The Runesmith

Chapter 643: Bernir Ascends.

“Ugh… what’s that strange feeling…”

Bernir grasped his chest with his prosthetic arm as he felt something forming within him. His awareness fully returned to his body as the ascension trial concluded. Now, similarly to other tier three classes, a change was taking place, though it was something far less common among crafting professions.

Manufacturing and other non-combat class holders like him had no stat multipliers. Even upon reaching tier three, their power did not surge in any noticeable way. Their true strength came from the skills and abilities they were granted. In terms of raw strength, they were comparable to a tier one class holder who had never obtained a powerful class or advanced to tier two.

“Are you feeling unwell, Master Bernir? Your blood pressure appears to be elevated.”

Sebastian was in the room with him, commenting on the changes occurring during his transformation.

“Aye, I’m fine… it doesn’t hurt… actually… this feels rather refreshing.”

It was the same warmth he had felt when leaving the trial area. Something had been forming in his chest, something new and pure. For a moment, his eyes lingered on Sebastian’s golem shell, where he noticed strange coloring along its surface. His gaze then shifted to the white room, which contained little besides the memory recording machine. Even that, along with the monitors, carried a faint glow, though it was not very bright.

“I can truly see it, the souls within items, just like in the trial!”

No longer hesitating, he brought up his status screen and glanced at his classes. There, he finally saw it.

“Hah, I did it!”

Bernir was so overjoyed that he jumped out of the retractable chair he had been sitting in.

“What’s this SE?”

He looked over the text describing his new class, the Soulsmith. He had never heard of it before, and even the research his boss had done never truly explained it. SP was related to stamina, meaning he would not get as tired as before. This was similar to his old crafting classes, which typically focused on minimizing stamina usage, as it was the primary resource for crafting. All of his skills relied on stamina, so this was a significant boost, but it still did not explain what SE was.

“Oh… was that always there?”

After glancing back and forth a few times, he finally noticed something new. Besides the MP and SP bars, there was another one, the SE bar. Compared to his stamina, it was quite low, holding only a hundred points. When he focused on it, the world system responded and provided an explanation.

“I see…”

Bernir tried to recall his trial, as he had not clearly noticed this resource bar back then. However, he did remember feeling unusually tired and weakened after crossing a certain threshold while making soul equipment. Now he understood the reason. Soul Energy was responsible for that exhaustion, and it was now a class resource that belonged to him, something most other craftsmen could probably only dream of.

Soul Sense and Soul Infusion were both still there, no longer temporary skills but permanent parts of him. There were others as well, though one in particular caught his attention.

Bernir stared at the description for a long while, his hand still pressed against his chest.

“So… it is not just a skill. It is a part of me now.”

The warmth he had felt finally made sense. The Soulsmith Heart was not a metaphor or some abstract system construct. It was a true transformation, an additional spiritual organ layered over his physical heart.

“Boss will have a good time analyzing it.”

He chuckled, knowing Roland would likely uncover the secrets of this new soul organ far faster than he ever could.

“Aye, now then… the next one is… my old partner!”

The final skill felt both new and familiar at the same time as it included the white hammer that he had used throughout the ascension trial.

Back in the trial, he did not have his prosthetic arm, yet he could wield a hammer even then. Now that he was back in the real world, his runic prosthesis had returned, and he was curious about how this would work exactly. To test it, he activated the skill whose knowledge had been imprinted into him after his success in the trial.

“Hmm… this is strange.”

He summoned his Soulsmith Hammer, and it answered his call. It appeared around his right arm, glowing brightly. The sensation was unusual. It felt as though the prosthesis had become a metal gauntlet, with a real hand beneath it. He could hold the hammer and even touch it with his other hand, yet there was no weight to it.

The first thing he noticed was that the hammer could interact with physical objects. When he struck the nearby chair he was sitting on, there was a clear response. Even so, it caused no real damage, and no matter how hard he hit it, there were no dents.

“It’s different from the one inside that space. That one felt more like a normal hammer…”

This would be the tool he used for his soul crafts. One thing he quickly realized was that summoning it cost only one SE, and no additional resources were consumed while he held it. The skill implied that as long as he had even a single point left, the hammer could be used. That meant he only needed to worry about energy expenditure during infusion.

