Days had passed since Mordred had begun his study of runes, and now, lying on the cold floor of the ancient underground prison, his body covered in sweat and dust, he contemplated with satisfaction the stone ceiling above him. He could still feel the energy of the last runes vibrating slightly in his fingers, and an exhausted but victorious smile slowly stretched across his lips.
- "Even with so much power within me, it took me this long," he murmured, short of breath. "What a difficult art..."
Mordred remained like this for a few minutes, savoring this moment of respite after so much effort. Each rune had demanded absolute control of his mana, surgical precision in his gestures, and above all, a deep understanding of the infinite subtleties of this ancient art. The path had been rough, but the result was there: he now perfectly mastered the concealment enchantments that had made this prison invisible to dragons.
