To etch a rune is to confess.
There is no casual engraving. No light touch. Only devotion. Obsession. Precision so pure it borders madness.
And always—structure.
The first rune was etched in blood and fire. It failed.
The second held.
And from that moment on, the world was never the same.
The 4-Rune System became sacred law:
1. Rune A — the name of the first wish.
2. Rune B — the echo of that wish, giving it form.
3. The Chant — the voice that dares call it forth.
4. The Engraver's Mark — the signature. The soul's final seal.
Then came the double-layered system.
Five runes, two chants, and one unwavering will.
Few survive the toll. Fewer still master it.
Triple-layered?
Seven runes. Three chants.
Three truths carved into one vessel.
No one sane dares attempt it.
But sanity never stopped legend.
These are not spells. Not enchantments. Not tricks.
They are structures—deliberate, demanding, and eternal. The lines must be perfect. The flow exact. A single fracture, and the weapon fails. Or worse… it succeeds in the wrong way.
The rune does not care for intention.
Only order.
And if you defy that order?
You become the next ghost it remembers.