Demiurge added, "He's shown more fortitude than most. Impressive for a dwarf, I must say."
"So do you say the experiment was successful?" I asked, my gaze sharpening.
Demiurge hesitated—just for a breath, but that pause spoke volumes. His fingers tapped against his chin slowly, calculating. "...Yes," he finally said. "At its current stage, the procedure is functional—if applied carefully, with proper preparation and precautions."
"Great," I said with a thin smile. "Then let's apply it to me."
The room went still.
Gondo's eyes widened behind his goggles. "You… you want to undergo it? Personally?"
"Why wouldn't I?" I stepped forward, letting my presence fill the space. "I've spent enough time watching from the sidelines. If rune craft has a future, then I should be the one to walk its edge first."
"But, my Lord," Demiurge interjected carefully, "though the procedure succeeded on low-tier specimens, your body is a different matter entirely. It is… complex. Layered with magics, resistances, and unknowns. Attempting direct application could have… unpredictable consequences."
"I'm not asking to be a test subject," I said calmly. "I'm telling you to treat me as the final prototype. Whatever conditioning is needed, whatever sequence you believe will work—do it. I'm not interested in dying for the sake of power, Demiurge. I'm interested in transcending it."
Demiurge looked at me long and hard. "Then we will begin preparations immediately. The process must be tailored to your physiology. I'll need at least a week to recalibrate the sequences and adjust the energy flow patterns."
Gondo nodded, still visibly tense but slowly accepting the decision. "If anyone can survive the full rune matrix… it would be you."
I grinned. "Good. Then let's get started."
•••
I stepped into the experiment chamber with a strange stillness in my heart. The kind of calm that arrives only when you've committed to something irreversible. The air inside was hot—unnaturally so. Magical furnaces burned at the back of the room, maintaining the molten state of the rarest metal I'd brought from Nazarick: Celestial Uranium.
A prismatic ore once known only in YGGDRASIL as a component for divine-tier crafting, it shimmered with a radiant glow, floating between silver and star-drenched violet. The fumes it gave off didn't sting the eyes—they shimmered, like fragments of northern lights leaking into reality.
I removed my coat and lay down flat on the runed slab. Magical sigils pulsed faintly beneath my skin as I adjusted my position. Around me, arcane machinery hummed with purpose, wards buzzing to prevent any accidental magical outbursts. Despite all that preparation, a cold sense of dread still licked at my spine.
I was used to pain. This was different.
Gondo stood a few feet away, clad in enchanted smithing gear designed to withstand the aura of the molten ore. His expression was hard, resolved. "We'll begin with the foundational runes: strength, agility, mana flow, and magical resistance. Once the base structure is in place, we can build higher runic logic atop it later."
I gave him a small nod. "Do it."
Just then, I heard the voice.
"Dear," Death's familiar tone echoed in my mind. "You should get something to bite. You're about to experience one of the worst kinds of pain. It's going to burn… through your soul."
There was laughter in her voice, but it wasn't mockery. It was amusement laced with an odd kind of affection.
"I'm getting cold feet," I murmured aloud.
"Then warm them with fire," Death whispered.
With a grunt, I clenched my jaw. "Let's get this over with."
Gondo took his tool—a ritual scribing rod tipped with anti-drip enchantments—and dipped it into the molten Celestial Uranium. The rod glowed blindingly as the substance clung to it. With steady hands and murmured dwarvish prayers, he brought it to my bare back.
"OHHH< HOly Fuck..."
The moment the tip touched skin, the pain was absolute.
It didn't feel like burning. No, it felt like my soul was being written on. Like each cell, each nerve ending, screamed in a chorus of agony. My spine arched instinctively, but chains of gravity magic held me still.
The first rune was for strength, an old dwarvish symbol resembling an ascending mountain peak. As it etched into my skin, I felt every nerve ending light up like firecrackers. My fingers clawed at the edge of the slab. My mouth opened—but no scream came out.
Gondo continued, undeterred. The agility rune came next—swift lines like a leaping wind. It was smaller, more intricate, and somehow even worse. My vision blurred. Blood dripped from the corner of my lip where I'd bitten myself, trying to remain silent.
Next came the mana boost, drawn with whorls like swirling galaxies. That one pulsed with heat unlike any other. I felt my inner circuits flare, as if the rune was reconfiguring my natural mana pathways by sheer force. My stomach churned from the internal shift.
Finally, magical resistance—drawn like a closed shield with embedded fangs. Protective by nature, but in its crafting, it fought the chaotic mana leaking from the previous runes. The backlash struck like waves crashing against bone.
Each rune was aligned along my spine, a sacred path leading from the base of my neck to the lower back. The sequence was perfect. A base foundation of power.
~~~
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