(Second Book Complete!) Runeblade: A Delving & Skill Merging LitRPG

Trudging away from the blood-strewn ruin of their enemy’s camp, Ianmus spared not a moment’s thought for the cold bodies of what had once been men. He doubted any of them did, deep as the contemplative silence that surrounded them was. Though, in Kaius’s place that likely had far more to do with the furious shine emanating from his glyphs — his teamleader sat on Porkchop’s back, inscribing his spells as fast as he could manage.

The Crater was right there. An unnatural, inky wall of night that cut through the end of the ravine. It was like a whole had been punched through the world — natural order subverted in rejection of the sun. Staring at the hues of ink and indigo mana that swirled through the unnatural dark, Ianmus supposed it had been. There was a fifth tier spirit somewhere in its depths, cleaving out its own little fiefdom through some method that he didn’t understand.

It wasn’t spellwork, or a Skill. Not in the traditional sense, at least. While the ambient affinities of the Crater were dominated by darkness, shadow, and night they were ultimately ambient. There was none of the telltale presence of Will. Perhaps it was some natural ability anything of that strength could acquire? Or maybe it was exclusive to spirits?

Though, with the vast ocean of power that separated him from the Spirit, perhaps it was some sort of skill, fueled by truly monstrous resource regeneration. Clearly, the creature was adept at shielding itself from the perception of others, and Kaius had said he’d caught a glimpse of the creature’s Adamant aura.

It wasn’t like he’d be able to check anyway. Even if the spirit behind the Crater hadn’t been godlike in its strength, Vainblood was dangerous enough to be a nightmare for any research expedition, and he was far too busy.

Ianmus sighed. It was just too damn fascinating. To think the creature had been nesting here, right in the middle of the Dukedoms, for millenia without anyone being the wiser.

The noise must have been louder than he thought, because Kanmost looked up at him curiously. His old teacher was close to his side, where all of them could defend him from the dangers of the Crater.

“Are you alright, child?” Kanmost asked.

Ianmus gave the man a grin — spire’s light was he glad that they’d managed to rescue the man unharmed. Well, by his team’s standards, at least.

“Not a child anymore, teacher,” Ianmus replied, getting an amused smile that told him he would never shake that he would never quite shake that moniker. “I was just mourning the fact I’ll probably never know how the spirit is doing that.” He nodded to the looming wall of the crater ahead.

Kanmost’s amused smile widened. He’d been fascinated by the creature when they’d told him of their journey through Vainblood — but had been equally nonplused at how little they knew of it. “A common plight of the curious. I’ve learned to live with the sad reality of it as a historian. But, I must say that this particular mystery is definitely in the upper echelons of those that burden me.”

“Bah, where is your ambition? The thing has been here for thousands of years — I’m sure it will hold on long enough for us to reach Adamant ourselves. You can always poke it with a stick then,” Porkchop said, his ears pricked and his nose wrinkling as he scanned the Crater for any sign of looming threats. There was something of a comfort to always having a greater beast stand between you and the enemy.

Kanmost looked at Porkchop in surprise, before he slowly swiveled back to Ianmus.

“No rebuke or denial? I see you have not lost your ambitious streak.”

He supposed he hadn’t, had he? It had been easy to see the valedictorianship as a simple tool to secure his position and escape Sunspire, but if that had been true he probably would have been a little more reticent to throw his lot in with a pair of songlusted lunatics.

“I have seen much since I left Mystral, Kanmost. We are but men, born huddling in our little holes of ignorance that were dug by our long-dead forefathers. We scratch around in the dark for stray embers of insight, but outside the sun shines, revealing sights too foreign for me to even guess at.”

Kaius grunted in agreement from atop Porkchop’s back.

“We have seen the peak, Archivist,” he said, half mumbling with his focus elsewhere. “And we intend to reach it.”

Kanmost gave them all a long, contemplative look. “Certainly a worthy pursuit… but to men born in darkness, can the light not burn and blind? The four of you are young, and you are not the first to set your eyes so high — yet in all my years of studying history, no one has found anything resembling an end. There were an awful lot of bodies, though.”

They all chuckled at that. How could they not know that they walked a path of insanity? Yet, all the same, Ianmus didn’t feel even a shred of regret or hesitation. Even if they never made it, it would be worth it. The Path itself had value. The simple thought of slowing down or, gods forbid, stopping sent shivers down his spine.

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“I must admit that we are a little mad, and I can’t deny that the light doesn’t sting every now and then,” Ianmus said.

“Or stab,” Porkchop added.

“Or stab,” Ianmus agreed with a sigh. “But what else would I do? Every day brings something new, I get to push the boundaries of my magic, and we are slowly unravelling one of the grandest mysteries of our age — this damned integration.”

