Irelith arrived without ceremony.
She stepped inside, took in the state of the room with a single glance, and then looked at me.
"You asked for me."
"I did," I said. "I’ll need materials. The ones you selected earlier. Rectangular slabs. Four feet in height. I’ll need them in quantity."
She raised an eyebrow. "How many?"
"As many as you’re willing to part with."
A pause followed. "And my role?" she asked. "Do you want assistance during engraving?"
I shook my head. "No. I don’t need help. I’ll handle the work myself."
That earned me a longer look. Not offended. Curious.
"Very well," she said at last. "Wait here."
She left and returned a short while later. She threw a ring at me.
"Inventory ring," she said. "Check it."
I took it and had a look inside.
Rows upon rows of identical slabs appeared in my perception, stacked neatly in storage space. Rectangular metal pillars, each one just over four feet tall, their surfaces smooth, untreated, and dense with Essence-reactive alloy.
Hundreds of them.
"That will do," I said.
Irelith inclined her head. "Call if you need anything."
"I won’t," I replied.
She chuckled and left the chamber without another word, the door sealing quietly behind her.
Once I was alone again, I drew one of the slabs out of the ring and set it upright in front of me. The metal hummed faintly as it adjusted to the ambient Essence of the room, its surface already eager to accept inscription.
I didn’t rush.
I sat down across from it and mapped the problem again from the beginning.
The objective wasn’t to find anchors directly. That approach was inefficient and fragile. Anchors were designed to hide, especially when deathmist was involved. Direct detection would always lag behind concealment.
So I wouldn’t detect the anchor.
I would provoke it.
I began forming the conceptual outline in my mind. The slab wouldn’t act as a scanner. It would act as a catalyst. When Essence was infused into it, the runes would release a controlled ripple outward, subtle enough to go unnoticed by most, but structured precisely to interact with deathmist-laced constructs.
Detection runes formed the foundation. I layered them with spatial sensitivity runes, calibrated to notice distortion rather than movement. Space always reacted when something tried to bend it, even briefly.
Deathmist was the missing link.
I drew from the Star of Origin, just enough to lace the runes without overwhelming them. Deathmist didn’t amplify signals. It flattened them. And that was exactly what I needed. When the ripple passed through a body carrying an anchor, the deathmist within the anchor would momentarily resonate in response.
That brief resonance would cause a microscopic fluctuation in local space, nothing visible, nothing violent, but distinct enough for the slab’s detection rune to register.
The anchor would reveal itself by trying to stay hidden.
Once identified, the rest was trivial.
I placed my palm against the slab and began engraving.
Violet runes surfaced across the metal, circles intersecting with angled lines and segmented arcs, each symbol locking into place as Essence flowed through it. The patterns spread evenly from top to bottom, layered rather than cluttered, leaving deliberate gaps where operational runes would later interlock.
By the time I finished the first slab, the design was complete in my mind.
All that remained was replication.
And so I began my work.
*****
Three hours passed without me noticing.
By the time I finally leaned back and stretched, the pressure in my shoulders told me exactly how long I had been sitting in place. I stood, rolled my neck once, and looked over the chamber.
Rows of rectangular pillars stood upright across the room, arranged with deliberate spacing, each one engraved from top to bottom with layered violet runes. The metal surfaces hummed faintly, stable, responsive, complete.
I lifted my hand and swept it lightly to the side.
One by one, the pillars vanished into the storage ring, their weight and presence folding neatly away until the chamber was empty again. Only the table remained, bare and quiet, as if nothing had happened there at all.
Half an hour earlier, I had already sent word requesting a meeting.
Now it was time.
I stepped out into the corridor, the heat of Dragos pressing in immediately. The path ahead curved gently, walls etched with reliefs of ancient battles and demonic symbols worked directly into the stone. Fire crystals were set at regular intervals, their glow steady and warm rather than harsh, casting reflections that danced across the stone.
I took a right turn, then another corridor stretched ahead, wider this time, the ceiling opening slightly. Decorative pillars lined the sides.
The meeting chamber was already sealed when I arrived.
I stepped inside.
Only two figures were present.
General Kharzun sat at the table, his posture relaxed but attentive, armor unfastened, expression unreadable. Across from him sat Irelith, her hands folded calmly in front of her, eyes sharp and expectant.
Kharzun looked up with a smile as I entered. "Please sit," he said. "I heard you’ve been working."
I took the seat offered. "I have."
He studied me for a moment. "All day?"
"Yes."
His brow lifted slightly. "You’re not joking with me."
"No," I replied. "I rarely do."
That earned me a short, amused breath.
I reached into the ring and drew out a single rectangular pillar, setting it upright beside the table. The runes along its surface caught the light immediately, their violet glow subtle but unmistakable.
"I’ve engraved it with runes designed to identify teleportation anchors," I said. "There’s roughly a five percent chance of failure. Most of that depends on positioning and interference. With a trained eye, the misses should still be noticeable."
Kharzun leaned forward. "Have you tested it?"
"No," I said simply. "I’m confident it will work."
He looked at Irelith.
She was already standing.
"Give me a minute," she said, reaching for the pillar.
Without another word, she lifted it and walked out, her presence vanishing down the corridor moments later.
Silence settled between us.
Kharzun regarded me openly now. "I’m looking at you," he said slowly, "and I find this... surprising. Someone with runic talent like this doesn’t appear often. Where do you come from?"
I met his gaze. "The same galaxy as you."
That was all I offered.
He shook his head once and smiled faintly. "Figures."
Then his expression shifted. "The Demon Monarch has gone to the Crimson Zone," he said. "Along with several other monarchs."
That made me straighten slightly. "Why?"
"The assaults intensified a few months ago," he replied. "Suddenly. Aggressively. We had to divert forces from other rifts. Eventually, even the monarchs stepped in."
I nodded slowly. "I see."
He watched me for a moment. "What’s your plan next?"
I considered it, then answered honestly. "I’m heading toward the center of the galaxy. Whatever happens on the way happens."
Kharzun chuckled. "You’re a known name now. I doubt the road will be quiet."
Before I could respond, the door opened.
Irelith returned, her composure cracked for the first time since I’d met her. A wide smile sat plainly on her face.
"You actually did it," she said, turning toward me.
She looked at Kharzun. "It worked. We still had a few traitors in sealed confinement. I tested it on them. The reaction was immediate."
"I recommend testing it on a Grade Four rift," I said. "Five pillars per rift should be sufficient. Each pillar can be used five times before engraving is needed again."
Kharzun stood slowly. "This is good," he said. "This will change a great many things for us."
He looked at me, something close to awe in his eyes. "If we need more of these... how do we reach you?"
"You’ll hear about me," I said. "Send an envoy when you do. Bring materials. I’ll handle the rest."
He nodded. "And what do you want in return?"
"I have a few things in mind," I replied. "I’ll let you know when the time comes. For now, consider this a favor."
The general smiled, and extended his hand.
I shook it, closing the deals with the demons.