"So this is a derivative rune…"
Ron watched as the golden rune that had summoned a tiny whirlwind slowly faded away. The small tornado danced briefly across the sand before vanishing, leaving only a faint breeze behind. Its power was negligible just a simple gathering of wind.
Still, it was a beginning.
He memorized every intricate line of the rune before summoning his achievement interface. The new Achievement Point from Rune Explorer appeared, and he immediately invested it into Spirit.
That particular achievement, he noted, hadn't been listed before—it was a hidden one. And now that it was unlocked, a new goal had appeared beneath it:
Achievement: Rune Master – Master all eight derivative runes of one element.
Ron exhaled softly. "That one's going to take a while…"
Mastering all eight was no easy feat. But even without the reward, he intended to do it anyway. For second-, third-, and especially fifth-tier magic, all nine runes the base plus the eight derivatives would undoubtedly be required.
Four days of intense research for one success. Fatigue pressed against his eyes, yet excitement burned stronger. He immediately began the next step fusion.
Now that he possessed both the Elven Wand and the mental strength of a true mage, he finally had the qualifications to attempt second-tier magic.
He steadied his breathing and guided his wand through the air.
Boom!
The moment he tried fusing the base rune with his first derivative rune, the structure shattered. Wild wind erupted like a sudden squall.
Ron's eyes narrowed. He gripped the Elven Wand with both hands and whispered a single word. The wand's tip glimmered with light, and the violent gust dissipated like air from a punctured balloon.
The Elven Wand's strength wasn't just in faster casting or reduced spiritual cost—it also gave him a degree of control over magic and the elements themselves.
Before, he could steer a Wind Blade roughly toward his target; now, he could suspend a Fireball in midair above his wand for several seconds before releasing it.
Likewise, when a rune collapsed, he could guide the chaos and soften the resulting backlash—no explosions, no accidents.
"No good, huh?"
He frowned. The resonance felt wrong. That base rune simply couldn't merge with the first derivative rune, it was like forcing two mismatched gears to turn together.
Still, that was only intuition. Maybe it required more runes to stabilize.
"Three it is, then."
With his current control and the wand's precision, even a failed triple fusion wouldn't spiral out of control. He could suppress the elemental chaos easily.
He knew from earlier trials that three base runes together couldn't form a second-tier spell.
Now, with one derivative rune available, there were three new patterns to test:
One base rune with two derivatives.
One derivative with two base runes.
Three derivatives combined.
He intended to test them all.
Hours passed.
By midnight, Ron slumped against the reef, exhausted, wand resting loosely in his hand.
"No… it's still not working."
He hadn't eaten, hadn't moved from his spot since sunset. Dozens of combinations attempted, each one precise each one ending in failure.
No matter the arrangement, the fusion collapsed before completion. None of the structures formed a true second-tier wind spell.
It was clear now one derivative rune wasn't enough.
He rubbed his temple, frustration flickering and then fading as quickly as it came.
Failure was part of progress.
If one rune wasn't enough, he'd simply derive another. With the Elven Wand, creating new runes was no longer a labor of agony. And now that he understood how the first derivative functioned, he already had theories for the next.
Resolved, Ron sighed, jumped down from the reef, and walked back toward town.
The small coastal settlement was quiet. By the time he reached the inn, most lights were out. Fatigue hit him like a wave. He washed up quickly and prepared to sleep—only for a faint noise through the wall to catch his attention.
"Come on, enough drinking," a gruff voice murmured. "If we oversleep tomorrow and miss the fleet assembly, the captain'll skin us."
"Just one more cup! Heh… when the great Krieg calls the whole armada together, you know it's gonna be a big one."
Ron froze, his senses sharpening.
"Yeah, the captain said something about the Zeal Sea… planning to take an island out there."
"Are you stupid? The Zeal Sea has two Marine branches guarding its core islands. Fighting there is suicide."
"Idiot, we're not attacking the Marines. It's a weapon deal an underground arms trade. If we take it all, we'll be unstoppable! Even if the Navy sends ships, who cares?"
"Ha! If we pull it off, Krieg will be the true ruler of the East Blue!"
"That's right—this is the battle that'll decide who owns these seas."
Their drunken laughter faded into muffled chatter.
On the other side of the wall, Ron sat upright, listening intently. The inn's walls muffled sound well; no ordinary person could have understood a word. But his spirit-enhanced perception picked up every syllable.
"Admiral Krieg…" he murmured.
Piece by piece, the conversation painted a clear picture. In the western Zeal Sea, a massive weapons deal was about to take place. Krieg planned to gather every ship and seize it for himself, arming his fleet to the teeth.
If Ron's memory served, this was the moment that would make Krieg's name infamous the foundation of his five-thousand-man fleet.
He leaned back, lost in thought.
"Should I get involved?"
His eyes narrowed. "If Nami were here…"
It was tempting. A battle like that would open the floodgates for achievements—kills, bounties, plundered ships, maybe even another rank-up reward. And now, armed with the Elven Wand, he no longer feared numbers.
But he had promised Nami he'd wait for her.
No Den Den Mushi, no way to contact her. If she came back and couldn't find him… that would be trouble.
The wind outside whispered faintly against the window.
Ron sat in silence, torn between opportunity and promise, as the tide of destiny began to shift once again in the East Blue.
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