Adrian left the lecture hall, the words of Professor Chen still lingering in his mind. He then spent another 30 points to enroll in the Fundamental Inscription Class.

The price stung, he had already burned 50 points just to learn the basics of rune theory and inscription.

“Fifty points for the basics… at this rate, I’ll be empty before the week is over.“

He glanced at the glowing device in his hand. Balance: 50 points remaining. A quiet thought flickered in his mind.

“If inscription is this expensive to learn, mastering it could become a way to earn points later.”

The Fundamental Inscription Class was set to begin in ten minutes. Adrian made his way through the Rune Hall until he reached a smaller chamber. Inside, he found only a handful of students. Not many were willing to spend precious points.

The room was lined with rows of tables, each stocked with mana ink vials, etched quills, and sheets of parchment. Several students sat hunched over their workstations, fingers drumming nervously against the wooden surfaces.

A woman entered briskly, her robe trimmed in silver runes that pulsed faintly. She introduced herself. “Professor Liang. Today, we will learn the fundamentals of inscription.”

She let her gaze sweep across the students. “You all know the basics by now, runes are not human creations. They are the language of mana, gifted by the Celestial Eleven. Humanity received only fragments, a few volumes, incomplete records of the language. But even fragments gave us the foundation to survive.”

She raised her hand, mana shimmering into lines in the air. “Each rune symbol carries meaning. These strokes are not decoration. They are grammar, the rules of mana itself. But what we hold are broken sentences, incomplete phrases. That is why Rune Masters like Selena Valcrest devote their lives to refining what we have.”

“Improving a rune isn’t rewriting the language… it is filling missing words, smoothing rough grammar, making the flow closer to what it was meant to be.”

The glowing strokes shifted into two distinct forms. One resembled a stylized sun with radiating spokes, while the other looked like overlapping shields forming a complex geometric pattern.

“Today, I will teach you only two symbols. Light and Barrier. Simple, yet essential. Remember this, when inscribing, each rune has a start stroke and an end stroke. Deviate once, even by a hair, and the rune collapses. Precision is survival.”

A nervous student raised her hand. “Professor, what happens if we mess up during practice?”

“The parchment burns. The ink wastes. Your points vanish.” Liang’s expression remained neutral. “That’s why most students take months to master even basic forms.”

She snapped her fingers. The symbols flared bright in the air, then faded as her mana dissipated. “Mana inscriptions vanish quickly. That is why we use mana ink on parchment, a medium that can hold the pattern until activated.”

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The students leaned forward, thinking it would be simple. But as Professor Liang demonstrated, her strokes twisting and curving in impossibly precise patterns, the complexity became clear.

Even the “basic” symbols demanded absolute concentration. Her quill moved like a surgeon’s blade, each curve calculated to the millimeter.

Murmurs rippled through the room. “This is supposed to be basic?”

“Look at those angles. How does she keep them so sharp?”

Adrian alone sat in silence. As he watched the strokes, something stirred deep within him.

The patterns did not feel foreign. They felt familiar, like fragments of memory resurfacing, as if he had seen these symbols long ago, in the current of the cosmic river itself.

The professor set down her quill. “You may now attempt your own inscriptions. You each have parchment and ink enough for three tries.”

“Fail, and you’ll need to purchase more. That is why this class costs points.”

The scratching of quills soon filled the room. Adrian watched as students hunched over their work, tongues poking out in concentration.

Runes sparked, collapsed, and burned through parchment. The acrid smell of ruined ink filled the air.

One student cursed softly as all three sheets were wasted. Another’s rune sputtered out before completion, leaving black scorch marks.

“Damn it. There goes twenty points of materials.”

And then, Adrian moved.

He dipped the quill, his hand steady, strokes flowing with calm precision. The Source whispered guidance through his consciousness, each line falling into perfect harmony.

In moments, the Light rune flared perfectly on the parchment. Golden radiance pulsed from the symbol, stable and strong.

He picked up a second sheet, and with the same fluid motion, etched the Barrier rune. Flawless, every line sharp and alive with mana.

The class went silent, staring. Quills paused mid-stroke as heads turned toward Adrian’s workstation.

Professor Liang blinked, her composed mask slipping for the briefest moment. “…On the first try?”

She stepped closer, inspecting the parchments. Her fingers traced the air above the runes, testing their mana flow.

Not a single stroke was out of place. The runes glowed with stability, as if inscribed by a seasoned scholar.

Finally, she straightened. “You have a natural talent. Train it well.”

“Very few can achieve this at your stage.”

The students whispered among themselves, some with awe, others with envy.

Adrian said nothing. He simply set the quill down, his eyes calm. To him, this was no miracle, only recognition of something he already knew instinctively.

The whispers around him grew louder. A red-haired girl at the next table leaned toward her partner.

“Did you see that? Perfect on the first try.”

Her companion shook his head, staring at his own charred parchment. “I’ve been practicing for weeks and can’t even get the Light rune right.”

Professor Liang moved between the tables, examining other students’ work. Most had managed partial inscriptions at best. Several desks bore only ash and disappointment.

“Remember,” she announced, “mastery comes through repetition. Do not be discouraged by today’s results.”

A lanky boy near the back raised his hand. “Professor, what about him?” He gestured toward Adrian. “How is that even possible?”

Liang paused, considering her words carefully. “Some individuals possess an intuitive understanding of mana flow. It is rare, but not unheard of.”

“However,” she continued, her tone sharpening, “natural talent means nothing without dedication. The advanced runes will humble even the most gifted students.”

The class was dismissed soon after. Students shuffled out, muttering about wasted points and impossible standards. Adrian walked out quietly, holding the two completed parchments and other tools since they belonged to him now.

Behind him, conversations buzzed with frustration and amazement.

Adrian stepped into the corridor, the Grand Rune Hall stretching before him. Carved symbols lined the walls, each one pulsing with faint energy.

The Source hummed quietly in his consciousness, recognizing the rune symbos etched into stone. These fragments were incomplete, yes, but they spoke of something greater.

Something that called to him like a distant star.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep