The Runic Alchemist

"You really want to do that..?" she asked, her tone filled with disbelief.

"No, I don't want you digging around in my head. But I don't want to live like this forever either. I'm sick of your nature-filled mana being everywhere."

"Nature-filled..? Fine. You can barely control it anyway. But for it to work, we both have to let each other into our minds. Think about a situation that makes you feel strong negative emotions—those are easier to manipulate. Once you feel it in my head - that is if you have the control, try to fuel it with your own thoughts and emotions. Discover worlds on m-v le-mpyr

When we both have equal control, you can ask the question. You'll have to do it for each question, three in total," she explained how it worked. Damian nodded along, listening carefully.

She had already been in his head once and had likely seen much more than she was letting on. He had no master control over his thoughts like she did with years of practice, but he had something better. His body was that of a child, and he felt emotions much more deeply than his adult self.

He just had to think about things that made him sad, things she wouldn't fully understand, assuming she was the one in control of the spell, that is.

Like the great genius he was, Damian started to think about Simba crying after Mufasa dies. He immediately felt heavy. He stayed mindful of any random emotions coming from her too. When nothing happened for two minutes, her face twitched in annoyance. Damian had also seen a few random scenes from her point of view—battles, seeing friends fall, and emotional deaths, perhaps?

People sure were crying a lot…

"What even is that? Why are these pictures moving? What kind of memory is this?"

"A very solid one," Damian defended his childhood love.

"Choose another."

"Ugh, fine."

Damian switched to Jiraiya's death and saw her mouth twitch even more.

"Another."

Iron Man's death... That one earned a visible grimace from her.

"Anything other than the moving pictures… What even are these people wearing?"

With a sigh, Damian stopped messing around and thought about something more personal from his current world. This could reveal some private memories, but getting free was more important. He thought about the cold gazes of his family watching him leave the house he was born forever, sold like a useless accessory, one of the few times when his body felt different from his mind. Vidalia's eyes widened.

It worked. She had control of the spell.

Suddenly, his sadness and anger grew stronger, filling his head with thoughts of revenge, of reclaiming what was rightfully his. Fighting for his freedom. Fighting his family for his freedom. Now came the question.

"Do you want to return to your home?"

Huh? What a stupid question. Why would he ever return to that miserable place? Who was waiting for him there? He opened his mouth to say "no," but the words refused to come out. Was that a lie?

Then what was the truth? He didn't need to think hard—the truth came on its own, slipping out of his mouth as if it had a mind of its own.

"Yes, I do. I want to return."

Did he really? That was pathetic.

"I wish to return and burn that shithole to the ground."

Ahh, that was more like him. That he could accept, not that he would ever do it. The revenge wasn't even worth the gold needed to travel there.

Her hold on his emotions loosened, and he was finally free in his mind. It felt like a huge burden had slightly lifted from his shoulders. He activated his Eyes of Truth just in time to see one part of the dark green vine in his stomach glow golden and break, turning into ethereal dust. It was working. Now, just two more times.

"You're a Sunblade?" she asked.

"Huh..? Oh, yeah. Did you see—" Letting her see his stats was too dangerous.

"The house insignia."

Ah, that made sense. She continued, "What are the chances…"

"Hm? What now?" Damian asked, confused by her comment.

"It's nothing... The last Sunblade I spoke to was the King of Dawnstar.."

Royalty? That broke-ass family? Was she joking? He had never read anything like that in their history books.

"And when was that?"

"230 years ago. I was a child back then."

That far back, huh? The oldest record he had read about went back 160-170 years, all starting from when Theron Goldflame defeated Kaelith Dawncaller in 'Monarch's Trial' becoming the powerful king of Dawnstar. Maybe it was true. Who knew? Not that it mattered much to him—he would've changed his name long ago if he could. He wanted nothing to do with that joke of a family.

"Damian... That's a nice name," she said, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Let's get this over with," Damian ignored her and readied himself. She just nodded.

Damian started thinking about the time they were attacked and he was burning along with the building. But after 30 seconds, there was no interference. So he focused on her thoughts and saw a girl, barely 15 or 16, running through massive white marble hallways, giggling.

Then suddenly, a few men jumped into her path, blocking her escape dressed in blood red and pitch black, and hacked at her with their short, curved swords. Her screams boiled Vidalia's anger to the limit. He felt it—the need for revenge, the desire to destroy. This Damian knew well, so he fueled her anger at the injustice and cruelty of it all. Her jaw tightened, her anger growing. She was ready.

He could ask anything, and she would be forced to answer.

"Why did you refuse the throne?"

Even Damian didn't know why he asked that question, but it was something he had wondered once. The current Queen of Eldoris was a Spellsword, powerful and amazing. But Damian felt that with ample preparation, Vidalia, as a mage, could take her in a one-on-one fight any day. She might not win, but she wouldn't lose either. So why hadn't she made her move?

Why did she let her mother defend their honor instead of doing it herself?

"She is better... She is life, she understands the need for mercy. I am death and destruction. The battlefield is where I belong... I only know of vengeance…"

Damian lost control of her emotions, and she breathed hard, her eyes glaring at him. It seemed she hadn't experienced being on the receiving end of this spell much. He had thought it was impossible for him to have control over the spell, but somehow, they both did. Weird.