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?"

"It's very simple." Her tone grew instructive again, but there was a trace of warning in it. "Every living being absorbs mana naturally — up to the limit their body can handle. Try to force more in than your body can process, and it doesn't make you stronger. It breaks you."

Oliver frowned. "Breaks… me?"

"Imagine flooding a cracked pot with water," she said. "You can pour as much as you like, but the vessel will shatter. The same applies here. Rashly expanding your mana capacity without preparation would destroy your body — burn out your circuits, rupture your veins, maybe even stop your heart."

Oliver sat back, deflated. "So what are we supposed to do, then? Just drop the idea?"

"Of course not," Isolde said, her smirk returning slightly. "It just means we start from the foundation. You can't build a tower on sand."

He blinked. "Foundation?"

"Yes." She held up the glowing pen again. "Before you can handle runes like Mana Siphon or Reservoir, your body needs to change — it has to evolve to withstand the strain."

Oliver's brows knitted. "Change how?"

"The answer is simple." Isolde's voice lowered, almost reverent. "The Rune of Vigor."

She walked closer, her eyes reflecting the pen's blue light. "It's the cornerstone of all body-strengthening circuits — the most fundamental of all runes. The Rune of Vigor amplifies your life force, enhances your vitality, accelerates healing… it forces your body to generate more vital essence — a life energy distinct from mana, but compatible with it."

Oliver listened, focused, nodding slowly as he absorbed her words.

"Without this rune," Isolde continued, "your human body would collapse under the stress of high-grade mana circuits. But with it, you'll gain endurance, resilience, and — most importantly — the ability to handle the runes that come next."

She stopped in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. "So, before we even think about mana amplification, we begin with the Rune of Vigor."

Oliver took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Alright. The Rune of Vigor first, then."

"Good." Isolde smiled faintly, though her tone stayed serious. "But be warned, Oliver — this one's going to hurt like hell."

Oliver frowned. "You said that last time too. Is this gonna hurt differently, or are you just trying to scare me?"

"This time," Isolde replied dryly, "if the last one felt like a dog bite… this will feel like something chewing through your spine."

"…Comforting," Oliver muttered, face paling.

Isolde crouched beside him, her tone slipping into that confident, lecturing rhythm she always had when explaining runes. "The Rune of Vigor has to be engraved along your spine — from the base of your neck to the tailbone. The spine is called the Pillar of Life. It's where your vital energy flows, alongside mana. Engraving it there will amplify your life force and strengthen the body's resistance. It'll connect your brain, heart, and energy centers into one continuous circuit."

"So in short," Oliver said flatly, "you're saying it's gonna hurt like hell."

"Exactly," Isolde said without missing a beat.

Serena, standing nearby with a bowl and towel, winced. "Gods above, that sounds awful."

Oliver felt a literal chill crawl down his back — fitting, given what was coming. "You know… I can still back out, right?"

"Too late," Isolde said, her voice light but final.

Before he could react, she flicked her wrist. His shirt vanished instantly — dissolved by magic — and with one swift motion, she flipped him onto his stomach and pinned him down on the bed.

"Wha—Wait! Hey! Can't we at least—!"

"Hold still," she said calmly, her fingers tracing a glowing rune in the air.

"Wait, wait, wait! Isn't there some spell to numb the pain or something?" Oliver said quickly, his voice muffled against the pillow.

Isolde blinked. "Oh! Yeah, there is one!"

"Really? Great—" he began, relief in his voice.

Thwack!

Her open palm came down hard on the back of his head.

Oliver's vision exploded in white, his body went limp, and the world went black.

Serena froze, eyes wide. "…That's your numbing spell?"

Isolde dusted her hands together, completely unfazed. "Worked, didn't it? The Fist of Tranquility. Very advanced magic."

"Tranquility my ass," Serena muttered under her breath. "Sometimes I can't tell if you're helping him or trying to kill him."

"Relax," Isolde said, checking his pulse casually. "He's fine. Unconscious means he won't feel a thing."

"And what if he wakes up halfway through?" Serena asked, exasperated.

"Then I'll knock him out again," Isolde said without hesitation.

Serena sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. "You're insane."

"Genius," Isolde corrected with a grin. "There's a difference."

With that, she reached for the modified runic pen and the vial of shimmering liquid mana. The glow inside the vial shimmered like captured starlight. As she injected it into the pen's reservoir, the tool began to hum softly, lines of blue light pulsing through its length.

Serena, still muttering under her breath, dipped the towel into the bowl of water and knelt beside the bed. "Alright. Let's just finish this before I lose my nerves. The longer we wait, the more likely he wakes up."

