The Legendary Rune Knight Returns

The man stirred, the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and the sting of cold water on his face. He felt his head hit the damp cobblestone with a dull thud.

‘This is… not right.’

It was a city square, bustling with a strange, frantic energy. The air was thick with the scent of cheap ale and the shouts of an unseen crowd. His body was stiff, weak. Memories, sharp and fragmented, pierced through the fog like a broken blade. An old name, a forgotten face.

“I am…”

He spoke with a voice he barely recognized, a hoarse whisper.

“Kaelen Thorne, a street brawler from the Low Quarter, and at the same time…”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, then spoke his true name.

“Lord Roric.”

If a single person in the crowd had heard him, they would have laughed. Roric, the greatest Rune Knight of the Last Age. A name whispered with reverence, a legend lost to history.

“Finally… I'm free.”

A grim smile touched Roric’s lips. It was his first waking moment since he was betrayed and trapped in the labyrinth of the Shadow Citadel five hundred years ago.

The smile soon turned to a frown.

"Kaelen was it? You had a rough life alright."

Kaelen was an orphan with no connections, was a perfect target for constant bullying and torment.

His skill with runes was so hopelessly dull that it was embarrassing to even call him a brawler. Even a blind beggar would respond better to a tactical challenge. It was hard to believe such a disaster came from the same city that produced the legendary Roric.

As a result, his peers treated him like a piece of refuse, causing him to be a pariah in the Low Quarter.

For a year, the other fighters, unaware of Kaelen’s situation, treated him carefully because he was a new face. Some even pretended to be his friend out of fear of getting on his bad side. Nonetheless, as Kaelen’s history came into light, all the fighters ultimately turned their backs or mocked him.

The coward of the Low Quarter. That was Kaelen's position.

Roric rubbed his temples and sighed. He didn’t think badly of Kaelen. He viewed him in a positive light. He was an exceptionally determined individual, and his passion for fighting was second to none.

However, the gods had given Kaelen only passion and no talent.

"Argh!" Roric held his head as more memories flashed. This was a recent memory- Bruk, his biggest bully had challenged Kaelen to a duel the previous day. The fight was tomorrow.

"That Brute promised to break my legs eh?"

Bruk's family was wealthy and wouldn't need to bother to cover the incident up. The city guards had a particularly strong influence on the hierarchy of the Low Quarter.

Perhaps Kaelen’s peers wouldn’t make an issue of it either. Rather, they may have been hoping for such a result. Most of the fighters were already aware of the rumors of Kaelen’s utter lack of rune skill.

Roric rose from his spot on the ground.

‘I need to hurry.’

He should be in the cheapest shanty next to the market. Roric’s pace hastened, hoping that Kaelen had not already seen it through.

Roric quickly regained his composure. For a moment, he was overwhelmed with his newfound freedom from the damned Citadel, but he should not be too excited.

Roric began to grasp the situation at once.

‘It took much longer than I thought.’

He could determine roughly five centuries had passed since he was sealed away. For nearly five hundred years, he had endured.

Among all those long years, it was his first time gaining a physical body. All he could do was simply stare at his surroundings.

The moment he dreamed of became a reality at last. But there was a problem.

“This guy is my vessel. Should anybody try to harm my vessel- I will smash their heads to the ground!"