The fog before his eyes shredded, like reality itself tearing apart. Ian’s eyes snapped open.
He shifted uncomfortably on the cramped cot, the moon painting the room in a spectral silver. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, its hands pointing to 12:07. Seven minutes. Seven minutes in the real world for a lifetime spent in a dreamscape so vivid, so impossibly real.
A shuddering breath escaped his lips. He wiped a hand across his forehead, though no sweat beaded there. The disorientation was a phantom limb, a lingering echo of the mindscape he’d just left. He glanced at the back of his hand, a faint white mark barely visible in the moonlight.
The room was shrouded in shadows. Ian rose, crossed to his desk, and rummaged through a drawer filled with handcrafted knives. He found a small flashlight and clicked it on, the beam illuminating the mark on his arm.
“What is this?” he murmured, examining the gift from his friend. The mark shimmered, a fleeting flash of light, then vanished, absorbed into his skin.
He knew he could carry objects into the dreamscape, and bring things back. Like the chocolate he’d given Ariana. But this mark… what purpose did it serve?
He checked his status panel, hoping for an answer.
Name: Ian Prince
Class: Bloodline Sorcerer
Magic Level: 4
Skills: Language Proficiency (Lv 3): 23/400; Biological Anatomy (Lv 4): 796/800; Free Combat (Lv 3): 85/400; Psychology (Lv 6): 42/3200
[Psychology Unique Trait: Mind Perception]
Nothing. The mark wasn't listed. He’d half-expected this. The gift, like his ability to enter the dreamscape, operated outside the system. Perhaps Hogwarts’ library, rumored to hold the sum of magical knowledge, held the key.
With that thought, he ran a hand over the mark on his arm, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He returned to his cot and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Time flew. The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, finding Ian already hunched over his language books.
[Successfully read French word, Language Proficiency +1]
[Successfully read Roman word, Language Proficiency +1]
[Successfully read Roman word, Language Proficiency +1]
He exhaled, rubbing his tired eyes. Learning languages this way was a grind. Each word, painstakingly sounded out, its meaning committed to memory through sheer force of will. Still, the rewards were tangible.
Language Proficiency (Lv 3): 35/400 (+12)
A morning’s work, and twelve points closer to his goal. Level 5, and the unlocking of a unique trait. With no spells to learn for now, practical skills were his only recourse. What secrets would the language trait reveal?
The question fueled him as he started his day. After a meager lunch, he hauled his cart to his usual spot, ready to ply his trade. Fortune telling. Or, more accurately, reading people. The tarot cards were just props. His real tools were his honed psychology skills and the uncanny insights granted by his Mind Sense trait.
He’d found that even if he could tell the future, people didn’t always want to hear it. Sometimes, a carefully crafted lie was more valuable than the truth.
He called out his spiel, and soon a woman, drawn by his promises of insight, approached his table. He studied her: the cut of her clothes, the hesitations in her speech, the subtle flickers in her eyes. He had her pegged.
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“You’re under a lot of stress, madam,” he began, his voice low and soothing.
She nodded, unsurprised. It wasn’t exactly a difficult guess.
He pressed on. “Something to do with your studies?”
A flicker of surprise. “Yes,” she admitted.
“Your tutor is giving you trouble. You’re nearing graduation, but at this rate, he won’t let you pass.”
Her eyes widened. She stared at him, speechless for a moment, then her voice trembled. “Young… fortune teller… you’re right. What should I do?”
[Successfully observed psychological state, Psychology proficiency +1]
Another point. But Ian didn’t let it distract him. His prey was hooked. With his Mind Sense, he could practically steer her thoughts. But he had his principles. Mostly.
“Madam, you’ll need to… grease the wheels, so to speak. A little something for the headmaster might smooth things over. Difficult, though. A lucky charm might help. A blessing from the goddess of fortune…”
He gestured to the array of “lucky charms” laid out on his table. Handmade trinkets, nothing more. But to her, they were talismans of hope.
“How much?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Can I buy them all?”
A jackpot. “Five pounds each, madam.”
He laid out twenty charms.
“I’ll take them all! Twenty times the luck!”
She scooped them up, handing him a crisp one hundred pound note. Enough to buy two months’ worth of meager meals at the orphanage. He pocketed the money, a smile playing on his lips.
“May the goddess of fortune smile upon you,” he intoned, playing his part.
“Thank you!” she clasped her hands together, radiating fervent belief.
He watched her go, then packed up his cart, whistling a cheerful tune. He stopped at a restaurant, buying several steaming pots of stew. Tonight, the children at Wools would eat well.
He wheeled the cart back to the orphanage, the aroma of stew preceding him.
“Whoa, Ian, what’s that?” A chorus of excited voices erupted as the children spotted the steaming pots. Even the older kids weren’t immune to the allure of a hot meal.
“Hey, Ian!” They crowded around, eyes glued to the stew.
Ian grinned. “Alright, everyone, grab some bowls and spoons. And try to keep the drool off the floor.”
Laughter filled the air as they scrambled to obey. Soon, they were all seated, devouring the stew with gusto.
“Ian, I’m so jealous. You’re going to that posh school, right? Miss Elena said the headmaster himself invited you!”
“Wow, I wish I could go.”
“Tom, don’t be silly. Ian studies all the time, even here. Do you study?”
“Some nobleman took a liking to Ian. It’s because he’s so smart!”
Ian listened, a faint amusement tugging at his lips. The Confundus Charm was working its magic. He offered a noncommittal hum now and then, letting them weave their fantasies.
Then, a small voice cut through the chatter. “Ian, I know you’re not going to a posh school. You’re going to Hogwarts. The man with the white beard said it’s a school for wizards who can make sweets appear.”
Ian’s head snapped around. A little girl with golden hair stood beside him, her face a mixture of anxiety and hope. As he met her gaze, a strange buzzing filled his ears, and he heard her unspoken plea as clear as a bell.
I want to go to Hogwarts. I want to learn magic that makes sweets appear! Then I’ll be the Candy Princess!
He blinked, the buzzing fading. His Mind Perception. Sometimes, it gave him glimpses into the deepest desires of others.
The other children were still lost in their chatter, oblivious to the revelation. But the little girl, Catherine, continued to stare at him, her eyes shining with an almost painful intensity. It dawned on him then. She was magical. The Confundus Charm hadn’t touched her. Dumbledore’s magic wouldn’t make such a blatant mistake. This was the real deal.
“Can I? Ian?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He recovered from his surprise, offering her a reassuring smile. “Of course, Catherine. But you have to be a good girl and keep it a secret for now. Hogwarts only accepts obedient children.”
Catherine’s face lit up. She opened her mouth to cheer, but Ian quickly hushed her. “Remember, it’s a secret.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth, nodding vigorously. “I’m a good girl! I won’t tell! Even if Matron breaks my legs, I won’t tell!”
Ian winced internally. Children.
Later that night, in the orphanage kitchen, Ian expertly butchered chickens and ducks, the rhythmic thud of the cleaver a familiar sound.
“Thanks again, Ian. You save us so much time,” one of the cooks said gratefully. The children needed their protein. And Ian needed his practice.
[Successfully butchered a chicken, Biological Anatomy proficiency +1]
[Successfully butchered a duck, Biological Anatomy proficiency +1]
[Successfully butchered a duck, Biological Anatomy proficiency +1]
But tonight, something was different.
[Ding! Congratulations! Biological Anatomy has reached max proficiency and leveled up!]
[Biological Anatomy (Lv 5): 1/1600]
[Congratulations! You have reached level 5 and unlocked a unique trait!]