The Runesmith-Chapter 554: Preparing For The Culling.

‘Good, the mana concentration is going down.’

Roland stood watching the blue world before him. With his special eye skill, he could perceive everything as nothing but mana. In the past, looking into these newly discovered underground tunnels had been a struggle. His vision had been obstructed by countless brightly glowing orbs of blue light that practically blinded him. Now, after a week of testing and siphoning, the mana molecules in the air were finally beginning to thin out.

‘...But it is still not enough. The walls are still expanding.’

Despite his efforts, the tunnels continued to stretch in multiple directions. It seemed that he could only slow their formation by placing roadblocks and scattering anti-magic powder in key areas. However, the mana would eventually push through the barriers or find a way around them. The path of expansion was unmistakable. It was moving steadily toward the main settlement and rising upward.

Roland clenched his fists as he stared down the endless tunnels before him. The faint echoes of his own breathing reverberated through the stone corridors, mixing with the sound of the mana-siphoning machines. Even as the devices worked tirelessly to drain the excess energy, it was clear that they were merely delaying the inevitable. The mana was too abundant, and the tunnels were too persistent. Something was fueling their growth, and the moment he removed the devices, the mana would overflow once again.

Theories on how to stop this expansion and why it was happening swirled in his mind like a raging storm. One question persisted above all others—was this a natural phenomenon, or was there something more to it? At this point, he was convinced that it had to be connected to the super dungeon, but he was still unsure how this had transpired.

He had taken the time to examine the history of previous culling events that had occurred on this island ruled by the Valerian household. These events usually happened at similar intervals, and only a limited number of monsters spilled into the surrounding settlements. However, after further research, he had noticed something strange. The monsters seemed to spread out farther with each dungeon break, almost as if they were scouting the landscape.

‘The Duke does not seem to be underestimating the break, though. From my estimates, he has mobilized more forces than usual, as if he is also expecting something…’

While it weighed on his conscience that he was keeping this underground phenomenon a secret, he knew the repercussions of revealing it could be dire. He had no way of predicting what would happen to Albrook if he came clean, nor could he tell if Arthur’s brothers might use this as an excuse to seize control of the city. Mary had already begun spreading rumors about the culling being more intense than before, but whether people would heed their warning remained to be seen.

‘In the end, what truly matters to me…’

Roland knew it was impossible to save everyone. It was better to be a bit selfish if he wanted to keep the people close to him safe. There was no way he could rely on others, and he still was not sure how bad this event would truly be.

Despite the danger, the amount of mana they were converting into mana fluid was staggering. If this continued, assembling the small army of golems he was working on would not be an issue. At first, he had been worried about his inability to create enough runic batteries, which required repeated charging. Now, however, they had a secondary fuel source. Once crystallized, it would fit perfectly into the restructured obsidian and rock golems they were salvaging from within the dungeon.

‘I should probably check on how she’s doing.’

Roland looked at his map, which, after some improvements to his suit, was finally working to some extent. His golems were spreading out in all directions, slowly setting up cables as they advanced.

What he saw on the map was a vast web of underground tunnels, each carefully marked with pathways his golems had scouted. The thick mana presence made it pointless to rely on sensors in the area. Instead, he had to settle for visual aids like his runic cameras to monitor for any instabilities. When everything started to unravel, he needed to be the first to know.

‘I should probably place charges here for when the time comes…’

There were several countermeasures he had considered, but he was not sure if any of them would be fully effective. The rocks in this area were saturated with mana, making it impossible to bring the tunnels down with magical explosions. However, once everything began, those explosions might at least be enough to reduce the number of enemies. Once he had completed his investigation, it would be time to return home and check on the progress of his other countermeasures.

On his way out, he noted the additional golems being retrieved as he tackled the boss chamber once again. Even though the monster was around level two hundred, his own progress had stagnated. Since initially clearing this place, he had only gained a few more levels. He needed to reach level two hundred seventy-five to fully utilize his Runesmith Overlord class and this was something that felt increasingly unrealistic.

He had seen many other Tier 3 class holders in the world, many of them ten, twenty, or even thirty years older than him, yet they were not much further ahead in levels. Finding and hunting high-level monsters was difficult, and while he could still gain experience from crafting, even assembling the recent elemental armors barely moved his experience bar. To make real progress, he would need to work with even rarer materials and craft more advanced runes than ever before.

