Chapter 108: Runes and Formulas

Drawing magic circles and inscribing runes is a highly technical craft. As a unique product of this world, it’s far more than just simple “drawing,” contrary to what many might assume. Sure, copying a diagram exactly is straightforward, but to become a true runesmith, merely learning to trace lines won’t cut it.

If all it took was following blueprints, then anyone—even commoners completely insensitive to magic—could do it. Just tell them what to draw and how, and they could reproduce the magic circle. That’s a simple matter of “production and replication.”

But runesmiths must go beyond mere replication; they need creativity and adaptability. They assist mages in crafting magical items or inscribe runes onto various complex conduits. Each magical item or conduit material has its own unique properties, and the combinations are countless. This means runesmiths can’t just slavishly copy diagrams from books—they must adjust the arrangement of runes or fine-tune the position and connections of each rune according to the carrier material and the circle’s intended function.

In short, runesmiths create “blueprints.” Every time they draw, they’re crafting an original master copy—they are creators.

This process requires two key abilities: magical perception and rune “tuning.”

The first lets them verify whether each rune functions properly during the blueprint’s creation and detect if interference between runes exceeds a critical threshold. The second involves infusing their own mana into the runes to conduct practical tests. While runesmiths often can’t power an entire magic circle, they can test individual rune clusters.

To master these skills, one must be at least a first-level certified mage. Apprentices simply can’t do it—they lack the ability to simultaneously sense and manipulate multiple runes, and their mana isn’t precise enough for controlled external output. If they could, they wouldn’t still be apprentices—they’d have graduated.

Yet, according to her records, Jenny is clearly listed as a mage apprentice.

This time, Jenny heard Gawain’s question clearly but didn’t know how to answer. After hesitating and weighing her options for a long moment, she lowered her head and murmured, “It’s luck, my lord.”

“Luck?” Gawain raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Yes, luck,” Jenny kept her gaze downcast. “I have good intuition—I always manage to find the correct rune arrangement. You know, rune placement follows certain patterns. With enough experience and intuition, you can arrange them accurately…”

“If it were really just luck, you’d have died in an accident before gaining enough experience,” Gawain cut her off sharply. “I may be a knight, but I understand basic magical principles. Every rune’s position and connection in a magic circle is extremely precise. Unless you’ve comprehended all the rules governing every rune and their combinations, you simply can’t place them all correctly. Rune arrangements do follow patterns, but I’ve never heard of anyone who’s cracked all of them. That’s why ‘perception’ and ‘tuning’ are necessary.”

Gawain fixed his serious gaze on the silver-haired girl before him. “Look me in the eye and tell me the truth—if you can’t perceive or tune the runes, how do you know where each rune should go and what effect it will produce?”

Perhaps it was Gawain’s stern tone that made Jenny shiver and retreat further into silence. Seeing this, Hetty recalled Gawain’s earlier advice to balance strictness with leniency, so she spoke gently: “You don’t need to be nervous. This isn’t the rigid capital city or the stuffy arcane council. We welcome—and even encourage—any actions that help build the territory, even if they’re unorthodox.”

Finally, Jenny lifted her head and looked toward Gawain, who nodded solemnly. “I can assure you, creative ideas are protected here. I am the law of this land.”

“It’s not really creativity,” the silver-haired girl from the capital, a fourth-level runesmith who had risen from apprentice status, finally relaxed and spoke softly. Then she stood and fetched a thick, heavy book from her bedside. “It’s logic and calculation.”

Gawain placed his hand on the book but still asked, “May I look?”

“Of course, you’re the lord.”

He opened the worn tome and found it was a handwritten notebook. The yellowed, curling pages were filled with runes, numbers, formulas, and diagrams. Some handwriting was faded from wear. As he flipped through, he noticed at least four distinct handwriting styles appearing in chronological order—clearly, the notebook had passed through at least four owners, each leaving their own notes.

The book seemed to confirm Gawain’s vague suspicions. He flipped through the pages with growing excitement, so fast that Jenny, sitting opposite, began to worry the precious notebook might be damaged by his rough handling. Suddenly, his eyes caught a loose sheet pasted between the pages near the back.

