Chapter 45: Next Morning
Isolde woke with a start at the sound of a scream.
Her crimson eyes snapped open, adjusting to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the cracks of the hut.
Oliver was already sitting upright, clutching a stick like a makeshift weapon, eyes wide in sheer terror.
"What in the world are you screaming about this early—" she began, pushing herself up to sit.
Her breasts bounced with the motion, but Oliver wasn’t in any state to notice. He just pointed toward the doorway, his hand trembling.
"L-Look!"
Isolde followed his gaze — and there it was. A massive, bear-like creature had shoved its head through the hut’s entrance, sniffing around. Its amber eyes glowed faintly in the early dawn light, and its wet nose twitched as it tried to squeeze further inside.
"Oh, for the love of..." Isolde rubbed her temples, utterly unimpressed. "Relax, master. It’s just a Grizzleback."
"A Grizzleback?!" Oliver’s voice went higher. "That thing is huge! It’s practically trying to get in here!"
"They don’t attack unprovoked," she said calmly, standing and stretching like she’d just woken from a nap instead of facing a giant beast. "It probably just smelled the boar we roasted last night."
Oliver was still pale. "Th-That doesn’t make it less terrifying!"
Isolde only sighed, flicked her wrist, and whispered, "[Cleanse]." A faint white glow spread through the room, erasing every lingering trace of their "activities" last night — along with the blood scent from the boar meat.
Then she turned to Oliver, completely unbothered. "Quit being a baby and get dressed."
Oliver blinked at her, still frozen, until she cast the same spell on him, cleaning him up and leaving him looking decent again.
She stepped past him, bare feet barely making a sound on the wooden floor, and crouched near the door. "Fun’s over, big guy," she said playfully to the creature, flicking its nose with a casual spell. "It’s rude to peek into someone’s bedroom, you know."
The Grizzleback huffed, pulling its head out of the hut. It sat on its haunches outside, scratching its furry head as though confused by these strange two-legged creatures.
Seeing it wasn’t charging or snarling, Oliver finally relaxed enough to step out as well.
"Whoa," he muttered, his fear giving way to awe. "It’s... huge."
"Obviously," Isolde said with a smirk, crossing her arms. "That’s why they’re called Grizzlebacks. A fully grown one can snap a tree in half with one swipe. But look—this one’s just curious."
Oliver tilted his head, watching the creature as it blinked slowly at them, then sniffed the air. "So... it’s not going to eat us?"
"Not unless you start screaming again," Isolde teased, shooting him a sideways look.
"Hey!" Oliver protested, cheeks red. "You woke up to me screaming for a good reason! That thing’s head was practically inside our house!"
Isolde chuckled, flicking her hair back. "And if it wanted to eat you, you’d already be halfway down its stomach. So stop panicking."
The Grizzleback made a low, rumbling sound — not quite a growl, more like a curious groan — and lowered itself to the ground, as if deciding these two weren’t worth bothering with.
"Yeah, yeah, big guy. You’ve seen enough of us. We’re leaving now," Isolde said, giving the beast a dismissive wave as if shooing away a stray dog.
Oliver tilted his head. "Wait—leaving? Where are we going?"
"What do you mean?" Isolde arched an eyebrow, hands on her hips. "Were you planning to set up a permanent residence in this forest? What happened to the guy who was yelling at me for teleporting him here in the first place?"
Oliver scratched the back of his head, suddenly avoiding her gaze. "I was just asking because you said you’d be teaching me some of your techniques. You know... the runesmithing stuff you kept nagging me about."
"Oh?" Isolde’s smirk returned, predatory and amused. "And how exactly do you expect me to teach you that? I don’t have any materials here for you to practice on."
Oliver froze, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "You’re not going to tell me to let you carve runes into my skin again, are you?"
"Of course I am," Isolde said cheerfully. "Best material you could ask for. High-quality too. Smooth, fresh, healthy human flesh—"
"No." Oliver cut her off, adamant.
"Bummer." Isolde clicked her tongue, genuinely sounding disappointed. "Would’ve made for some fun experiments."
"I don’t want to be your guinea pig!"
"Then you’ll just have to wait until we reach some sort of proper establishment." Isolde’s tone softened slightly, becoming more serious. "Runes aren’t like magic, Oli. You can’t just wave your hand and memorize them. You need actual tools, actual surfaces to engrave, and plenty of trial and error. It’s a craft, not just theory."
