The First Magic Rune

When Dean woke again, it was already the next day. He was lying in bed, but once again, the ceiling was unfamiliar.

"Awake? Come have something to eat, then!" A kindly voice, tinged with satisfaction, reached him. It was Sanderson.

"Master... where... where am I?" Dean asked weakly. He tried to sit up, only to find that he could not muster any strength.

"This is another cottage in my courtyard, prepared for you. You'll need to stay overnight often for your studies," Sanderson said with a smile. "For now, have something to eat. Wooden Man!"

Only when Sanderson called out did Dean notice the magical servant standing beside his bed. Hearing Sanderson's order, Wooden Man answered and helped Dean sit up.

"Rest here for now. Come over whenever you've recovered." Sanderson said nothing more, nor did he stay to keep him company. He left the room after those words.

From the sounds, Dean could tell that Sanderson had gone to the study, where he had been drawing magic runes.

"Hey, young master, the old fellow stayed here with you the whole time, worried something might happen to you. Honestly, the older he gets, the more timid he becomes. He's always afraid something will go wrong." Once Sanderson left, Wooden Man slipped back into his roguish manner.

"What time is it?" Dean asked feebly, taking a sip of the rice porridge Wooden Man held to his lips. It was somewhat thick, but contained few grains of rice. Light and mild, it tasted good.

"It should be nearly the next day by now. You slept for about five or six hours, young master," Wooden Man rattled on, his movements never pausing as he spoke.

"The old fellow said your mental power is severely depleted right now, young master. But don't worry. Take this pill, and you'll recover quickly. Here, open up." Wooden Man picked up a green pill!

"Oh, so it's my mental power." Dean blinked hard, still feeling utterly exhausted. But he also caught Wooden Man's last words. Open up? Open up for what?

Almost instinctively, Dean opened his mouth. In an instant, he felt something small and round land on his tongue, dissolving on contact!

Hiss!!!

Sour! So sour that the mere thought of it would fill his mouth with saliva. Two helpless streams of tears spilled from Dean's eyes.

"Ah, sour, isn't it? Here, have some porridge." Wooden Man brought a heaping spoonful of rice porridge to Dean's lips. The moment it reached him, Dean sucked it into his mouth, swished it vigorously around several times, then swallowed.

"Cough, cough! Wooden Man, wh... what was that stuff?" Dean had nearly been soured to death. Even after the porridge carried away most of the sourness, what remained was still unbearable.

"Good stuff for rapidly restoring mental power. Ten gold coins a pill," Wooden Man said with a hint of disdain. "I didn't expect the old fellow to have a few left. How did he forget to throw out something so cheap?"

"Cheap... ten gold coins? That's ten whole gold coins!" Dean suddenly sprang up.

"Is that a lot? The old fellow has tens of thousands in his ring. Back when he was at his peak, he had nowhere to spend those coins. Nearly everything was traded through barter," Wooden Man explained to the worldly-inexperienced Dean.

Back then, Sanderson had stood at the pinnacle of a Fifth-Level Grand Mage, only one step away from becoming a sixth-level mage. With his mastery of magic runes, he had long since begun trading items with seventh- and eighth-level powerhouses, and gold coins were of little use in such transactions.

"No, I have to think of a way to squeeze a little out of Master. My days of poverty are about to change! Hahahaha!" Dean had yet to realize that, in those few short minutes, his spirits had already recovered. At the very least, moving around normally was no longer a problem.

"Forget about that. The old fellow will buy you some things, but mostly restorative medicines. As for anything else, don't even think about it. His rules don't allow an apprentice to spend his master's money. If you want money to spend, you have to earn it yourself!" Watching Dean's almost crazed excitement, Wooden Man could not resist shaking his head and putting an end to those fanciful notions.

Apparently finding Dean's dejection amusing, Wooden Man deliberately added, "The old fellow said he'll donate all those tens of thousands of gold coins to the Adventurers' Guild someday. Back to where they came from!"

Dean glared at Wooden Man. Can't I even dream? Why do you have to shoot me down so completely?

Then again, Wooden Man, as a magical servant, did not quite count as a true living being. Just what level of creation was this fellow?

By now, ten minutes had passed since Dean swallowed the unbearably sour pill. He felt that his mental power had stabilized at a basic level. A little longer, and he should recover completely.

Dean remembered his master Sanderson telling him to come over once he had rested. Now he felt sufficiently rested, and he had put some food in his stomach, enough to keep him going for a while.

Knock, knock!

Dean knocked twice on the door. "Master, I've recovered!"

"Come in, then!" Sanderson said.

Dean pushed open the door as Sanderson set down several sheets of paper. On closer inspection, they held the last few sets of magic runes Dean had drawn yesterday.

Dean walked up to the desk and took his previous place, with Sanderson sitting opposite him.

Nothing had been tidied up. Apart from the few sheets Sanderson had taken to examine, everything was exactly as it had been before Dean lost consciousness.

Sanderson said nothing, continuing to study the sheets of magic runes Dean had drawn. Dean felt a little apprehensive. He considered these runes his finest work yet, already perfect. At least to his own eyes, the runes on those pages were almost identical to his master's.

Yet Sanderson spent a very, very long time examining those few simple sets of magic runes. Dean had sat motionless for ten minutes. Did studying fewer than a hundred runic characters really take ten minutes? No, it did not. Dean could not understand what his master was pondering.

Dean simply stopped thinking about the sets of magic runes in Sanderson's hands. He picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and began drawing magic runes.

This time, his movements no longer felt awkward. Gradually, a certain fluidity emerged. He could even complete the most complicated rune in a single smooth stroke. That meant he had finally crossed the threshold.

Sanderson raised his head and watched the fully absorbed Dean, nodding in approval. Though Dean had not entered yesterday's state today, he was already doing very well. At the very least, Sanderson was quite satisfied with these sets of magic runes.

"Dean, now try inscribing your first true magic rune!" Sanderson said!

(End of chapter)