Chương 6

The Class Card was inscribed with a simple symbol—a faceless figure wielding a staff, wearing a circlet. Letters of an elegant, unknown script lay above and beneath, shining with light the color of mana. He held it up to the light, watching it slick off its face, and got the distinct impression that it was as much a technology as a magical artifact. Something carefully designed and incredibly intricate. He'd held off on taking it in because, as curious as he was, your choice of Class Card was a permanent decision.

You could upgrade your Class Card at the next rank, and there were often quite a few choices. But besides that, once a Card was chosen there was no swapping it. Ideally he would've felt safer studying his options a little longer, even, to make absolutely certain. But he was satisfied that he'd done his due diligence… And he was quite curious. He focused his mind on the Card. You were supposed to ' will' it in, like with an Awakening Stone. Simple. He recalled a tip he'd read in the introduction folder the D. A.

had given him, and closed his eyes. A few seconds passed as he refocused on the space in front of him. Then he recalled a note he'd read—he inspected a corner and found a thin layer of film, like a screen protector on a phone, almost. He peeled it off. It's the card's 'seal,' he recalled. It's supposed to prevent incidental contact. He tried again, and he felt it—this presence in space before him, a signature of light—the Class Card, outlined in mana-blue.

He willed it in just as he'd done with the pattern in the Stone. Thirty seconds later, he felt the card vanish from his fingers. Click. That's it? Instinctively he went searching for it, turning his focus on itself. A vision materialized in his mind. He was there, floating in space. A blank, white void of three-dimensional space. At the very center of this space were two rectangular indents—spaces for Cards. Within one of those indents lay the very Class Card he'd just willed in, its letters shining softly.

It was the first time he'd glimpsed what he knew to be the soulspace —the space where his Card—Cards, potentially—and his Skills, would reside. He blinked, and he was out of the vision. Then he closed his eyes, refocused—turning his focus inward, and it materialized again, as easy as thinking. … Shit. He couldn't help but smile. I'm a Mage. A 'Base Mage,' to be precise. He wasn't even sure why, since nothing had even happened yet, but suddenly he felt almost giddy— calm down, he told himself.

Don't be silly, take a breath, let's think, for Christ's sake. What just changed? Like, specifically. Physically he felt pretty much identical, but— I should have… something new. Mana? It wasn't easy to feel, at least at the start. Five or six minutes of meditation, buoyed by the fact that he knew it was there, and he sensed it—these strands of shining blue, incredibly subtle—since he had almost none of it—circling just outside the bounds of his soulspace. Strands of glistening light, like flowing ice.

It was absolutely, strikingly beautiful. While he could try to tug on it and manipulate it here, a practice called 'true unstructured mana manipulation,' everything he'd read told him this would be an unwise choice. First—it was quite illegal, for public safety reasons, to wield mana outside of sanctioned facilities and rifts. And second it was supposedly very difficult, and besides there was a Skill that'd make it much smoother and more efficient.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He reached into his starter suitcase, and picked up his first Skill Shard. When he focused his attention on it, something new happened. Letters appeared before his eyes, hovering in a light-blue box directly above the shard. A result of the implicit Class Skill ' Identify.' He was amused by the sight of it. Then he began to read.

Mana Manipulation [Common] Allows the user to manipulate claimed mana in accordance with his affinities, structuring all mana the soul manipulates in mana-perfect form. Mana-perfect mana constructs are structurally perfect, and have zero mana leakage. It was a required Skill for the Base Mage class, and supposedly the iconic Mage class Skill. It was a very short description—the shortest the Skill would ever have, since it had zero Skill supports yet. Since he hadn't acquired the Skill yet or started any work on it.

He closed his eyes and willed the Skill into his soulspace. This process took several minutes; he knew the transfer was happening only because he could perceive the connection between his soul and the shard, this subtle line in space, translucent-silver to his mind's eye. At the end of the transfer, the Skill vanished from the crystal. And it was there, in his soulspace, hovering to the left of the Class Card. This sigil-like pattern of mana, built in three dimensions.

