[Calyra’s POV]

Calyra set the book down with a soft thump, the noise quickly absorbed by the quiet atmosphere of the library. Her expression stayed composed, maintaining that familiar porcelain serenity, as if finishing yet another book held no more importance than shutting a door.

Under her seemingly indifferent demeanor, a hint of satisfaction emerged. The book Glacialis, Volume 7: The Legacy of the Iceborn Magus lay on her lap.

After that, she stood up from her chair, which let out a noise as its legs dragged across the floor. Delicate strands of hair, reminiscent of the sky, fell over her shoulder, capturing stray rays of light from the library.

She moved past lines of scholars bent over their tables and stacks of books that soared high to the ceiling. She traced her hands along the aisles; she had committed the routes in this maze to her memory.

Her fingers lightly touched the spine of one book as she walked by, then another, stopping momentarily at a slender title wedged between more contemporary books.

“Intermediate of Spatium Manipulation,” she murmured quietly.

She tilted her head slightly, pondering the book, before moving on. Suddenly, from the periphery of her vision, she sensed a presence strong enough to divert her attention.

Across the room, near the shelves filled with ancient theories, stood a solitary figure.

'Huh?'

Calyra recognized him.

The dark-haired boy from Class E. The one who had defied Instructor Delila and triumphed over Ardyn. (+30PP)

Her gaze dropped slightly.

However, what captivated her the most was the book he held. A volume that her master had once used to teach her the art of reading Runes.

'That...'

{Deelovar Inscriptions: Decoding the Runes of Lost Civilizations.}

‘Hmm, that particular book isn’t one that most people touch.’

She remarked it without any emotion.

‘Why though?’

Calyra raised her hand, her mana responding immediately with obedience. Tendrils of perception altered the space around her, bending light and direction until her vision reached across the distance. She uttered no incantation, yet the spell took hold as effortlessly as breathing.

Through her Clairvoyant spell, the shelves blurred and parted. Her sight steadied just above his shoulder, revealing every detail of his study.

Calyra noticed another book beside him.

Runic Fundamentals: An Introduction to Ancient Script.

‘He has taken both of them?’

She sharpened her focus, now a tad intrigued by the boy. His movements exuded confidence, as if he anticipated confusion but chose not to shy away from it. He lingered on a single phrase. Reread it. Then he referenced the companion book.

Calyra observed him with interest and curiosity, maintaining her separate view as she returned to her seat.

“He chooses to begin with the Runes in that way. From nothing and with no guidance. Does he truly intend to teach himself?”

Calyra was puzzled because such a path was unheard of. Runes were not a craft one grasped alone; they were layered in meaning, guarded by lost history, and by rules only passed down through long study and instruction. To attempt them without a teacher was nearly impossible.

NovelBin is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

She found it compelling how he began documenting the untranslatables. He was allowing it to resist him. And in doing so, he was starting to earn its respect.

Her spell lingered for a moment longer.

But then, her vision shattered into fragments.

“Aha. Found you!”

The sound burst through her senses like a sudden release of pressure. The second sight collapsed, yanking her back into the reality of the moment.

Calyra blinked slowly a few times, as if struggling to reacquaint herself with the present.

Silvena stood in front of her, her smile overly bright, her voice excessively loud. The interruption had severed her connected vision.

“Well, well~ I knew you would be here. Guess wha—eh?”

Then, silence fell heavily for a time. Calyra shot her a sharp glance, adorably irritated.

“W-wait. Why do you look mad?” Silvena’s voice softened, and her grin faded.

Calyra sighed, her annoyance dissipating before it could take form. “You're bothersome.”

Silvena blinked, recoiling as if stung.

“Hehh!?? What did I do?!”

But Calyra had already turned back to her next reading. Whatever she had been observing was now lost.

And she had no intention of pursuing it again… for now.

‘Anyway, what is his name I wonder?’ (+20PP)

***

[Ruvian’s POV]

Ruvian entered his room and quietly closed the door behind him. He lingered in the dim silence for a moment, then released a heavy sigh and shook off the tension in his shoulders.

Fatigue clung to him, but the feeling of progress made it bearable. He walked over to his small desk and settled into his chair.

He placed down the two new books—The Art of Wind-Weaving and Study of Alchemical Transmutations, which he had managed to borrow from the library. Exhaustion washed over him after spending several hours buried in that damn library. He even skipped a few classes, though he doubted any lecturer actually showed up to teach.

His back throbbed, and his eyelids felt heavy. But it hadn’t been in vain. He was starting to grasp the Rune concepts.

'At least, there's progress.'

A devious grin rose up across his lips.

But tonight, Ruvian was planning to learn a few basic wind spells before the night surrendered to dawn.

He realized he needed to expand his collection of wind spells; having just three was insufficient. With this thought, he opened the book and began transcribing the incantations into his notebook and also tried to memorise it a bit. He will test them whenever he had time for it.

Spell Name: [Edge Shear]

Spell Name: [Windbind Circle]

Spell Name: [Cyclone Leap]

He successfully recorded three new incantations for wind spells in his 'Write That Down'.

Ruvian was fairly certain that after writing down these three spells, his Mana Essence was nearly depleted.

Mana Essence: [25/192]

Pleased with having saved the incantations, he moved on to examine his Runeheart.

{}---『RUNEHEART』---{}

◇ Name: Ruvian Castelor

◇ Age: 16

◇ Spellcore: Tier 1

◇ Relevance Tier: Stage I – Footnote of Fate

◇ Plot Points: 1560 (PPs)

◇ Current Arc: Arc 2 – Beneath the Banner of Enrollment

[Mana Resonance: (0/100)]

==[General Attributes]==

Strength: F

Agility: F

Endurance: F+

Vitality: F+

Perception: E-

==[Mage Attributes]==

Mana Control: E-

Casting Speed: F

Magic Power: F-

Mana Sensitivity: E-

Mana Essence: [25/192]

==[Innate Blessings]==

- [N/A]

==[Magic Affinity]==

- [Wind]

'Hmm not much improvement yet.'

Ruvian felt somewhat let down by the sluggish pace of his advancement. His mana essence had only grown by +2 each day after finishing his daily session of mana control training.

Strangely, his mana resonance has not improved during this time at all. Aside from that, the only noteworthy change was that his Mana Control had progressed from F+ to E-.

Not exactly the kind of breakthrough that would shake the heavens.

Still, he kept at it. Because what else was he supposed to do? Spit at the system and hope it took offense?

"Putting in effort alone won't suffice for me to become stronger in a shorter period. Is there truly no alternative for me to gain strength more quickly before Vazrun Island Arc?"

'This is going to be difficult...'

“And how can I improve my Mana Resonance?”

He kept it to himself, not vocalizing it to anyone else. It was merely a soft whisper meant for his own ears, an unusual confession that inadvertently escaped his mouth. But this idea had been eating away at him for some time. It was exasperating. No. More like maddening, in fact.

If he couldn't become more powerful before that, then his strategy would fall apart. Then, as though he was contemplating a solution, the system responded with the answer he sought.

[Just so you know…] The rightful source is novel⁂fire.net

[There is a way for you to increase your stats easily without breaking a sweat~]

The voice was different from what he was accustomed to. It wasn’t the monotonous, robotic sound of the system. This one carried a cunning tone now. Teasing. Nearly vicious.

‘It's her.... that damnable author. Now, what does she want to say this time?'

He exhaled slowly. 'Whatever.'

Then, his voice emerged, devoid of emotion.

“....Well, go on. Tell me how."

PP = 1560

ME = 192