by Cale Plamann
“Magi,” the voice responded. “An advanced class that allows the user to utilize and combine more than one affinity. A focus on ritual casting gives the user bonuses to learning and successfully casting rituals. Magi gain one point in their Mind and Spirit attributes each level and have a high rate of mana growth. To unlock this class, the user must have at least 5 levels in the Spellcasting skill, 1 level in the Ritual Casting skill, and more than one affinity.” The voice paused, casting Micah into a pit of agony as the smell of cooking flesh wafted up from his palms. “Would you like to confirm your selection?”
“Yes,” he hissed out. Magic flowed into his body, but with the sound of a windowpane breaking, the crystal shattered, rapidly breaking down into a fine white dust. Micah didn’t know or care why it happened, instead clutching his still-smoking and blackened hands.
Through a haze of pain, he cast Augmented Mending from memory, not even thinking that his status sheet currently didn’t show him knowing the spell. Perhaps by a miracle or some intercession of Mursa, it still worked, consuming all of his mana but ending the pain in his hands. Blacked skin chipped and began falling off his palms, revealing pristine pink-white flesh underneath.
Micah looked at his hands in wonder. That shouldn’t have happened. Spells took weeks of practice to perfect; even if you knew their words and formulae, you couldn’t just cast them. The inflection of the chant and the flow of mana through the caster’s body were both delicate skills that couldn’t be acquired overnight.
Even if he knew the spell, he didn’t have enough mana yet to cast Augmented Mending at level 1. Like skills, spells gained levels that altered both their mana cost and effectiveness. At level 1, Augmented Mending should have been ruinously expensive and barely enough to heal a serious cut.
He checked his status, face breaking into an immediate grin. He’d gained a point of Moon attunement from “learning” his first second-tier Wood affinity spell, and Augmented Mending was already at level 7, exactly where it’d been when he threw himself into the past. Apparently, Blessed Return treated spell levels as skill levels.
Even if his mana levels were pitiful due to his low-class level, Micah’s high skill level in spellcasting and basic combat magic would be enough for him to start venturing outside the city walls to gain levels. Really, it was only a matter of finding low-level enemies such as feral boars and kobolds until he gained the levels and mana needed to use the entirety of his magical arsenal.
Once he leveled up a couple times, even if his body was nowhere near as rugged as it used to be, the extra Mind and Spirit points from his enhanced class would be enough for him to quickly surpass his previous life.
Quietly, Micah swept up the dust from the crystal and went to bed. He still needed to get up early enough to go to the library and continue his study of ritual magic. His skill level wasn’t high enough yet, but he’d already made note of a teleportation ritual and one that would halve the amount of sleep he needed in a week.
Part of Micah was concerned that his master plan involved fiddling with the very fabric of the cosmos in order to sneak out at night, but at the same time, he couldn’t come up with another solution. He could create an energy draught with his Herbalism skill, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near as effective as the ritual, and it had some nasty side effects and addictive properties if he used it too often. Plus, the guards would certainly notice if he went to and from the city frequently without a proper explanation. The last thing he needed was to be labeled a spy.
The next two weeks went quickly. During the day, Micah studied ritual magic and astronomy, incrementally improving his knowledge toward the two selected rituals. At night, he cast his spells one by one, unlocking them as he prepared for his eventual sojourn outside the city walls.
Finally, Micah considered himself ready. He’d learned enough enchanting and ritual magic to create a beacon, a target for the teleportation ritual to lock on to. If he was going to train at night, he needed to create a beacon outside the walls, someplace secluded where monsters and travelers wouldn’t come upon him.
Greeting the guards, Micah left Basil’s Cove early Saturday morning. They didn’t inspect him that closely—after all, youth were exempt from the city’s tolls per Luxos’ edict. They’d probably care a little more when he came back, just to ensure that he wasn’t carrying contraband, but even then, most of the guards in his past life hadn’t taken their jobs all that seriously. Their actual job was to scare off wandering monsters and bandits, not to regulate the flow of dream leaf into the city. After all, Basil’s Cove was a fairly prominent port. Dream leaf, divine tears, drake resin—all of them were smuggled off of visiting ships and into the houses of ill repute in the slums.
