Chapter 112: His Reluctant Teacher

Raziel needed a rune mentor right now.

The Ascension Tournament started in exactly nineteen days and reading theory from a dusty book wouldn’t keep him from getting slaughtered.

Brother Thomas handed him the basic manual and then completely avoided him in the hallways, maintaining his cover to prevent the Inquisition from linking them together.

Raziel understood the geometric shapes of the magical language perfectly, but his volatile Umbral energy required constant physical adjustment.

He needed a real Scribe to correct his mistakes before he blew his own hands off.

St. Celeste housed exactly one genius Inscriptor.

Zorya sat in the back row of every mandatory class and ignored everyone around her.

She was a third-year novice with a tiny frame, brown freckles covering her nose, and fingers permanently stained with ink.

She had the social personality of a stone, completely avoiding the combat training yards.

Spending all her free time locked inside the Inscription workshop in the East Basement drawing complex seals that the other students couldn’t even read.

Raziel targeted her on Tuesday.

He found her in the crowded refectory during lunch, sitting right across from her at the wooden table and staring at her.

Zorya stood up instantly and walked out of the room without making eye contact.

He tracked her down in the main library on Wednesday afternoon, walking right up to her reading desk and placing his hand on the wood to get her attention.

Zorya rolled up her scrolls, shoved them into her canvas bag, and left the aisle.

He tried a third time in the eastern cloister on Thursday morning, stepping directly in front of her to block her path.

She turned around, walked into the nearest empty classroom, and slammed the heavy oak door right in his face.

Raziel changed his tactic on Friday.

He walked down the dark stone stairs to the East Basement and found the Inscription workshop.

The room smelled heavily of iron gall ink, crushed minerals, and damp stone.

Zorya sat at a table in the center of the room, drawing a sequence of runes on a large piece of parchment.

Raziel walked into the workshop and slid the iron bolt into place, locking the door behind him so she couldn’t escape.

He didn’t speak, walked straight up to her table, pulled up his right sleeve, and channeled his Umbral Paragon core.

He bypassed the ink pots entirely and pulled a drop of gold and black mana directly to his index finger.

Pressing his glowing skin onto a blank section of her parchment and dragging his hand to draw the six symbols of the Seal of Silence.

The black veins pulsed inside the golden geometric lines, feeding on his hostility and stabilizing on the paper.

The dark energy gathered in the exact center of the seal and formed the tiny biological eye.

The black eye physically rotated within the ink and stared directly at Zorya.

Zorya dropped her quill.

Raziel stood completely still and counted the seconds in his head.

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Exactly forty-seven seconds passed in silence.

“This is impossible,” Zorya said, her voice raspy from years of disuse.

“Runes lack consciousness.”

“This one has it,” Raziel said.

“I see it.”

A long silence stretched between them, and Zorya leaned closer to the parchment, watching the black eye track her movements.

“How?” she asked.

“I do not know, so I need you to teach me.”

Zorya looked up from the parchment and stared at his face, studying his features with intense curiosity.

“I refuse to teach.”

“Why?”

“Because people learn slowly and they make me desperate.”

Raziel nodded, accepting the brutal honesty. “I am fast.”

“Everyone says that.”

“Give me one hour,” Raziel proposed, leaning his hands on the edge of the table.

“If I learn slowly, I will leave and never bother you again.”

Zorya thought about the offer, looking down at the blinking eye on the paper.

“Half an hour.”

Zorya pulled a fresh scroll from a drawer and slammed it onto the table.

She grabbed her quill, dipped it in highly conductive blue ink, and drew a geometric shape.

The structure contained twelve separate symbols arranged in a tight circular pattern.

“Copy it,” Zorya ordered.

Raziel analyzed the twelve symbols, memorizing the sequence and the intersecting lines.

He raised his right hand, channeled his gold and black energy to his fingertip, and started drawing on the empty space next to her seal.

He drew the first four symbols perfectly.

The Umbral energy spiked at the fifth symbol, threatening to break the geometric boundaries.

Raziel focused entirely on his hatred for the Exarch Council, and forced the aggressive mana back into the rigid lines using pure willpower.

A drop of dark blood leaked from his left nostril and dripped onto the table. He ignored it and kept drawing.

He connected the eighth symbol, merged the ninth, and closed the circular border with the twelfth mark.

Raziel pulled his hand back exactly twenty-eight minutes later.

The gold and black seal stabilized on the parchment and the black veins circulated through the complex geometry without breaking the structure.

Zorya checked the completed seal with her own eyes, verifying the angles and the mana containment before opening her leather satchel and pulling out a second book.

The manual was three times thicker than the one Brother Thomas provided, and the leather binding showed centuries of wear.

She pushed the heavy book across the table.

“Tomorrow at five in the morning,” Zorya said, picking up her quill again. “If you arrive late, you cease to exist to me.”

Raziel wiped the blood from his nose with his sleeve, grabbed the book, and unlocked the door.

***

Raziel woke up at four in the morning.

He walked through the empty corridors and arrived at the East Basement finding Zorya already inside the workshop grinding rare glowing minerals into a fine powder for specialized ink.

They worked for three continuous hours in total silence.

Zorya pointed at his geometric mistakes with a wooden ruler.

Raziel corrected his angles immediately, drawing offensive runes, containment seals, and kinetic traps on large stone slates.

His Umbral energy stained every single drawing and the parasite in his chest pulsed feeding on the aggressive intent required to structure the magic.

[SKILL PROFICIENCY INCREASED: RUNIC INSCRIPTION (UMBRAL VARIANT)]

[CURRENT LEVEL: 4]

[EMPATHY LEVEL: 79%]

He lost another percent of his humanity, allowing him to focus entirely on the mathematical precision of the runes without feeling any frustration.

Zorya placed a slate of stone in the center of the room, tapping the center of the rock with her ruler.

“Level three structural reinforcement seal,” Zorya whispered.

“Maximum output. Show me the capacity of your core.”

Raziel stepped up to the stone, placing his right palm flat against the center and channeling a massive amount of energy.

The gold and black mana flared, coating his entire arm in dark light.

He dragged his fingers across the stone, burning the complex reinforcement symbols directly into the rock while the Umbral energy saturated the environment.

Raziel finished the final containment circle and released the energy.

VMMMM!

The physical stone walls of the workshop reacted to the high-density output.

Deep, hidden grooves in the brickwork ignited with a blinding silver light.

The dust fell from the ceiling, and the entire room illuminated, revealing runes carved directly into the foundation of the building.

Raziel stepped back from the slate, his breathing completely even due to his low empathy, but his mind calculated the threat instantly.

These runes seem to predated the founding of St. Celeste.

Zorya backed away from the wall, dropping her wooden ruler on the floor with wide eyes.

“What did you just wake up?” Zorya asked.

Raziel looked at the glowing silver walls surrounding them.

The East Basement Inscription workshop functioned as a sealed chamber of the Ancient Pantheon, and his Umbral energy just activated it.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep