The Language of the Gods
Training with Valen was brutal.
It was so intense that I couldn't tell if I was training to be a mage or a mercenary.
First, Valen made us run endless laps around the training ground in front of the Magic Tower.
"Hey, Raygan! Your feet are stopping! Standing still while chanting a spell is no different from begging, 'Please, cut my throat!'"
"Yes, sir. I know that better than anyone."
How could I not?
If there was anyone in the world who had slit the throats of mages who stopped moving, it was me.
"Mages are usually a noble breed, cooped up in their magic towers doing nothing but research. But we are combat mages! We unfold maps more often than books, and we stain our hands with blood far more often than ink!"
Valen's roar echoed across the training ground.
"Stamina is mana, and stamina is survival! If you can't keep chanting even when you're gasping for your last breath, you're as good as dead!"
The branch family members of the Benheim family were also running alongside me. It seemed Valen was not only the vice-captain of the Rune Sentinels but also the training instructor for the Benheim branch families.
"...Ra-Raygan... I heard you became the son-in-law... pant, so why are you here?"
Brock von Benheim, who looked like he was about to drop dead right in front of me, was a prime example.
"Well... think of it as a qualification test for a son-in-law."
In truth, Stern's decision to assign me to the Rune Sentinels was likely a test to see if I possessed the skills worthy of being Lunia's husband and the Benheim family's son-in-law.
If so, I had no choice but to give it my all.
"One more lap to go!"
Fortunately, having lived as a low-ranking mercenary since childhood, my body was already somewhat conditioned.
And I possessed the mental fortitude and experience to breeze through such harsh training.
Compared to the battlefields of my past life, this level of training was mere child's play.
Though, since my current body wasn't fully developed yet, it wasn't entirely effortless.
"Take a break!"
The moment Valen's command fell, Brock and the other branch members collapsed to the ground with groans of agony. Having pushed my still-unrefined body through the grueling workout, I also took deep, ragged breaths and sat down on a nearby tree stump.
As I was catching my breath, Valen walked over and tossed me a canteen.
"Surprising. I expected you to collapse like some delicate scholar."
"Did I look like a delicate scholar to you?"
"I figured you'd snatched Lady Lunia away with nothing but your pretty face. But looking at your movements, you've got some decent practical muscle on you. Not bad."
In my past life, my body hadn't been particularly large. It was only natural, considering the lack of proper nutrition during my growing years.
But now that I was with the Benheim family, things were different. Feasting on elixirs and delicacies to my heart's content, I would be able to build a far superior physique than in my previous life.
"Anyway, I've misjudged you. The Patriarch brought in a rather useful piece of work."
Valen looked quite satisfied.
His gaze was like that of a father reuniting with a long-lost son, or an officer discovering an exceptional soldier.
I subtly averted my eyes, finding his gaze rather uncomfortable. During my mercenary days, whenever I received a look like that, it always meant I was about to be worked to the bone.
"By the way,"
I took a sip of water and caught my breath.
"I heard the operation is in a month."
"That's right. On the night of the eclipse."
"You said you would make me a useful mage, Vice-Captain. What is your standard of 'useful'?"
"Are you only asking now?"
"You put me through training before I could even ask. I'm the type to do what I'm told first."
Valen grinned broadly, clearly pleased with my attitude.
Then, he held up four fingers in front of my face.
"Simple. You must reach the 4th tier."
"The 4th tier..."
Indeed.
It had already been nearly three months since I reached the 3rd tier. My growth hadn't stalled, but the wall to the 4th tier was higher than expected. While reaching the 3rd tier had felt natural, I couldn't see a clear path to the 4th.
And for good reason. Even those who trained in magic their entire lives often stopped at the threshold of the 4th tier. A mage's true talent was decided from the 4th tier onward.
In other words, it was a stage that required enlightenment.
"It doesn't seem like a realm one can reach simply by accumulating mana. How does one ascend to the 4th tier?"
"Everyone breaks through the wall of the 4th tier differently, so you must realize it yourself. However, as a Benheim mage, I can at least offer some proper advice to a junior."
"Please, Vice-Captain."
"Only calling me Vice-Captain when you need something, tsk."
Valen clicked his tongue, but he didn't seem genuinely annoyed.
"Watch closely. You branch members too."
Valen began drawing something on the ground with a twig. The branch mages, including Brock, huddled around.
"Raygan, what do you think Rune Magic is?"
"Isn't it... magic that utilizes rune characters?"
"Yes. Exactly."
Valen drew the rune Kenaz (ᚲ) on the ground.
"The Benheim family restored the language of the age of gods and sublimated it into a magic system. Utilizing these twenty-four rune characters is the core of our unique magic formula. But Raygan, how have you been using Rune Magic until now?"
"I channeled mana and drew the characters."
"Right. That is the method up to the 3rd tier."
With a snap of Valen's fingers, the Kenaz drawn on the ground flared red, conjuring a small flame.
It was no different from how Kenaz was typically used.
"You imbue a single character with mana to distort reality. Kenaz means flame, Isaz means ice, Hagalaz means collapse, and so on. Manifesting the inherent meaning of each individual character—that is the magic you all are currently using."
"So you're saying that's not all there is to it."
"Of course not. If you thought you could reach the pinnacle of magic by merely shouting a single word, you were sorely mistaken."
Valen tapped the ground with his twig.
"From the 4th tier onward, it's different. Your realm is determined not by the accumulation of mana, but by how well you 'combine' the twenty-four runes."