Technically, the narcotics were illegal, but the city didn’t put a large amount of effort into policing them. So long as users stuck to their ramshackle drug slums in the forgotten districts, the Council didn’t even bother to send the militia to arrest them. They kept the forgotten high and complacent regarding their social stature. Frankly, Micah had always wondered if some of the noble houses that made up the Council were actively part of the trade.
Micah looked up at the cloudless sky, enjoying the crisp air of the sunny morning. The hardened dirt of the road crunched under his boots as he walked for almost a half-hour before summoning the Ageless Folio and checking local landmarks. Spotting the lightning-struck pine tree towering above the local forest, he smiled and veered from the path, humming a fast-paced ditty.
Using his spear as a walking stick, Micah made his way through the forest, occasionally checking the Folio for references to landmarks. Once he got turned around—a tree that was felled during his original journey still stood—but before too long, he came upon his target, a mound of boulders and rocks, almost twenty feet high. When he’d first discovered it, four years in the future in his previous timeline, Micah and Drekt had speculated that it was the result of a high-level Earth spell. After all, how else would a pile of boulders appear in the middle of an otherwise flat but densely forested plain?
Walking closer, he spotted his goal: a small circular cave, just shy of six feet tall and wide. As an adult, Micah might struggle getting in and out, but for his current slight stature, it would be perfect.
Kneeling down, Micah smiled once again. He traced his finger around the large pawprint embedded in the moist forest soil. When he and Drekt came upon this place in the future, it’d been the home of an adult dire stoat. From the size of the track, it looked like the stoat, currently a juvenile, had already moved in. A perfect source of experience for a young Magi out and on his own for the first time.
17
The Plan
Micah crept to the edge of the cave, pausing to listen for the stoat. For a moment, he heard nothing but the twitter of nearby birds. Then he made out the quiet sound of fur brushing against stone. Perfect.
Sneaking back out of the clearing in the forest around the outcropping, Micah positioned himself with his back to a nearby tree. Dire stoats weren’t incredibly dangerous if you could see them coming, but they were fast and liked to attack from the flanks. The last thing he needed after all of his work over the last couple of years was to be killed by an overgrown weasel because he got careless. He summoned the Folio and tucked it under his arm as he planted the butt of his spear against the tree.
“Wake the fuck up, you overgrown hamster!” Micah screamed, wincing as his voice cracked. Going through puberty for a second time was going to be fun. “By Ankros’ night, get your tail out here so I can send you back to whatever hell he dragged you up from!”
It was an established fact that the beasts Ankros created were more intelligent than their more mundane brethren. Some even understood Common. Micah didn’t know if the dire stoat understood him, but if it could, getting it extra pissed off wouldn’t hurt. Even if it couldn’t, raising a ruckus outside of its den was sure to grab its attention.
The stoat stormed out of the cave, its elongated furry torso waist-h
igh on Micah’s current body, but just over knee height on a proper adult. It wrinkled its nose at him, its white muzzle prominent against its reddish-brown hide. It paused for a second at the threshold of its cave. The oversized weasel cocked its head at Micah, trying to make sense of him.
He cast Root Spears, feeling the exhaustion wash over him as the second-tier Wood spell sank into the forest floor. A second later, a series of two-foot-long sharpened wooden spikes exploded from the ground in a large area around the dire stoat. The lengths of wood stabbed in all directions, creating a jagged tangle of undergrowth with the monster at the center.
It squealed as two stakes punched into its side, penetrating fur and flesh to draw blood. The creature squirmed and tried to escape by pulling its body off the spikes, only to widen the injuries. Micah didn’t even pause to see the effects of his first spell. He began mouthing the words to Air Knife as soon as he’d recovered enough from Root Spears to cast again. A blade of air rushed away from Micah’s outstretched hand, exhausting his mana and opening a gash on the monster’s shoulder.
