After greeting my parents with quick “good mornings,” Erica and I headed out to Christian’s place. He lived in the residential area of Sylvanel, a comfortable middle-class section nestled just beyond a small forest. The trees served as a natural divider, keeping the elite estates separate from the rest of town.
Sylvanel was a city where nature and architecture blended effortlessly, each district seeming to spring organically from the landscape. The elite quarter, my home, was perched atop a hill, enveloped by towering oaks that lent a secluded, almost mythical feel. Wildflower meadows and manicured gardens decorated the spaces between the elegant homes, while well-kept roads wound through the district, bordered by upscale shops and private teleportation pads.
A dense woodland of pine and silver birch acted as a natural barrier, separating the elite residences from the bustling middle-class neighborhood below. This forested divide provided a sense of privacy to both districts, with a well-maintained road cutting through, crossed here and there by bridges arching over trickling streams. It made for a refreshing walk, one that Erica and I took almost daily on our way to school, often finding ourselves more charmed by the middle-class area than by our own.
The middle-class neighborhood showed great respect for nature, with houses nestled between groves, beside ponds, or even built into the sides of hills—quaint "hobbit homes" as my father called them. Here, gardens and wild patches intertwined, and magical trees planted along the streets glowed softly at night, casting delicate patterns of filtered sunlight by day and gentle shades by night.
Beyond this, a vibrant wetland marked the inner city, with cattails, marigolds, and the soft chorus of frogs. This area held the commons: markets, trade centers, gathering places, and high-density housing. Sylvanel’s rustic wooden walkways wove throughout, leading to embassies of allied factions to the Sylvan Pantheon, with winding paths that blended seamlessly into the natural landscape.
People often assumed that my father, when designing Sylvanel, had prioritized prestige and wealth, creating the finest living area for himself and the elites. And while that might have been partly true, there was also a strategic side to the city’s layout. The elite quarter, positioned on the hill at the city’s edge, was designed to serve as the first line of defense should an attack ever reach Sylvanel.
The inner city appreciated this defensive design because it meant that Sylvanel’s most powerful and well-equipped residents would be the first to respond in the event of an attack, protecting the more populated districts deeper within. Positioned on higher ground, the elite quarter had natural vantage points and strategic terrain that could hold off threats, providing critical time for the rest of the city to mobilize or evacuate if necessary.
For the middle-class neighborhoods and commercial districts below, this layer of protection fostered a sense of security and stability, knowing that the wealthier residents, many of whom held political influence and strength, were effectively acting as the city’s first line of defense. This mutual reliance strengthened the bond between districts, creating a sense of unity in Sylvanel despite its class divisions.
Moreover, the layout allowed the inner city to flourish with less emphasis on fortifications, resulting in a more open, harmonious design where nature and architecture could blend freely. This gave the city its unique charm and functionality, as the people felt both protected and surrounded by beauty.
I appreciated my father’s line of thinking. He prioritized the wellbeing of all citizens, understanding that the true lifeblood of our civilization wasn’t the wealthiest or most powerful individuals but those who innovated and worked to improve our quality of life. To him, the city’s strength came from those who contributed to its growth, stability, and prosperity—the teachers, healers, artisans, and thinkers who shaped the city’s future.
Usually, Erica and I would wander through the forest, taking in the sights and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, but today, we had a clear goal. We hoped Christian would join us without hesitation as we set our sights on the bounty boards for some low-level monster hunting or even a trip into the manmade dungeon within the inner city. The dungeon was structured to gradually push adventurers to their limits. The first level housed creatures from levels three through ten, making it a manageable entry for beginners. The second level raised the stakes with monsters between levels eleven and seventeen. Our goal this week was to conquer the third level, where we’d face creatures from levels eighteen to twenty-five, a true test of our growing skills. With Erica’s high intelligence and my ‘prodigal’ agility, we’d been advised that the second floor would be manageable once we reached a race level of three—or level six in our respective classes. This benchmark meant we’d be prepared to face tougher monsters without being overwhelmed, giving us a good sense of our combined strength. We weren’t entirely certain about Christian’s stats, but we knew he had an edge in strength while staying fairly average across his other attributes.
