Rune Script

Chapter 157 Rune Script

The scattered lakes among the cedar forests are usually not very large—they typically originate from glacial flow from the upper reaches of the Anwaglin mountain range, and some are the result of nearby volcanic activity.

Just above the new home of the Embra tribe, there are more than a dozen dormant volcanoes that have been sleeping for thousands of years. If you choose to go deeper into the mountains from the north, you can see the mountain pass lakes and lava hot springs that fill the view. Even in the near winter season, the hot springs there will not stop boiling. What is amazing is that even the boiling hot spring water is only about fifty or sixty degrees Celsius, which is just the right amount of warmth that makes people feel comfortable and considerate.

Hot springs, a wonderful thing that makes people completely unable to resist, are truly one of nature's most generous gifts.

I want to soak in a hot spring.

As Mu was led by old Horton toward the resting members of the hunting party, his mind wandered like a book waiting to be turned. Mu's memories opened their doors to the newcomer spirituality, presenting the purest colors of this world to the other party without reservation, reflecting a sense of immersion that almost surpassed reality—so much so that Ai Yi now particularly wished for a steaming spring to appear before her.

It's a pity we didn't take that route on this hunting trip.

—What a pity.

He returned to the group in a daze, where he was greeted by several adults with ambiguous smiles, like elders with a hint of doting. Mu smiled embarrassedly and slid away from the large hands that patted his shoulders.

"Are you alright?" asked a burly man whose arms were thicker than Mu's waist, his eyes filled with worry. He looked somewhat comical.

Some people just laughed it off.

"With old Horton watching over him, what could possibly happen? It's a rare opportunity for him to get some training. Mu, I've practically watched this kid grow up; he's not that fragile."

"Right?" To prove it, he hugged Mu tightly, but the latter shyly dodged away quickly.

"Hmm—" The blond youth squinted and nodded slightly in response—he was carrying wet deerskin boots and clutching blood-stained cashmere socks in his hand, and limped toward the lakeside.

"Hurry up and start a fire!" someone shouted.

"The firewood is all wet, can't you idle adults come and help?!"

By the lake, a rather immature voice replied irritably, followed by a few words of laughter and conversation.

—The feeling of being enveloped in kindness made Mu a little uncomfortable.

The Embra tribe is composed of a very homogeneous group of people. This hunting village, with a population of just over four figures, is about the same size as the small settlements scattered throughout the central courtyard. Therefore, even in a hunting team of a dozen or so people, everyone here shares a similar bloodline.

The uncle just now said he watched Mu grow up—it's probably true.

—Just like family.

He couldn't help but think that.

Bypassing a group of adults watching the commotion, Mu saw two young people his age who were now in charge of starting a fire, but it didn't seem to be going very well.

Perhaps because they had been submerged in snow for a long time, and because they were near the lake, the branches found nearby were already soaked through. One of the blond, blue-eyed boys, who looked a few years younger than Mu, was holding a stone shard similar to the one Old Horton had, and was anxiously staring at the woodpile.

The faint mystical energy vibrated for a moment on the stone slab shaped like "writing," bursting into a not-so-bright spark, but it quickly went out.

"You all know perfectly well that I'm not good at rune magic—"

He glanced disapprovingly at the adults gathered around him, protesting against these middle-aged men with their perverse sense of humor. When he realized that Mu had already approached, he helplessly tossed the stone fragment into the hand of his companion.

"Sister Isai, come here."

Mu's gaze shifted to the other side, his pupils contracting slightly. Quietly squatting beside the woodpile was a red-haired girl. Her petite figure made her appear even more youthful. She wore a thin outer robe that seemed out of place for the season, and on her back was a hunting backpack that was much larger than herself. She looked very frail, yet she still seemed quite at ease in the cold wind that made even adults shiver.

The red-haired girl naturally accepted the stone, but remained rooted to the spot without making any further moves. She merely raised her head slightly, her delicate and sweet face, though adorable, carried a stiff and cold expression. She had a pair of pale red eyes, and the lack of emotional fluctuation made her appear much more mature than her physical appearance suggested.

He's at least much more mature than the noisy guy next to her.

"Xiwen".

Mu walked over to the two boys, stepping on the sparse snow, and quietly squatted down. He first gently flicked the forehead of the boy on the left, who showed a pained expression.

"Isaige?" Xiwen covered his forehead, glanced at Mu cautiously, and didn't dare to complain loudly.

—Ise, her own surname, which is also the surname of the red-haired girl.

Even Mu himself has to call her "older sister".

He glanced at the girl who was looking up at him, who looked both obedient and aloof, and smiled indulgently.

