THE RUNE THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE APPEARED
The Village of the Deaf Blacksmith awoke before dawn.
Not because its people were diligent—but because fire could never be left unattended.
Kairin Wei knew this better than anyone.
He stood barefoot on the cold ground before the half-ruined forge, watching dull, almost black smoke spill from the chimney. The coal inside burned unevenly. It always had—ever since his father died.The fire no longer listened.
"Again…" he whispered.
He was seventeen, yet his shoulders ached like those of an old man. His hands were covered in scars, his palms rough—as if he had spent his entire life gripping not a hammer, but hell itself. He tossed another piece of coal into the furnace—
—and at that very moment, the rune on his left palm flickered.
Cold. Blue.
Kairin clenched his fist.
"Quiet…" he murmured, as if the rune could hear him.
It obediently dimmed.
But it was already too late.
From behind fences, from darkened windows, from half-closed doors—they watched him. He could not see their eyes, yet he felt their gazes as clearly as the pain in his bones during cold nights.
Cursed, they thought.The son of the one devoured by runes.
Once, this forge had been the heart of the village.Now—it was its wound.
Kairin remembered the day his father died in perfect detail.
The smell of overheated metal.A scream cut short mid-breath.And runes carving themselves into flesh—too deep, too greedy.
He had been ten years old then.
That was also the day his rune appeared.
A small spiral on his palm. Gray, almost invisible. But at night, it glowed—and the village saw.
From that day on, Kairin was no longer a child.He was a warning.
"Hey!" A sharp voice cut through the air.
Kairin did not flinch. He already knew who it was.
The village elder stood at the entrance—short, heavyset, his skin marked with small protective runes. They were dull, but precise. Approved by the schools.
"You know what day it is," the elder said, keeping his distance.
"I do," Kairin replied, slowly wiping his hands on his trousers.
How could he not?
Today, the recruiters were coming.
Sects. Academies. Orders.
Those who decided who had the right to live with runes—and who did not.
"You are not allowed to appear at the square," the elder said. "This is not for someone like you."
"Like what?" Kairin asked calmly.
The man clenched his jaw.
"For the… unstable."
That word was worse than cursed.
Kairin nodded.
"I'm going anyway."
The elder went pale.
"Are you trying to bring disaster upon us?!"
"It's already here," Kairin replied, turning away.
His back was straight.His hands lowered.The rune was silent.
But something stirred within him.
The square was overflowing.
Young men and women stood in neat rows, displaying their wrists, necks, collarbones—the places where the first proper runes appeared. Some trembled with excitement. Others—with fear.
At the center stood them.
The representatives of the schools.
Their tattoos did not merely glow—they breathed. The runes slowly shifted shape, reacting to the world, to people, to weakness.
Kairin felt it instantly.
Pressure.
As if the air itself had grown heavier.
"Next," a voice called.
A young man stepped forward. His runes were clean, precise. He did not even flinch as they were examined.
"Suitable. Heavenly Chisel Academy."
Whispers of joy.
"Next."
"Suitable. Eternal Ember Sect."
Applause.
And then—
"And who is this?"
Silence fell.
Kairin stood apart, but they had noticed him.
One of the recruiters—a man in a dark cloak, shadow runes etched along his neck—narrowed his eyes.
"Come closer."
Kairin took a step.
Then another.
Then a third.
When he stopped, the pressure became unbearable.
"Show it," they ordered.
He opened his palm.
The spiral rune glowed softly.
A disturbance rippled through the square.
"Self-formed…""No matrix…""It's alive…"
The recruiter from the Order of the Shadow Scribe smiled.The senior from the Academy frowned.
"This rune has no authorization," he said coldly. "It manifested without a ritual."
"People like him," someone added, "explode."
Kairin raised his eyes.
"My father didn't explode," he said quietly."He was devoured."
The silence turned heavy.
"That's enough," the senior said sharply."Such runes are a threat.""Take him."
At that moment, the rune on Kairin's palm pulsed.
Not with fear.
With anger.
And somewhere deep within—beyond pain and screaming—he heard a whisper.
…finally……a bearer……do not close your eyes…
The rune cracked.
And that meant only one thing.
His life was being rewritten.