Sunny morning time, and I was just done with the early practice with my Mother. Today had been a lesson on foundations for the eventual skills I’d develop in the Silver Grade. These included the usuals for every Knight, like the Soft Step, Headstrong, Energy Blast, and so on. They were a pain to work with.

  Energy Blast itself wasn’t that big of a problem. It was essentially a manifestation of one’s energy through the pores, a useful trick best utilized in certain scenarios like when you were cornered and needed a second or two to breathe. I could, if I wanted, manage something similar at the Bronze Grade, but my current internal energy wasn’t thick enough to really affect anything in a meaningful way.

  The Silver Grade, however, would give an edge, a true weight. Which was why all classic Knight skills started at this grade. Take Headstrong for an example. It was a clever trick of internal energy, mostly used through one’s heels to gain a strong, forward momentum. It was similar to the dash skill in the many games I’d played in my first life, which was always useful.

  Soft Step was, of course, a movement skill in nature. It could either be used to keep one’s steps as silent as possible or to tread a rough surface with relative ease. I found them to be lackluster and a bit disappointing. Mother told me it was because I had my Practical Runes.

  She was right.

  After I enjoyed a good breakfast, I dragged my sore body to the basement training complex, through windy corridors, and into the archaic blacksmith. Hardel was nowhere to be seen. Something told me that odd guy would only come back at the end of the week he’d given me. I had at best four days left, and I still hadn’t started on the project.

  With a sigh, I placed Beatrice gently to the side and got myself a bucket. I fetched soap and water from the kitchen before I got to work. Cleaning this place was a lost cause since it was already burdened with stains older than a century, dark patches of mold round the corners, streaks of blurred colors that looked like spilled blood. Everywhere, from the walls to the anvil, the place was riddled with scars.

  And yet here I found an odd sense of peace. Already, my mind began to fall into a rhythm. I had a decision to make, which would determine my future combat prospects, so I couldn’t be careless about it. I wanted to be a real Knight who could deal with a variety of circumstances.

  A Knight’s duel was a respectable show. A Knight’s battle in the true fields, however, was a scene of gore. You would hardly fight a single opponent most of the time. It would get muddy and chaotic. It would get hectic enough that past a certain point, you’d swing your sword at anything remotely resembling a human, including the dead men trapped in their broken armor.

  There was a catch, though. During our history lessons with Belfray, I’d often ask him how the different sides would handle the power discrepancy between their individuals. Back on Earth, even though you’d have highly accomplished Knights who could probably take a dozen men on their own, they were ultimately mortals who’d bleed when cut.

  This wasn’t the case here. A Diamond Knight could quite easily handle dozens of Silver Knights. He could do the same against the Golden Knights with some difficulty, and this didn’t include the skills and runes he’d carry on his person.

  To questions like these, Belfray’s answer would always be the same. If a certain individual couldn’t be overpowered by the sheer numbers of the army, then a man of similar strength had to be involved in the process. So the tradition was that Diamond Knights would find an appropriate foe of their own and have a go at each other.

  This way, even if they could kill the enemy army’s Diamond Knight, they would do so at a grave price, which would likely give the dead Diamond Knight’s army a chance to deal with the battle-worn Diamond Knight through a flood of numbers.

  In short, the stronger you got, the more of a target you’d become during a conflict.

  I had those in my mind as I envisioned a good future for Beatrice and me. I needed a sword that could help against the numbers and stronger foes. I needed Beatrice to be a multifaceted menace of a weapon that could give an opponent nightmares.

  Right.

  Once I cleaned the place as best as I could, I went back to the Runic Chamber and gathered my tools, settling down on a broken chair to begin another pondering session.

  My soul energy reserve was still growing at a good rate. Grade 2 Runes were no longer a challenge. I’d begun to practice with Grade 3 Runes, and they were coming along well. When I’d eventually become a Silver Knight, I could replace all my runes with Grade 3 ones right away.

  The Practical Runes, on the other hand, were quite tricky. It wasn’t that I lacked imagination; it was just that having too many options was really paralyzing. I found myself constantly changing decisions as to which Practical Rune I should go for, and that happened almost every night.

  At some point, I had to pull the trigger and stop with this overthinking, which I’d hoped would happen today.

  So yeah, back to Beatrice.

  I wanted Beatrice to shoot wind spears at the opponent. That alone wasn’t a problem. Making her shoot whiffs of air strong enough to really hurt a Silver Knight, however, took too much soul energy. I could at best manage three wind spears, and that was the limit. Considering my other Practical Runes, the cost was too steep, but anything less powerful wouldn’t make a damn difference.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  That left me a single option. I had to steal from Hardel’s sword and add an extra charging mechanism to the Rune sequence. This way, I could still fuel my own soul energy into the Practical Rune anytime I wanted, but at the same time, it could charge itself from the enemies I’d deal with in any situation.

  Good.

  Then we had the general strength of the weapon. Hardel’s sword could utilize the internal energy mixed into an opponent’s blood through a basic circuit. It essentially coated the weapon’s surface with that internal energy, making it sharper and more durable for a short period. Depending on the quality of internal energy and the amount of blood spilled across the sword, this boost could change from foe to foe.

  I liked this approach. While a Knight who lacked soul energy had to essentially kill people or beasts to keep the Rune active, since there was no way it could suck the opponent’s soul energy through a wound, I could just supply the Rune with my own soul energy when needed.

