The bow of thousands still lingered in Adrian's chest as Selena brought him to the Rune division.
Now ca the true work.
The scrolls and runes that had stunned the world were still rare. What the reinforcents had brought back from the sea wall were scraps, leftovers, miracles captured only in fragnts.
Nothing yet had been mass-produced. Nothing yet could be distributed to every corner of humanity.
That had to change.
The first step was the ink.
She took him out into a factory that sprawled like a fortress of its own. Vast vats of black-blue liquid stretched in endless rows.
Adrian stared at the sheer scale. Barrels upon barrels of ink, enough to supply every outpost for years, and all of it useless until he touched it.
"Sweet stars," he breathed. "How much is here?"
Selena's voice broke through his thoughts. "Enough for a decade of regular production. But once you convert it..."
"It will take weeks. Maybe more." Adrian rolled his shoulders, already feeling the phantom ache of exhaustion.
"But once it's done, this stockpile alone will keep humanity supplied for years."
Adrian nodded silently and lifted his hand. The white-grey mist of his manifestation bled into the nearest vat like smoke dissolving into water.
The liquid shimred. Dark blue collapsed into a swirling grey-white that pulsed faintly, alive with potential.
The first batch of Ink was born.
The process was slow. His mana, though vast, could not touch the scale of entire warehouses at once.
Infusing each batch would take days, weeks. So he worked.
Every morning, he returned to the factory. Workers nodded respectfully as he passed, their voices hushed with reverence.
Every night, exhausted, he left knowing he had barely dented the supply. But the work continued.
Gradually, vats turned one after another. The storerooms filled with barrels of shimring Ink that seed to pulse with inner light.
Outposts even sent their reserves to HQ to be converted. Ergency transports arrived daily, their cargo holds packed with standard ink.
The defenders started calling it Blackwood Ink. Adrian pretended not to notice.
While Adrian worked, Selena led the others. The eight Rune Masters gathered daily in the Grand Hall, their hands struggling with unfamiliar patterns.
They morized Adrian's symbols with the dedication of scholars. Training their hands to etch the three most essential runes. Healing, Spatial Blink, and Barrier.
The sa runes that had saved the Sea Wall.
The first few days were rough. Even Rune Masters, trained for decades, faltered at the complexity of symbols that seed to writhe under their quill.
But slowly, they adjusted. Hours of practice carved muscle mory into fingers until scrolls began to appear in steady numbers.
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Their disciples followed. Entire classes were opened in the Grand Rune Hall, the sacred chambers now echoing with the scratch of quills.
For the first ti in history, the greatest runes were not taught for points. They were taught freely, desperately, urgently.
Most inscribers struggled. Precision at this level was brutal, requiring strokes exact to the hair's width.
Many who had spent years with basic runes found themselves breaking scroll after scroll. Frustration mounted as talented inscribers watched their work dissolve into worthless ash.
But talent always surfaced. A handful of geniuses grasped the patterns in weeks, their scrolls glowing with perfect resonance.
Though their numbers were few, they boosted production. Each successful inscriber ant dozens more scrolls per day.
The first batch of healing scrolls went to hospitals. Soldiers who had lost arms, legs, even eyes, rose whole once more.
Families wept as children embraced parents who had been broken for years. The sound of joy echoed through recovery wards.
Blink scrolls reached frontline outposts. Even a single teleport could an the difference between death and retreat for cornered defenders.
Barrier scrolls were issued to those who stood in the first line. Shields of golden light now held back the tide longer than ever before.
Within a month, each major outpost had at least one inscriber capable of producing these runes. Even if they could only manage one scroll per day, it was enough.
It was enough to tilt the scales of survival.
This was only the beginning.
...
Adrian finally completed the last vat after an entire month of work. The white-grey mist dissolved into the final barrel, transforming dark blue into shimring potential.
His shoulders ached. His mana reserves felt hollow despite their vast depth.
But every drop of ink in the warehouse now pulsed with Source energy. Enough to supply humanity for years.
When Adrian finally returned to the top floor of the Rune Hall, scrolls littered every desk. Parchnts covered chairs, windowsills, even portions of the floor.
Selena and the other Rune Masters were hunched over them, working endlessly.
Their quills scratched without pause. Sweat beaded on foreheads as they fought against cramping fingers.
"How long have you been at this?"
Selena looked up, her golden tattoos dim with exhaustion. "Eighteen hours straight. The demand never stops."
"Every outpost sends requests. Every hospital begs for healing scrolls." Master Corwin's voice cracked with fatigue.
Adrian watched them for a long mont. These were humanity's greatest inscribers, reduced to factory workers by necessity.
Then his thoughts strayed. His ink could bypass the need for affinities to inscribe legendary runes, and if strokes were the only requirent, then why couldn't humanity mass-produce?
Why not simply print?
He searched through the hall's records, fingers flying across data tablets. The answer was already in humanity's archives.
Printing had been tried before, with basic runes that did not need any affinities to inscribe. Desperate attempts during the early monster wars.
But always, it failed. Every single ti.
Every rune had a start stroke and an end stroke. Machines could copy strokes, yes, but even microscopic deviations ruined the pattern.
The tiniest tremor ant collapse. A hair's width of error turned legendary power into worthless ash.
For now, the technology of humanity had not reached the level to match even the tiniest details. Precision at this scale demanded sothing machines couldn't provide.
For now, human hands were still superior.
And so Adrian joined them. He picked up a quill, dipped it into Blackwood Ink, and activated [Temporal Veil].
The world slowed. Colors deepened, sounds stretched into echoes.
His hand moved three tis faster than those around him, each stroke precise, flawless. The rune flowed from his quill like liquid starlight.
One scroll. Two. Ten. Fifty.
The Rune Masters looked up, stunned. Selena's quill froze mid-stroke as scrolls piled high around him.
"The hell!" Master Anya whispered. "How is he moving so fast?"
Selena's best attempt took ten minutes to etch a single scroll. The runes were complex, rcilessly precise, demanding absolute focus.
Even veterans required patience. One mistake ant starting over.
What took her ten minutes to complete, he finished in seconds. His enhanced perception made every stroke deliberate, perfect.
Parchnts piled. Healing scrolls glowed with erald light, Blink scrolls shimred with spatial energy.
What the eight Rune Masters could do together in days, Adrian completed in hours.
Hundreds at first, then thousands. The temporal acceleration never faltered, his mana sustaining the spell effortlessly.
"This is impossible." Master Valdris set down his quill, watching Adrian's blurred movents.
Master Dorian smiled, he had already experienced this back in the sea wall.
By the ti night fell, the top floor was buried in scrolls. Stacks reached chest height, organized by type and potency.
Defenders below would see them delivered within days. Every outpost, every hospital, every frontline position.
Adrian finally set down his quill, the temporal effect fading. The sudden return to normal speed made the world feel sluggish.
"5700 scrolls." Selena's voice held wonder and exhaustion in equal asure.
"In eight hours."
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