"Combine...?"
"Think about it. Am I speaking to you right now by just throwing out single words?"
"No."
"Exactly. Letters gather to form words, and words gather to form sentences. That is language. For the Golden Clan who wields the power of Benheim's words... to reach the 4th tier..."
I didn't even need to hear the rest to know.
"You have to construct sentences with the runes."
At my words, Valen smirked.
"Bingo. For a guy with a face like yours, your brain works pretty fast."
Valen stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes.
"Seeing is believing. Let me show you what Rune Magic from the 4th tier onward looks like."
Valen reached his hand into the air. Kenaz was drawn from his fingertips. This was a realm I could also reach.
But what came next was different. Immediately after Kenaz, Valen drew the rune Isaz (ᛁ).
Common sense dictated that when the rune of flame and the rune of ice—two opposing attributes—met, they would cancel each other out.
Yet, instead of clashing, the two runes coexisted.
An exquisite balance. Kenaz and Isaz overlapped so perfectly that even I couldn't help but admire it.
"Kenaz means flame, but it has other meanings as well. If you delve into its etymology, it also carries the concept of 'to illuminate' or 'to launch.'"
As Valen explained, Kenaz enveloped Isaz. The red flames vanished, leaving only the propulsive force to pull back the blue block of ice like a taut bowstring.
"And Isaz is an attribute word meaning ice. What happens when you link these two into a single sentence?"
Thwip—!
Shatter!
With a sharp crack, an ice bullet shot forward at an invisible speed. It embedded itself deeply into the dead center of a target dozens of meters away.
"......!"
The branch members gasped in awe.
An ice bullet. A similar spell existed in common magic, but this was on an entirely different level from such trivial spells.
The speed and piercing power were formidable, and the mana efficiency was incredible. The power was doubled compared to using a single rune, yet the mana consumed was actually less.
"Do you understand? Here, Kenaz lost its attribute of 'flame' and took on the concept of 'launch.' And Isaz, as the attribute of 'ice,' assisted Kenaz."
Valen turned back to me and smirked proudly.
"Trigger words, attribute words, and conceptual words. Benheim's magic combines these runes to create tens of thousands of phenomena. The 4th tier refers to the stage where one possesses basic 'sentence fluency.'"
"...Ah."
It felt as if a fog had cleared from my mind. Until now, I had been using magic in an incredibly crude, brute-force manner.
"So, you lot are still in a realm below babbling infants. Do you understand now?"
"I understand perfectly."
High-tier rune mages used runes as sentences.
To them, we were probably just children babbling fragmented words.
I finally understood Brock's words about magic being a realm of calculation, not intuition.
"Hmm..."
As I pondered this, a question crossed my mind.
If combining two runes to make a short sentence was the 4th tier...
"Then... if one were to use multiple runes... could they even distort reality?"
"What do you mean?"
"For example... turning back time."
At the sudden question, Valen's eyes widened.
"...Time? Haha, you dream big. You act like an old man, but I guess you're still just a kid after all."
"Is it impossible?"
"No, theoretically, it is possible. The origin of Benheim's runes is the language of the age of gods. It is said that the mages of that era twisted causality and bent time to their will."
Which meant turning back time was indeed entirely possible.
After all, Stern himself had confirmed that the rune inside the pendant was related to time.
As I nodded to myself, Valen pointed a finger right in front of my face.
"However, practically speaking, it's impossible."
"Why is that?"
"Reversing time is grand magic even by the standards of the age of gods. To replicate such ancient grand magic with the magic of the age of humans... a mere two or three sentences won't cut it. Even if you used all dozens of runes created by Benheim, it would still be nearly impossible. When you consider the sheer amount of mana required for all those runes, and the sensitivity needed to coordinate them, it is simply not a realm achievable by humans."
Valen chuckled.
"That is the domain of the gods. At the very least, you would need to be in the 8th tier, or perhaps even higher, to even attempt it. In the history of Benheim, the only mage to ever reach such a realm was our founder."
"The 8th tier... or higher..."
In my past life, Lunia was an 8th-tier mage.
The regression that had happened to me had undoubtedly been caused by her.
Even in that desperate situation, she had achieved a miracle rivaling the grand magic of the age of gods just to send me back to the past.
Once again, I felt the immense weight of her sacrifice pressing down on my shoulders.
She's not just a good wife... she's far too good for me.
I swallowed a bitter smile and clenched my fist.
Therefore, I had absolutely no intention of stopping before the wall of the 4th tier.
"Thank you. Thanks to the path you just showed me, I think I've got the hang of it."
As the look in my eyes shifted, Valen's lips curled up in amusement.
"Ho... Your confidence is certainly something. Are you saying you can ascend to the 4th tier? A greenhorn who hasn't even been studying magic for half a year?"
"Yes, well. I happen to be a very fast learner."
"Nonsense. Even the Patriarch didn't reach the 4th tier before coming of age. You might have reached the 3rd tier thanks to Benheim's mana breathing technique and elixirs, but from the 4th tier onward, it's all about individual capability and enlightenment."
Valen snorted.
A good idea crossed my mind.
"Then, would you like to make a bet with me?"
"A bet?"
"If I reach the 4th tier within a month, you will grant me one wish."
Valen squinted at me before bursting into a disbelieving laugh.
"Fine. If you can reach the 4th tier within a month, I'll gladly give you my head."
"I don't need your head, but you'd better keep your promise."
A month.
That was more than enough time.
A week would be plenty.