*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter - Chalice Theocracy*
The pale dawn light crept through the narrow window of Aris's dorm, washing the cracked ceiling in dull gold. His body ached from practice. Duels, potion fumes, sleepless nights. But his mind hummed with a single thought: How far have I actually come?
He sat up, rubbing the grit from his eyes. The exhaustion was bone deep, but curiosity drove him forward. "Fox," he called to the lump under the blanket. "Can you get Lyra's device? The one that shows stats?"
The fox grumbled from his warm nest. "You mean box made our lives miserable?"
Aris rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha. That's the one."
With a theatrical sigh, Fox hopped down, padding over to Lyra's corner of the room. He dragged out a spherical relic confined in a pouch.
"Here." Fox dropped it at Aris's feet.
Aris pressed his thumb to the engraved sigil. The device hummed to life, warming under his touch. He rolled out the cable and connected it to his temple, wincing at the cold metal.
[name: aris orvellis]
[level: 1]
[race: human]: 10% bonus to all stats
[xp: 10/323,240]
In the right corner were titles, glowing faintly:
[Cantor Healer]: 5 tier 1 healing spell slots [3/5], 3 tier 2 spell slots [1/3], 1 tier 3 spell slot [0/1]
+10 Manifest +10 Resonance +6 Force +4 Agility
[Curing Touch RP points: 6/6, tier 2], [Light Missile RP points: 4/4, tier 1], [Minor Shield RP points: 4/4, concentration, tier 1], [Radiant Mark RP points: 4/4, effect 2 min, tier 1]
[Essence Shaper Alchemist]: tier 1 potion crafting chance 40%, tier 2 potion crafting chance 24%, Tier 3 potion crafting chance 4%
+5 Endeavor +5 Harvest +2 Ingenuity +2 Attunement
[Reader]: Step to scholarly mind. +2 Insight. Learning increased 10%.
[Lucky Apprentice]: Double each luck-based content. Luck spent [758/1,000]. Luck-based content can't be lower than 5%.
[Blood Initiate]: Sacrifice your health to gain power.
[NW points: 12] reach 100 for local legend
[Echo: 4] captured echo: 3, created echo: 1
"I think potions and duels gave amazing XP. Plus the second dungeon added a lot after I entered with zero XP," Aris mused aloud.
"Good thing we have this item. Or else..." Fox trailed off meaningfully.
"Cantor Healer and Essence Shaper titles give good stat bonuses. Still not enough, though." Aris frowned at the numbers.
He exhaled slowly, reading the spell slots again. "Two open Tier 1, two Tier 2, one Tier 3... not bad."
Fox jumped onto the table, peering at the glowing display. "Not bad for someone who keeps blowing himself up in a basement."
Aris ignored the jab, mind already planning. "I'm finally close to a real build. I just need to fill those slots strategically."
He shut the device off and stretched. The stiffness in his back reminded him of Rathvoss's brutal "training drills." Every muscle protested. "Alright," he said, determination settling over him. "Time to find Maezana."
The Academy grounds buzzed with the rhythm of another long day. Bells ringing at precise intervals. Students rushing between classes. The faint hum of mana everywhere, like static electricity before a storm. Aris crossed the marble courtyards, nodding politely to a few who whispered his name. Some spoke with respect. Most with mockery.
He checked the east classrooms, the chapel annex, the fae gardens. But Scholar Maezana Silvermeadow was nowhere to be found. Her assistant, a nervous halfling boy, said she'd been "called to temple business."
Frustrated, Aris leaned against a column, running a hand through his hair. The rough stone was cool against his back.
"Lost something, boy?"
That gravelly voice came from behind him. Aris turned to see Rathvoss, his Templar instructor. Arms crossed, armor faintly gleaming even in the shaded corridor. The man's presence filled the space like a physical weight.
"Sir," Aris said, straightening reflexively. "I was looking for Maezana. I wanted some guidance."
Rathvoss raised a brow, scarred face skeptical. "Guidance? From a halfling?"
"I mean, yes. I wanted to ask about learning a few new spells before the next dungeon."
The Templar grunted, stepping closer. His boots echoed on marble. "Aris, I am the one you should come to. Your human faculty teacher, remember?"
"I know, sir, I just..."
"Because I'm harsh?" Rathvoss's tone was unreadable, somewhere between threatening and amused.
Aris hesitated. "...Maybe a little."
The middle-aged man chuckled darkly. "Good. Means I'm doing my job. Being soft gets you dead in this world." He motioned toward the empty sparring grounds beyond the archway. "Now, what spells are you sniffing around for?"
Aris scratched his neck, organizing his thoughts. "Well, uh, something easy to master first. Something I can use to distract or sustain myself until I can manage stronger ones."
Rathvoss folded his arms, muscles bulging under his armor. "And?"
Aris took a breath. "Solar Flare for blinding and confusing opponents. And Radiant Thread to drain them, keep pressure on."
For a moment, Rathvoss said nothing. His scarred face was unreadable. Then it broke into a faint smirk. "Huh. Not bad choices. Weak spells, yes, but clever for your level. Most novices waste years chasing flashy nonsense."
Aris nodded awkwardly, unsure if that was praise or insult.
"Why don't you go a little elemental like your peers?" Rathvoss asked. "To attack puzzles and such. Those can be foundation for next tier elementals. Don't you want to rain down meteors?"
Aris winced but managed a smile. "Maybe later, sir. I just want to master our school's teachings. Starting with basics."
"Good." Rathvoss's approval was clear now. "But a true Templar favors brute faith. You'll need heavier strikes someday. Still..." He drew his sword and placed the tip against the ground, muttering a low chant.