When he visualized the Skill pattern, it seemed massive in his mind; it was like he was floating before it in his soulspace. Mana flowed along the lines of the pattern like water, making a constant loop, as though symbolizing mana manipulation. He wondered idly if that flow was an intentional, designed effect within the Skill. For a second he simply admired the intricacy of the pattern. Clean, stark mana-blue lines, all right angles. With plenty of open space between the lines.

It's supposed to be a visual representation of skill, literally—as in, all of the information of the Skill is just… there. In my mind—it's just mine now. In the build guides he'd discovered published examples of Mana Manipulation Skill patterns—information that was typically extremely sensitive, but a few were public. They'd seemed much like his Skill, but with new lines and designs in the open spaces. Different lines in different places, depending on the practitioner.

The open spaces were for individualization and personalization. Supposedly you'd practice a Skill, and new Skill-lines would automatically appear in the pattern. Almost like you were 'writing' new abilities in the Skill into your mind. Which is kind of just how skills work in real-life, isn't it? You practice, and your body and mind 'learn,' and you improve. He exited his visualization, glanced around. I can use magic.

The temptation to try, in that moment—just bring up a string of mana, see how it'd look—was almost impossible to resist. Let's be smart about this, he told himself, smiling again. I can wait like half an hour. Admittedly he was tempted to call a ride for the nearest Training Center then and there, but there were still a few items left to take care of. Including the second Skill Shard waiting in the suitcase, which he quickly grasped.

The second starter Skill of his Base Mage class, and almost as iconic— Mana Shield. Mana Shield [Common] Constructs a circular shield out of Pure-affinity mana at the user's desired location. It's simpler than I would've thought. He willed in the Skill and saw a second Skill structure appear in his soulspace, this time to the right-hand side of his Class Card. He found he could shift his Skills around in his soulspace as he desired; put together, it seemed to him a nice visual representation of his new ability set.

This Skill had a visual effect as well—its structure pulsed slightly with mana, and in places the mana seemed to solidify for a few seconds before vanishing. The Skill description might've been simple, but it belied a labyrinthine Skill architecture. It was significantly more complex in structure than his new Mana Manipulation Skill. Where Mana Manipulation's pattern was more empty space than lines, Mana Shield was relatively well-defined—although not without its own share of empty space.

It was simply closer to 30% empty than Mana Manipulation's 70% empty. As for the implications—he decided he could analyze it later. Final thing, before I forget. He held out two fingers and willed his card to hand. And there it was. That sleek steel Class Card, except now it had his name, Alexander Arden, inscribed. Steel, because he was 'F-rank.' He focused on the card itself— thank god I could search all this up. If he'd been thrown into all this blind, he never would've thought to do this.

Still focused on his Class Card, he willed,'Stats presets.' Then— actually, was it 'per-level stats presets'? The precise phrasing didn't seem to matter—the Card seemed to take into account his intent; a blue box appeared, and then a second, identical blue box replaced it. This blue box had several empty categories. At his will numbers filled in. Str 12% Dex 16% Wis 21% Con, 11% Int 17% Per 14% End 9% With every new level he'd get 9 new 'stat-points,' distributed by his Class Card.

And he could allocate them to any one of seven categories as he desired. There were floors and ceilings, but a Class was typically pretty liberal with your choice of allocation. His choice was a tried-and-tested F-rank stat allocation for magic-oriented sword-plus-magic builds. The standard build guides all seemed to have converged on similar percentages for the play style, and he could always adjust as needed. Stats as a concept he'd found a little bemusing at first.

Reducing attributes to a simple number felt almost unrealistic—weren't there many types of strength, for instance? But 'stats' clearly were tied to real-world abilities, given the visual evidence, and there was plenty of it, of D-rank Duelists—currently the best in the world—achieving clearly superhuman feats of athleticism. A question for another time, he decided. He picked up his school backpack, added to it his laptop, the D. A.

folder, and the final item in the suitcase, that crystal with the golden strands in it. The next minute he was locking the door of the house with one hand, fumbling for his phone with the other. The minute after he was on his way back to Stark City, feeling slightly giddy again, and this time he didn't try as hard to suppress it. He cracked the window, felt the cold air whistling past his face. It was that kind of day. There was a sense of calmness in him, beneath the giddiness. Time to see what I can do.