Myriad Heavens: Rise of the Rune God

Chapter 277: Chapter 278: Filling the Circle

Soren Vale stepped into the clearing with quiet, careful steps.

He had a thin body. He didn’t look like the battle type. He moved like someone who didn’t fight battles but like someone who had spent majority of their years reading old texts in dusty halls. The scholar aura around him felt calm and held back, almost like a monk who preferred silence and careful thought over loud displays of power.

Long dark hair was tied neatly behind his head with a simple cord. Plain robes hung loosely on his frame, marked only with the most basic reinforcing scripts. Nothing about him looked flashy or aggressive, but the way he carried himself showed he was used to thinking three steps ahead before he ever moved.

He stopped just inside the stone boundary and looked around slowly.

The sudden quiet of the clearing still felt strange after experiencing the hungry forest just behind trying to consume him. Out there the trees and scripts had tried to eat everyone the entire time. Roots reached for legs, bark opened to pull bodies in, and leaves stuck to skin hoping to turn flesh into more runes.

People with weak foundations got slowly consumed if they were not careful. Some only survived because a partner or someone stronger pulled them free in time. The ones who traveled alone and could not defend themselves properly never made it out.

Soren had survived by keeping a steady passive wall of his own rune knowledge around himself the whole way. Now that wall was no longer needed, and the absence of the constant pressure made the open stone feel almost too peaceful.

He saw two people that were already sitting in circles.

And one of them made Soren’s eyes narrow a little.

The man with the half-open golden-white eye sat calmly, almost relaxed, as if he had been waiting for a long time. Even under the heavy suppression of the ruin, that eye still gave off a pressure that felt wrong. It was still active. The ruin was not shutting it down at all.

’That eye... what is this aura?’ Soren thought carefully. ’It is still working and the ruin is not suppressing it. That means the ruin does not block innate abilities or bloodlines. Interesting discovery. But even here, that eye feels very strong. Dangerous. I need to be careful around that one. The other one sitting beside him has chaotic energy, restless and sharp. It seems like they know each other. Possible allies. Best not to approach yet.’

He did not speak. He did not walk toward them. He simply kept the note of the one with the golden-white eye in the corner of his vision while he started examining the clearing the same careful way Runar had done earlier.

Runar and Wukong both watched him in silence from their seats.

Soren walked the full ring of circles with slow, methodical steps. His soft boots made almost no sound on the smooth stone. He stopped in front of the tall narrow tower first and placed one pale hand flat against its surface. The interlocking scripts under his palm looked dense and complex, shifting in slow patterns that should have been full of meaning. He pushed his quiet silver reading as deep as it would go, peeling layer after layer with the careful precision that had made him one of the top ten entrants with a solid foundation in the Principle of Runes.

Nothing came back.

The scripts stayed completely quiet, as if they were just empty shapes carved into something that refused to speak. No residual intent. No hidden structure. No reaction at all. Soren kept his hand there for several long breaths, changing the angle of his reading, trying softer approaches and firmer ones. Still nothing. He pulled his hand back and frowned slightly.

He moved to the nearest empty circle, crouched down, and pressed his palm flat against the center. The runes here were tighter and more rigid than the ones on the tower. He expected at least a small response. Instead he got the same complete silence. The stone under his hand felt cool and dead. He stayed crouched for a while, letting his reading sink deeper, but the circle remained locked.

He stood and walked to the next one. Same result. Then the next. And the next.

By the time he had checked seven empty circles the pattern was clear, but he kept going anyway. Careful people did not skip steps. Each time he crouched, placed his hand, pushed his reading, and received nothing in return. The silence was so total it almost felt deliberate.

’Strange,’ he thought while standing in front of another empty circle.

’Outside, the forest tries to eat you every second. The scripts are alive and hungry and constantly attacking. Here, everything is locked so tightly that even basic reading returns nothing. These runes are so incredibly dense and compact. They should be overflowing with meaning. But they refuse to open. So the logical reasoning that makes sense is if they are waiting for a condition. A very specific condition.’

He straightened fully and looked at the entire ring again. Twenty perfect circles arranged with careful precision around the single tower. Two seats already taken. Eighteen still empty.

’Twenty circles. Twenty people. It only starts when every seat is filled. That is the cleanest answer. The outer forest was just the filter to thin the numbers. This place is the first real gate, and it will not open until the required number sits down.’

The conclusion settled in his mind with quiet certainty. He did not like how clean it felt. Clean answers in ruins this deep often came with sharp edges later. Still, it was the only conclusion that fit the complete silence.

Soren chose a circle that gave him a clear view of both the seated pair and the main paths leading into the clearing from the forest. He wanted to see new arrivals the moment they stepped onto the stone.

When he lowered himself into the circle and settled his weight fully, a faint pulse moved through the stone under him. It was soft, almost polite. The third seat had been acknowledged. The same soft pulse traveled through the ring and brushed against the base of the tower. The interlocking scripts on its surface shifted a tiny bit, like a book adjusting its pages, before going still again.

Soren folded his thin hands in his lap and began counting the distant auras still approaching through the forest. He stayed wary of the golden-white eye the entire time. His own silver reading stayed low and careful, just enough to track movement without drawing attention.

