Return of the Legendary Runesmith

When building an artifact or an armament, every single thread must be tied to the user.

It is no different than constructing a bridge—if even a single step is skipped, the whole thing risks collapsing in the middle.

That was why almost everyone in the room opposed Adrian's idea. Everyone, except for the woman who held the highest authority here.

Without hesitation, she handed over materials worth thousands of gold coins and told Adrian to do whatever he thought was right.

The man with the Light affinity was summoned. He had been resting in his quarters, so the sudden call—especially one coming directly from the chief—took him by surprise.

Adrian stood over the weapon, wiping away the runes carved into its handle. His brows were knit, his expression carrying both focus and faint disappointment.

Nathan, watching from the side, couldn't help but scoff inwardly. "Acting like he can do better than us…"

Nathan had spent his entire life studying Runesmithing. Once hailed as a prodigy at Aegis Academy, he was later invited to the Twilight Vault, one of the most prestigious Towers for their craft.

And yet, when he met a woman whose passion for runes matched his own—and who worked not for glory but for the people—he didn't hesitate to follow her. He devoted five years to serving Heiress Vermillion, earning her trust and even her praise more than once.

But this time, he had failed.

For the first time, Nathan couldn't meet her expectations.

The only comfort he found was in believing the task itself was impossible. What Ruby envisioned was beyond reach—not just for him, but for anyone in the world. That belief was the only thing that kept the weight of failure from crushing him completely.

And yet… now, before his eyes, stood a man foolish enough to believe he could do what an entire team of brilliant minds could not. A man who acted as though he were some legendary Runesmith out of old tales.

Once Adrian finished assessing the handle, he lifted his gaze and saw the subject walk in.

He leaned slightly toward Ruby and asked in a low voice, "He's a reliable man, isn't he?"

Ruby immediately understood the reason behind his question. She had witnessed firsthand the power of Adrian's armaments, and this artifact he was fine-tuning was anything but harmless.

Still, her answer came without hesitation. "I trust him. He's been serving the Vermillion family for ten years."

Adrian's brows arched faintly. Ten years? The man looked far too young for that.

The two exchanged a firm handshake, and the light-affinity wielder introduced himself. "Quinton."

He sat down across from Adrian, his voice carrying a hint of unease as he asked, "Do I need to undress?" His eyes flicked toward the Chief, clearly uncomfortable at the thought.

Adrian shook his head. "No need. Just lie down somewhere."

Quinton nodded, then moved to the side, climbing onto a bed and settling onto his back.

The other runesmiths crowded closer, though they kept a respectful distance, giving both the craftsman and the subject space to work. Nathan noticed several researchers pulling out their notepads, eager to record every detail of what was about to unfold.

Then his eyes drifted to the Chief. She was watching with rapt attention, her focus entirely on Adrian and the subject.

A faint bitterness stirred in Nathan's chest. That sharp, eager light in her eyes—it wasn't for him. It was for the man she had entrusted with the impossible.

Let's see how badly you humiliate yourself. Pressing a finger against the bridge of his glasses, Nathan fixed his gaze on the man at the center of the room.

Adrian slipped off his jacket, took out his runic pencil, and began. Above Quinton's face, the faint glow of an elemental circle came alive.

As the diagram expanded, the crowd leaned in. Among the two anomalous forces—Light and Darkness—the circle pulsed in harmony with Quinton's element: Light.

Gasps rippled through the room.

"I've only heard about this…"

"This is unreal—no tools, no catalysts…"

"Look at how precise—how fast—"

"Damn…those fingers…"

Nathan's jaw tightened. Every word of awe was a needle sinking deeper. Adrian was doing what none of them could manage—what even Nathan had failed to accomplish.

Still, he clung to a shred of disdain. Flashy tricks don't win battles. Assessing an element this way won't take him far. His eyes narrowed as Adrian's hand moved with steady confidence, inscribing the first thread as though it were child's play.

Within seconds, the mark was complete. Adrian rested the weapon's handle beside Quinton's body, then rose to his feet. His tone was calm but carried a quiet authority.

"Don't resist. And don't panic."

Quinton's chest rose and fell a little faster. The warning only deepened his unease, but the Chief's presence left him no choice. Nodding faintly, he swallowed his fear and put his trust in Adrian.

Adrian rested his hand gently on Quinton's head and closed his eyes.

This was his first time chanting for a third-grade artifact. Yet, to him, it felt little different from working with armaments—and just like every time, the key was the bond between artifact and subject.

He released a steady pulse of mana, letting it weave into Quinton's magical flow until both resonated in harmony. A part of his consciousness sank deeper, tracing along the channels of Quinton's body. He brushed past the mana nodes—there was no need to bind the second thread here—and instead moved straight toward the nervous system.

Around him, silence swallowed the group. Not a single breath dared break the stillness. They all knew how much concentration the third thread demanded.

And yet, a single question burned in their minds.

Nathan finally voiced it in a hushed tone, "This… this isn't how you trigger emotions."

The others exchanged uncertain looks, silently agreeing.

To connect the third thread, one had to stir the subject's most defining emotions—the force that shaped them. Several methods existed to draw such feelings out, but this… this was unlike anything they had ever seen or heard.

Adrian, however, remained undisturbed. His focus never wavered as he delved deeper, sifting through the fragments of Quinton's memories.

The young man's life unfolded before him—harsh and unforgiving. A frail child in a crowded orphanage. A boy who struggled against his own weakness until he clawed his way into the military, enduring relentless drills under merciless mentors.

Moments of beauty in his past were few and fleeting. But one stood out with remarkable clarity—

'The purchase he made with his first wage…'

A faint smile touched Adrian's lips.

So this was the core of him. The emotion that defined him most, the one buried yet burning quietly all this time—

Happiness.

So rare, yet so powerful.

°°°°°°

A/N:- Thanks for reading.