Kanmost’s eyes narrowed, the lines in his face growing long and distinct as he searched for something. Eventually, he gave Ianmus a single, strong nod.

“I suppose you really aren’t a child anymore. Few find their purpose so quickly, if at all, and I certainly didn’t expect you to find yours so soon after graduating.”

“You know what I find hard to imagine?” Kenva piped in from their left, though she kept scanning the forested clifftops around them, searching for any beasts that might have been drawn to their battle. “A younger Ianmus. I know you can’t have sprung out of the ground that tall, but still.”

Kanmost laughed. “He was plenty tall already, but my was he skinny. Practically vellum-wrapped bones!”

It seemed he would not be able to escape teasing this time. At the very least, Kanmost didn’t have anything too embarrassing he could share with Ianmus’s team. He’d been a model student in the academies — he’d had to be.

Closing the final distance to the Crater, their idle chatter continued. It was…nice. Kanmost had been one of the few people in the academy that he’d actually gotten to know. Those long debates over tea in the shadow of the library had been a much needed reprieve from the onslaught of everything else.

Their talk faded as the wall of night grew larger and larger, until finally they stood before it, silent and still.

It was uncanny. The dried streambed punched through the barrier without a care — yet the dark was so consuming that Ianmus could barely see more than a few dozen strides. Something deep and primal within him baulked at the impenetrable shadows. When was the last time he’d been so blinded? Even as an unclassed, he could see better than this on a moonless night.

Shapes lurked in the umbral reaches of the crater. Logic said they were nothing more than the same piled stones and deadwood that littered the rest of the ravine, yet the darkness swirled, giving movement to the lifeless. Like there was something creeping unseen, watching them closely.

Ianmus rolled his shoulders and gripped his staff just a little tighter.

“You know, despite living next to the damn place for nearly a month, it really hasn’t gotten any less ominous,” Kanmost muttered.

“I imagine it wouldn’t,” Porkchop replied. “But there’s nothing for it. Onwards!”

Porkchop took a step, plunging into the crater. Ianmus half expected the darkness to ripple as he crossed the boundary, but it just swallowed his friend utterly. Atop Porkchop’s back, Kaius didn’t so much as twitch — his focus still on his glyphs. At the very least, his friend had grown skilled enough that he was present enough to react if they were attacked.

Following his front line, Ianmus entered the black. He only flinched a little.

There was no weight to the gloom like he’d expected — though perhaps that was a bias because of his knowledge of its origins. It was just….dark. Impossibly, oppressively dark.

Once they’d found a comfortable pace again, Ianmus reached for his magic. The records from the guild had said this place suppressed light magic, and he needed to know exactly how. They would be fighting Golds soon enough, and he had no plans of getting caught flatfooted.

Solar mana welled up from his marrow, a warmth that spread through his changed body to concentrate on his finger. Seizing it with his will, he summoned a small, golden thread. It floated before him, dull and dark. Rather than banish the night, shadows seemed to pool around his magic — as if trying to snuff it out.

Bit by bit, he summoned more, twisting simple light into shapes. The draw on his Will was a bit heavier than normal, but his channelling was just as fast, and it didn’t cost any more mana than it should have. The light just felt…weak and insubstantial, as little as that made sense for a light-aligned affinity.

Seizing the formless mana, he wove it into a simple ray spell, and released it into the ground in front of him. It barely glowed, looking more like a summoned rod of gold than anything else. It was definitely weaker too.

He frowned.

“What’d you find?” Kaius asked, the magic enough to draw his attention. His voice was flat, as if the sound itself was reticent to break the silence of the Crater.

“Suppressed by half.”

Kaius winced. “That’s not great. What about lunar?”

Rather than answer, Ianmus shifted his channelling towards the new affinity. He didn’t know how to freecast much with lunar, but he would be able to tell if it was suppressed at all with some simple shaping exercises.

Gleaming silver erupted from his hand. Much like solar, the darkness stubbornly refused to budge — but neither did it drown it out. It made the floating thread look startlingly fake — like it had been made by a novice illusionist who hadn’t yet learned how to make proper lightsources.

“Untouched,” he said.

Kaius sighed in relief, and turned his attention back to inscribing. Ianmus could only hope that his findings meant that his friend’s magic would be untouched. At least most of it. The celestial affinity of Starfall was only slightly more removed from light than solar was. Thankfully, his friend had new warmagic to play with — the wide destruction of the first spell wouldn’t be as helpful against a small squad of elites.

“I would hold off on any more casting once we leave the ravine,” Kanmost warned. “The Crater can be surprisingly safe — but light and noise can draw the attention of things that lurk within its reaches.”

Ianmus could manage that for now. They wouldn’t want to give away their position anyway. That said, they were just going to have to deal with the consequences when they found Brokenlight. Onyx didn’t break easy.

They pushed on, making for the distant path that would take them to the Wellspring.