[Attempt: 18]

[Failure: 11]

[Success: 7]

Adrian let out a deep sigh as he leaned back, closing his eyes for a brief moment of rest.

He had been at it for nearly three hours now—and not once had he felt truly satisfied with any of the armaments he created.

The system counted seven successful pieces so far, but the numbers didn't matter to him. Not when each one still felt… incomplete.

'Am I being too picky?' he wondered, rubbing his temples.

According to the system, crafting twenty successful armaments would be enough to qualify him as a fourth-grade Runesmith.

So... should he just aim for that?

He shook his head. No.

He knew himself well enough. He wouldn't be able to face a real client—someone who entrusted him with their weapon—if he didn't feel absolute confidence in his work.

He needed more than just approval from the system. He needed to feel it in his bones—that the armament was flawless, refined, perfect.

He still had three days left. And sixteen hours remaining inside the Time Chamber.

If he worked efficiently, cut down a few hours of sleep, and kept pushing forward—then maybe, just maybe, he could reach the level he truly desired.

I should freshen up a bit, Adrian thought, deciding to take a quick bath before diving back into his work.

After rinsing off the fatigue, he stepped into his office and opened the dimensional chat group.

The screen lit up with a flood of messages—and he was instantly taken aback.

Raven: [How did it go?!]

Idiot: [Ehe~ don't ask. I'm quite shy~]

Dark Knight: [I'm glad you've regained your memories, Avirin.]

Crimson: [Welcome back. (Also, four more artifacts.)]

Forgelet: [It's sudden… but welcome back, Avy.]

Most of the messages were warm greetings, welcoming him back with affection and familiarity.

Except, of course, for Raven and Idiot—who already looked like they were seconds away from starting another one of their bickering matches.

Adrian smiled softly and typed out his response:

Avirin: [Thank you for waiting for me. It's good to be back.]

He still couldn't recall everything about them—the conversations they once had, the bonds they'd shared—but now, at least, he understood something:

Why were they so fond of him.

The first message, unsurprisingly, came from Idiot:

Idiot: [Daaaaaaahling! Why didn't you text me? I was this close to barging in to check on you!]

Raven: [Wait—what?! You two already met?! That's so unfair!]

Raven's tone was sharp, almost accusing, while Idiot… was just being her usual self.

She was childish, dramatic, and always demanding attention.

Once, that side of her used to irritate Adrian. But now, as he caught his own reflection in the mirror, he found himself smiling.

He responded calmly:

Avirin: [For the next three days, I'll be extremely busy. No texting, no visits—and especially no sudden appearances, Idiot.]

He couldn't have the strongest Warden looking for him in the academy.

While he was also eager to spend some time with Bella, catch up with the lost time, he needs to finish the work unless he was prepared to lose the hint system would be providing.

Idiot: [...promise me a full day then. After four days, we will spend a whole day together.]

Adrian paused for a moment, thinking it over, before replying with a simple, "Okay."

Just then, a knock echoed from the door.

"Who is it?" Adrian called out as he walked over.

Opening it, he found Gilbert standing there.

"I know today's supposed to be your rest day," Gilbert said, his tone polite but serious, "but… could we talk for a moment?"

Adrian blinked in mild surprise. It was unusual for Gilbert to visit him like this. While it wasn't particularly late, the man was known for strictly handling business in working hours—and usually in staff offices, never personal quarters.

Still, Adrian didn't make him wait. He stepped aside and gestured him in.

Gilbert gave a grateful nod and made his way to the tea table, quietly pulling out a chair.

"Would you like some coffee?" Adrian offered, already heading toward the small side shelf.

Gilbert shook his head. "No, thank you."

Adrian nodded and took a seat across from him. "So? What's the matter?"

One glance at Gilbert's face was enough—he wasn't here for a casual chat. There was a faint tension in his eyes, a tightness in his jaw. Whatever brought him here, it carried weight.

And sure enough—

"Professor Adrian," Gilbert began, his tone careful, "would you consider becoming the lead organizer and chief tuner for our academy's team?"

Adrian blinked, caught off guard. "Chief tuner… for the upcoming contest?"

Gilbert gave a small nod.

The Warborn Tournament.

A grand contest held between the top academies—where students competed in both solo battles and team clashes to determine the ultimate victor.

It wasn't just a matter of prestige. Winning the tournament meant recognition, opportunity… and influence.

"As you know," Gilbert began, "our academy doesn't have the best reputation when it comes to the tournament. In the last five years, we've only managed to secure third place once. And this year… might be my last."

Adrian already knew all of this.

Because Gilbert had served the academy well—and because this was likely his final year—Ariana had made no changes to his position.

Adrian responded, "But you… you're good at what you do. No student has ever complained about your tuning. The real reason we've been falling behind… is the students' lack of performance."

Unlike the other academies, which dedicated an entire year preparing their students to shine at the Warborn Tournament, Runebound had never treated it with the same seriousness.

Their focus was different.

While others trained for victory and prestige, Runebound trained its students for something else entirely—

Not to become champions…but to become warriors.

"No, sir. I want more from this championship," Gilbert said firmly. "I know the academy—and even the Headmistress—doesn't place much weight on the contest. But for me… it's about our academy's honor. And mine."

Adrian understood what the man meant. But he had to be honest.

"It'll still come down to the students' abilities," Adrian replied. "No matter how well their armaments are tuned, it all depends on how they're used in the arena."

Gilbert's brows lifted slightly. "This year's team leader is Elana, Professor. Are you telling me you don't trust her?"

Adrian fell silent.

If he said no… he'd be lying.

He did trust Elana. He trusted her strength, her instincts, and her judgment.

She was young—but her experience, her composure… they far exceeded her age.

If anyone could shift the tides for Runebound this year… It was her.

Gilbert leaned forward and said, "I won't force you…but please consider it, Professor. Many things depend on this."

°°°°°°°

A/N:- Thanks for reading.