While Soren was still examining the circles and settling in, Runar and Wukong spoke through spirit transmission so no one else could hear.

”Looks like the skinny one is on guard against you,” Wukong said. His mental voice carried a mix of amusement and real caution. ”I bet it’s because of that eye of yours. Even I got a shock when I saw it again. When did it get this strong? Last time I saw/experienced it, it didn’t feel this terrifying.”

”Long story,” Runar answered calmly. His mental tone stayed even and practical. ”We’ll talk properly later. For now, stay sharp. More people are about to arrive, and not all of them will sit down quietly.”

Wukong gave a small mental grunt of agreement. They both watched Soren settle into his chosen circle without another spoken word. The thin man’s careful posture and constant side glances toward Runar were easy to read even from a distance.

Not like he was trying to hide it.

Suddenly a heavy cold pressure rolled into the quiet clearing not long after.

It arrived ahead of the person, like winter air that had decided to walk on its own. The temperature around the stone dropped a little the moment the new presence crossed the boundary. Leaves that had drifted near the edge of the clearing froze at the tips for a second before the effect faded.

Vark the Annihilator stepped out of the forest with slow, unhurried steps. He was broad and solid, the kind of build that looked like it could break stone just by standing still. His expression stayed flat and cold. The aura around him felt heavy enough to press against the skin. He glanced at the three people already sitting. His eyes rested on Runar for a brief second longer than the others, then looked away as if none of them mattered enough to hold his attention.

He walked straight to the tower without speaking. One large hand pressed against the surface. He pushed a reading into it, short and direct. Nothing came back. He moved to two empty circles, tested each one the same way, and got the same complete silence. Vark reached the same conclusion without needing to walk the full ring. He chose a circle far from the others, near the opposite side of the tower, and sat down. The cold around him settled deeper into the stone, making the air feel sharper in that part of the clearing.

Wukong’s spirit voice came again, quieter this time.

”That one feels like bad news. Heavy. Like he doesn’t care who else is here.”

Runar gave a small mental nod of agreement. He kept the Eye of Myriad Truths working at a low steady level, tracking the new cold presence without wasting energy.

Lyra Solenne arrived next with her four followers.

They entered in a tight diamond formation, moving as one clean unit. The living forest behind them seemed to lean away from the combined pressure of their synchronized reading. Lyra herself walked at the front, tall and composed. Silver bloodline markings traced elegant lines across her collarbones and the backs of her hands, glowing faintly under the quiet light of the clearing. Her four followers kept perfect spacing, their auras linked so tightly that the ruin treated them almost like a single presence.

Lyra raised one hand and the group stopped cleanly at the edge of the stone. She studied the tower first, then the people already seated. Her eyes moved from Runar to Wukong, lingered a moment on Soren, and then rested longer on Vark’s cold figure. One of her followers, the quiet man who handled secondary reading, spoke in a low voice that only their group could hear.

”Five seats taken already. The circles are completely locked. No response from the tower either. The only reading that makes sense is that all twenty need to be filled before anything starts.”

Lyra nodded once, slow and controlled. ”Claim seats in order. Stay disciplined. Do not provoke anyone yet. We take positions that give us clear sight lines and room to move if things turn bad.”

The four followers moved out in a controlled spread. Each one chose a circle with careful spacing, never clustering too tightly and never sitting too close to Vark or the pair of Runar and Wukong. Lyra took a circle herself that let her watch both the tower and the main entrance paths. Five more seats filled in a clean, organized wave. Soft pulses traveled through the ring with each new person who sat. The scripts on the tower shifted a little further each time, like a lock slowly turning toward the open position.

The clearing now held multiple strong auras sitting in silence.

Soren watched everyone from his chosen spot, still calculating distances and possible threat levels. Vark’s cold pressure made the air feel heavier on that side of the ring. Lyra’s group sat with the same tight discipline they had used to survive the forest, their linked auras steady and ready. Wukong shifted restlessly beside Runar but stayed in his circle, golden eyes flicking from one new arrival to the next. Runar himself remained calm, eyes half-lidded while the Eye of Myriad Truths quietly tracked every new presence and every empty seat that remained.

Distant auras were still coming fast through the forest. Sylphy’s pirate group moved in a hungry, aggressive line. The tall and short pair, Darius and Finn, pushed hard side by side. Other strong readers who had survived the outer layer were closing in from different directions. The empty circles suddenly felt more important. Everyone seated could feel the change in the air. Once the later arrivals started competing for the final seats, the first real conflict of the Reliquary might break out right here on the smooth stone.

Runar sat quietly, already mapping possible threats and possible alliances based on who had chosen which circle. The silent tower waited for the rest of its twenty, patient and unreadable. Outside, the living forest continued its endless attempt to devour anyone still running toward the center, roots and bark and leaves working without rest. Inside the clearing the only sound was the soft breathing of the people who had already claimed their seats, and the faint, almost polite pulses that answered each time a new circle was filled.

The first real gate of the Myriad Script Reliquary was slowly locking into place, one seat at a time.