Quietly, he tried to center himself and focused on refilling his mana pools. For the moment, the stoat was stuck in the center of the Root Spears effect, making movement a difficult and painful process. A good thing, because casting the second-tier spell followed by Air Knife had almost emptied his reserves. If the animal were to free itself, he wouldn’t have much of a choice but to try and fend it off with his spear. An uncertain process at best, given his childish muscles.
After a minute or so, its struggles began to abate as the stoat lost blood. Once it managed to pull itself from the two staves impaling it, Micah tensed his grip on his spear, waiting for the injured animal to charge. Instead, it slipped while trying to climb the blood-slick wood, falling onto another spike.
Micah didn’t move from the tree, slowly watching as his mana recovered. He probably had enough for another Air Knife, but he wanted to save it in case the stoat made a move once Root Spears ended or the creature escaped.
Finally, it stopped struggling altogether. Shortly thereafter, the five-minute duration on Root Spears ran out and the wood grew brittle, cracking and falling apart. Micah released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, the tension leaving his shoulders. The fight was over, but it would take a while to get used to how helpless his tiny body was.
As weak as a dire stoat was, he was level 1 and just shy of fourteen. He needed to temper his usual confidence as an experienced adventurer. If it hadn’t been seriously injured by the Root Spears, Micah would have struggled to fend it off, let alone come out on top. Still, the spoils of battle were his: one damp, poop-filled cave and enough stoat blood to enchant a beacon.
Micah grabbed the dead monster by its short tail and dragged it into the cave, struggling to move its surprisingly heavy form. Once he made it to the cave, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a large garnet and a smooth stone bowl. Quickly, he filled the bowl with the stoat’s blood and dropped the pre-prepared garnet in it.
Wrinkling his nose, Micah brushed away the filth that clogged the cave’s entrance before using a small hammer and chisel from his backpack to carve a circle into the floor of the cavern. Dragging the stoat over, he cut it again and used the weight of his body to wring enough blood from the dead animal to fill the circle.
Reciting the precise words of the ritual, Micah removed the garnet from the bowl of blood. It was warm to the touch, and as soon as he removed it, the blood burned with green flames. Standing in the center of the circle of blood, he recited another incantation and placed the gemstone in the exact center of the circle. The circle roared to life with green flames as well, trapping Micah inside as he continued reciting the nonsense words and atonal yelps of the ritual.
Sweat began to pour down his back from the heat given off by the flames as he continued the casting. One wrong word—hells, even the right word but facing the wrong direction—and everything would be wasted or worse. Still, he’d practiced the incantation recorded in his Folio countless times. Micah was confident that he could complete a ritual this simple, even if he were drunk or drugged.
Ten minutes later, it was over, the only evidence that something untoward had happened being the barely visible silver circle etched in the floor of the cave and the charred corpse of the stoat. It was for the best that no one knew about the ritual. Although ritual casting wasn’t officially illegal, the Church of Luxos tended to frown upon it and watched those capable of performing the rituals. After all, an incorrect casting could rip a hole between dimensions and unleash a swarm of monsters or a virulent plague, or reverse gravity altogether.
Packing up his hammer and chisel, Micah took note of the shattered bowl and sighed. Apparently, the heat from the flames was too much for the simple implement. He’d just have to make up a story about breaking the bowl when he got home and accept punishment from his mother. She’d probably ground him again.
Not that “sending him to bed” would be all that effective anymore. He fished a second garnet out from the backpack and smiled at the faint red glow deep in the stone. It was the sister of the gem used in the ritual, split from the original rock with the very hammer and chisel he’d used to etch the circle.
The teleportation ritual itself was nowhere near as hard as creating the beacon. So long as he had the garnet, it was really just a half-hour of casting and the sacrifice of the life energy contained in a potted plant.