“I wonder… could I hold this hammer even if this rune prosthesis was not there?”

The prosthesis he wore could be removed and replaced with others. Only the parts connected directly to his forearm were permanently attached. Beneath the metal, he could see a faint white glow, the outline of a forearm that had once been there. The mechanism for replacing his arm was not particularly tedious. After pressing a switch on the side and rotating the prosthesis in a specific sequence, it slid off smoothly.

“Hah, it does work…”

When the hammer vanished after he relaxed his fist, he summoned it again without using the prosthesis. Even without it, he could hold the hammer. There was a faint outline resembling his old arm, but the hammer appeared to float in front of his forearm with nothing truly gripping it. When he glanced at one of the screens recording his movements, the golemic eyes could not detect even that faint outline.

‘It does feel more natural this way, but I do not think I can craft normal things with just this white hammer. I still need my prosthetic.’

It was an interesting discovery, but it did not restore his lost arm. He reattached the prosthesis and felt a surge of energy. He had now become a proper tier three class holder, and the final passive skill he received confirmed it.

It was a skill even his boss possessed, one that many master craftsmen received upon entering tier three. It proved that he was now one of them and that he would no longer be a liability. Thoughts flooded his mind. He wanted to craft something. He wanted to infuse items with his soul energy and discover the true extent of his limits.

“Ahh, Sebastian, did the boss say when he will be back?”

“Master Wayland should return in two or three days.”

“Two or three? That should be enough to figure things out…”

Bernir looked down at the prosthetic arm attached to him once more and stormed out. Before Roland returned, he wanted to prepare something big. Something that would demonstrate the skills he had gained and perhaps even manage to surprise Roland himself.

*****

‘I wonder how it went. This should be about the time Bernir takes the trial.’

Roland thought as he moved into the dungeon. He knew his assistant would be taking the trial around the time he delved inside, but he could not confirm it. Only after reaching the third ring and returning through his teleport gate would he be able to check on anything.

At times like this, he wished the internet existed within this world. Most of these problems would be resolved once the runic radio towers or cables were installed through the underground tunnels, but it would likely take quite some time before the entire system was operational.

The air inside the dungeon reminded him of Albrook and the lower levels of its depths. Like back home, this area was volcanic in nature, but instead of a vast expanse with few corridors, it was the opposite. A multitude of caverns led into larger chambers that the group needed to pass through, and as the one in front, he would be the first to respond to any monster attack.

Luckily, for the time being, no monsters had approached them. They were moving through an area regularly cleared by adventurers, which kept the danger low.

“What are you thinking about, sugar?”

A woman’s voice called out from his side. In response, he simply shook his head. The barbarian woman seemed eager to talk, while he remained focused on keeping an eye on the blacksmith within the group. A few people were watching him with animosity, but no one had made a move against him yet.

“Siegfried is the strong and silent type?”

She asked with a grin. Before she could continue, he raised his hand.

“There are enemies in front of us.”

Sure enough, a large group of monsters was rushing toward them. Thanks to his armor and the wide coverage of the mapping device, he reacted faster than the tracker, who seemed more interested in chatting with the other adventurers than watching the path ahead.

‘Most of these people would not care until they reached the second ring. Tier two monsters were nothing more than trash to them.’

He was aware that the team leader was assigning him and the new arrivals all of the busy work. There was no real danger for anyone at this stage of the dungeon, but someone still needed to deal with the monsters when they attacked.

‘That’s a lot of responses. Is this some kind of stampede?’

A cluster of dots appeared on his screen as the party came to a halt. Even the tracker, who had been speaking calmly until now, responded with a shout that enemies were incoming. Without saying a word, Roland stepped forward, eager to test some of his new magic and to demonstrate a bit of skill so he could gauge how the others would react.

“That guy was right. There’s a large group of monsters incoming. Salamanders!”

“Salamanders?”

One of the other adventurers let out a sigh of disappointment. Many of them turned away, barely paying attention, clearly thinking the threat was beneath them.

