Villain With A Side Quest

The class settled once more, the hum of whispers dying down under Selene's sharp gaze. She let the silence linger, allowing the weight of the match to fully settle in the minds of her students before she spoke again.

"Now that we've seen a proper demonstration of spell application, let's shift our focus to something just as important—if not more so. Essence conservation."

A few students immediately perked up at that, while others slumped slightly, expecting a lecture rather than another display of combat. Kieran, still catching his breath from the battle, straightened in his seat. Essence conservation had been the foundation of his survival for years. While the nobles saw it as an academic topic, something to optimize for efficiency, he had learned its value in the most brutal way possible.

No essence meant no escape. No essence meant death.

Selene's amber eyes scanned the room, lingering for a moment on Kael before she continued. "No spellcasting is possible without essence. You can have all the talent in the world, but if you drain your core dry, you're nothing more than a sitting target."

A few students shifted uncomfortably. Nobles, Kieran noted. The ones who had been raised with the luxury of never worrying about running out of essence because they had tutors, family resources, and elixirs to replenish it. But even they weren't entirely immune to the reality of combat.

"Proper essence control can be the difference between victory and failure. Kieran, for example."

Heads turned toward him, some with curiosity, others with the lingering disbelief from his earlier display.

"Despite casting multiple spells in succession, he maintained his essence reserves with impressive efficiency." Selene's tone was neutral, but Kieran could tell she had taken note of more than she let on. "The reason is simple. Every spell he cast was carefully measured—no unnecessary exertion, no wasted power."

She paused, then turned slightly toward Kael. "By contrast, Kael's last spell should have drained a considerable portion of his essence. Yet, he does not seem fatigued. That level of control is rare."

Kieran glanced at Kael, who sat with his usual unreadable expression. No signs of exhaustion. No flicker of strain.

'He's a beast,' Kieran thought. 'That spell had to be Tier 4, maybe even Tier 5. But he acts like he barely felt it.'

*A dangerous one,* the entity murmured. *You felt it, didn't you? The way he moved. He has killed before.*

Kieran's fingers twitched slightly. He had sensed it, too. That moment when Kael's stance had shifted—not as a duelist, but as a predator. The slightest trace of killing intent, buried beneath careful control.

*The nobles saw nothing but technique. But you, Kieran… you know better. You have lived it.*

He exhaled slowly, pushing the thought aside as Selene continued. "Now, onto another crucial application of essence. Enhancement spells."

She lifted a hand, and a faint shimmer ran over her arm. Her skin took on a subtle, metallic sheen, and then—

She moved.

In the blink of an eye, she was across the room, standing beside one of the students who yelped in surprise. She hadn't teleported. She had simply moved fast. Enhanced.

"This is the application of elemental enhancement," Selene explained, her voice even. "Using your element not to attack, but to strengthen your body. Wind users, for example, can use wind to accelerate their movement. Earth users can reinforce their bodies to withstand damage. Fire can enhance reflexes, and water can increase flexibility."

She turned back to the class, pacing. "This method is overlooked by those who focus purely on destructive power. But let me be clear—enhancement can save your life far more than a simple offensive spell."

Kieran tapped a finger against his desk. He had used enhancement before, though in less refined ways. A quick burst of darkness to meld into the shadows, or a subtle reinforcement to dull the impact of a blow. The nobles likely ignored Tier 2 spells in favor of the flashy devastation of Tier 3 and above, but to someone like him, Tier 2 was survival.

'They think lower-tier spells are insignificant. That's why I survived so many assassination jobs. They never expect what they deem worthless to be deadly in the right hands.'

Selene's gaze flickered toward him for the briefest second, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

*You have shed another scale,* the entity mused, its voice deep and knowing. *It has been long since you fought like that. I bet you liked it.*

Kieran clenched his jaw slightly. He wouldn't admit it, but… it was right. It had been a long time since he had fought like that—since he had been allowed to. In the streets, every fight was survival. There was no room for strategy, only instinct. But here, in the Academy, he had space to think, to plan, to manipulate the battlefield in ways he never could before.

Selene clapped her hands once, drawing the class's attention back. "For your assignment, I want you to research and attempt a basic enhancement spell using your affinity. We'll be testing them in the next session."

A few groans echoed through the room, but Kieran barely registered them. His mind had already drifted elsewhere.

Shadow Step.

Two days ago, he had attempted to learn it. A Tier 3 darkness spell, meant to blur the user's form and allow them to slip through spaces unseen for a brief instant. It was not true teleportation, but it was close.

'But I failed,' Kieran thought, recalling the attempt. He had managed the first part—the thinning of his essence, the melding into shadows—but the transition had been unstable. His form had flickered, but he had remained in place. It wasn't a lack of power holding him back. It was control.

*Perhaps now you are ready,* the entity whispered. *You felt it in the battle, didn't you? That moment when instinct took over? You are remembering what it is like to truly fight.*

Kieran exhaled slowly, his golden eyes narrowing. He would try again. And this time, he wouldn't fail.*******

******The classroom for Runic Studies and Applications was unlike any of the other rooms Kieran had been in. It was vast, its walls carved with countless intricate symbols that pulsed with a faint glow, as though they were breathing. The air smelled of aged parchment and burning incense, and the faint hum of lingering magic made Kieran's skin prickle. The old stone floor bore faded engravings, remnants of spells and lessons long past.