Of course, there was still the matter of getting back inside the city walls. He’d need to capture a creature large enough to power another ritual but small enough that he could smuggle it back into Basil’s Cove. Only then could he create another circle in his bedroom to allow himself to teleport back home once his activities for the night were done.
Walking out of the outcropping, Micah propped his back up against it and pulled out the sandwich he’d packed for himself that morning. Biting into it, he called up his status menu once again.
Micah Silver
Age13 [ERROR] / 18
Class/Level Magi 2
XP 51/200
HP 12/12
Attributes
Body 4, Agility 3, Mind 10, Spirit 9
Attunement
Moon 11, Sun 0, Night 2
Mana
Moon 30/30, Sun 0/0, Night 13/13
Affinities
Time 10
Wood 6
Tier I - Refresh 10, Mending 9, Plant Weave 7
Tier II - Augmented Mending 7, Root Spears 4
Tier III - Heal 2
Air5
Tier I - Gale 7, Air Knife 10, Air Supply 4
Tier II - Wind Shield 5, Sonic Bolt 4
Tier III - Updraft 1
Blessings
Mythic Blessing of Mursa - Blessed Return, Ageless Folio
Skills
Anatomy 6
Enchanting 3
Fishing 1
Herbalism 4
Librarian 3
Ritual Magic 3
Spear 5
Spellcasting 10
Apparently, there were some benefits to fighting monsters above his level alone. The early levels were the easiest to gain, but even then, it was a bit of a pleasant surprise to earn enough XP for a level after just one kill. Ankros must have awarded him extra experience for his feat.
Glancing over the rest of his status sheet, Micah nodded in approval while chewing the sandwich thoughtfully. His mana growth remained the same from his previous life. Twice his attunement plus 1 for every point of spirit per level after the first. Slightly worriedly, Micah noted that his zero Sun attunement from creating the class crystal prevented him from gaining any Sun mana on level-up. Still, all of the bonus Moon attunement he’d gained from relearning second- and third-tier spells, creating his first enchantment, and casting his first ritual more than dwarfed that loss.
It was unfortunate that he couldn’t cast Sonic Bolt without drawing attention. As its name implied, the spell generated a lot of noise. Since h
e’d learned it about a year ago in his past life, the spell had quickly become one of Micah’s favorites, launching a ripple of air vibrations at a high enough frequency that eardrums ruptured and soft tissue hemorrhaged. It wasn’t the most powerful second-tier spell available—there were plenty of Earth and Fire spells competing for that title—but it was by far Micah’s most powerful single-target spell.
Even though the Lancers taught him a pair of third-level spells when he made it to his tenth level, neither really helped him right now. Updraft produced an upward gust of wind that would cushion a fall or help Micah jump higher. Theoretically, at higher levels, it would let him fly after a fashion, but the spell was a mana hog and tricky to use. In short, he hadn’t found the opportunity to properly level it yet.
Heal was more useful in general, but not to a solo operator like Micah. In a team, it allowed him to heal his companions with a potency comparable to Augmented Mending but at range. He certainly appreciated being able to fulfill his role in a party without risking himself overly much, but for self-healing, Augmented Mending was just as good, a cheaper mana expenditure, and higher level.
Finishing his sandwich, Micah stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back before grabbing his spear. Now to begin the next phase of the plan. Basil’s Cove’s city council didn’t listen to the midsized guilds like the Lancers. They might respect them in the same way they did a collection of skilled artisans or craftsmen, but the way the city had fallen in the first timeline made it obvious that the smaller guilds weren’t respected.
The only people with political power in Basil’s Cove were the noble families that sat on the Council and the Golden Drakes. The Kingdom was more than powerful enough to beat back the Durgh; the only reason for the disaster in the last timeline was a lack of warning. Properly alerted, the nobles could scout out the Durgh and appeal to the King to send in a contingent of Royal Knights, high-level Blessed loyal to the crown.