems suspicious."

Albec rested the letter on the table so that everyone could see the insignia.

A round of gasp resonated through the room. No one was unaware which organization uses such an ominous symbol.

Albec used a small knife to tear the seal before taking out the letter.

Unfolding the paper he read the letter …and soon, his eyes widened.

After a few seconds, someone from the group lost his patience and asked, "What does it say, Sir Albec."

Albec's expression was grim as he relayed, "It is from the Cult Leader…he wishes to have a meeting with me."

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A/N:- Thanks for reading. Have I ever thanked you all for helping me remain motivated? Well, I thank you now :)