[Congratulations! You have created a Rune: Cunning Venom]
[Rune of Cunning Venom:
+ 5 Vitality
+ 5 Strength
+ 5 Agility
+ 3 Intelligence
+ 3 Wisdom
+ 20% Basic Poison Resistance]
'Oh my god!' Melvin thought in shock after going through the information about the rune for the third time now. But in this dimly lit corner, the rune's light green radiance glowed too strongly, so he immediately grabbed it with his right hand in fear of someone noticing.
The moment the rune made contact with his index finger, it dissolved into wisps of energy that seeped into his body. An overwhelming sensation soon followed. Melvin closed his eyes in satisfaction and utter joy. He had never felt so strong in his entire life, and he felt like he could easily carry more than he ever could, he felt brimming with health and vitality, but most importantly, he felt sprite, quick, and nimble.
Even the potent stench couldn't obstruct his happy mood and wildly running daydreams as he walked back into the shack.
Along the way, he swiftly checked his mental energy, '3/40, good stuff!' He thought with a smile. He understood that mental energy was involved in the creation of runes, and now that his reserves increased, then he would be able to create better runes.
At the same time, he was also contemplating all of the factors involved in making the rune strong, and he knew that the reason behind the success of the previous rune was the story's weight, to him personally.
That story encapsulated the most profound and life-changing events in Melvin's life, and he knew that going through something like that again was very unlikely, 'If I had a better quality Ink, parchments, quill, more mental energy, and I knew how to write better I would have made something even more powerful.'
He could more or less discern the fact that stories could not be recycled, otherwise, what would be the point of the complexity of the class? Moreover, he knew that the essence of that specific story was completely captured and converged into the rune, hence its strength. But he would try once, just in case.
That was the thing that Melvin felt was the most valuable out of the previous experience, he understood what the essence meant. But if he were asked to describe it, he wouldn't know how to even begin.
All he knew was that people carried with them innate psychological energies through their thoughts and emotions. The essence needed for his rune's creation was the combination of said energy, with the outer energies of the world, and in this case more specifically, Mental Energy.
Walking into the shack, he noticed that the two small boys had already gone out, and in their place were the two bigger boys. When he was about to enter he had heard them talking, but when he walked in they turned silent.
Melvin's senses were immediately assaulted by the strong smoke and smell of alcohol wafting from the two. Both of them had these dark brown cigarettes in hand that filled the shack with plumes of grey smoke, and each one of them had a green glass bottle in hand where liquid chaotically moved inside.
The three looked at each other for a while before Henry asked, "Have you remembered anything?"
Melvin only shook his head in response, and his eyes moved beyond the two, where his ingredients were. He carefully walked past the two and went to grab a piece of gum to create more ink, because the small amount he created had already ran out.
Suddenly, George said in a low voice, "We knew what happened, what do you plan to do with him?"
His steps paused, and he glanced down meeting his gaze before he said, "I will run away, you guys didn't do anything and they don't have anything over you," Before he continued what he was doing.
The two quickly glanced at each other behind his back before Henry offered with an amused smile, "Come drink with us, maybe you'll remember it then."
"Ah, no, thank you. I have something I need to do." Melvin rejected as he rushed past them again and sat on the floor by the door, starting the ink creation process, by lighting up the candles and waiting.
"What are you doing?" Asked Henry after George shot him another look.
"Making Ink."
"For what?" Henry continued.
"To write something," Melvin said with a smile, his eyes following the dancing flickers of the candles.
The duo Glanced at one another before George probed, "The festival will start shortly, are you going to see it?"
Melvin couldn't help but think, 'Maybe I shouldn't delay going to the hotel.'
Initially, he planned on waiting until tomorrow to go so that he could cut out his expenses, but now facing the barrage of questions, he knew that writing would become difficult, so he began seriously considering it. Turning around, he said, "No, I don't feel like it. Will you?"
They both shook their heads, saying a synchronized, "No."
'Shit!' Melvin thought after he turned to look at the candles once again, the situation was too intense. It wasn't awkward, but more so filled with underlying meanings that he didn't know how to navigate.
Fortunately, unlike the small William, they didn't seem to be too disappointed in him after they heard what happened with the coachmen, and that had indeed made him slightly think highly of them.
Once the candles burned until there wasn't any wax left, he waited for a while until the metal was cool enough, and he began scrapping on top of the paper. That was when a good idea struck him, 'It's the perfect way to try that.'