Isolde nodded, steadying her breathing. She placed the glowing pen at the base of Oliver's neck, her tone suddenly calm and reverent. "Let's begin."

~~~~

The room was silent — save for the faint hum of mana and the slow, steady rhythm of Isolde's breathing. The air was thick with the metallic tang of tension and the faint scent of the shimmering liquid mana that glowed faintly in the dim light.

Oliver lay face-down on the bed, shirtless, his back bare and pale beneath the lamplight. The runic pen in Isolde's hand pulsed softly — its tip gleaming with starlit blue ink.

"Let's start," she murmured under her breath.

The first touch of the pen met his skin with a low hiss. Mana crackled as the tip split the surface — a thin line of glowing blue following in its wake. For a moment, the room seemed to tremble with faint vibration, as if the air itself resisted what was happening.

Then came the sound.

A wet, subtle shhk as the pen dug deeper — the sharp metallic tip parting skin, reaching down toward the underlying muscle until it scraped lightly against bone.

Serena flinched hard. "G–Gods…" she whispered, clutching the towel against her chest. The pen's movement left a faint trail of blood, small crimson droplets rolling down the curve of Oliver's back, staining the bedsheet beneath him.

Isolde didn't flinch. Her expression was calm, but her eyes — sharp and focused — gleamed with concentration. "Don't look away," she said quietly, her voice oddly soft. "You'll need to hand me the cloth when I say so."

Serena's throat tightened. "Y-Yeah… just… keep going…"

The pen carved its slow, deliberate path downward. Each stroke emitted a faint crackling hum, as if mana and flesh struggled to coexist. Tiny arcs of blue light ran along Oliver's spine, searing glowing veins that pulsed faintly beneath the skin.

Blood mixed with mana — red and blue — dripping down in slow, uneven rivulets.

Isolde stopped midway, wiping the pen carefully with the edge of a clean cloth. "His body's resisting it," she muttered. "Good… that means his life force is strong. But it'll make this more painful when he wakes."

Serena's eyes widened. "When he wakes? You mean he—?"

A faint twitch ran through Oliver's fingers. His breathing hitched slightly.

"His body is reacting," Isolde said calmly, dipping the pen again in the glowing vial. "The Rune of Vigor forces the body to fight back while it's being engraved. It's… instinctive."

The tip pressed again into his back, slower this time, the needle tracing the intricate rune pattern — curls, lines, and ancient symbols — each one interlinked like veins in a living creature. The deeper the rune went, the more his skin trembled, blood beading along the lines.

Serena's hands shook as she dabbed the bleeding spots with the towel. "He looks like he's being torn apart," she whispered, voice cracking.

Isolde's tone softened — but didn't stop moving. "It looks worse than it is. The rune merges with life essence — every drop of blood carries the mark. When it's done, his body will never be the same again."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," Serena muttered, tears pricking her eyes despite herself. "You talk like he's some… experiment."

For a brief moment, Isolde's hand paused. Her expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. "He knew what he asked for," she said quietly. "And I promised him strength. I'll keep that promise."

The pen moved again, this time faster — the runes glowing brighter, lines of light spreading like roots through his back. The hum grew louder, a faint vibration filling the room as the mana settled, interlocking with Oliver's life energy.

Then, a deep crack of light erupted along his spine — the runic circuit locking in place.

Serena shielded her eyes, the air vibrating with static. "What's happening!?"

"The rune's syncing!" Isolde shouted over the sound, her voice tight now. "His body's accepting it—!"

Oliver's back arched violently, a strangled groan escaping his lips even in unconsciousness. His muscles tensed like drawn cords, veins glowing faintly beneath his skin.

Then — silence.

The glow dimmed. The humming stopped.

Isolde exhaled slowly, lowering the pen. "It's done."

Serena hesitated, then stepped closer. The sight made her breath hitch — the once-raw carvings now faintly etched in shimmering blue, like lines of lightning frozen under his skin. The bleeding had already begun to close, leaving behind a faint sheen of mana.

"He'll sleep for a while," Isolde said, her voice quieter now, brushing the sweat from her forehead. "When he wakes… he'll feel like he's been hit by a carriage. But after that…"

Serena looked at Oliver's still form, eyes glistening. "…He'll be stronger."

Isolde nodded faintly, almost to herself. "Yes. Much stronger."

She reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from Oliver's face — her expression unreadable between pride and guilt.

Serena watched her, whispering softly, "You really care for him, don't you?"

Isolde didn't answer. She simply looked at her handiwork — at the faintly glowing spine that pulsed like a sleeping dragon — and whispered, "Let's hope he can handle what he asked for."

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