The Runic Alchemist

Damian could see the surprise etched clearly on everyone's faces. Aside from the Highswords, even his friends were struggling to believe his words. What did they think it was? A horse-drawn carriage that would fall apart if taken across long distances?

"Such a bold claim," the Sunkeeper said. "But with everything you've shown us so far, I oddly believe it might be true."

"So much mana… Can you really supply enough for it to cross five kingdoms?" the Lifewarden asked.

"In theory, at least," Damian replied simply. "There's still a lot of work to be done before I can give a practical estimate of how much I can generate."

Lifewarden's expression grew thoughtful, and suddenly the atmosphere shifted, as if everyone had been silently waiting for someone to bring up the artificial mana core.

"There is a reason why we weren't given unlimited mana, boy," Hellseeker said, his voice heavy with warning. "The potential for destruction if it falls into the wrong hands is immense—and impossible to ignore."

Damian locked eyes with the man but didn't reply. Instead, Worldscribe spoke on his behalf. "It's in good hands. And as Maximus explained, it won't function without him. His unique methods ensure that only he can utilize the device."

"And who's to say he will never change?" Gravebreaker interjected.

"Let me guess," Damian said dryly. "Your next line is, 'We can take better care of it. It needs to be protected,' and so on?"

The third-rankers stared at Damian, their calm expressions not betraying any hints of various emotions hidden beneath the surface.

"Do you not see the problem with it?" Hellseeker asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, I do," Damian admitted. "But I created it, and I will use it as I see fit—within the laws of men, of course. I understand why you don't trust me with it, but I don't trust you either. I even came here to build it in the open, to show you all that it wasn't intended as a weapon for any one side. But can you guarantee that every member of your organization is beyond greed? That no one among you will seek to use it for personal gain?"
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His friends exchanged uneasy glances. Even Worldscribe and Runefather looked uncomfortable with his blunt response.

"Are you saying we—the ancient order of knights who have protected the realm for centuries—are not trustworthy?" Hellseeker asked, his voice calm but tinged with an oppressive aura that left those nearby visibly uneasy.

Damian didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Maelor, whose strained expression revealed his struggle against the intense pressure. Hellseeker noticed and reined in his aura.

With newfound clarity, Maelor's wide eyes met Damian's. Understanding the unspoken cue, Maelor spoke up.

"Honorable Transcendants, we are not here to accuse anyone, but we cannot deny the doubt that lingers in our hearts. All our lives, we have heard tales of the noble Highsword heroes—saviors of the world, protectors of the helpless in their darkest hours.

But those remain just stories. I personally appealed my case, only to be turned away at the gates of the Bastion every single time. The people of Eldoris were attacked over nothing more than petty reason. Ashenvale is burning, and my own home, Dawnstar, teeters on the edge of destruction.

When will the heroes of justice step forward to aid them? Thousands are dying. Wasn't protecting them the job?"

Damian had to admit, Maelor delivered one hell of a speech. It was bold, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. The third-rankers stared at Maelor in stunned silence. Of them, only Runefather, Hellseeker, and the woman with the ribbon showed visible signs of regret and frustration. The others either concealed their emotions too well or simply didn't care.

Gravebreaker, in particular, appeared visibly irritated.

"I am a researcher, honorable Highswords," Damian said, stepping in. "I only believe in what I can see and confirm with my own eyes. The day I meet someone better than myself-who cares for more than just their own status, I'll entrust them with my creation. Until then, I'll protect it myself."

"Do you even realize who you're speaking to?" Gravebreaker began, his voice rising, but Hellseeker cut him off.

"Enough." Hellseeker turned to Damian and Maelor, his gaze sharp. "Do not forget your place, boy. You may have promise, and your discoveries are noteworthy. But don't assume you know everything."

Damian simply nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing further. This was just one man, and the entire High Table was fractured. He might have Voidshaper's favor, but that carried little weight in this matter.

No one said another word as the entire group of third-rankers began to leave. However, just before they took their first steps, Damian called out with a parting remark:

"When the stars fade and the earth trembles, we are the light that guides the lost home."

They froze for a moment, lingering in silence, before continuing on their way without so much as a glance back.

It was a line Asael, the Landbreaker, had uttered in legend, spoken while facing the Chaos Inheritor Dragon—a creature on the verge of obliterating a forgotten city. Despite being only a third-ranker at the time, Asael had fought the Legendary-rank monster and came out alive, an act immortalized in songs.

They departed along with their respective groups, accompanied by their squires and assistants who had been waiting at a distance. As Damian and his friends watched them going into the distance, Maelor finally broke the silence:

"Was that wise? Riling them up like that?"

"No," Damian replied, his eyes following the retreating figures. "Wise would be helping thousands of people in need when you have the power to do so. But that's not what people do these days, is it?"

"They'll come for your artificial mana core sooner or later. You know that, right?" Evrin asked.

"Yes," Damian said, his expression unreadable. Internally, though, his resolve hardened. 'That's why I need to perfect it—and use it to make myself untouchable.'