Ripples of Fate

With an incredible, slow release of his hands, the rune left on the mirror surface under Horn's gaze began to surge like a living thing, forming a self-sustaining cycle. As the light swirled, a crimson glow bled through the mirror, illuminating Horn's pupils.

--How magnificent.

As the Faith Rune took shape, a tangible heat radiated from it, warming Horn's chest. His hands, held close to the surface, quickly grew dry, the stinging sensation of heat prickling his fingertips.

Feeling a delayed wave of exhaustion, Horn's vision blurred. He leaned back slowly, resting his weight against the machine behind him, and gasped for air.

For a moment, he had even forgotten to breathe, his entire being focused on the work before him, feeling a profound sense of satisfaction.

[--From the ashes, we nurture roses.]

"Very good, even better than I expected. To complete it on your first try—even for a basic Faith Rune—your Achievement is truly astonishing."

Rising from her chair, Olive reached out from beside Horn. Instead of gripping the auxiliary handle, she pressed her index finger directly onto the mirror, causing the symbol, which had been on the verge of collapse, to shudder and solidify.

Then, it lit up a second time!

Like adding fuel to an engine, the already complex patterns began to grow again. Thousands of tiny branches chased after the renewed trunk, pushing the symbol Horn had just created to its absolute limit.

--Dawn has broken.

The vermilion light bathed the entire underground workshop, creating the illusion of a sunrise. The symbol, now truly burning, lost its concrete form and leaped about like real fire.

Hiss—

The first thing to succumb to the pressure was the Myth infused within the bronze mirror. The overwhelming will and determination shattered the bubbles of confusion, evaporating them into milky white mist. Like a daydream between sleep and wakefulness, they dissipated into the air, leaving behind only the faintest of traces.

In the blink of an eye, the brilliance vanished into smoke.

"Did you understand?"

"I did not."

With shock still lingering in his eyes, Horn shook his head honestly.

"This is the foundation of a Scholar's craft, and one of the roots of the extraordinary—the Faith Rune. What I just inscribed is one of its branches, the [Flame Seal Script]. It is the most striking among the nine major branches of Faith Runes; its nature demands to be read by everyone, even the blind, and it is written in the midst of raging flames."

After this explanation, Olive paused, then added one more thing for Horn.

"Well done."

It wasn't just his ability to skillfully manipulate externalized spirituality on his first attempt, nor was it just his terrifyingly precise control over every single strand of spiritual energy.

Having pioneered the [Silver Salt Alchemy] school, attained the "Gold" rank early on, and holding the title of "Master" within the academy, Olive Borlaug was, without a doubt, a genius.

From her perspective, Horn's operation just now was formless, lacking intent, far too amateurish, and riddled with errors.

But what if this was the result of his first contact?

What if this apprentice, who had just become an extraordinary, had managed to go from learning basic spiritual manipulation to independently completing the inscription and maintenance of a Faith Rune in less than an hour, meeting the minimum requirements for a novice Scholar?

Yes, by the standards set by the [Tree of the Night Watcher], Horn had already touched the lowest threshold of a Scholar. He only needed to register with any library and pass an exam to call himself a [Scholar].

How long did it take her to get started?

A week, or even longer?

Recalling the past, Olive still remembered the shock in her mentor's eyes and the envy on her peers' faces. Today, she had finally experienced, for the first time in a long while, the helplessness and frustration of those she had once left far behind.

A genius, an absolute genius, stood before her, his desire for knowledge and exploration undimmed by his fatigue.

--He will rise higher than I ever could.

A sudden premonition surged forth, causing Olive to accept this groundless assertion almost immediately, even while feeling a sense of absurdity.

It was absurd that she had only just realized such an obvious fact.

With such raw talent, coupled with her own meticulous polishing, if he couldn't surpass her, then she would be a truly derelict mentor.

Fine, then. She would pour the essence of [Silver Salt Alchemy] into him, plan his path and Mark, establish the hierarchy of his knowledge, and pave a grand road for him. She would watch him follow the path she once walked, only to step further into the distance than she ever had. How about that?

Filled with anticipation for this bright future, Olive tilted her head back with a smile, just about to offer Horn a few more words of encouragement, when she suddenly froze.

It was the optimal plan, so why was she starting to feel dissatisfied?

Because in the boy's eyes, the fire had not gone out. As the light on the mirror faded, the orange-red glow in his eyes grew even brighter, illuminating another possibility.

A newer, better possibility.

"The foundation of a mortal's strength lies in creating things greater than oneself. Someone must always be the forge and the cradle for great Achievements... but we must be cautious: the creation may not be content to remain beneath its creator, just as mortals are not content to remain beneath the gods."

The teachings she had once heard were stirred by the scene before her. If her long-silent mentor could see her achievements today, would he feel jealousy? Would he feel pride? Would he feel fear?

Olive had always been indifferent to such things.

She only wanted to accelerate.

An orange-yellow light awakened in the depths of her pupils. Feeling the resonance with the principles of [Ember] growing stronger, Olive swallowed the praise that had reached her lips, replacing it with her usual calm tone.

"But it is not enough."

"Your foundation in manipulation is excellent. Does it have anything to do with the abilities granted by your Mark? I recall that the [Blood Scorcher] archetype isn't supposed to focus on precision."

"Um, yes, I suppose so, more or less, that's about it."

Completely unaware of the long journey of thought his mentor had just traversed in that moment of silence, or the expectations she held for his future, Horn quickly acknowledged Olive's speculation, eager to move on from a question that was not so easy to answer.

I couldn't exactly tell her that even when I was still an ordinary person, I was incredibly brave, cleared the Hound Bar dungeon on my first try, and just got into the rhythm of burning monsters, could I?

Fortunately, Olive didn't press the matter. Instead, acting as if she suddenly had urgent business, she first pointed out over twenty areas where Horn could have performed better. Her enlightening train of thought and high-level guidance essentially tore down the entire process he had just completed, shattering the slight sense of complacency that had been rising within him.

As expected, if you're bad at something, you just need to practice more; there's no room for even a shred of slack.

He rubbed his hands together, preparing to give it another go, but after feeling the emptiness in his body—as if he had been drained by a van full of bread-men—Horn retracted his bold idea.

Wuwu, I've been squeezed dry by alchemy; there isn't a single drop left.