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Afternoon sunlight spilled through the window, painting golden streaks across the wooden floor. The faint scraping of metal echoed in the quiet room as Oliver carefully etched glowing symbols along the blade's surface. His hands moved with precision, the lines steady and deliberate — each rune stroke faintly pulsing before fading into the metal.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Isolde stepped in, her usual composed grace filling the room. "New weapon?" she asked, crossing her arms. Her tone was light, but her crimson eyes flickered with curiosity. "Don't tell me you already mastered the fire rune I taught you?"

Oliver looked up, brushing away a strand of hair from his forehead. "Ah, yeah. I've been practicing since morning. The sword from before isn't holding up anymore, so I thought I'd make a new one. Something I can rely on for tomorrow's mission."

"Hmm." Isolde nodded approvingly. "Good initiative. Do as you want — I'm going to train Nyra in the backyard. Call me if you need anything."

She turned to leave, but Oliver's voice stopped her halfway to the door.

"Ahm… Isolde."

Her steps slowed. She immediately caught the hesitation in his tone. "Hmm? What is it?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Oliver put the sword down and leaned back in his chair, staring at the half-finished blade for a long moment before speaking. "I've been meaning to ask you a favor."

"Oh?" Isolde turned fully now, her expression curious. "That's rare. You sound serious."

Oliver exhaled deeply, his voice dropping to something quieter — almost reflective. "You know… when I was surrounded by those goblins that day, my strength gone, my mana drained… I felt completely helpless."

Isolde said nothing, only listening — her crimson eyes watching him closely.

"I always thought I was doing fine," Oliver continued, his gaze distant. "That I was growing stronger, step by step. But that day… I realized I was still weak. Pathetically weak. I thought I was going to die there — and that I'd never see your face again."

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of mana still lingering in the unfinished runes.

"You know, at that time…" he went on, voice firming, "I swore that if I somehow got out alive, I'd do anything to become stronger. Even if it meant carving runes on my own body — no matter how painful it might be."

Isolde's eyes widened slightly.

For as long as she had known him, Oliver had flatly rejected that idea. He used to call it unnatural — said it would make him something other than human. His reasoning always made sense to her; body runes weren't just markings, they were integrations. They changed the very flow of one's life force.

But now, she saw no hesitation in his expression. Only raw determination.

She stepped closer, her face unreadable. "You've changed your mind," she said quietly.

Oliver nodded. "That day changed everything. I used to think… if I engraved runes into my body, I'd stop being human. But what's the point of staying human if I can't even survive? Nothing matters if you're dead."

Isolde was silent for a long moment, her eyes searching his. Then she sighed, though there was a faint trace of pride in her tone. "It will be painful as hell, Oliver. More than you can imagine. Once done, it can never be reversed — and you will never be a 'normal human' again."

"I'm ready for it," Oliver said firmly.

Isolde studied him for another heartbeat before finally nodding. "Alright then."

She turned toward the door, her tone calm but deliberate. "We'll do it tonight. I'll need to get some high-grade healing potions and stabilizers — just in case."

"Okay," Oliver said quietly.

She paused at the doorway, glancing back once more. "Rest up until then," she said. "You'll need every ounce of strength for what's coming."

