The quiet hum of mana conduits threaded through the walls of Rui's chamber, a constant backdrop to the flickering glow of runes etched into crystalline nodes. Faint streams of golden light pulsed beneath Rui's pale skin as he sat cross-legged atop a stabilization platform.
Kovar hovered nearby, adjusting floating displays filled with intricate mana readings. His glass dome glowed faintly with amber light, reflecting both focus and strain.
But in this room, there was only focus.
It has been a few hours since the first dose.
"Core stability holding at… seventy-eight percent," Kovar muttered as he scrolled through translucent glyph displays, amber light flickering erratically inside his glass dome. "It's improving, but—"
"But it's not healing," Rui finished for him, his silver eyes opening slowly. His voice was calm, but tired.
Kovar sighed, his gloved hands stilling over the floating console. "No. It's not healing. Stabilizing, yes. Holding itself together? Barely. But healing… That's something else entirely."
The two sat in silence for a long moment.
---
The rest of the day became an endless cycle of experimentation.
Kovar moved from one alchemical apparatus to the next, pouring luminous liquids into crystalline containers and etching new runes across glowing stone tablets. Rui endured it all—mana infusions, alchemical stabilizers, and complex rune bindings directly applied to his skin.
Some experiments caused faint golden flares across Rui's chest; others did nothing at all.
At one point, Kovar paused with a vial of deep violet liquid suspended between his fingers. His amber glow dimmed with hesitation.
"Kovar," Rui said, his silver eyes locking onto the alchemist. "Just do it."
The liquid hissed as it was injected into Rui's sternum. His veins briefly pulsed with vibrant violet light, golden cracks flaring in sharp contrast. Rui clenched his fists against the burn spreading through his chest.
But when the light dimmed, Kovar's shoulders slumped.
"No change," he muttered, placing the empty vial down with trembling hands.
Rui let out a slow breath, sweat dotting his brow. "We'll try again tomorrow."
Kovar turned away, his gloved hand resting briefly on the edge of the alchemical table. His voice was quiet, edged with exhaustion. "Rui… I'm starting to think this isn't something I can solve with chemistry or runes. It's… beyond me."
Rui rose from the platform, his movements slow but deliberate. He crossed the room and placed a hand on Kovar's shoulder.
"You haven't failed me, Kovar. You've kept me alive."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
---
Later that evening, Rui stood atop one of the Citadel's open terraces, overlooking the sprawling city of Eryndor below. The horizon glowed faintly with the light of countless mana lanterns, their flickering illumination painting the streets in warm gold.
Faint murmurs of life drifted upward—the sound of a restless city caught between fear and curiosity. Rui's silver eyes swept across the streets, his sharp vision picking out clusters of people gathered in taverns, marketplaces, and plazas.
They were talking. Whispering. Wondering.
The Abyss had shaken their world—both literally and figuratively. Earthquakes, sudden weather changes, ripples of raw mana coursing through the city, and then… silence.
No explanation. No reassurance.
Just silence.
Rui clenched his fists as the faint golden cracks across his hands glimmered softly.
They deserve answers, Rui thought. And they'll get them.
---
The faint hum of mana conduits vibrated softly through the chamber walls, but it did little to drown out the restless storm brewing inside him. Rui sat upright on the edge of his bed, bare feet touching the cold marble floor as he stared down at his hands. The golden cracks threading along his skin pulsed faintly, like veins carrying liquid sunlight.
Sleep had eluded him again. Each time he closed his eyes, the pressure in his chest grew unbearable, the fractured core within him reminding him of its fragile state.
He exhaled sharply and let the runes in his eyes flicker to life. Faint sigils illuminated his irises, glowing softly like constellations etched into glass.
For all his strength, for all the power woven into his very being, Rui felt... stuck. He could fight, he could endure, but he had never truly tried to cultivate.
The great warriors, mages, and legends of the world—each had their own way of refining their cores, expanding their power, and pushing past their limits. Rui, on the other hand, had always been thrown into the fire, forced to adapt, experimented on, and somehow always succeeded. No one questioned his methods because of it.
