Arcanum, as legend tells it, is the language once spoken by the creator gods to shape the very fabric of existence. It embodies all natural laws and magical forces—a sacred, omnipotent code that once governed reality itself. Yet, through the passage of time, this divine tongue was lost, slipping from human grasp like sand through fingers. More precisely, it is said that humanity was stripped of this knowledge after falling from Heaven, cast down upon consuming a forbidden fruit.
Despite this loss, echoes of the ancient language linger, scattered like embers in the vast unknown. Fragments can still be reclaimed by studying magic, observing nature, and deciphering the patterns that weave through existence. Over centuries, scholars and enchanters have painstakingly pieced together parts of this celestial lexicon. Inscribing these 'divine codes' allows one to reshape matter, harness elemental energies, and even bend the laws of physics. It is through this rediscovery that all magic and enchantments known to mankind have been born.
This is precisely what was written in The Complete Guide to Enchantment regarding the history of Arcanum. When I first read it, I was both astonished and intrigued. The story bore an eerie resemblance to a certain scripture back on Earth.
A man's fall from Heaven.
A forbidden fruit.
And now, as Sophia's pen glides over the dagger's surface, the glowing Arcanum letters coming to life beneath her touch, I see it for myself.
"So this is how you write in Arcanum," I murmur, captivated.
The language of the gods is as enigmatic as it is powerful. My reason for watching Sophia's demonstration was not merely to observe the practical application of enchantment. The books I devoured in the library had all failed to provide a true explanation of this complex language, leaving me with more questions than answers. Like any language, Arcanum has three fundamental components—reading, speaking, and writing. Yet, there is something more, something deeper, hidden beneath the surface.
First, the act of reading. There are two absolute rules when it comes to deciphering Arcanum.
Rule number one: Do not read Arcanum for too long. It is not a language meant for mortal comprehension. Staring at it is like gazing into the heart of the sun—too much exposure leads to dizziness, exhaustion, and an overwhelming sense of mental strain. Those who ignore these warning signs risk far worse: slipping into madness, hallucinating vivid horrors, or seeing things that do not and should not exist.
Rule number two: Never attempt to read forbidden words. These include enchantments that exceed one's level of mastery or words outlawed due to their catastrophic consequences. Some knowledge is not meant to be spoken, not meant to be written—only buried, forgotten, erased from existence for the safety of all.
When it comes to speaking Arcanum, mere pronunciation is not enough. Every word must be spoken with intention. Without it, even the most sacred phrases hold no power. Intention can take many forms—imagination, like visualizing a fireball when casting a spell; emotion, where raw hatred strengthens curses, or love enhances healing magic. Some enchantments draw their strength from the caster's deepest desires, while others thrive on sheer willpower.
Yet, just as with reading, there is a grave rule against speaking forbidden words in Arcanum. Uttering such words carelessly could unleash untold calamities upon the speaker—if not worse.
And then, there is the most intricate and demanding aspect of all: writing Arcanum.
One cannot simply scrawl Arcanum onto parchment with an ordinary quill. It is the fire of creation, the language of gods—and like any fire, it requires fuel. That fuel is enchantment ink. Without it, the words dissolve into nothingness, vanishing without a trace or effect. However, not just any ink will suffice. The potency of an enchantment directly depends on the ink's quality, with more advanced inscriptions demanding inks of superior grade.
Yet, the true complexity of Arcanum lies not in its materials, but in its form.
Arcanum is not written in two dimensions like common script—it must be sculpted in three.
The books don't explicitly state this, but after extensive theoretical research, I've reached this conclusion. Unlike normal writing, where letters follow a structured line, Arcanum can be stacked atop itself. This means that an entire book's worth of information could, in theory, be condensed into a single ink dot. The implications are staggering—an enchanter could inscribe powerful enchantments on even the smallest objects. However, only the most skilled enchanters possess the precision and mastery to execute such a feat. And of course, such an inscription would be entirely unreadable by the human eye.
Even now, with what appears to be a simple enchantment, Sophia's concentration remains unshaken. Every stroke she writes is measured with unwavering precision, each line and curve forming the intricate tapestry of an Arcanum inscription. The thickness of each stroke matters. The order of inscription must be followed flawlessly. Even the slightest deviation could weaken or outright nullify the enchantment.
Minutes pass, then ten.
Finally, Sophia lets out a deep breath and pulls the pen away.
"Finished!" she exclaims.
The dagger in her hand flares with a bright glow. Its surface hums with new energy, the enchantment ink settling into the metal like veins of liquid fire. Sophia's face lights up with triumph as she inspects her work.
"You're smiling. Was it a success?" I ask.
"Big success!" Sophia replies triumphantly. "Behold, Jack, this is my enchanted masterpiece! You literally cannot enchant Sharpness better than this!"
I step forward, eager to see the results. Peering through the appraisal lens, I scan the dagger's newly enhanced stats.
Indeed—she did it.
The numbers don't lie. The dagger has been significantly improved.
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[Steel dagger]
- Weapon Rating: 79 (up by 55)
- Weight: 512 grams
Attributes:
- Sharpness: 27 (up by 17)
- Durability: 144/145
Special Ability:
- None
Enchantment
- Sharpness + 9
- Sharpness + 8
Enchantment points: 2 (decreased by 24)
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And now, it is my turn to try.
I take out another blank dagger with similar initial stats, and try enchanting it myself for the very first time.