Myriad Heavens: Rise of the Rune God

Chapter 271: Chapter 272: Deeper Scripts 1

Runar walked beneath trees that no longer pretended to be ordinary.

The deeper he walked into the forest the trunks appeared wider, the bark darker, and the living runes that covered them moved with deliberate slowness. Each sequence carried more weight than the ones in the outer forest. The Eye of Myriad Truths stayed fully open, golden-white light steadily peeling the scripts apart. Every dozen steps, residual intent clung to certain clusters like thin smoke that refused to fade.

He stopped in front of one such cluster on the ancient tree he had encountered before where he found those memories.

’Looks likes another set of memories.’ Runar thought as he focused his eyes on the runes and cracked them open.

The symbols on the tree pulsed once again, recognizing the depth of his gaze. And the forest dissolved once again.

He stood in a vast empty space that had no floor and no sky. In front of him floated a newly formed structure, still bright at the edges, still unfinished. The same tall figure in plain dark robes stood with both hands clasped behind his back, studying the structure in silence.

After a long moment the figure spoke, voice calm and almost conversational.

”They will come. Most will break themselves against the first layer. A few will read. Fewer still will understand what they are reading.”

He lifted one hand. A small, incomplete Will- lifeform flickered into existence beside him, glowed briefly, and then vanished as if it had never been there.

”Let us see which is more interesting — the ones who force their way forward, or the ones who stop to look.”

The figure turned slightly, as if about to glance again toward the point from which Runar observed. The residual memory cut off.

---

The forest returned.

Runar remained still for several breaths, letting the fragment settle.

’Just as i thought another piece of memory. So it looks like he created this place on purpose and he expected people to come. And he was already thinking about who might reach the end.’

He filed the new information alongside the earlier fragments and the unread research notes. The incomplete runes he had taken from the workshop continued to integrate in the background, slowly expanding the range of what he could perceive. The suppression that weighed on everyone else felt another fraction lighter on him.

He started walking again. His pace was steady, purposeful, and faster than before. The outer forest and its rising noise were already falling behind.

---

Some distance away, Wukong crouched on a thick branch that was more rune than wood. Well it was never wood in the first place

He stared at a vertical sequence of symbols with narrowed golden eyes, one hand resting on his staff.

”Ok so these ones are denser,” he said aloud to no one. ”And the runes at the edge of the forest from where I was earlier are sparse.”

He reached out and dragged one finger slowly down the sequence of runes. The runes brightened under his touch, then flowed into his comprehension with less resistance than the outer ones had shown. Power that had been locked by the suppression stirred and answered more readily. His body felt lighter. The constant pressure eased by another small degree.

Wukong grinned.

”As expected the more runes you comprehend the lesser the suppression. The person who built this ruin is really a show off, i cant even begin to imagine the complexity of everything.”

”Uhn, what is this?” he thought as he sensed a faint residual intent clung to the next cluster of symbols a little higher on the same trunk. Wukong focused on it without ceremony, curiosity outweighing caution.

And the world suddenly tilted in his vison. ”The fuck...” And before he could react he wasn’t standing in the forest anymore.

---

He stood inside the endless workshop of floating script. The same dark-robed figure was writing with both hands this time, movements fast, precise, and completely unhurried. Sheets of glowing runes folded and unfolded around him like living things.

”Too many of them will try to break what they cannot read,” the figure said, sounding almost amused. ”Let them. Breaking things is easy. The ones who stop to look carefully will go further.”

He flicked one finger. A complex three-dimensional rune structure collapsed into a single dense point of light, then expanded again in a completely new form.

”Better. Still not enough, but better.”

The vision ended as abruptly as it had begun. And he found himself back in the forest.

Wukong blinked, his brain completely frox, he didn’t know what he had just witnessed.

”What the hell was that, well, from my deduction that old man looked like the creator of this ruin, I couldn’t even comprehend the runes he was just drawing, but he is definitely a weirdo or a psycho.”

”Why was he talking to himself that much?, did that old man really like the sound of his own voice that much.”

”I guess I would find out more info if I can find more memorize like this.”

He dropped from the branch, landed lightly on the rune-covered ground, and started moving again with clearer direction. The outer forest no longer held anything interesting. The runes ahead felt richer, older, and more willing to speak to someone who bothered to listen. That was enough reason to keep going.

As he walked he continued reading, sometimes muttering comments under his breath, sometimes falling silent when a particularly elegant sequence demanded full attention. His progress was uneven but real. Every significant pattern he absorbed made the next one slightly easier.

---

In a different stretch of the deepening forest, Vark the Annihilator walked without sound.

The living runes on the trees nearest to him bent slightly away from his presence, as if the scripts themselves preferred not to make contact. He barely glanced at most of them. Only the densest, oldest clusters received even a moment of his attention, and even then his expression never changed.

He stopped once in front of a wide, dark trunk. A residual intent tried to surface. Vark allowed it, eyes cold and patient.

---

Darkness. A different fragment, sharper than the others.

The dark-robed figure stood over a series of incomplete diagrams that pulsed with quiet, destructive potential. The runes in the diagrams did not create or bind. They unmade.

”Even principles can be unwritten,” the figure said, voice still calm. ”If the language is complete enough. That is the final test of the script.”

The memory ended almost as soon as it began, leaving only the echo of those words.

---

Vark’s eyes narrowed by a fraction of a degree.

”Unwritten.”

”Just what i was looking for”

”If I can find the source runes that can unwrite even principles. Then my PRINCIPLE OF ANNIHILATION WOULD BE COMPLETE and I would be able to easily breakthrough to the Paragon Realm and above. Finally after years of waiting the time is near.”

He resumed walking at the same unhurried pace, heading toward the region where the living runes felt heaviest and oldest. Nothing in his posture suggested excitement.

Only certainty that ’I WILL ANNIHILATE ANYTHING THAT STAND IN MY PATH OF ANNIHILATION.’

---

Some distance away, a woman with sharp features and cold, clear eyes stood before a wide tree, one hand resting lightly on the bark. Faint silver markings along her temples glowed softly as she read. Behind her, three cautious followers waited in silence.

She withdrew her hand after a long moment and spoke without looking back.

”The density increases the farther we go. The residual intents are also stronger and more complete. We move deeper. Stay close. Do not waste time or energy on the weaker scripts in this area.”

One of the followers, a younger man with a tight expression, hesitated. ”What if the center is a trap? The deeper we go, the harder it may be to leave.”

The woman finally turned her head just enough to glance at him.

”Then we will read the trap,” she answered, already walking. ”In this place, reading is the only reliable way forward. Everything else is noise.”

As she moved between the older trees, a faint residual intent brushed against her awareness. She paused for only a few seconds, long enough to accept it.

---

A brief, clear image of the dark-robed figure standing before a completed gate of pure script.

”Only those who can truly read will reach the end. The rest will remain where their understanding stops.”

---

The woman opened her eyes. Her expression had not changed, but something in her gaze had sharpened.

”We continue,” she said.

The three followers fell in behind her without further comment. The small group headed deeper into the forest, moving with careful, measured steps as the living runes around them grew denser with every passing minute.

---

Across different paths of the same expanding forest, the pattern repeated.

Those who could read well enough to notice the increasing density of the scripts began moving toward the center. Those who could not remained in the outer regions, still fighting over lesser fragments and still failing to understand why their strength refused to return.

The first layer was quietly dividing itself.

And in the deeper regions, where the trees were older and the residual intents stronger, the real contenders continued to advance — still separated by distance, still unaware of exactly who else was walking the same direction, but all of them drawn by the same growing weight of living script.