But now, in this stillness, with the faint golden warmth of his fractured Primordial Core pulsing faintly in his chest, he realized something.
He'd never actually tried to guide it. To control it.
Rui's brow furrowed as he shifted into a cross-legged position on the bed, reminiscent of his childhood. His posture straightened, hands resting lightly on his knees, palms facing upward. He closed his eyes and focused inward.
The world around him began to fade—the hum of the conduits, the distant flicker of city lights, the faint crackle of the stabilization runes embedded in his walls.
All that remained was the golden glow deep within his chest.
His core. His fractured, impossibly bright, impossibly broken Primordial Core.
Rui drew in a slow breath, and as he exhaled, he tried something he'd never done before: he reached for it.
At first, nothing happened. The golden threads remained motionless, like a still lake untouched by wind.
But then, he pushed harder. Not physically, but mentally—as though he were trying to pull the threads of light with invisible hands.
The golden glow trembled, flickering briefly before returning to stillness.
Rui gritted his teeth, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.
Move.
The warmth in his chest surged slightly, a faint ripple spreading outward from the fractured surface of his core. It was progress, but it wasn't enough.
He steadied his breathing, his silver eyes still closed, the faint glow of his Runic Eyes shimmering behind his eyelids.
The scholars had tried rituals. The alchemists had tried potions. Kovar had used injections and stabilizers. But none of them had reached the golden threads the way Rui was attempting to now.
If they can't fix me, Rui thought, I'll fix myself.
He let his focus sharpen, his mind narrowing to a razor's edge. Slowly, carefully, he began to guide his mana—not outward, not into the world—but inward, directly into his core.
At first, it was like trying to push water through cracked glass. Mana leaked, scattered, and resisted his direction. But Rui didn't stop.
The golden threads quivered again, trembling in response to his effort.
And then—something shifted.
A single golden thread, impossibly thin and faint, moved.
Rui gasped, his silver eyes snapping open, glowing brilliantly with his Runic Eyes fully active. His chest felt hot, the fractures in his core blazing with golden light for a brief moment before settling into a faint glow.
His breathing came in sharp gasps, his body trembling with exhaustion, but there was something different now—something subtle but undeniable.
Progress.
The fractures were still there. The golden threads still held everything together, fragile and imperfect. But… something had shifted.
Rui placed a hand over his chest, feeling the faint hum of his core beneath his palm.
It was faint, but it was there: a sensation of stability.
Not a cure. Not a miracle. But a step.
A beginning.
---
Hours later, as the faint light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Rui still sat cross-legged on his bed. His breathing was steady, his eyes dim but still faintly glowing in the half-light of the chamber.
He had spent the remainder of the night repeating the process—reaching, guiding, stabilizing. It was exhausting, and the results were minuscule, but it was working.
For the first time since the Abyss, Rui felt like he was moving forward.
The chamber door creaked open, and Kovar stepped inside, his amber-lit glass dome flickering softly.
He paused mid-step when he saw Rui sitting upright, faint golden cracks still glowing softly across his chest.
"You've been at it all night, haven't you?" Kovar said, his voice low but steady.
Rui nodded slowly, his silver eyes meeting Kovar's. "I couldn't sleep. So… I tried something new."
Kovar stepped closer, his sharp gaze studying Rui carefully. The amber glow in his dome intensified faintly.
"You look… steadier," Kovar said, almost cautiously.
Rui smirked faintly, though his exhaustion was evident. "I think… I found a way to move the threads. Just a little. But it's something."
Kovar's gloved hand twitched slightly at his side. "You guided them?"
Rui nodded again.
For a moment, Kovar said nothing. Then, he let out a slow breath, his glass dome dimming slightly.
"You're walking a fine line, Rui. Manipulating your core like that—it's dangerous. But…" Kovar hesitated. "It's progress. Real progress."
Rui let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I'll keep going, Kovar. Night after night, until I get this right."
Kovar studied Rui for a long moment before nodding. "Then I'll make sure you have everything you need."
The two stood in silence for a while, the faint light of dawn casting a soft glow through the crystal window.