Even though his growth was already far faster than that of an ordinary person, at this rate, it could take five or more years to reach his next class and this was assuming he did nothing but grind. To solve this problem, he needed a way to cheat the system like he had done before. Once this whole predicament was over, that was exactly what he planned to do.

‘Now then, how is she doing?’

Roland made his way toward the training grounds, the ones usually occupied by trainee soldiers. On his way there, he was saluted at least ten times. He had long since stopped nodding in acknowledgment, except to Arthur and a few of the knights. One of the few people who still held his attention was there as well, clad in a new suit of armor, wielding a heavy-looking longsword and a heater shield.

Robert now looked more like someone worthy of the name Durendal. Though he had not forged the armor himself, it was crafted from heavy dwarven steel with the union’s assistance. However, he had personally handled all the runesmithing, ensuring Robert had the highest quality runic magic to support his new Arch-Knight class. There were even plans to expand his equipment toward power suits, the same kind Robert had used to win his trial. The only obstacles were time and money.

‘He is doing well, if he levels up those skills, having a power suit that lasts longer than ten minutes could be a real possibility.’

Roland did not need a power suit, but for Robert, whose magical capabilities were limited, it could become a powerful weapon. Since a power suit was still considered armor, it would allow Robert’s passive skills to take effect. The suit he would wear would consume less mana for its operations, and with an additional battery pack to support him, its operational time could extend to several hours without the need to replenish the batteries.

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‘There she is…’

Not far from Durendal stood the person he was looking for: Lucille, or Lady Curtana as she was now known. Some of the dungeon golems had been repurposed and were ready to be commanded. He knew it was best to have a person oversee these rocky automatons, as their thought processes were quite simple on their own. This was where Lucille, the Rune Mage, came in. Like him, she could communicate with the runic operation system and issue orders to the magical constructs.

Lucille stood gripping a large metal rod, her brows furrowed in concentration. Before her, a squad of repurposed dungeon golems stood at attention. Their cores had been repaired and modified with more sophisticated runic circuitry. While their basic programming remained the same, it had been altered with Sebastian’s help to allow for more complex commands.

This, of course, introduced new challenges. The golems now required stricter and more precise orders to function properly.

"Alright, you can do it… You’ve trained for days…"

Roland heard her whisper to herself before raising the control rod toward the dozen golems. The runes along its length flickered to life, and the nearest golem shuddered before stepping forward. It moved stiffly, a sign that the control sequences still required fine-tuning.

"Alright, steady now…"

She muttered again as she commanded the small group.

"Advance in formation. Maintain five-meter spacing."

The command rod pulsed again, and the golems reacted, albeit clumsily. Some hesitated before moving, while others advanced a step too far before adjusting themselves. Lucille frowned, clearly displeased with the lack of fluidity. Roland eventually stepped closer, arms crossed as he evaluated her progress.

"You are quickly adjusting to the command sequence but you’re being too forceful with the mana conduit, try to relax or you’ll lose focus.”

Roland would be able to control these twelve golems even without the help of the runic control rod. However, even he had his limits, as controlling hundreds of these golems would be impossible. Instead, they focused on creating a few captain golems. These would be more sophisticated than the others, just like these twelve. Lucille would give orders to them, and they would relay the information to the rest, allowing them to move as a larger unit. With such a system, she would be able to act as a commander, but her biggest limiting factor was her current level and tier-2 rank. She simply did not have enough mana or specialized skills to fulfill this duty for the time being.

There was also the issue of her lack of spatial awareness. Even after he moved in so close, she did not notice he was there. In the future, she needed to be placed in a battle-filled environment, something she was not yet accustomed to.

"Sir Wayland! I was just…"

Lucille glanced over her shoulder, startled by his sudden presence. Despite the surprise, she maintained her composure, gripping the control rod tightly. She was still a noble who had gone through training to not appear weak.

“At ease, you’re getting better but perhaps you should focus on your levels first, I’m sure Sir Durendal will be more than happy to assist you.”

He glanced in the direction of his brother, who was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. Robert let out a loud cough, feigning disinterest before stepping forward and holstering his blade.

"Of course! I'd be happy to assist, Lady Curtana."

"Good. Visit the dungeons and help Lady Curtana gain levels."

"Of course!"

