Signature of a Lorebreaker

Arthur's blade glided across the beastcore's surface, cutting through old runes like a painter refining a masterpiece. Each stroke was deliberate, his motions flowing with an artistry that made the intricate work seem almost effortless. He moved around the chamber in a near-hypnotising rhythm, stepping precisely where he needed to, as if he had already memorized the beastcore's every rotation, every shifting array. It was uncanny, no, something beyond uncanny.

The owner knew it. It was inconceivable.

Arthur's mind was already adrift. Threading between what he had learnt in the many books of runes he had read and the arrays he had seen.