The Runic Alchemist

[98 Years After the Arrival of Humans in the Pigmen World, Worldscribe's POV]

A hooded figure walked toward the half-built giant stone wall in the black of night. The red Pigmen guards, clad in iron armor, called for her to stop, lighting the path. However, just as the figure revealed her face, the guards backed away. Their eyes widened in shock before they bowed deeply, stepping aside to open the gates for her.

Worldscribe pulled her hood back over her face and walked forward. She could hardly believe the progress this civilization had made in just a few decades. To the Highswords—who had lived for multiple centuries—time moved like charging wolves, relentless and swift. If they looked away for even a moment, everything changed.

The once modest snow-covered village had grown into a small town, and from there, it had transformed into a massive, independent, and prosperous city. Most of its development had been guided by the messages their ancestors had left behind within the gigantic stone shrine. Inside, it was always as bright as day—ever since the Pigmen had figured out how to use runic tools to illuminate the dark expanse. Their entire settlement had shifted, now centered around the shrine itself.

And now, they were building a wall.. Their work never seemed to end. Always adding, always constructing, little by little, their city was like a Legendary-ranked monster devouring the land and growing larger with each passing day.

To the Pigmen, humans were held in deep respect and gratitude. Their ancestors told stories of the humans and the aid they had provided. Entire villages and towns had been evacuated and saved by the Highswords when they had been on the verge of destruction, greatly increasing the population of this settlement. Now, the red and blue Pigmen existed in almost equal numbers.

A massive cultural shift had taken place once they deciphered the many languages left behind by their ancestors within the stone shrine. Once the Pigmen understood the language and made it their own, the scriptures became a treasure trove of knowledge—how to build a city, how to cultivate crops, how a king should rule, how governance should be structured, even how one should conduct oneself. From technical to moral dilemmas, it answered everything. All Pigmen, regardless of their origins, viewed the shrine as a divine gift. And indeed, it had proven to be one for them.

Worldscribe did not stop at the bustling taverns filled with warmth and music. Neither did she glance toward the inns or the proud residential districts divided into various classes. She walked straight toward the inner city, past the massive stone doors, and into the hollow shrine.

She was heading toward the stone castle. The old village chief was a king now.

More than the baffling advancements the Pigmen had made, Worldscribe was most shocked by the rapid increase in their power. They had discovered multiple dungeons far from their city, constructing small villages and towns around them—most of them in the north. And there was a reason for that.

Almost every single Pigman now had mana within their body. The reason became clear to Worldscribe after she investigated. It turned out that the very nature of the Pigmen had been fundamentally altered. Just like magical beasts, their species had somehow evolved to survive in this world's conditions. Every newborn Pigman carried mana in their body—it was necessary. Those born with too little mana or unable to regenerate it fast enough often perished in the harsh environment. This was especially heartbreaking because Pigmen had difficulty reproducing; their numbers grew very slowly.

With so many powerful individuals, it was inevitable that their number of first- and second-rankers was astronomical compared to their home world. And that wasn't all. After living in this world for nearly a century, not one but four individuals had reached the transcendent rank. The first was the village chief. Then came Heather, the first red Pigman to achieve such strength. The other two were leaders of settlements saved by the Highswords during their search for the Sun God.

This world was the stark opposite of the one they had come from. The world Damian had taken them to had no one with mana—while this one had no one without it. Yet that one looked more advanced than Worldscribe knew this one could ever achieve.

When Worldscribe reached the brightly lit castle, not a single Pigman soldier stopped her. Instead, they all bowed in deep respect—another practice they had learned from the scriptures. Some sent word to their king, however.

Worldscribe had returned after ten years. At first, all five Highswords had met every two years. Then they extended it to five years, believing more time would aid their search. Eventually, that interval became ten years. The truth was, most of them had lost hope of finding this so-called Pigmen God and were merely wandering aimlessly—except for a few.

Seeing the Pigmen's rapid growth in this mana-rich world, some of the Highswords had begun to wonder if they, too, could grow just as fast here. They sought out dungeons across the world, challenging themselves, pushing their limits, becoming stronger and stronger.

Ninety-eight years was not a short time. And they had, without a doubt, broken free from their stagnant power.

They had no desire to return. Here, they were free mostly since Demon Lord was not active yet. They could do as they pleased. They had opportunities to grow stronger, to carve out their own paths. But in the world they had left behind—Damian was there.

Even after all their growth, even with all their newfound power, they still weren't sure if they could defeat him. Even if they attacked together. That kid was terrifying.

Worldscribe had not returned even once, but Runefather, Lifewarden, and even Silverspell had gone back a few times—to resupply their steel mana cube and waygate cubes. These were the most important tools in their arsenal, allowing them to survive against the black Pigmen. The cube gave them containers of liquid mana, a resource they couldn't afford to lose. This time, too, someone would make the journey back and would return in a few months while the rest of them rested here.

As she walked the grand halls of the castle, a group of soldiers approached, led by a young, imposing blue Pigman.

"Welcome back, Lady Kasha," he greeted her respectfully.

Kasha—the Pigmen word for divine human.

Worldscribe smiled and responded in the same language. "Look at you, Babil. I can hardly recognize you. Already a second-ranker, huh?"

The young Pigman, Babil, smiled-his ears slightly red. Worldscribe had been in the city when he was born—the third son of the transcendent Pigman chief, who was now a king.