"Mastered?" Vesper asked. "What?"

"We talked about skill proficiencies." In that discussion, Vesper had explained to her that certain abilities had an inherent progression to them, which could be raised the more a person practiced. They began at 'Clumsy', moved into 'Novice', and kept progressing up to the rank of 'Expert.' Or so she'd thought. "I thought it peaked at expert."

"It does."

Morgana pursed her lips. "I see," she said. Mastered must be above expert, and rare enough Vesper hadn't heard of it. "I successfully modified the design, as I hoped I could. The proficiency changed from 'clumsy' to 'mastered.' I'm going to test it, now."

For a few moments, Vesper gaped at her. "Okay?" she finally said, bewildered.

Without ceremony, Morgana pulled [Magic Missile]'s design to the forefront of her mind. It imprinted on the air in front of her as she invoked it. Morgana spared a brief moment to be outraged at how easy the process was, compared to proper spellcasting.

A [Magic Missile] streaked forward from her outstretched hand. The brilliant dart of white-blue light launched itself through the air, hitting the ground a dozen feet away with a loud zzzppp, sending rocks, soil, and grass showering away in a small—but much, much larger than before, easily ten times stronger—explosion.

Her internal mana reserves barely dipped. The spell's improved design was less about raw increased firepower as a massive reduction in cost. The most glaring flaws in the system's designs had been inefficiencies which wasted mana.

Interested, Morgana summoned several more [Magic Missile]s in rapid succession, sending them streaming out from her hand. Magical energy collided with the earth in a dramatic display, fountains of soil erupting and leaving behind blackened miniature craters.

When she turned to Vesper and Flint, the two were staring at her wide-eyed.

"The hell?" Vesper finally said. "That's a [Magic Missile]?"

"The improved version, at least," Morgana commented, amused and, admittedly, slightly smug—though only slightly, since the spell's design wasn't even her own. Though she could have come up with something at least similarly effective, given time.

She sent off another of the arcane projectiles, nodding once to herself when it scorched an appropriate radius of earth. Yes, the spell would certainly serve in a combat situation, even if she could do much better with access to proper war magic. Her mind briefly wandered to how much stronger a [Fireball] or such would be, if she could get her hands on fire mana, before she shook her head to clear it.

"I wonder how much I can vary the spell," she commented, more to herself than anything—since Vesper obviously didn't know what she was talking about. When she'd put in the new design for [Magic Missile], she'd gotten a message that it had been 'recognized as a variation of [Magic Missile]'. How much could she push a design before it wasn't recognized as such?

Specifically, could she create something heavier? Her new spell was many times as deadly and cheaper than the default magic missile, but it was still no true artillery of a spell.

Could a few tweaks make it such, while staying defined as a [Magic Missile]?

Now was the time to experiment, so Morgana did just that.

To her disappointment, though, after quickly balancing a rough formula geared toward firepower rather than mana efficiency, she was met with the message:

***

Spell design not recognized as a variation of [Magic Missile].

***

The lines of blue energy Morgana had drawn in her mind fizzled, then reverted to her previous, now-default design—the perfected one she had stolen from her peers.

"Hmph," Morgana said.

She couldn't say she was surprised the system hadn't considered it a [Magic Missile]. [Magic Missiles] were considered cheap, low-powered bursts of arcane energy. By ramping its output up past a certain point, it became a different spell entirely—at least in the eyes of the System. And Morgana herself, frankly.

Regardless, she supposed when it came to pure mana-per-damage, the decades the Institute had spent vying for the perfect design had created a [Magic Missile] that Morgana almost certainly would want to stick with. She could create something more powerful in terms of pure strength by utilizing her own designs, but to what purpose? A flurry of these efficient [Magic Missiles] would serve her handily within the dungeon. And rationing her mana might be more important than doing maximal damage with each strike.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

To demonstrate, Morgana once again pelted another barrage of the projectiles, nodded once in satisfaction at how little her mana reserves dipped, then faced Vesper and Flint, who were, still, watching with wide eyes.

"See?" Morgana said, addressing Flint, now. "That will be sufficient for keeping us safe, no?"

For a second, Vesper and Flint's gazes flicked between the blackened earth and Morgana. She could see it on their faces: both of them coming to terms with the fact that Morgana had, indeed, been telling the truth. That she wasn't just some [Mage]. Certainly not a true 'level one'. But someone of considerable, if strange, means. And on top of that, someone who could operate outside the bounds of the typical system: Morgana intuited that a person shouldn't be able to just change their spells like that.