When he put all of the ingredients inside the mortar, he told both of them, "Wait I'll be right back"
He walked out of the shack, and looking left and right he saw how many people were coming and going. Then he turned to the left and began walking towards the stables once again, this time he didn't go too deep, but just put the mortar on top of a rock protruding from the ground and began mixing everything together, when he was about to use his mental energy he made sure no one was looking before he continued.
He could feel his control over the flow of mental energy, and he had more freedom to choose how much he wanted to put. However, the ink seemed to have a limit, and it was unable to accept anything more than six points.
Observing this strange occurrence, Melvin pondered, 'It seems like the ink has a limit based on its quality, but this six feels too little...'
He understood that once he had ways to increase the ink's quality, then he would be able to pump even more Mental Energy into it, resulting in higher quality runes.
Melvin quickly walked back to the shack and sat on the corner once again. He looked at the two who were busy smoking and drinking, and asked, "Tell me some a great story about me."
The duo looked at him with a complicated look, but he waited for their answer with his quill in hand as he looked at them.
George didn't say anything, but just raised his bottle and drank. Henry seeing this, sighed, and began recounting a story.
It was about how the group stole a coin pouch from a random man in the street, but the man saw Jacob's face and knew where he lived, so he told his son about all of that. The son felt humiliated and wronged for someone to steal from his father, gathered his friends and came to beat up Jacob. However, what he didn't expect was that Jacob's neighborhood was filled with guys just like him, and so a big group gathered and they completely wrecked the son and his friends.
Melvin who was busy writing the story couldn't help but shake his head in disappointment. The story was more complicated than just that, but he wrote everything that he could, which took him three pages, leaving only four other pages left, but he still had the other parchment.
By then, the duo were already drunk, and even George would chip in from the side and add a few details. After finishing the story, he remembered the encounter with the woman and asked, "By the way, I met this woman in the ceremony, and she was the one who gave me money. Do know you who she is?"
When he described how he met her, the people who were behind her, and especially how she looked, George's stood up with a mad look, yelling, "That's your whore mother."
Hearing the words, Melvin was shocked, not because of the contents but more so the brazen provocation. He immediately stood up and confronted the shorter guy, looking down at him with a cold expression. Now that he had the rune, his stats were already strong enough, to the point that they had boosted his confidence by a large margin.
***
Name: Melvin Miller(Jacob)
Age: 25(19)
Class: Rune Mythomancer(Legendary)
Class: None.
Tier: Initate Tier
Rank: 1(0%)
Titles: [The Herectic] | [The Storyteller's Charm]
Health Points, HP: 110/110
Mana Points, MP: 45/45
Stamina Points, SP: 56/56
Mental Energy, ME: 37/40
Vitality: 11
Strength: 12
Agility: 16
Intelligence: 9
Wisdom: 8
Charisma: 4
Available Stats Points: 0
Skills: [Storyweaver, Lv1]
Ongoing Quest: [Jacob The Snake's Death]
Resistances: 20% Basic Poison Resistance.
***
Seeing the angry look on Melvin's face, George took a step back and said, "It's not just yours... my mother too."
His body then leaned forward as he could barely hold it on his own, brushed past him, walking out of the shack.
Melvin's gaze softened after he realized that he wasn't looking for a fight or anything of the short, and turned to Henry and asked, "What is this about?"
"They've always tried to give you money, but you made him vow that the both of you will never talk nor take money from them." He answered. Looking at the door, he said, "I'll go look after him."
When Melvin noticed how clear Henry's mind was even though he drank that much, he was surprised.
'This is just too complicated, and I don't want any of it,' He thought, and he could more or less understand what this was about.
Both Jacob and George's mothers were prostitutes, and because of the way they grew up in this area, he was sure that fact must've brought them a lot of problems as others would look down on them and make fun of them. He could see how two young boys of that age might vow to never talk or take the money they consider as dirty from people they felt betrayed by.
'I won't think about this,' Melvin thought with a sigh. He knew that digging into the duo's past would only bring him more trouble, 'At least he was too drunk to even remember revenge so that's a good thing.'
Melvin still remembered how he told them that he would be avenging them against the coachmen later, and that was definitely not on his plate right now.
As he thought of that, his expression morphed into one of guilt.