A flash of golden light burst outward, forming a dome that flickered and pulsed. Solar Flare. The light seared Aris's eyes, forcing him to blink back tears. The world went white for three heartbeats.
Then, without pause, Rathvoss snapped his fingers. A thin golden tether shot from his hand to a training dummy across the yard, pulsing with rhythmic light. Radiant Thread.
"Like this," Rathvoss said, voice cutting through the afterimages dancing in Aris's vision. "Faith is focus. You don't ask light to obey. You command it." He made another gesture. An invisible hook twisted Aris's stomach, making him gasp and double over. "And this," Rathvoss said, releasing him, "is Radiant Thread."
Before Aris could thank him, his body jolted with twin shocks.
[Bzzt!] [Bzzt!]
The familiar warmth of learning flooded through him. Two new patterns engraved into his mind, settling like puzzle pieces clicking into place.
Rathvoss gave him a knowing look. "Study these and stop chasing every spark you see. Master what you have."
"Yes, sir," Aris said, hiding his grin behind a respectful bow.
"Good. Now, I expect to see you in the dueling arena tomorrow. Let's see if these new toys make you any less predictable."
Rathvoss stomped off, leaving the air faintly shimmering with holy residue. The smell of ozone and incense lingered.
Aris couldn't stop smiling. "Solar Flare and Radiant Thread... two new tricks. I'm making a build."
Fox trotted beside him, tail swishing. "Or you're digging yourself deeper into obsession."
Aris laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in weeks. "Either way, it's progress. If I add a good tier three spell before the dungeon, I'll be on the right track."
The days blurred together after that. Alchemy fumes, duels, exhaustion. A cycle that consumed him.
Mornings, Aris sparred in the training yard with Orric. Rathvoss's bark echoed across the grounds, forcing him to push harder, faster. He used Solar Flare to blind opponents, weaving in Light Missile volleys while channeling Radiant Thread between dodges. The tether pulsed golden as it drained opponents' stamina, but holding it burned through his focus like wildfire through dry grass.
Some duels he won spectacularly. Others ended with him coughing blood, his shield cracked and stamina empty.
Afternoons, he returned to the basement alchemy room. Sleeves rolled up, brewing batches of experimental tonics. Blue smoke. The smell of burnt honeyroot. The shimmer of miscast elixirs. Failures stacked beside successes. He managed to craft new variants. Half exploded. The rest made his hands tingle for hours.
Evenings, he sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, sketching runes in chalk. Trying to merge Light Missile and Solar Flare. He imagined them as opposite poles of light. Precision and burst. Two halves of divine will. When he tried to fuse them, the room would fill with unstable orbs that fizzled into sparks.
Fox often watched from the rafters, unimpressed. "One day, you'll blow us both to heaven," he muttered.
Aris barely looked up, hands moving through gestures he'd practiced a thousand times. "Then at least I'll die enlightened."
After seven days of grueling repetition, the academy dueling boards posted updated standings. Aris pushed through the crowd to read them, heart pounding.
"Aris Orvellis - 25 Matches: 7 Wins / 5 Draws / 13 Losses."
Rank: 51 - 26 pts
He stared at the numbers carved into the wooden board, biting his lip. Not great. But not terrible. Considering he'd started dead last weeks ago, it was something.
He looked at the top of the table.
"Sliver Stoneflower - 25 Matches: 25 Wins / 0 Draws / 0 Losses." Rank 1 - 75 pts
"Kaelan Torcher - 25 Matches: 25 Wins / 0 Draws / 0 Losses." Rank 2 - 75 pts
...
"Orric Wrips - 25 Matches: 14 Wins / 7 Draws / 4 Losses." Rank 8 - 49 pts
Fox hopped onto the ledge beside him. "If this were a betting board, I'd still lose money on you."
"Thanks for the support."
"I'm just saying, you're slowly becoming a half-decent lunatic."
"At least Orric is doing good," Aris said, genuine happiness in his voice for his friend.
That night, under the courtyard lanterns, Aris stood before a row of straw targets. His hands trembled from fatigue, but his eyes burned with focus. The moon hung fat and silver overhead.
"Again," he whispered to himself.
He raised his hand. A small orb of light hovered in his palm. Light Missile. He willed it brighter, hotter. Then triggered Solar Flare at the same time.
The spell destabilized immediately, bursting like a firecracker. Sparks scattered, scorching his sleeve. The smell of burnt fabric filled the air.
"Too much at once," he muttered, shaking his stinging hand.
He tried again. This time, he focused his breathing. Summoning both energies. But instead of casting separately, he imagined them sharing the same center. The same core.
The light condensed into a sphere, shimmering between gold and white. Tiny flares burst from its surface, like stars shooting from a sun. The orb pulsed once, twice. Then flickered out.
"Closer," Aris said, panting. Sweat dripped down his temples. "I just need to hold it longer."
Fox, perched on a wall, yawned. "Or you could stop before your hand catches fire."
"Not yet."
He tried again. The orb reappeared, stable for a heartbeat before exploding in a flash that rattled nearby windows. Glass trembled in frames.
Aris blinked through the haze, his hair singed and eyebrows half gone. Soot streaked his face.
Fox snickered. "Congratulations, you're officially glowing."
Aris smiled weakly, touching his burnt hair. "I'll take it."
He looked up at the cracked courtyard tiles and the faint scorch marks tracing circles around him. Somewhere in that chaotic energy was something real. Something waiting to take shape. He could feel it, just beyond his grasp.
Tomorrow, he'd try again.