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Class Assessment available

Enables the advancement of a Class from Tier 0 to Tier 1.

Requires a tribute of 100 of each attribute to commence.

Begin?

Ah, that’s quite the requirement. But I bet all of them at least have a class. He declined the assessment for now. The time he had with Adrian was limited, and he wanted to draw as much benefit as he could. If he wanted to continue though, he’d first need rest. His mind and body were spent, even though the sun shone through the trees directly overhead.

The more he thought about moving to rest and recover, the less he wanted to. Restless thoughts and jittery thumbs twiddled while he contemplated his next move, wondering what the right answer and the best use of his time would be. The best method of applying his current efforts in order to become as strong as possible in the timeframe he had to train with Adrian.

He needed to consider that first above all else. The resource of the head of his family, the one Vander had access to and could train him the most over how to use the last piece of his father’s gift to him, the family sword arts. Nothing else stopped him from learning everything else, but he couldn’t even begin to comprehend how to begin training the sword arts. Just another thing he was missing.

Of course, Adrian dropped down from who knew where and took up the space beside Vander. “Good job, son. Not everyone has what it takes to create a magic body.”

Vander turned to look at Adrian and winced. The vibrancy of the blue light tinged with specks of violet wracked his brain like a swarm of pissed off hornets stinging at every surface. Just how strong is he?

He’d known the man was strong, but thinking about the Terror Monkeys and Erymanthian Boar from days ago—he faked it all. All this time, he’s been faking his strength. Acting like someone he’s not. Why?

“Stifle the circulation of your mana to your eyes to cancel the skill,” Adrian said.

Drawing the concentration to do such while his weary mind reeled from the blinding flash of power he’d witnessed took all the willpower he had left in him—and then some. By the time he cut the flow of mana to his eyes, he felt like he’d completely fried his brain and smoke steamed from his ears. Now that he’d learned to block the mana flow without cutting the connection entirely, a worry he’d had since he established the circuits in the first place, he also stifled the connection to his ears.

The clarity of the world died to a hush, and his brain finally felt relief as the overwhelming sensory input he’d ignored while practicing hushed. Carefully, slowly, he opened his eyes. Intense pain didn’t immediately lance through him and rattle his brain into goopy mush. Rather, he just turned and looked at Adrian.

Even without seeing the man, he could feel some kind of boundary around the man pressing back against Vander. An encompassing barrier that seemed compressed and cramped, like the man himself was trying his damnedest to keep the power from radiating out around him.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Vander muttered. He didn’t know what the feeling he sensed came from, because he was certain magic sight had been disabled. “What’s this feeling?” he asked as he tried to poke the bubble around Adrian. Nothing happened. When he looked at himself, he didn’t see anything of the sort. Just a hand.

“Magic sense. Like seeing without seeing, a feeling of sorts. One attuned to ambient magic. If you master it, you could walk around with a blindfold on and be perfectly fine,” Adrian explained.

Now that Vander could see clearly, he noticed just how much the man had cleaned himself up. If he didn’t know any better, Vander would’ve guessed he was twenty years younger than his actual age. He really was faking everything the whole time. Except maybe…

Lithe and toned, face free of any stubble whatsoever, and imposing an aura of regal refinement from where he sat on the ground, his dad truly looked like the head of a great magic swordsman family—the true Duke Braxton of Varoth.

His voice took on a schooled teacherly tone. “There are four requirements to learn our family’s sword arts. You’re still lacking now, but my goal is to get you ready before I must leave.”

“Care to elaborate?” Vander probed.

“On which matter?” Adrian responded, grinning knowingly. He didn’t wait for Vander to respond and went back into his teacherly lecture. “Your proficiency is too low, though your breathing technique is close to sufficient. You’ll need more practice with the rest. For the rest of the day, you’ll learn the one you lack. Care to guess what that might be?”

Considering the heritage and root of the sword arts, the thing he needed was in the name itself. “Swordsmanship.”

“Correct.”

“Why did you never teach me sooner?” Vander inquired, thinking of all the time he’d spent practicing with the spear and bow. They were made for hunting and synergized well with the legacy title left behind by Artemis but now felt like a waste. Swords and magic ran in his family, not hunting. He shook his head and huffed a frustrated breath. “Nevermind that.”

“Figured it out, did you?”

“You never wanted me to learn the techniques of the Braxton house,” Vander stated.

“And you had talent in skills related to hunting,” Adrian added. “There are people out there who can cultivate classes and techniques without mana, progress to levels through pure physique, but the Braxton bloodline appears to run in your veins to the point of inhibiting any further progress without awakening your magic abilities.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I tried everything I could think of to try and force you to awaken to some other kind of ability. Nothing worked.”

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“I see.” He didn’t have to like the choice. “We’re wasting time talking about things that don’t matter. What do I need to do now?”

It was Adrian’s turn to let out a frustrated breath. “Do you resent me for the choices I made, son?” Vander’s lack of response was all the answer Adrian needed. “I’m not surprised. How many years could we have spent training your magic and in the ways of our family?” He pinned Vander in place with a hard stare. “But now that you’ve awakened and I’ve named you successor, you’ll have to train relentlessly for the rest of your life. The moment you let your guard down, one of the other potential heirs to the house will come and strike you down for a claim as head of house.”

Of course they will, Vander thought as he rolled his eyes. “So not only am I only just beginning, I’ll have to be able to grow to the point of contending against others who weren’t handicapped their whole lives—probably sooner rather than later, since you’ll be returning to Varoth within a few weeks time.”