"Yeah, that’s what I meant." Oliver nodded quickly. "You can still teach me the theoretical knowledge though, right? Like, what runes do, how they’re structured—stuff I can at least get into my head before we find a town."
Isolde sighed, though there was a faint smile tugging her lips. "Fine. We can do that while we’re traveling. No need to waste time staying in one place."
"Good." Oliver straightened, puffing out his chest slightly. "Let’s go, then."
"Finally," Isolde said with a faint laugh, and turned on her heel.
They began their journey, walking casually through the forest. With no luggage, no real sense of urgency, and no one around to attack them, it almost felt... peaceful. The early morning mist still clung to the ground, curling around their legs as they passed. The forest was alive with distant birdsong and rustling leaves, and somewhere behind them, the Grizzleback snorted before lumbering away into the trees.
Oliver glanced back once, just to be sure it wasn’t following. "Good riddance," he muttered.
"You should’ve petted it," Isolde said idly, her voice teasing. "Might’ve followed us and acted as a guard."
"A guard?!" Oliver shot her a look. "That thing was as big as the hut!"
"Exactly. No beasts would dare mess with us if a Grizzleback was tagging along." She smirked over her shoulder. "But you screamed instead of taming it. Such a shame."
"I was surprised!"
"Mm-hm," Isolde said with obvious disbelief.
Oliver groaned and decided to drop the argument.
"Alright, then," he said, changing the subject. "You said we could go over theory while we walk. Start talking, teacher."
Isolde’s crimson eyes glimmered with amusement. "You really are eager. Fine. First lesson: runes are the language of reality. They’re not spells — they’re commands. You don’t ’cast’ them. You write them, and once written, the world itself follows what you wrote."
Oliver’s brows furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "Commands? Like programming?"
"Programming?"
"Oh, right... you wouldn’t know what that is. It’s like giving instructions to a machine to do something."
"Then yes," Isolde said with a nod. "But instead of a machine, you’re instructing the world itself. The stronger the rune, the bigger the demand — and the harder it is to make reality obey."
"That’s... actually kind of awesome," Oliver admitted, his steps lightening despite the uneven ground.
"Yeah, I know." Isolde’s lips curved into a proud smirk. "Before I discovered engraving runes on living creatures, runes were primarily used to be inscribed on weapons and armor — tailored specifically for the one who was meant to wield them."
"Tailored?" Oliver tilted his head.
"Every person’s mana is unique," she explained. "Its flow, its density, its emotional resonance — all different. That’s why inscribing a weapon isn’t as simple as just etching symbols on it. You study the user, tune the runes to resonate with their mana, and then carve them. If someone picks up a weapon not made for them, the runes might fail — or worse, backlash. You can lose a limb, or even your life."
Oliver winced. "So, basically, personalized weapons or bust?"
"Exactly." Isolde nodded approvingly. "But as runesmithing developed, people realized its potential went far beyond combat. Runes are instructions, remember? You could make a blade sharper, yes... but you could also make a stove stay warm without fire, or make a door lock itself, or make a lantern glow brighter than the sun."
"That... actually sounds like magic I could get behind." Oliver chuckled. "Useful magic."
"Don’t get too excited yet, master." Isolde gave him a playful look. "Runesmithing is slow and deliberate work. Every stroke matters. If you rush it, you get nothing... or worse, you create a broken command that does the exact opposite of what you wanted."
"Sounds like a nightmare."
"You get used to it." Isolde shrugged. "Besides, seeing your command come to life for the first time? Worth every drop of effort."
Before Oliver could respond, a loud rustle came from the bushes ahead.
"Wait." Isolde held out an arm, stopping him in place. Her crimson eyes narrowed as the undergrowth shook violently — and a pair of glowing green eyes appeared.
A beast burst from the bushes — a lithe, wolf-like creature with bark-like armor covering its back and shoulders, saliva dripping from its jaws.
"Timberfang," Isolde said calmly, her expression almost bored. "Pack hunters. There’ll be more."
Sure enough, more pairs of green eyes began to appear, circling them.
"Ah... great." Oliver’s grip tightened on his makeshift spear. "Interruption when for the first time in my life I was having fun learning."