How to Weave a Rune: A Beginner's Guide to Magical Mishaps and Rubber Chickens

…

The bright light had dimmed until the night sky returned to the present. Arion awoke with a slight headache, suddenly finding himself hearing someone talking inside his head. It was a sweet, comforting female voice.

"You are awake?" she asked, her tone as soothing as a warm cup of cocoa on a chilly day.

'Huh. Am I hallucinating right now?' Arion thought, swiftly smacking himself hard in the face.

*Bam*

"Ouch," he muttered, rubbing his cheek.

"No, you're not," the female voice replied, addressing his hallucination concern with a hint of amusement.

"…"

"We must be quick! There's not much time, so now listen to me!" she continued, urgency lacing her words.

Right after the voice spoke, Arion felt a wave of fear wash over him as earlier memories rushed back like a flood of water. He looked around his room, which was now a chaotic mess, with broken items scattered everywhere. It looked like a tornado had decided to throw a party in his space.

"What the… I'm still alive. And you," he paused, then asked the voice, "You are inside my head. Are you real?"

"Yes, indeed, darling. Now go hide first. Find a place where no one is around," she instructed, sounding like a mother hen trying to protect her chicks.

Choosing to heed the voice inside his head – after all, she seemed to know what she was talking about – he hurried off. There was a huge hole glaring open in the room, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. It was like a scene from a bad action movie, minus the cool explosions.

He reached a room at the end of the corridor, the door wide open. By instinct, he tried to slam it shut, only to be jolted awake by a sudden realization. He quickly closed the door, trembling slightly from the near mistake he had almost made. Luckily, the door didn't creak or make any weird noises like an old television.

Deciding to set aside his curiosity about who she was, he asked the female voice, "So, what now?"

"We need to light your soul flame. I guide you," she replied, sounding like a mystical yoga instructor.

"Uh, okay," he replied, though deep inside, he really wanted to know what a soul flame was and who she was. But then, faint memories of the sharp pain from the claw punctured his thoughts. It had been a quick but intense agony, and he was one hundred percent sure he didn't want to experience anything like that again.

'Bloody hell. It was unnecessarily painful,' he thought, especially as he imagined the tragic state his body might be in after that encounter. He shuddered in fear, picturing himself as a walking disaster.

"First, find a cloth or anything with enough length," the voice instructed, sounding like she was giving him a shopping list.

"Okay," he said, realizing that this voice not only seemed capable of reading his thoughts but also understood the words coming out of his mouth. He warily tried not to let his mind wander.

'Wonder if she is a great beauty. Goddamnit, my mind always goes off when I'm nervous. Please, don't let the lady find out.'

"…"

He swiftly found a small towel and raised a question again, "Is this fine?"

"Yes, then roll it up. And bite it."

"Huh? Bite it? What am I, a dog?" he exclaimed, incredulous.

"Hurry!!!" she urged, sounding like she was about to lose her patience.

Aster then found himself throwing the towel to the ground. Before he could process the thought, he stepped over it and continued ransacking the clothes of his innocent and kind dorm members.

"Oops, it's dirty," he muttered to himself, grimacing.

He clearly remembered that someone in this room had used the small towel to clean up their runny nose. This wasn't the towel he recalled, but nothing was wrong with being a bit hygienic in such a dangerous time, right?

"…"

"Okay, so maybe I'm not the cleanest person right now," he thought, feeling a bit sheepish. "But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures!"

"…"

He had then found a clean, luxurious dress shirt adorned with a gold and azure pattern, one that he recognized from his experience as a favorite of the person who inhabited this room. It was said that the pattern was made from a new material that had only recently been discovered—a gold and azure thread that had proven to be an excellent conductive substance for Ether. The person who owned the shirt had taken it upon himself to show off its expense to everyone in the dorm, not even bothering to wear it. Even among the wealthy, it was indeed a remarkable find.

"How about this?" he asked, holding the shirt up to his face, wondering if the person in his mind saw everything through his eyes too.