"Don't you dare tease your sister Morgana."

The blond youth took the stone shard back from her hand, patted the girl's hair, and instructed her, "Sister, although this guy doesn't mean any harm, don't spoil him too much—beat him when he needs to, and if you hit him too hard, go to Father for treatment. He won't die anyway."

"Isaac!" Xiwen had just let out a cry of anguish when Mu choked him back with a chop to the neck.

"Stop fooling around."

Mu pulled the little brat to his side, twisted his ear 180 degrees, and said, "Don't you know that Morgana can't use rune magic? — Who told you to throw the rune at her?"

"Wrong."

Xiwen readily admitted defeat, clinging to Mu's arm and refusing to let go. The latter let him go after a soft sigh, after all, he was still just a little kid, and his mischievous nature was like Hakimi's instinct to be cheeky.

Next, the strange stone piece came into his hand. Mu looked at the pattern on it, which wasn't complicated—it looked like a few simple shapes combined together—and tilted his head.

-This is----

The almost instinctive memory brought spiritual knowledge, and in the next instant, the newly inhabited consciousness understood the meaning of the pattern in its hand: "Runic writing."

This is the mysterious medium that occupies a "mainstream" position in this era, at least for humankind—these strange and unusual characters are symbols of extraordinary power.

This time, there was no need to consult any secret teachings; Mu delivered all the inherited knowledge—it is said that runes originated from the heavenly realm, drifting from beyond the floating sea that envelops Midgard, recording the behavior and spirit of the gods living in the distant divine land, thus becoming a vessel for the mysteries.

There are 24 runes, each containing different signs and images—the power derived from these runes can be used to guide and release runic magic.

The "Kenaz" that Horton used before was one of them.

As memories washed over him, Mu felt a little disoriented—he recalled the stories his father had told him since childhood: about the profound significance of this power for humanity —

It can be said that runes led the people of Midgard out of barbarism and into the creation of true civilization—before the mysteries were taken over by primitive intellect, those powerful beasts living in Midgard, without natural enemies, had terrifying bodies and sharp claws that were enough to tear apart the strongest humans.

It wasn't until the runes, using intellect as a distinguishing element, were grasped by a group of bipedal beings that humanity was freed from the attacks of primal beasts. From then on, Midgard finally established its ownership, and this land called Midgard truly became the home of humankind.

Mu fell into deep thought.

He felt that as a trainee priest in the tribe, he should also possess this power.

Holding the still-warm stone shard that had just come into his hand, Mu took a deep breath, wondering what to do.

He first tried to activate the arcane arts he was familiar with—but unexpectedly, the already compiled arcane framework refused access, or rather—it did not receive access.

—The forms of operation of the secret arts do not seem to exist in this lost era—Mu came to this conclusion after several failed attempts: The mysterious environment here at noon is much more active than in the Nest era, but also much more primitive.

In terms of specific manifestations, the former is probably a mysterious power that is almost universal among mortals and has become a "daily tool," while the latter is something Mu finds difficult to explain with words; he can only describe his feelings in a straightforward manner.

If we consider arcane arts as a compiled language under a "mature underlying system", then the mysterious environment of noon can only be described as a "system under development": its expansion slots are pitifully few, and even the translation process can only be completed through a pre-input dictionary.

The term "lexicon" here refers to "runes".

—Is that so?————

Mu roughly understood the context of his current era: [active and primitive], which was the mysterious melody of noon.

The bad news is that much of his knowledge and skills are useless here, with no environment to utilize them. But there is also good news—at least if he encounters a battle of similar strength here, based on his understanding of mysterious forces, it should be a battle between unarmed modern people and cavemen.

—Can modern humans defeat primitive humans?

Mu casually raised a controversial question, and sighed, clearly stating that he had never faced similar restrictions in Issu before.

Indeed, Lost and Forbidden Secrets are not in the same league at all. If the former is just a movie that can be watched in the first person, the latter is close to a complete and real world.

—This is tricky.

Bringing his wandering thoughts back, Mu also focused his attention on the present moment. The residual warmth of the stone in his hand was almost gone. He held it up in front of him and gazed at it with pupils the same color as the sky.

kenaz

—The same runes that old Horton used before, with imagery related to fire and warmth.

He pursed his lips.

—The key to manipulating runic magic lies in the resonance between the mind and the symbol—something my father taught me: to apply everything to the runes.

En's understanding transforms into a longing and acceptance—when I try to use temperature and fire, I imagine the rhythm of life as the pulse of fire.

The light blue pupils dissolved into a passionate red, like the tail feathers of a flame licking at the edge of firewood, infused with heat in a moment of inexplicable inspiration.