And with that, she left — her footsteps fading down the corridor.

~~~

Night had settled deep over the Velvet Hearth. The halls were quiet, save for the faint crackle of the lantern outside Oliver's room. He sat at the edge of his bed, the air heavy with anticipation.

His shirt lay discarded over a chair, his upper body bare — muscles still sore from training earlier that day. The room smelled faintly of ink and burnt metal from his earlier rune experiments, but tonight felt different.

She said she needed to buy ingredients for engraving runes.

He frowned, running a hand through his hair.

"What kind of ingredients could she possibly need?" he muttered under his breath. They already had the runic pen, the ink, the catalyst — everything he'd been using so far. But Isolde was never careless about these things. If she said it was necessary, then it had to be something important.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, tapping his fingers against his knee. "Carving runes into a body must be… different, huh?"

Just then, the door creaked open.

Isolde stepped in — dressed in her light black robes, her expression calm but sharp. In one hand, she held what looked like a runic pen, though unlike any Oliver had seen before. The barrel was engraved with faint golden lines, pulsing softly as if alive. A small valve-like chamber was attached near the base — meant to inject something directly into it.

In her other hand was a small glass vial. The liquid inside shimmered with shifting colors — silver, blue, faint traces of violet — like starlight swirling in water.

Oliver blinked. "That's… new."

Before he could ask, the door opened again.

Serena entered, her sleeves rolled up, carrying a bowl of water, a stack of clean towels, and a worried look on her face.

Oliver turned to her, puzzled. "Serena? What are you—"

"What, staring at me like that?" Serena huffed, setting the bowl down near the bed. "Isolde said it's going to get bloody. I'm not letting my bedsheets get ruined again."

Oliver sighed, though he caught the faint flicker of worry in her eyes. Beneath her teasing tone, she clearly wasn't taking this lightly.

He gave her a small nod of appreciation before turning back to Isolde. "Alright, what's that?" he asked, gesturing toward the vial.

Isolde set it gently on the table, the faint glow reflecting in her red eyes. "Liquid Mana," she said simply.

Oliver raised a brow, unsure what to say. But Serena's reaction came instantly.

"What?!" she gasped, nearly dropping the towel she was holding. "You mean real Liquid Mana? Do you have any idea how expensive that is?"

Isolde didn't even look up. "Yes. About fifty gold coins for this much."

Oliver's eyes widened. "Fifty? That's enough for a noble family to live comfortably for a year!"

Serena crossed her arms, clearly distressed. "And you're going to use all that just to carve runes on him?"

"Yes." Isolde's tone was calm, factual. "Liquid mana is pure, condensed essence. It's the only thing that can merge runes safely into living tissue. Anything lesser, and his body would reject the engraving — or worse, explode from mana backlash."

Serena grimaced. "Gods…"

Oliver swallowed hard, glancing at the shimmering vial. Even from a distance, he could feel its presence — like a quiet hum brushing against his skin. "So this… this is going into me?"

"Some of it," Isolde said, her expression turning serious. "It'll flow with the ink as I engrave the runes. Think of it as the bridge between your mana flow and the runes themselves. Without it, the lines won't bind properly."

Oliver nodded slowly, his earlier confusion replaced with grim understanding. "Right. No point backing out now."

Isolde looked at him, measuring his resolve. "Are you ready for it?" she asked softly.

He met her gaze and gave a firm nod. "Yeah. Let's do it."

For a few seconds, silence hung thick between them. The faint hum of the mana-infused pen filled the room like a living heartbeat.

Then Isolde broke the silence, her tone turning practical.

"Before I start, I need to know — what kind of rune do you want carved? Strength? Speed? Something elemental?"

Oliver hesitated, thinking. He had a lot of weaknesses, but one stood out above all.

"My mana," he said at last. "It runs out too quickly. After a few spells, I'm already done for the day. If something could be done about that…"

Isolde's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Ah, mana deficiency. The eternal cry of mages and idiots alike."

"Hey—"

"Relax." She held up a finger, smug. "Of course something can be done about it. Who do you think you're talking to? I'm Isolde — the greatest genius in runes to ever live."

Oliver chuckled weakly. "You really don't do modesty, do you?"

"Modesty is for the mediocre," she shot back with a smirk. "And lucky for you, I'm not one of them."

She picked up the runic pen and tapped it lightly against her palm as she began explaining, her tone slipping into that familiar rhythm of a teacher lecturing her student.

"There's a combination of two runes that could completely fix your mana issue — and make your reserves practically endless."

That got Oliver's full attention. "Really?"

"Really." She looked at him with a hint of pride in her eyes. "The first is called the Mana Siphon Rune. It lets the body absorb ambient mana from the surrounding environment — like a sponge soaking up water. The second is the Reservoir Rune, which stores that gathered mana inside you, like a living mana battery."

Oliver's eyes widened, excitement flickering in his tired face. "So you're saying… if I had both, I could basically never run out of mana?"

"Exactly." Isolde smiled faintly, clearly enjoying his awe. "With those two combined, you'd have a near-infinite supply — assuming your body could handle the flow."

Oliver straightened immediately, excitement rising in his voice. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's do it!"

But Isolde's smirk faded. She set down the pen and crossed her arms, expression suddenly serious. "No can do."

His grin faltered. "What? Why not?"

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