Nolan crouched by the dim orange glow of a magma-veined wall, peeling leather from the monster carcass with a crude but effective claw hook. The hide was tough, but with Full Body Control guiding his muscle tension and cutting precision, he made short work of it. He fashioned a rough sling bag from the salvaged leather, tying the edges with thick sinew. It wasn’t pretty, but it would carry rocks, bones, and whatever else this dungeon deigned to give.
He slipped in a few core shards, blackened bones, and palm-sized chunks of smoothed stone. All valuable, maybe. All potential.
The descent into the next level was less dramatic than before. No sudden drop, no spiraling magic. Just a wide arch of blackened basalt that opened into a massive cavern.
The safe zone was cooler, the air heavier and tinged with the faint scent of sulfur and burnt pine. But the place was barren.
Nolan scanned the surroundings—no glowing tools, no abandoned camp like the last floor. Just old bones, calcified ash, and dry roots crawling through the wall.
"Nothing useful here," he muttered.
The Akashic Record chimed in from wherever she observed him. “Don’t bother checking. This level is a dead loop. The reason you found things in the previous one was because it had ritual significance. People were teleported there. By your father. And by the ancestors of the body you now occupy.”
Nolan blinked. “So, all that junk wasn’t just dungeon clutter?”
“Leftovers from sacrifices. And corpses. And chaos. This level wasn’t blessed with such generosity.”
He grumbled but didn’t argue. Instead, he sat down, unsheathed the claw hook again, and pulled out a long femur-like bone from his stash.
“Give me the basics of enchanting,” he asked, brushing dirt from the bone.
The Akashic Record was quiet for a heartbeat, then replied, "Runes. Enchanting begins with runes. Think of them as the alphabet of divinity. They're the diluted form of the power of words—the kind gods wield. But unlike divine words, runes are ideograms. They carry single, ideal meanings. There's no wiggle room. No poetry. Only precision."
"So... programming."
"Exactly. But worse. In your world, code can be layered, wrapped in functions, redefined. Here? One line. One meaning. Carve it wrong, and you could end up making a dagger that thinks it's a spoon."
"Runes only activate through mana," she continued. "And mana must flow in the shape of the letter’s stroke. That’s why most people fail—because they don’t grasp that runes are flow-based logic. Scrolls are made using runes, which is how most magicians cast structured spells. The base runes for common magic are handed out via the system—knowledge exclusive to the Academies."
She paused, then added, “The monsters gain power through sacrifice. They give parts of their blood, claws, or even cores to awaken powers through instinctive card systems. Their bodies are inherently stronger, and their instinct helps them absorb mana over time. They condense it into cores—then chip pieces off to evolve. They don’t learn magic—they earn it.”
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Nolan sat silently, digesting. “So that’s how monsters climb power levels?”
“Yes. They suck in mana like a sponge. And when they want a spell, they carve away their core. Or claw. Or tongue. They bleed to grow.”
He nodded slowly. "A loop of death and trade."
He traced a rough outline on the bone with charcoal, then pulled a sharper shard and began to etch.
First rune: “Sharpness.”
Second rune: “Durability.”
Simple. Clean. He kept the strokes careful, adjusted his breathing, aligned his muscle tension so the tool didn’t slip. Full Body Control did the rest.
The bone shimmered slightly when the second rune was completed.
He held up the half-carved dagger. “Looks good. But I want to anchor the magic stone. It won’t stick.”
“Because it can’t. The stone is sealed. You need an anchor medium.”
“I have glue.”
Primitive glue, sure, but functional. Nolan took a shard of mana stone and ground it using flat rock surfaces. He harvested tree sap from the fire-twisted roots nearby, mixed it with leftover animal fat, and crushed charcoal for texture.
He smeared it along the bone and fixed the crystal powder into the carved hollows. Once it dried, the dagger shimmered faintly. Not like glowing magic—but like potential.
He smiled and wrote the card description with care:
Card: Ceremonial Dagger A very sharp dagger, used for ceremonial purposes.
Akashic Record squinted through the ether. “Ceremonial purposes? Why add flavor text?”
“It’s synergy. Deck-building 101. Cards need to connect thematically. You never know when you’ll need to make a combo later.”
“...You really did work in games.”
“Not well-paid, but yes.”
He moved on.
Next, he summoned the wooden spear. It appeared in his hand with the usual weight and texture. He lopped off the spearhead, then replaced it with a carved monster fang, gluing it down and binding it with vines from the cavern ceiling.
Card: Bone Spear A spear reinforced with the fang of a dungeon beast.
He then shaped two smaller bones into rough knives. No enchantments this time—he was out of powdered mana. But the shape held. He created two more cards.
Card: Bone Dagger A simple dagger made from dungeon beast remains.
Then he checked his deck. The status window flickered to life.
[ Status Window ]
Name: Nolan Caldran Talent: Full Body Control HP: 76/100 MP: 24/100 Deck Size: 39/40 Active Cards:
-
Summon Rock (x3)
-
Wooden Plank (x4)
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Bone Dagger (x2)
-
Bone Spear (x1)
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Ceremonial Dagger (x1)
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Fire Drill (x1)
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Claw Hook (x1)
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Summon Shield (x2)
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Summon Spear (x3)
-
Recall Plank Weapon (x2)
He’d need more variety soon. But this was a start.
After a while, he made a simple tent with hide and vine supports. The stone beneath was warm, and his tent blocked the worst of the cavern’s breeze.
He sat in silence for a long moment, watching sparks dance from his fire drill still stuck into the soil nearby.
“So,” he asked, “if the gods use words, and we use runes, what exactly do the monsters use?”
Akashic Record responded without hesitation. “Instinct. Pattern recognition. They watch and mimic, faster than any learning curve your world’s creatures had. That’s why they're dangerous. They don’t just hit—they improve. And when they want power? They give up blood, limbs, or shards of their soul. That’s how they earn spells.”
Nolan rubbed his eyes and looked around the empty cavern. “You ever get tired of answering everything?”
“I’m the Akashic Record. Answering is my purpose. Though if people stopped flooding the system with ‘How do I make a fireball with poetic flair?’ I’d finally get a day off.”
“And this knowledge about scrolls and runes—why is it exclusive?”
“Because information has a cost. The goddess wanted people to work for it. And if I just handed everything out, the system would crash. I’m managing a limited distribution model. That means… selective uploads.”
“Sounds like a paid API.”
“Exactly. Sacrifice equals access. Give knowledge, gain knowledge. Monsters figured it out before people did.”
He closed his eyes.
“I’ll take improving over praying.”
“You’ll need both.”
And with that thought lingering like smoke in the air, Nolan drifted off into the first true rest he’d had since waking up as a dead noble’s sacrifice.