At the center of it all stood their instructor—a towering old man draped in an oversized white robe that pooled around him like mist. His face was lined with age, his eyes deep-set, holding the weight of centuries. Kieran noticed the way he moved, deliberate and slow, yet undeniably powerful. There was something beneath that cloth, something hidden—faint traces of runic patterns on his wrists, barely visible when his sleeves shifted. But when Kieran tried to look deeper, to check the man's soul core, it was like staring into a void. Nothing. As if he weren't even there.

"This," the instructor's voice rumbled like distant thunder, "is the foundation of all magic. Runes."

With a slow, practiced motion, he raised his wrinkled hand, drawing a symbol in the air. The rune shimmered before bursting into golden embers that faded into nothingness.

"The first truth you must understand," he continued, "is that runes are not spells. They are not conjured in the moment, nor flung forth in battle like a flame or bolt of lightning. Runes are **etched into reality**—they are lasting, inscribed with precision, and empowered with intent. Mastering them requires patience. Impatience leads to instability. And instability leads to failure."

He gestured toward the long wooden tables arranged across the room, each holding sets of carving tools, stone slabs, and parchment detailing runic patterns.

"You will start with simple elemental runes," the instructor instructed. "These carvings will bind essence into form, allowing you to store and release magic at will."

Kieran took a seat, examining the tools before him. The stylus was no ordinary blade—it was made of **enchanted silver**, its tip engraved with tiny, precise markings to ensure accuracy. The slab provided was **runestone**, a special mineral capable of absorbing and holding magic without deteriorating. He traced his fingers over the pre-inscribed templates, noting the variations:

- **Ignis Rune (Fire):** Generates heat or small bursts of flame.

- **Aqua Rune (Water):** Condenses moisture or creates droplets.

- **Ventus Rune (Air):** Enhances movement and lightness.

- **Terra Rune (Earth):** Strengthens objects or creates minor vibrations.

Each rune followed a strict **structure**—a series of interconnected lines and curves that dictated the flow of essence. Even the slightest mistake could render the rune inert or, worse, make it unstable.

Kieran picked up the stylus, inhaling deeply.

*This is different from casting spells,* he thought. *Here, magic isn't immediate. It's embedded.*

He began carving a Ventus rune, his strokes careful and controlled. The runestone resisted slightly, but he adjusted, pressing just enough to leave clean, sharp etchings. Once finished, he placed his palm over the symbol and channeled a trickle of his essence. The rune glowed faintly, a soft blue shimmer.

Then it flickered and died.

"Essence control is key," the instructor said, watching the class struggle. "Too much, and the rune burns out. Too little, and it won't activate."

Kieran exhaled, adjusting his focus. He tried again, controlling the flow of essence as if watering a delicate plant. This time, the rune flared to life, its glow steady. A small gust of wind rippled through his fingers.

Ronan, sitting beside him, smirked. "Not bad."

Kieran ignored him, observing the rune. The glow lasted a few seconds before fading. It worked, but only temporarily.

"You'll get better with practice," Ronan murmured. "But I bet you already figured that out."

Kieran didn't answer. He was too busy thinking about the implications. If runes could **store magic**, then perhaps… they could be used in ways even the Academy overlooked.

A whisper curled in his mind, low and amused.

*You see the potential, don't you?*

Kieran's grip tightened on the stylus.

Before he could dwell on it further, the instructor raised a hand, silencing the room. "Now, let us test the true nature of runes. Activate what you have carved. See what your essence has wrought."

The classroom stirred as students hesitated, then pressed their palms to their runes, channeling their magic. The room flickered with weak glows and unstable flashes. A few students succeeded—small flames sparked to life, droplets of water hovered, and one student managed a faint gust of wind.

Kieran's rune responded immediately, releasing a **steady current of air** that rustled the parchment on the table. It wasn't powerful, but it was **consistent**—a sign of precise carving and balanced essence control.

Beside him, Ronan's rune **flared brighter** than any other, sending a stronger gust that nearly knocked over a nearby ink bottle. But what caught Kieran's attention was how **effortlessly** Ronan had done it. His movements were relaxed, casual—yet the rune responded as though it had been carved by a master.

The instructor's gaze landed on Ronan. His lips curled slightly, the faintest hint of interest in his ancient eyes, before moving on.

Kieran frowned.

Ronan had been holding back. Again.

The instructor nodded approvingly at the scattered successes. "These are but the simplest applications," he said. "In the hands of a master, runes can **enhance weapons, reinforce structures, even store spells for later use.** But do not be fooled. A poorly made rune is useless. An unstable rune is dangerous."

He flicked his wrist, and the glowing symbols along the walls **flared to life**, illuminating the entire room in cascading waves of power. The runes shifted, rearranging themselves into complex formations—wards, barriers, enhancement sequences.

"This," the instructor said, "is what mastery looks like."

Kieran watched, captivated. This wasn't just about carving patterns. This was about **inscribing power into reality itself.**

A thought took root in his mind—**if he could master runes, he could store spells, layer them, create traps, misdirect enemies.** The possibilities were endless.

The whisper in his mind chuckled again.

*Yes,* the entity murmured. *You understand now.*

Kieran said nothing. But as he looked down at the fading glow of his rune, he knew one thing:

He needed to learn more.*****