“Let the vanguards take care of it.”

They all saw this as a perfect chance to see what the two new vanguards could do, but to their surprise, only one person stepped forward. It was the man in black armor, Siegfried.

‘I have quite an audience.’

Roland thought as he moved up and pulled the massive sword from his back. The bandages wrapped around it fell away, revealing an obsidian blade etched with dark runes that glowed faintly.

Everyone watched as Siegfried took another step forward, boots grinding against the volcanic floor as the heat ahead intensified. From the shadows of the cavern, dozens of salamanders poured out, low-tier but numerous, their molten scales glowing like cracked lava, claws scraping against stone as they hissed in unison.

“So he’s doing it alone?”

Brakka clicked her tongue but didn’t move. She folded her arms as she decided to leave it up to her new party member

“Let’s see what that big sword does.”

His current class appeared as Magic Warmaster, something akin to a magical swordmaster but with the ability to wield more weapons and cast a wider range of magic rather than focusing solely on swords. It allowed him to use attack, defense, and utility spells, making it perfect for this short expedition.

Roland’s hand closed around the hilt of his massive sword. The weapon reacted faintly, runes along its length responding to his mana. His gaze swept over the rushing monsters as he calculated distance, mass, resistance to magic, and likely movement patterns, ensuring they were all within range.

‘Perfect test case.’

Instead of charging forward, he planted his feet and exhaled slowly. Gravity mana surged, and the runes on the sword burst to life. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then the salamanders closest to him stumbled, their movements slowing as if they were pushing against an immense unseen force. A moment later, they came to a complete halt, leaving everyone behind him wondering how he had done it.

The ground beneath the monsters cracked as they were held in place. To most observers, it looked as though an invisible force was pressing them downward, pinning them to the earth. Those with sharper senses, like the gnome mage, could see the dense strands of gravitational magic at work, bending space as it dragged everything inward.

“Gravity magic?”

As the first stage of the spell ended and the salamanders were fully immobilized, the pull shifted toward the center. Some were lifted off the ground, while others dug their claws into the volcanic rock, only to be torn free by the unnatural suction. Within moments, they were dragged together into a single mass, helpless and unable to move.

Dozens of salamanders were crushed into a writhing sphere of scaled bodies. Molten blood splattered as bones snapped under the immense pressure. Some tried to claw their way out, but every struggle only drew them deeper into the gravitational well, and the spell was not finished yet.

Once they were all together, he lifted the giant sword over his head, gripping the hilt with both hands. More runes began to shine as he poured additional force into the weapon. While he could always hide the runes that revealed themselves, he wanted observers to believe the sword was the focal point of his power, not the armor and his hidden true class, which were doing most of the heavy lifting and calculations.

With one heavy downward swing, a massive surge of energy burst forward. A black crescent moon erupted from the blade and raced toward the ball of compressed, writhing monsters.

The crescent of condensed gravity tore through the air in complete silence. For a split second, the world seemed to fold inward as the black arc struck the sphere of trapped salamanders. Then reality snapped back, and the mass imploded.

There was no fiery explosion, no dramatic burst of flame. Instead, the gravitational pressure inverted with violent force, crushing everything it touched and flattening the monsters into the ground. A massive gash split the molten rock as the salamanders were driven downward, their bodies compressed beyond recognition and rupturing into a grotesque mixture of scales, blood, and guts.

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

Brakka whistled as she took in the aftermath of the battle. There had been more than thirty of the monsters, yet there was no sign of them now, nothing left but a ripped, cratered trench carved into the cavern floor.

The air trembled for a moment longer before settling. Heat rippled as the small crater began to fill itself from one of the nearby lava pools. The compressed flesh within it sizzled briefly, and soon all signs of the monsters were gone. Silence followed, and many eyes turned toward the man responsible.

‘...Did I put too much power into it?’

Roland thought to himself as everyone stared at him with varying degrees of interest and suspicion. Still, he had hoped the display would make others wary of crossing him, and at least that seemed to have worked. Even the party leader looked taken aback by his performance.