“I’m sorry, son.” Adrian meant it. The remorse, regret, and trepidation of inner turmoil all claimed him as their battleground. His features and regal posture deflated, only slightly but enough for Vander to notice. “I’ve tried living my life without regrets. Had you awakened to other abilities—I don’t regret my choices, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing I’d known sooner.”

Vander didn’t respond. The feelings and choices Adrian carried would be a burden the man would have to deal with himself, and since they’d greatly impacted Vander’s development, he’d work towards overcoming the handicap. All the others would come for that, seeking his head and title for their own selfish gain or in some righteous vindication against Adrian.

“I won’t fall to anybody, so teach me while you’re still here. Forget everything else. Just teach me.” The family sword’s leather handle, as natural in his palm as the mana in the air breathed life into his body. The weight balanced, perfect in all aspects. The simplicity of design matched the simplicity in Vander’s heart. “I’m ready.”

Pride. Gone was the distraught weight of responsibility from the man’s shoulders. Only pride remained in Adrian as he looked up at Vander. “You remind me of your mother when you get like this, you know? I still wonder to this day if she would have accepted you as her son as I have or if—” The leather wraps squealed in protest as Vander’s grip tightened. “Ah, yes. I’m sure such a thing is upsetting. My apologies, son. I was insensitive. Let’s go."

Even when doing something as simple as rising from the ground, Vander saw the difference between himself and Adrian. In each movement, the control was unparalleled. Graceful, smooth, and efficient. Nothing wasted from his actions. Each action taken transcended the guise he’d put on for so many years.

“I can’t even imagine how hard it’s been to hold yourself back for so long.” Vander couldn’t help himself. The professionalism Adrian showed intrigued him, harkening back to his life as a Delver. This world held many surprises in store for him, of that he was certain. At his peak, he couldn’t move so soundlessly, and nobody overshadowed him in his time. But now that he saw the truth Adrian hid clearly, even his past self lacked in comparison. “It’s quite incredible, really.”

For the first time ever, Vander saw the man look bashful. He looked away awkwardly and shrugged. “If I’d shown you what your bloodline possessed, you’d not have rested until you became like me. An impossible feat without the awakening of your magic. A road you would’ve walked down and hated me for when it bore no fruit, despite seeing living proof of your potential in me.”

Vander nodded. “I see. Answer me this then. What level magic body do you possess, what tier is your class, and how high is your arcana?”

“Won’t let me have any more secrets now, will you?” Adrian joked and swiped a hand towards Vander. “Don’t be too impressed though. With your rate of growth, you’ll surpass me one day.”

A system status appeared. Compared to his, a lot of information had been removed, but what he saw left Vander slack jawed.

Adrian Braxton (A+ Rank)

Class: Scion of Magic (Tier 6)

Arcana: 1545

Skills:

True Lightning Proficiency (Level 463), Swordsmanship (Level 632), Braxton Breathing Technique (Level 383), Braxton Sword Arts (Level 317), Magic Body (Level 63)

He’s a monster. Literally insane. Vander looked at the man in a new light. “Woah.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

The amount of unknowns regarding the system and how things worked could and probably would be answered in time, given he wasn’t one to slack when training, but knowing what to prepare for and what skills would be useful or not—well, Vander figured Adrian showed him what made him so strong. “Care to answer a few more questions?”

The knowing glint in Adrian’s eyes excited Vander. “Each tier costs attributes to advance and doubles after the first assessment. Classes come with useful skills unique to that class. Classes start fairly generic, your classic swordsman, archer, mage and the like, and specialize based on the individual, how they apply their abilities and what aspects they emphasize. No class is viewed as greater than any other if within the same tier.”

“What classes do members of the Braxtons usually choose?” Vander asked in a brief moment of pause. Surely mage and swordsman have to be the ones selected the most if they’re presented, given the specialty of our family.

As if reading his thoughts, Adrian rolled his eyes and held up both arms, one above his head and the other straight out in front of him. A flash of blue-violet arced through the sky and slammed into his raised left and accumulated into a contained sphere of humming destruction. The less flashy blade formed in his right barely registered. Then they were both gone.

“Consider your handicap as a challenge you must overcome. While the others of the Braxton house traditionally begin as mages and swordsmen, I think such limited imagination is unbecoming of such a bloodline.” Again, Adrian’s hands moved, neither to summon arcs from the sky nor a blade of formidable magic that felt like the very air bowed down to its destructive potential. “Behold.”

A magic circle burned in the ground outside of the encampment. Then again. And another. More than a dozen circles appeared. When complete, magical creatures, powerful beasts, and mixes of the two remained. In their own ways, they showed their respect to Adrian before he released whatever magic he’d used.

“I always had a branching ideology that the main Braxton family labeled as odd and weak. Many of the branch families thought my path would lead the family to ruin, destitution being the only outcome of my unique implementation of our great family’s inheritance.” A look spoke volumes, and the one on Adrian’s face and his mere presence told a tale. One Vander knew all too well. The moment passed. “Needless to say, I am head of our family and they are my subjects—or worse.”

“What is this ideology that set you apart from the rest?” He wouldn’t bring up the moment of unbridled bloodlust that would require him to check his pants. “I don’t quite understand what you did, I admit.”

Adrian winked and pointed at the sword in Vander’s hand. “Time to train.”