THE RUNIC ALCHEMIST

Just to have a try, Damian provided everyone with a glass of cooling potion before they began their slaughter for the day. Soon, it became evident that they had no need for the additional cooling fans attached to the hoverboard or the shade above their heads. Everyone was performing at their peak.

Of course, using the crystal consumed mana, but everyone could afford to spare a little to activate its cooling effect, which lasted for half an hour if used solely to regulate body temperature. Damian even experimented with it, attempting to release ice attacks, but failed. It wasn’t a spell—he had already suspected that, as he hadn’t seen any runic circles near them when they attacked. Still, he had to be sure. Other than keeping their bodies cool, the crystal in their chest had no real use.

As the day wore on, everyone fought with renewed vigor, their enthusiasm heightened as they occasionally praised the potion’s effects while cutting down monsters. It was only natural that their behavior would catch the attention of their followers. By midday the next day, the Highswords arrived, flying into the scene. The Sunkeeper section guys even brought Kamisen and others along. Damian had sensed them approaching intermittently.

One look at them was enough to see that they were completely unfit for this challenge. Their clothes reeked of dried sweat, and big white patches of salt marred the fabric—clear evidence of how much they had perspired.

Why were they putting themselves through so much suffering? Leaving the dungeon was the easiest option. He could not understand their thought process and had long since stopped thinking about them at all.

The Highswords came asking about the potion, and Damian admitted that he had indeed created it. However, when they requested some, he outright refused them all. Even when Silverspell attempted to guilt-trip him with, “Think about the students struggling in this heat,” Damian simply replied:

“Leave the dungeon then! You are not my responsibility! How far can you suffer for your greed?”

That sent them packing, their faces filled with dissatisfaction. He didn’t care. He had endured enough foolishness from them already.

They had reached level 24. Just one more level, and he would be done with the Land Breaker, finally free to do as he pleased. Yet despite a day and a half of continuous monster hunting, he hadn’t gained a single level. He was still stuck at 96.

Tired of constantly stopping to hand out potions to Maelor and the others every hour, Damian took a more efficient approach. He filled the empty five-liter mana containers with the cooling potion and gave them to everyone, instructing them to take only a few sips at a time. They had enough sense not to ignore his warnings—especially after he jokingly scared them by saying that if they drank too much at once, they would become the Sandborn Sentinel themselves, and he would have to kill them.

Finally, after three days of continuous battle—many hours wasted doing one thing or another on this level—they reached the miniboss guarding the key point. Damian had expected that from this point onward, each level would have at least one emperor-ranked monster. The boss at level 30 must be insane.

What was so valuable worth mining on level 25 in the middle of a scorching desert? Were the Highswords pulling his leg? He supposed he would find out soon enough.

Before them stood a giant version of the Chitinous Juggernauts—massive beetles with impenetrable armor. This one had a red shell, looking even tougher than the magma golem’s rocks. But these creatures had a weakness: their bellies were exposed. Even a simple aura-clad sword could pierce through—at least, that was the case for their normal variants.

Even if Damian killed this one alone, it wouldn’t be enough to push him to level 100. He would need a lot more Exp to reach level 25, especially with others sharing it, so he wasn’t particularly thrilled about fighting a giant bug. The others, however, were excited—it was their first emperor-ranked monster after the giant lizard.

“You already had those massive golems! You better not use your ridiculous spells and hog all the EXP!” Sam pointed accusingly at Damian.

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The others stared at him as if he were a common thief who stole their umbrellas every day. Exasperated by such unfair treatment, Damian sighed.

“We need to see if we can do this the normal way,” Lucian added, supporting Sam’s claim.

The rest—especially Einar, Evrin, Karl, Sariel, and Alex—nodded in agreement.

Damian merely shrugged. “Fine. Do as you please. But don’t come crying to me afterward. That thing may look like a mountain, but it’ll move faster than you can blink.”

Maelor stepped forward. “We know, and we’ll plan for it. Just sit this one out, though do help if one of us is in trouble.”

“Man! You’re ruining the mood!” Sam groaned, grabbing Maelor’s shoulder. “Can’t you see we’re trying to intimidate him?”

Maelor just smiled awkwardly, while the others sighed at Sam’s ridiculous claim.

Still, Damian truly did sit this one out. He had five spells prepped and ready to launch, but he wouldn’t participate. This fight was theirs.

Reize, along with Elias and Lumi, had also descended, parking Dreamlight to the side to enjoy the show.

“Is it really fine to let them handle this alone? It’s still a dangerous monster,” Lumi asked, her lack of faith in the others clear to see.

“They can do it,” Elias said, rooting for his idol, Sam.

“They can do it,” Damian agreed, then smirked. “I just hope the beetle beats some of them up first. That’ll teach them to appreciate my spells.”

Reize simply smiled at his pettiness and stood beside him, holding his hand.

The others gathered in a circle, devising their strategy. After five or six minutes, they finally charged straight for the menacing beetle, determined to take down their second emperor-ranked monster. Damian had to admit—it was quite entertaining. He could almost imagine how spectators in those old coliseums must have felt.

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