The ability to observe the process of a newborn magic soul fusing with its rune would be Richard’s gate to entering the saint realm as a runemaster; with this opportunity gone, he didn’t know just how long he would have to fumble around in the dark until he could find another.
A sibling’s betrayal was nothing new to him; in fact, Warren had almost gotten him killed years ago when he was new to Faust. However, thinking of Venica and feeling the blood dripping down his fingers, he couldn’t help but think of one person: the source of their shared bloodline. A tombstone hadn’t yet been erected in the family cemetery, and without Mordred confirming it he still held on to a thread of hope that the man could return. If such a day arose, would he be happy seeing his children destroying each other?
Richard stood in place for exactly ten minutes before wiping the bloodstains with a handkerchief, leaving...