The paper appeared to be an additional annotation or summary. The text made Gawain’s breath hitch:

“All secondary runes’ energy levels maintain a fixed ratio of 1:3 compared to the next higher-level rune. When secondary runes connect consecutively, every three combine into one higher-level rune.

The maximum number of connections between any rune and runes of the same level but different type is eight; connections to runes of the same level and same type max out at four.

Any rune forms a ‘knot’ by connecting its starting and ending characters. The number of connection fields inside each ‘knot’ must be even. Every two connection fields count as one ‘pair.’ If the number of pairs is X, the energy level produced by the ‘knot’ rune is (X+1) squared.

Within a magic interference zone, two adjacent runes with identical structures form an ‘interference knot.’ The total interference value in the zone increases sharply with the number of interference knots. A single interference knot has a constant interference value t=1.35. If the number of interference knots is n, the total interference value m = t × n. (Note: Avoiding adjacent identical rune knots greatly reduces interference knots.)

Conduit materials are rated with purple copper as ‘zero’ level. Materials weaker than purple copper are negative; those equal or superior are positive. The theoretical maximum interference value M that rune connections on positive conduit materials can withstand is calculated as M = (N + Z × N) × t, where N is the number of rune knots, Z is the number of rune attributes, and t is the interference constant. For negative conduit materials, this value is divided by constant E=1.66…

In all cases, actual interference value m must be less than or equal to theoretical value M…

In composite magic circles, the formula for ‘self-interference’ generated inside rune knots is…

The optimal arrangement of runes in composite magic circles should follow…

Further records continue.”

The sheet was densely packed with formulas, rules, and logic, spilling onto the following pages. Gawain immediately recognized this as a practical summary and derivation.

However, it wasn’t a final, perfected work. It still bore the limitations of its era: many conclusions were purely empirical, lacking clear formulas; many formulas were messy and hadn’t been simplified or unified into more general expressions; and all these notes were loosely organized, piled together without a coherent system.

Yet, it was astonishing.

“Did you summarize all this?” Gawain almost exclaimed, eyes wide.

“No, no…” Jenny answered nervously. “Only part of it is mine. The rest is… the legacy of those before me.”

At the mention of “those before me,” her face darkened with sorrow.

“Hmm… yes, there are at least four handwriting styles here,” Gawain said, glancing down at the notebook. As he flipped through, the earliest handwriting looked vaguely familiar. After a closer look, he turned to Hetty. “Do you have that notebook? The one from the wild mage?”

To Gawain, the wild mage’s notebook was a treasure—not for the book itself, but for the knowledge inside. He had copied it for himself and gifted the original to Hetty, who was passionate about magical research.

Hetty nodded. “I have it. I’ve been studying its sections on universal rune groups these past few days…”

She pulled the worn notebook from her bosom and laid it on the table, opposite Jenny’s notebook. Sure enough, the first quarter of Jenny’s notebook matched the wild mage’s handwriting exactly!

So this heavy, ancient notebook was also one of the wild mage’s relics? And it had circulated among the mage community, studied and expanded upon by at least three successors?

“You…” Jenny instinctively asked, “you know its owner?”

“I’ve met him,” Gawain said casually, pointing at Jenny’s notebook filled with rune formulas. “Since you have this, you must have met him too?”

“Unfortunately, I received this notebook after it had changed hands three times,” Jenny shook her head. “You met him? Where is he now? Is he here in this camp?”

The runesmith’s expression was a mix of reverence and excitement, but Gawain had to disappoint her. “He’s dead. This notebook is all that remains of him. Of course, now you have this one too.”

Jenny opened her mouth but only sighed. “I see…”

“You said the notebook changed hands three times. What about the previous owners?” Gawain pressed on, not giving her time to dwell on her feelings. “Those who advanced the research—are they still in the capital or the arcane council? Can you contact them?”

“They’re… dead too,” Jenny’s voice dropped low. “The second owner died on an expedition. The third owner—Mr. Ravencrest, who studied runes alongside me—died on a mission assigned by our mentor. The constant E=1.66 is his legacy.”

(End of chapter)