  This would undoubtedly make the Rune sequence more chaotic, but as a Runemaster I had a glaring advantage over the normal Knights. I could pick which Rune to power and when to do it. I didn’t have to inscribe a long-ass Rune sequence to the sword. Not only that, this secondary effect that boosted the sword’s power could work with the generic Strength and Endurance Runes I was planning on inscribing onto Beatrice.

  That brought the total to a whopping four. There would be two Practical Runes and two generic Runes to work with.

  A little complicated, isn’t it?

  Well, good thing I had enough Corax dust to work with.

  …….

  That night, the smithy turned into my workspace again. It always felt a little abandoned after dark, which worked in my favor. I didn’t need distractions while messing with runes. I lit the hearth until the coals caught properly, giving the room a warm, steady glow.

  The work was simple.

  I had a sword and a patch of Runes to inscribe, but I couldn’t just paint the runes along the blade like a decorative pattern. The Rune sequences needed stability, and stability meant the structure had to sit inside the sword, not on the surface. If I carved directly into the blade, I’d weaken the metal. If I glued anything on top, Hardel would probably show up from wherever he’d gone just to call me an idiot.

  That was why before I started with the sword, I first decided to prepare the Rune sequences with the Corax dust, for which the best option was to go with a circular badge, about the size of two coins pressed together, forged directly into the blade. A recessed pocket with the badge fitted flush inside it. Once the badge was seated and fused, I could inscribe the Corax dust inside the badge itself.

  So, blacksmithing time.

  I moved Beatrice aside and pulled the smaller anvil block toward me. The regular anvil was too big for this kind of detail work, the smaller block made it easier to keep things level. I found a scrap of steel Hardel had left around, thick enough to shape into a badge without melting into nothing. I measured the diameter, marked the circle with chalk, and cut the rough shape using a metal saw, cringing all the while since I couldn’t handle the sound it made.

  Once I had the rough disc, I heated it in the forge until it glowed orange. There was no special technique involved. So long as I didn’t melt it, but made it soft enough to shape, it’d be alright. Then I hammered it flat, spun it, hammered again, thinned the edges, checked the curvature.

  It wasn’t a master’s work, but it looked passable.

  Next came the tricky part, creating the pocket along Beatrice’s flat. I marked the place just below the fuller where the metal thickness was safest, then clamped the blade in place. Using a chisel and careful taps, I carved out a shallow recess the same size as the badge.

  The blade resisted the chisel, which was good. That meant the steel was strong enough to handle a patch without losing integrity. I kept my movements slow, carving out millimeter by millimeter. Eventually, the recess reached a depth good enough to hold the badge, shallow enough not to compromise the blade.

  I checked the fit.

  The badge clicked into place with a soft metallic tap.

  Good. Very good.

  I popped it back out and placed it on the anvil. The badge needed a bonding seal, so I reheated it and sprinkled a small mix of powdered metal and bonding oil across the edges. This would fuse the badge to the recess when I pressed them together.

  I heated Beatrice’s recess next. Then, with both pieces at compatible temperatures, I set the badge into the recess and hammered the edges lightly until the seams blended.

  The metals settled softly into one another. When I ran a finger across the surface, the transition was smooth. The badge looked like it had always been part of the blade, which was the whole point.

  Next, the rune patch would go inside this circular inset.

  The blacksmithing part was done.

  Runemaster part next.

  Okay.

  Let me go over this once again.

  Wind Spear with a charging circuit, siphon overlay, Strength Rune, Endurance Rune. Four total. I re-checked the Runes I’d prepared and went over the sentences one by one.

  They looked alright.

  I picked up the tweezers, placing the Corax dust one by one, and watched the grains cling to the oil. This was an excruciatingly slow process that demanded patience. At the speed I was going, it would likely take hours, but I couldn’t be hasty about it. I had to ensure every inscribed dust particle was fitted in a correct sequence.

  After what felt like hours, the Wind Spear Rune took shape. I leaned back a bit and checked its alignment. It looked clean. I moved quickly over to the second Practical Rune, the internal-energy siphon. I had to take a break in the process since my fingers began cramping with the effort, but with dedication, I continued.

  I didn’t think I had this sort of discipline in me.

  The next two took a great deal of patience, suffering, overthinking, and inner critiquing. The work at hand kept my mind somewhat occupied, but I still found windows to consider my future, which included playing the long-lost prince who’d eventually take over the whole world.

  Still, Mother’s attitude gave me hope. You’d think she was speaking about trimming the backyard when she mentioned how easily other nations would submit to us after we took Palark. That would be something else to witness.

  Anyhow, by the time I finished the fourth rune, the whole patch looked surprisingly organized. The Corax dust gave it a sparkling golden sheen, which, while it looked like a fancy adornment, didn’t quite carry the same beauty displayed on Hardel’s sword.

  It was still a heroic effort, though.

  I wiped my hands on my trousers and leaned back on the stool, glancing down at Beatrice. Overnight, I turned this weapon into a complicated machinery. A part of me wished to jam it straight into Hardel’s face and see how he would react, even though I knew with clarity that this wouldn’t be, in a million years, enough to impress that elf.

  Another part, though, found a more exciting prospect to latch on to. It wanted to see this thing in action, and it wanted to see it badly. I might have to pay a visit to that Grade D plane sooner than I thought. Before that, however, I'd better make sure this thing worked.

  ……

  :3

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