"Yeah, it'll do!" came the less-than-enthusiastic reply, as if she were deciding between a salad and a slice of cake.

Suddenly, his ears caught faint roars and screeches from outside, sending a wave of nervousness coursing through him. Arion quickly rolled up the shirt and bit down on it, trying to steady himself.

"Go find something to grip, quick," she urged, sounding like a coach during a particularly intense game of dodgeball.

Gripping the bed tightly, he replied in a muffled voice, "Done."

Not even a second after uttering that word, he was thrown into an excruciating pain that felt as if his soul were on the verge of flying from his body. If the pain he had experienced from the claws of the shadows that had punctured him earlier could be compared to a bullet, then this pain was akin to a nuclear weapon, one that had been banned across all continents.

It felt as though the agony began in his soul, where countless knives slashed at a nonexistent pain receptor he had only just discovered through this experience. Gradually, the pain crawled into the rest of his body, like a particularly unwelcome houseguest who just wouldn't leave.

His eyes became bloodshot as he struggled to endure the torment. After what felt like an eternity of agony, the pain finally subsided, fading into nothingness. Soon after, his body was enveloped by a gentle energy that caressed him, providing the most comfortable feeling he had ever known. If not for the cloth clenched between his teeth, he would have likely been moaning in relief like a cat in a sunbeam.

As he pulled the cloth from his mouth, he realized he was soaked in sweat, blood, and a disgusting black sludge that stung his nose. He nearly fainted from the curiosity of sniffing it directly from his shirt.

"Ugghhh…" he groaned, feeling like he had just rolled in a dumpster.

Then, a tired female voice echoed in his mind.

"Quickly clean yourself. I will teach you how to get out of this situation."

Without another moment's hesitation, he rushed to the bathroom nearby. Strangely, he noticed that his vision was improving, allowing him to navigate without turning on the light. It was like he had suddenly developed night vision, but he wasn't about to complain.

He hurriedly cleaned himself, using an entire bottle of liquid soap and shampoo in his frantic bath. He felt like a contestant on a game show, racing against the clock. Once he was finished, he dashed back to the same room where he had dressed himself, this time donning a less expensive outfit belonging to his benevolent dorm mates.

Finding a clean spot on the floor, he sat down, the female voice resonating in his mind once more.

"Okay, this time I will transfer some knowledge and information directly into your brain. Do not resist it. I will guide the process so it will be absorbed faster."

Hesitating for a moment, Arion found himself asking, "Will this time be as painful?"

"No. I think it won't be as much. Anyway, here we go," she replied, sounding like a doctor who had just discovered a new way to give a shot without the needle.

Without giving him another second to prepare, his head was suddenly flooded with an influx of information, accompanied by a dull, aching pain that struck his brain like a small iron hammer. It wasn't as painful as before, and at least this time, he managed to endure it like a champ, or at least like someone who had just stubbed their toe and was trying to play it cool.

After a minute at most, he opened his eyes, regaining clarity. Along with it, a sense of confidence began to bloom within him as he finally understood what soul flame was and how to wield it.

"Wow," he thought, "I guess knowledge really is power… and a bit of a headache."

He discovered that it was a magical art meant to be known only by the greatest individuals in the 13th realms.

He tried to weave a rune inside his mind, but it quickly became clear that he was about as skilled at it as a cat trying to play the piano – lots of enthusiasm, but absolutely no idea what it was doing.

"Damn," he thought to himself, realizing just how wrong he had been about the complexity of it all.

He felt utterly duped, like someone who had just bought a ticket to a concert only to find out it was a kazoo recital.

At first, he had envisioned himself as a hero among many, ready to save the day with his newfound powers. He pictured himself soaring through the skies, casting spells, and impressing everyone with his dazzling abilities.

But now, here he was, a hero who couldn't even manage to create the simplest rune in his soul space. It was like showing up to a sword fight with a rubber chicken – definitely, not the heroic image he had in mind after this mysterious encounter with the lady inside his mind!

…