[Congratulations! You have created a Rune: Cunning Venom]
[Rune of Cunning Venom:
+ 5 Vitality
+ 5 Strength
+ 5 Agility
+ 3 Intelligence
+ 3 Wisdom
+ 20% Basic Poison Resistance]
'Oh my god!' Melvin thought in shock after going through the information about the rune for the third time now. But in this dimly lit corner, the rune's light green radiance glowed too strongly, so he immediately grabbed it with his right hand in fear of someone noticing.
The moment the rune made contact with his index finger, it dissolved into wisps of energy that seeped into his body. An overwhelming sensation soon followed. Melvin closed his eyes in satisfaction and utter joy. He had never felt so strong in his entire life, and he felt like he could easily carry more than he ever could, he felt brimming with health and vitality, but most importantly, he felt sprite, quick, and nimble.
Even the potent stench couldn't obstruct his happy mood and wildly running daydreams as he walked back into the shack.
Along the way, he swiftly checked his mental energy, '3/40, good stuff!' He thought with a smile. He understood that mental energy was involved in the creation of runes, and now that his reserves increased, then he would be able to create better runes.
At the same time, he was also contemplating all of the factors involved in making the rune strong, and he knew that the reason behind the success of the previous rune was the story's weight, to him personally.
That story encapsulated the most profound and life-changing events in Melvin's life, and he knew that going through something like that again was very unlikely, 'If I had a better quality Ink, parchments, quill, more mental energy, and I knew how to write better I would have made something even more powerful.'
He could more or less discern the fact that stories could not be recycled, otherwise, what would be the point of the complexity of the class? Moreover, he knew that the essence of that specific story was completely captured and converged into the rune, hence its strength. But he would try once, just in case.
That was the thing that Melvin felt was the most valuable out of the previous experience, he understood what the essence meant. But if he were asked to describe it, he wouldn't know how to even begin.
All he knew was that people carried with them innate psychological energies through their thoughts and emotions. The essence needed for his rune's creation was the combination of said energy, with the outer energies of the world, and in this case more specifically, Mental Energy.
Walking into the shack, he noticed that the two small boys had already gone out, and in their place were the two bigger boys. When he was about to enter he had heard them talking, but when he walked in they turned silent.
Melvin's senses were immediately assaulted by the strong smoke and smell of alcohol wafting from the two. Both of them had these dark brown cigarettes in hand that filled the shack with plumes of grey smoke, and each one of them had a green glass bottle in hand where liquid chaotically moved inside.
The three looked at each other for a while before Henry asked, "Have you remembered anything?"
Melvin only shook his head in response, and his eyes moved beyond the two, where his ingredients were. He carefully walked past the two and went to grab a piece of gum to create more ink, because the small amount he created had already ran out.
Suddenly, George said in a low voice, "We knew what happened, what do you plan to do with him?"
His steps paused, and he glanced down meeting his gaze before he said, "I will run away, you guys didn't do anything and they don't have anything over you," Before he continued what he was doing.
The two quickly glanced at each other behind his back before Henry offered with an amused smile, "Come drink with us, maybe you'll remember it then."
"Ah, no, thank you. I have something I need to do." Melvin rejected as he rushed past them again and sat on the floor by the door, starting the ink creation process, by lighting up the candles and waiting.
"What are you doing?" Asked Henry after George shot him another look.
"Making Ink."
"For what?" Henry continued.
"To write something," Melvin said with a smile, his eyes following the dancing flickers of the candles.
The duo Glanced at one another before George probed, "The festival will start shortly, are you going to see it?"
Melvin couldn't help but think, 'Maybe I shouldn't delay going to the hotel.'
Initially, he planned on waiting until tomorrow to go so that he could cut out his expenses, but now facing the barrage of questions, he knew that writing would become difficult, so he began seriously considering it. Turning around, he said, "No, I don't feel like it. Will you?"
They both shook their heads, saying a synchronized, "No."
'Shit!' Melvin thought after he turned to look at the candles once again, the situation was too intense. It wasn't awkward, but more so filled with underlying meanings that he didn't know how to navigate.
Fortunately, unlike the small William, they didn't seem to be too disappointed in him after they heard what happened with the coachmen, and that had indeed made him slightly think highly of them.
Once the candles burned until there wasn't any wax left, he waited for a while until the metal was cool enough, and he began scrapping on top of the paper. That was when a good idea struck him, 'It's the perfect way to try that.'