"Yeah," Vesper said, somewhat faintly, looking once more at the scorched earth surrounding them. "Don't think level one monsters are gonna do much against that."

***

Flint's hesitation to join Rune's guild was mostly alleviated thanks to Morgana's display. He'd been worried for Vesper's safety going into the dungeon underprepared, lacking the amenities of a real guild, but Morgana's improved [Magic Missile] set those worries to rest. Mostly.

Seeing how it was getting late in the day, they finished the trip over to The Gryphon Company and informed Rune of their decision. Really, it was a match made in heaven. The desperate Guildmaster accepting the desperate soon-to-be adventurers. Had they not come along, it might have been a long while yet before someone took interest in the guild.

Morgana was curious how Rune had landed in her situation. How did the young woman have a guild license in the first place? Even if she'd gotten the money through some inheritance or similar, why pursue life as a Guildmaster, if she only had enough to open the guild? Not that running a guild couldn't be lucrative, but it tended to be the sort of career a retired adventurer would settle into. Not some young woman with barely-sufficient means.

Not that it mattered. Everything had worked out, and Rune was ecstatic to have them. The girl was practically vibrating as she showed the three of them around, assigning them to their specific rooms.

Flint was unimpressed, both by Rune and the guild. Morgana could tell he'd rather have gotten situated in a proper organization. But they had to make do with what they had.

Early the next morning, they convened in Vesper's room to strategize.

"Kay," Vesper said. "So we still need gear. And supplies. Whatever we can afford with our six silver."

"Which won't be much," Flint said.

"Probably no real items, but still, we shouldn't go in as we are."

"Real items?" Morgana asked.

Vesper blinked at her. "Like, dungeon gear."

"What do you mean?"

"Stuff that boosts our stats. Magical items. Haven't I mentioned those?"

Unsurprisingly, even in the many discussions she'd had with Vesper, there were gaps in what Morgana had learned about the world she found herself in. She'd be bumping into such topics constantly for the foreseeable future. "You said there's loot in dungeons, and that's why people go down there. But I thought you meant coins and other valuables."

"Oh. There's that. But also gear. Like magical swords and enchanted breastplates." She shrugged. "Or…whatever, really. Some dungeon loot can get pretty weird."

"Who makes it?"

"Who makes it?" Vesper echoed. "Uh, the dungeon, I guess?"

"Really," Morgana said. "The dungeon is capable of fabricating enchanted items from nothingness?" She paused. "It does create monsters and underground complexes, so I shouldn't be surprised." She shook her head. "It's just so strange."

"Yeah. I guess." Vesper obviously didn't share the same fascination. To her, this was simply how the world worked. "Anyway, yeah. Some solid boots, leather armor, and maybe some better daggers for both of us. Also a torchlight. Some rations. Waterskins. Backpack. That's the most important, right?"

"For a quick delve," Flint said. "Longer ones we'd need more."

"You won't need like, a wand or anything, right?" Vesper asked Morgana.

"A wand?"

"You were casting fine without it, but would it help?"

Morgana raised her eyebrows. "No."

Vesper laughed. "Okay, Miss Archmage. No need to sound insulted. We're not doubting your supreme magical talents."

Morgana blushed.

Flint said, "It'd still be smart to give her something. A staff to smack things with. Going unarmed into the dungeon is idiotic. Even if she'll be hanging back."

"Dunno," Vesper said. "She can pelt off [Magic Missiles] like three times per second. And they're way stronger than they should be. She wouldn't want to waste any time swinging a staff around."

"I won't," Morgana agreed. "Spend your money on outfitting yourselves."

"Assuming we don't die, we'll make back everything we spent," Vesper said. "And we'll be in a more stable situation. There's not loads of money in low level delving, but it definitely beats picking pockets…or even regular jobs."

"Risk for reward," Flint grunted in agreement.

"We're going to head in today, then?" Morgana asked. "Right after we buy our supplies?"

Vesper and Flint shared a look.

"It's not like we're waiting for anything," Vesper said, shrugging. "Ain't getting any help from guild higher-ups, either, seeing how we're the only ones here."

"I'd prefer privacy, regardless," Morgana said. "Us three alone is ideal."

Vesper nodded. She didn't need an explicit explanation. It was rather obvious why Morgana wanted to keep her situation private, especially to paranoid individuals like Vesper and Flint, who had grown up on the streets.

"Let's grab some breakfast and get to it, then," Vesper said. She sniffed the air. "I smell bacon. Think Rune's any good at cooking?"

"That ditz?" Flint grumbled. "I'd be surprised if the kitchen isn't on fire."