Lucille pursed her lips, glancing between the two brothers. She clearly didn’t like going into the dungeons too much. For most of her stay here, she had been focused on runic research, but even she realized that this was for the best. Gaining more battle skills would be easier against monsters, and the rest would soon follow.

"That might be for the best…"

"Then it's decided."

After instructing them to gather a batch of holy grenades for leveling up, Roland headed out again, this time toward a different area where a few people, including his assistant Bernir, were already waiting. They gathered in a large room near the soldier baracks with a few people there.

“Is everyone here?”

“Aye.”

Bernir nodded and Roland gave the nod and quickly all the doors and windows were closed by his soldiers. Roland took a moment to scan the faces before him. The men gathered in this room were once knights, warriors of some renown. Now, they were scarred remnants of their former selves—each missing an arm, a leg, or in some cases, both. Some bore expressions of quiet resignation, while others had an unmistakable glint of defiance in their eyes. They had been called here with a promise, one that many of them were skeptical of.

“You called us here, Sir Wayland… But, can you really help us?”

One of the men, an older gentleman with silver hair and a full beard to match, spoke first. He leaned forward, resting his only remaining hand on his knee. His other arm was missing, severed at the shoulder, and a massive gash stretched over one of his eyes, now covered by an eyepatch.

"You said you had an offer for us. But how do you plan on helping? None of the priests in this city can perform such miracles. I really hope you have not wasted our time..."

This man was not just an ordinary old knight. He had once been a prominent member of a noble household and had been close to becoming its head until disaster struck. Gravely injured in the line of duty, he was cast aside by his lord and forgotten by most. He was a tier three class holder who had long faded from the public eye. His whereabouts had been unknown to many, but with Mary’s help, Roland had found him along with the others now gathered in this room.

"Do not worry, Sir Wischard. I have not summoned you here to waste your time but to offer you an opportunity. A chance to reclaim your past glory."

“Our past glories?”

The men in the room exchanged glances, some filled with curiosity, others with thinly veiled skepticism. Their injuries had taken more than just their limbs; they had taken their futures and their purpose. For many of them, the path of the warrior was all they had ever known, and without it, they were little more than forgotten relics of the past.

“Even if there is a way, the price must be…”

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One of the men murmured but then got interrupted by another.

"We have all taken oaths to not speak of this, please… Is there truly a way?"

One of the other men, who was missing both his legs, spoke up. His eyes still held some hope, and it seemed that he was nearing the end of his patience. Roland had, for the time being, gotten everyone to sign a contract or take oaths not to speak of what would be presented here. Without waiting for a response, he simply turned to Bernir.

"Aye, look at this, gentlemen."

Bernir stepped forward and removed the long glove that had been hiding his runic prosthetic. The room fell silent as the runic limb was revealed. The men gathered, their eyes drawn to the prosthetic that had once been hidden beneath his glove. The arm was a masterpiece: a gleaming, intricately designed limb, covered in runes. Unlike the crude prosthetics they had seen and used in the past, this one was different. Instantly they knew that it was more than just for show.

Bernir flexed the prosthetic, and it responded with fluidity. His fingers had a full range of motion, and he even picked up a hammer from the table to demonstrate that he had no trouble handling heavy objects. The runic glow was mostly hidden, but some of them could tell that precise magical craftsmanship was involved.

"That… that’s no ordinary prosthetic… and I would know, I tried all of them!"

Another old knight proclaimed, one who had attempted to replace his arm with dwarven craftsmanship. His current prosthetic was one of these replacement limbs, and he could instantly tell that it was far superior to the one he was using.

"Such fluid movement, is it really a prosthetic?"

"Indeed."

Roland gave the men a moment to process, watching their reactions carefully. Some were still skeptical, but others were leaning forward now, their interest piqued. Roland knew the doubts were natural. The idea of such an advanced prosthetic was beyond the realm of normal understanding, especially for men whose lives had been shattered by the loss of their limbs. He was counting on that disbelief to fuel the success of his offer.

“Gentlemen. This isn’t a trick. This is what I can offer you. If you work for me, if you’re willing to put aside your doubts and join me in this, I will restore your limbs. They will not be just simple replacements but true marvels of runic engineering, better than the originals!”

The room buzzed with murmurs. Some men exchanged glances, uncertain but intrigued. Others, like Sir Wischard, seemed to want more proof before they would commit. Nevertheless, it was clear that with a few pushes he would have experienced officers in his midst, something his newly established army desperately needed…