Evan took a deep breath, staring at the two worn boots before him. The leather was beginning to crack along the edges, clear signs of constant use. Despite their condition, these boots were all he had, and they would serve as the testing ground for his first real attempt at rune inscriptions.
He knew creating a functional artifact was already a daunting task, but inscribing runes on a pair of boots made it even more complicated. Both needed to be identical—every line, curve, and knot perfectly aligned.
If a single stroke was different, the energy flow between the two boots would be imbalanced. Instead of enhancing his speed, they might create uncoordinated movements—or worse, something dangerous.
"Two feet," he murmured. "Two challenges."
His gaze shifted to the brush and the vial of lumar ink on the makeshift table. With only eight contribution coins left, he couldn't afford to make mistakes.
A chill ran down Evan's spine as he thought about what he was about to do. Over the past two years in the Arcane Field, he had dabbled in various magical disciplines, searching for something that would activate his core.
However, apprentices below the advanced level didn't have access to pre-made rune artifacts. This meant he had never seen an enchanted item being crafted. Everything he knew came from the basic inscription concepts taught during his early weeks of training.
Books were prohibitively expensive. Even the simplest ones, labeled "beginner," cost at least 15 contribution coins for a half-day rental. With his scarce resources, Evan had only managed to rent one or two rune-focused books over the years, each time absorbing as much knowledge as he could in the short time allowed.
Even so, he had memorized the basics. He knew a rune was more than just a drawing—it was a contract with the surrounding environment. For it to work, it had to be perfectly aligned with the material and the natural forces around it.
"I know what I need to do," he told himself. "I just need to get it right."
Evan closed his eyes and activated the assimilation ability once again.
Immediately, he felt as though he was diving into a sea of information. The rune set he had mentally created was there, as clear as day. Every line, curve, and knot seemed etched into his mind as if he had practiced them for weeks.
It was a strange sensation, as though his muscle memory was being filled with movements he had never performed. The familiarity grew with each passing second, but so did a mounting pressure, like holding his breath while sinking into deep water.
When he emerged from the assimilation state, his breathing was heavy, and he needed a few moments to recover.
"This is intense," he murmured, wiping the sweat from his face.
But he knew he had to master this feeling. Familiarity was essential to avoid mistakes during the inscription process.
For the next several hours, he repeated the process. Every 30 minutes, he delved into his core, assimilating the pattern until every stroke became second nature. It was exhausting but necessary. He couldn't afford to fail.
With a deep breath, Evan activated the insertion ability, feeling a soft warmth radiate from his core.
In an instant, something shifted.
The boot was no longer just an object. Lines began to appear on its surface—sharp, vibrant, like a mental projection of the rune adapted to the material and environment.
Each stroke glowed with varying intensities. Thinner lines pulsed softly, while knots and curves projected brighter light, marking the points of highest energy flow. Some sections were elongated, others shorter.
It was a dynamic, almost living vision. The pattern seemed tailored to that exact moment, reflecting environmental conditions: the leather's resistance, the humidity in the air, even the breeze slipping through the gaps in the tent.
"So this is insertion," Evan murmured, fascinated.
Yet something bothered him.
The strokes before him weren't identical to those he had memorized during his assimilation sessions. In the simulated space, the strokes had been perfect—smooth and consistent. But now, in the real world, they looked different.
Narrowing his eyes, Evan tried to understand.
Closing his eyes again, he sought answers from his core.
The realization came as a wave of information.
In the flawless environment of simulation, the runes had been created without external interference. There was no resistance from the material, no variations in energy, no natural forces shaping the strokes. But in the real world, everything was different.
Every material carried its own energy. Every environment had its own forces.
The rune had to adapt to these variables to function properly. It wasn't just a drawing—it was a contract with the cosmos, shaped by the object and the place where it was being inscribed.
Opening his eyes, Evan felt his core pulse gently, as if confirming his understanding.
"That's it," he said, studying the dynamic strokes. "That's why it looks different."
Evan dipped the brush into the lumar ink, watching the liquid glow softly with a golden light. Positioning the tip of the brush over the first line of the pattern, he took a deep breath.
"Here we go," he murmured, moving the brush with care.
As he began tracing, he felt the resistance of the material—not physical but energetic, as though the leather was testing his resolve.
He followed the mental guide provided by his core, adjusting his movements as he progressed.
When he completed the first stroke, the line glowed faintly, stabilizing on the boot's surface.
Evan stepped back to observe the result.
"Definitive," he murmured. "No room for error."
Every new stroke brought a fresh challenge.
Thicker lines required greater control over the ink's flow, while smooth curves demanded quick and precise movements. Evan adjusted every detail based on the dynamic vision before him.
When he reached the knots, he noticed the ink accumulated energy unevenly. Pausing, he observed the shifting flows and adjusted the brush's pressure to balance the pattern.
The core seemed to guide him but didn't do the work for him. Everything depended on his coordination and ability to adapt.
After several minutes of grueling effort, the entire pattern on the first boot was complete.
It glowed softly, each stroke seeming to breathe in harmony with the environment.
Evan exhaled, relieved, but he knew the real challenge was still ahead.
Preparing to start the second boot, Evan understood he needed to replicate the original pattern with absolute precision.
The hardest part was intentionally reproducing the errors made in the first boot. Any difference—no matter how small—could disrupt the energy flow between the two feet.
"If they're not identical, it won't work," he murmured, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Evan activated his core once more, focusing on memorizing and mentally simulating the pattern he had inscribed on the first boot. He observed each line and knot, analyzing how the strokes connected and identifying where the small defects had occurred.
Then, he moved on to the assimilation stage. This time, he didn't just imprint the perfect strokes he had envisioned earlier but also included the flaws that had emerged during the actual inscription process. Slight deviations in angles, imperfections in curves, and minor oscillations in thickness were now part of the set.
The sensation of assimilation was as intense as before—a deep dive into a sea of information and details. He felt his core pulsing in response, as though recalibrating his perception. When he finally emerged, his breathing was heavy, and sweat dripped from his forehead. It took him several minutes to catch his breath.
As he began inscribing the second boot, Evan felt the weight of accumulated exhaustion. His hands trembled slightly, but he maintained his focus.
Stroke by stroke, knot by knot, he replicated the pattern from the first boot with precision. The errors weren't corrected; they were intentionally replicated to ensure the two boots would function in sync.
When the final stroke was complete, both boots stood before him, glowing with a steady, soft light.
Evan collapsed onto his back, panting.
Staring at the ceiling of his tent, he felt a mix of relief and curiosity. He knew the inscriptions weren't perfect—the small imperfections might reduce their efficiency—but the task was done.
"It's not perfect," he said, looking at the boots. "But it's functional."
Running his fingers over the strokes on the inside of the leather, he felt a faint vibration beneath the surface. The inscriptions were hidden, carefully placed so no one could see them while he wore the boots. They felt like a living secret, pulsing with energy.
A tired smile spread across his face.
"Now, let's see what you can do," he murmured, imagining the potential those boots might unleash.