—Runic Magic—

Mu Wei raised her eyebrows slightly.

The crowd surrounding him—except for Morgana, who still looked expressionless, and the pitiful Siven—the adults were all looking at him with expectant and believing eyes.

Kindness is wrapped in pride, and pride is wrapped in indulgence.

Watching this scene, he suddenly became somewhat lost in thought—

Mu was already used to this biased gaze. The elders were always willing to give him the most tolerant look, because Mu was a lovable child, and also because of the sacred surname Isai.

Isai: The priestly family that has been passed down through generations in the Embra tribe. Mu's father was the previous chief priest of the sacred tree in the tribe. As the son of the chief priest, this still young man was regarded as the successor to the priestly mantle from an early age.

He will be the future prophet of Embra, the firstborn son of the Elm Tree who will lead his people to take root in their new homeland and embrace the glory of the Elm Tree.

Mu pouted.

—I used to be called a second-generation priest by everyone, but after joining the dungeon, I really became some kind of second-generation priest—

He didn't know what he was feeling. His new spirituality hadn't yet adapted to this pure trust and love. He only felt confused, but more than anything, he felt a warmth rising from the bottom of his heart.

—It was a bit sudden.

Ai thought to herself:

On this new stage, he has adopted a new identity, but it is different from his identity in Ys. Back then, although Rhodes was also a new persona, his journey in Rusty Village did not intersect with his daily life.

Ai knew that Rhodes had a very powerful lawyer father and that he himself was a wealthy young man who never had to worry about food or clothing, but in that story of being separated, everything about the pseudonym ultimately had nothing to do with him.

But here—it's completely different.

Mu, a living, breathing individual, as if he had just been living in this country a moment ago: a young man with a family, loving elders, and mischievous younger generations—an independent and energetic young man with a bright and promising future.

In the next instant, she found herself in a different position, and a deep sense of separation washed over her, so heavy that it almost kicked her soul out of her body.

His initial seed sprouted from "empathy," but the extreme immersion made him uneasy at this moment.

—Could I really replace such a complete "life"? I will act in this country with the attitude of Mu, treating everything as a movie, like using a disposable prop, trying to reach my goal.

Even if the original beauty is trampled in the process?

Ai was somewhat confused—he could tolerate such a divide in Ys, but here, he hesitated because of it.

It's just an exploration of a secret history, why give me an extra identity?

In his moment of confusion, a screen of light popped up in front of him: "If I were to say that these fragments are all predetermined, have already happened, and have passed away, I'm sure you wouldn't accept it now—after all, you chose to ascend to that supreme position, and history will sooner or later dissolve into a jumble of questions for you—since you are unwilling to destroy what has already happened, then try to preserve all of this."

Ai tilted her head: "?"

Ordinary people are caught in the vortex of history. They are confused and bewildered, suffering and struggling, because they cannot decide anything. Time and fate are equally cruel and heavy for them.

Xiao Bai seemed to be scoffing as he projected a question onto Ai Yi's entire pupil: "And what about you?"

66

"You're just an ordinary market vendor, huh?"

Looking at these words, Ai Yi seemed lost in thought.

—For the agents of Radiance.

He thought to himself:

[History? Facts that have already occurred?]

This is perhaps never more important than my feelings.

His unfocused gaze sharpened again, and Mu snapped his fingers lightly with a smile that held no meaning.

"Runic magic: ke naz - grant fire" With a strange crackling sound from the stone, the pile of damp firewood in front of him was quickly dried by the high temperature, and then exploded with a cacophony due to the cracking of the structure. Ai took a step back, and a spark slid off the edge of his flawless white robe.

The campfire was lit, as docile as a match held in the palm of a hand. Ai Yi used her gaze to suppress its restlessness, preventing the sparks from splashing out and burning someone.

"Yay!"

The return journey from the hunt was a boring one anyway. The adults, who were all bored out of their minds, were busy making a fuss. Mischievous Xiwen made faces at Mu while discreetly helping him place his wet shoes and socks in a spot where they could dry.

Quietly, Morgiana curled up beside the fire, bringing her small, rough hands, covered in fine white calluses and not at all what her age should have, close to the flames. Her pale red eyes reflected the gentle glow of the fire.

She still didn't say anything, but she seemed to secretly smile, which Mu happened to see.

He patted his "cheap older sister's" head again, feeling a bit addicted to it.

—Not bad at all.

He thought to himself.

Simple values, primal kindness, and pure goodwill—though they don't belong to oneself, one is fortunate enough.

After all, this is something we haven't had in a long time—"family" and "love".