When he put all of the ingredients inside the mortar, he told both of them, "Wait I'll be right back"
He walked out of the shack, and looking left and right he saw how many people were coming and going. Then he turned to the left and began walking towards the stables once again, this time he didn't go too deep, but just put the mortar on top of a rock protruding from the ground and began mixing everything together, when he was about to use his mental energy he made sure no one was looking before he continued.
He could feel his control over the flow of mental energy, and he had more freedom to choose how much he wanted to put. However, the ink seemed to have a limit, and it was unable to accept anything more than six points.
Observing this strange occurrence, Melvin pondered, 'It seems like the ink has a limit based on its quality, but this six feels too little...'
He understood that once he had ways to increase the ink's quality, then he would be able to pump even more Mental Energy into it, resulting in higher quality runes.
Melvin quickly walked back to the shack and sat on the corner once again. He looked at the two who were busy smoking and drinking, and asked, "Tell me some a great story about me."
The duo looked at him with a complicated look, but he waited for their answer with his quill in hand as he looked at them.
George didn't say anything, but just raised his bottle and drank. Henry seeing this, sighed, and began recounting a story.
It was about how the group stole a coin pouch from a random man in the street, but the man saw Jacob's face and knew where he lived, so he told his son about all of that. The son felt humiliated and wronged for someone to steal from his father, gathered his friends and came to beat up Jacob. However, what he didn't expect was that Jacob's neighborhood was filled with guys just like him, and so a big group gathered and they completely wrecked the son and his friends.
Melvin who was busy writing the story couldn't help but shake his head in disappointment. The story was more complicated than just that, but he wrote everything that he could, which took him three pages, leaving only four other pages left, but he still had the other parchment.
By then, the duo were already drunk, and even George would chip in from the side and add a few details. After finishing the story, he remembered the encounter with the woman and asked, "By the way, I met this woman in the ceremony, and she was the one who gave me money. Do know you who she is?"
When he described how he met her, the people who were behind her, and especially how she looked, George's stood up with a mad look, yelling, "That's your whore mother."
Hearing the words, Melvin was shocked, not because of the contents but more so the brazen provocation. He immediately stood up and confronted the shorter guy, looking down at him with a cold expression. Now that he had the rune, his stats were already strong enough, to the point that they had boosted his confidence by a large margin.
***
Name: Melvin Miller(Jacob)
Age: 25(19)
Class: Rune Mythomancer(Legendary)
Class: None.
Tier: Initate Tier
Rank: 1(0%)
Titles: [The Herectic] | [The Storyteller's Charm]
Health Points, HP: 110/110
Mana Points, MP: 45/45
Stamina Points, SP: 56/56
Mental Energy, ME: 37/40
Vitality: 11
Strength: 12
Agility: 16
Intelligence: 9
Wisdom: 8
Charisma: 4
Available Stats Points: 0
Skills: [Storyweaver, Lv1]
Ongoing Quest: [Jacob The Snake's Death]
Resistances: 20% Basic Poison Resistance.
***
Seeing the angry look on Melvin's face, George took a step back and said, "It's not just yours... my mother too."
His body then leaned forward as he could barely hold it on his own, brushed past him, walking out of the shack.
Melvin's gaze softened after he realized that he wasn't looking for a fight or anything of the short, and turned to Henry and asked, "What is this about?"
"They've always tried to give you money, but you made him vow that the both of you will never talk nor take money from them." He answered. Looking at the door, he said, "I'll go look after him."
When Melvin noticed how clear Henry's mind was even though he drank that much, he was surprised.
'This is just too complicated, and I don't want any of it,' He thought, and he could more or less understand what this was about.
Both Jacob and George's mothers were prostitutes, and because of the way they grew up in this area, he was sure that fact must've brought them a lot of problems as others would look down on them and make fun of them. He could see how two young boys of that age might vow to never talk or take the money they consider as dirty from people they felt betrayed by.
'I won't think about this,' Melvin thought with a sigh. He knew that digging into the duo's past would only bring him more trouble, 'At least he was too drunk to even remember revenge so that's a good thing.'
Melvin still remembered how he told them that he would be avenging them against the coachmen later, and that was definitely not on his plate right now.
As he thought of that, his expression morphed into one of guilt.
