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Of course, Damian refused the marriage proposal, as gently as possible. It was bold—almost laughable—to suggest marrying a princess from the Eldoris, a family nearly revered as divine, to a commoner of dubious origin. It made him wonder if Vidalia had truly kept her promise, or if they already knew the truth about his lineage. Since that day, late in Year 3, just before he was preparing for his third job ascension, the royals' enthusiasm for him had noticeably waned. Perhaps they had finally given up on dragging him into their inner circle.

It was a huge deal for him to be offered sothing like that, yet it wasn't for him. The princess might one day ascend to the throne—or she might not. For elves, such events were distant matters, decades or even centuries away. And since they refused to share much about their species, not that she just looked like a child right now, she would remain so for all or maybe half his life. But that was irrelevant—he wasn't interested in her, nor in serving this kingdom.

This was a really good place to live for a while but he wanted to see the rest of this world. He was here for the resources and in four years, he had amassed enough resources to start a business or live independently for a while. Yes, leaving would an losing the protection that ca with their na, but he wasn't overly concerned. He could adopt a disguise or remain anonymous—few had ever seen his face, even those many nobles knew him as Maximus only, which in itself was an alias. Tools for disguise were rare these days, but he'd read about them and knew a skilled crafter could make such items.

The job selection for the third job for his Lord rank was almost the sa as the second job, but with additional options due to his mastery of Arcane Synthesis and other advanced skills. But his goal was a runesmith related job so he directly focused on that.

-----------------------------------------

RUNE SHAPER CLASS JOBS | DAMIAN SUNBLADE LV.50

Beginner Runesmith

(Mini Damian using hamr, inscribing glowing runes)

Enchanter

(Mini Damian using chanting from the books to enchant tools)

Rune Engineer

(Mini Damian using runes on tools or breaking them to examine runes)

Golemancer

(Mini Damian creating golems and dancing with them)

Runic tallurgist

(Mini Damian playing with tallic cube, shaping it in various forms)

Runic Explosives Tester

(Mini Damian placing a glowing rune-etched orb into a safe box before peeking from behind a shield.)

Arcane Chemist

(Mini Damian mixing colored liquids in vials while glowing runes on the table stabilize his volatile concoctions.)

Runic Alchemist

(Mini Damian stirring a bubbling cauldron while glowing runic symbols hover above the surface, guiding his concoction.)

Runic Forge Master

(Mini Damian strikes a molten blade with a rune-inscribed hamr while enchanted tools float around him, assisting in the process.)

-----------------------------------------

The choices were intriguing, especially Runic Alchemist and Arcane Chemist—It was a clear influence from his Arcane Synthesis and potion-making. After all, his potions consistently ranked as

High

quality, and the purest among them achieved

Grand Rank

, a level on par with second-ranker crafting standards.

However, Damian ultimately chose Runic Forge Master. Beginner Runesmith felt too basic, Enchanter didn't pique his interest, and while Rune Engineer had rit, he wanted to create rather than simply analyze or tinker with existing items.

In preparation for his third job, along with leveling his skills, Damian also t with the royal runesmith nad Zidan - he was the guy who had created Spellkeeper's Promise(His ring that stores one spell), Runic Blade of Eldoris, and Sam's lightning sword. The hands on blacksmithing experience, and watching them etch runes into it, gave Damian so idea about what he should expect from his trial. They were very welcoming of him in the royal smithy, he was known by na to many and specially the ones who truly knew the affairs of war and how it had changed recently were always amiable to talk with.

He learned a bit about forging weapons for a few months, the rune etching part needed specific skill. But Damian also tried hard to study it, in case his trial was different from normal runesmith ones. After all, Runic Forge Master sounded like a job for soone far more experienced than he currently was.

Finally, the day arrived. In his room, sitting cross-legged on his bed, Damian activated his ascension skill. As he went through all the sa process of choosing his job again. Walking through the third white door that appeared in his astral dorm room, Damian found himself in a very weird environnt.

The world he entered was bizarre. His body had transford—he was now a massive green orc clad in furs and primitive clothing, wielding a giant hamr. And it was hot, extrely hot-almost suffocating. Damian tried to speak but produced only guttural orcish grunts that he couldn't even understand himself. Surrounding him were hundreds of similar orcs, hamring tal in unison as if part of a grand, volcanic symphony. The setting was a massive volcanic underground cavern, partially open to reveal a blood-red sky.

'Staaakkkkk'

'Ahh! Fuck!!'

Before Damian could understand where the hell he even was, a sharp

CRACK

echoed behind him, and fiery pain seared across his naked, macular green back.

Turning, he saw a red-skinned orc wielding a leather whip in his hand. The overseer growled sothing unintelligible, gesturing angrily toward the forge in front of Damian. On the anvil lay an iron ingot, and the overseer barked more guttural commands while pointing to a glowing blue banner hovering high above the cavern:

04:23:58:39

Target :

25 Long Swords

Failure -

Less than 18 swords

Damian's jaw clenched. This wasn't about intricate runic craftsmanship—this was brute force, and clear slavery. The trial demanded forging and creating weapons under grueling conditions.

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'Where was the runic part..?'

he muttered inwardly, gripping the hamr tightly.

For now, there was no choice but to work—and try to create at least the minimum required number.

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