As we continued along the winding roads of the middle district, one shop stood out, catching my eye: Tattoos. But it was a bit more complex than just that—this was Runescribing. The practice went beyond mere ink; it was the art of weaving runes into objects and even skin. Some runescribes specialized in empowering weapons, etching simple runes to sharpen blades or reinforce the durability of armor, while others pushed the art further, crafting symbols that carried unique powers or even channeling energy directly from the runework. Hiring a runescribe was costly, as their craft involved permanently empowering you with tattoos that could enhance your abilities. The process didn’t end with the service either—runescribes retained a connection to their work. There were limits to how much power could be infused into a person. At each rank, individuals could only receive a certain amount of stat boosts from equipment or permanent buffs, meaning that even the most skilled runescribe couldn't bypass these natural restrictions. I wanted that profession.
“Can we check out the runescribe?” I asked Erica.
Her head snapped toward me, realization dawning on her face, eyes widening. “Holy shit, I didn’t even think of that.” Erica paused, looking up at the sky as she laughed. “With your drawing skills, you could become the best runescribe in the city.”
She grinned ear to ear, then continued, “I just read about a profession evolution this morning. Runescribes can evolve into something that can create tattoos that act like skills—like, you could make one that activates when you’re hit, or when you hit someone else. The possibilities, Jack! And I’ve always wanted a tattoo.” She pointed to the middle of her chest, smirking. “Right here.”
I playfully rolled my eyes. “We’ll check out the runescribe when we’re done at Christian’s. I’ve got some tattoo ideas of my own.”
“Yes, yes, yes! But we have to stop by the tailor for me first.” Erica added eagerly.
“My mom would gladly help you get started with tailoring. Though, I thought you were leaning toward something more combat-focused for your profession?”
“Oh, I don’t want to be a tailor, I just need a cloak,” she said, pausing for a moment to think. “I don’t think we’d have trouble finding my profession though. I want to dive into alchemy—or maybe jewelcrafting.”
I nodded thoughtfully. She had mentioned her interest in alchemy before, largely because of its versatility. The ability to craft potions that could restore mana mid-battle would save a considerable amount of money otherwise spent on purchasing them. It was a practical choice, one that fit her strategic mindset perfectly. On the other hand, her interest in jewelcrafting was a bit unexpected. While it held some appeal, it didn’t seem as practical compared to alchemy. Jewelcrafters could eventually create items like spatial storage rings or rings with stat boosts, but these weren’t things you’d frequently replace. A well-crafted spatial ring obtained at Rank C would likely remain useful well into the peak of Rank A, making the demand for such items less consistent.
I voiced my concerns, “Jewelcrafting? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s definitely playing second fiddle to alchemy. I know, I know—accessories don’t get replaced often—but I was reading about someone who created transportable housing. Like, a spatial ring that could hold an entire house, and you could just drop it wherever you wanted. I think it’d be amazing to live anywhere without spending millions on a permanent place. Plus, if we ever decide to stop progressing, we could end up living comfortably with more money than what we know what to do with.” Erica looked toward our destination, noticing something odd going in the front garden.
“Jack, what’s he doing?” She asked.
“Uh, I think he’s trying to get a profession,” I said, watching the massive, superhumanly muscled man frolic through his family’s garden, attempting a surprisingly graceful ballet routine. For someone with so much muscle to carry, his movements were impressively fluid—it was honestly pretty good. It wasn’t really my thing, and I couldn’t tell if it was good, but to my untrained eye, he looked as though he’d already gained the dancing profession.
“Hey, Christian!” Erica called out as we approached the small fence enclosing his parents’ yard. “What’re you up to?”
Christian froze mid-spin, his graceful movements abruptly halting. He turned toward us in a panic, his face flushing a deep shade of red that nearly matched the tomatoes in his family’s garden. “Oh, hi guys… uh…” he stammered, fumbling for an explanation as he glanced nervously between us. His expression shifted, determination overtaking embarrassment. Straightening his posture, he looked at us almost defiantly. “Dancing,” he declared firmly, as if daring us to question him.
I chuckled, trying to put him at ease. “No one’s judging you, man. Honestly, you’re really good—at least as far as I can tell.” I leaned against the fence, giving him a curious look. “So, why dancing?”
His answer was unexpectedly thoughtful.
“Passion,” he began, “and because it’ll help with my footwork and fluidity in battle. It also addresses my weakness in mobility. I already picked up the profession—it gives me agility, endurance, and perception. My agility is below average, and while I could focus purely on becoming an unkillable tank, being able to dodge attacks adds a lot more survivability. Especially now, since I don’t have any movement skills.
"Endurance is a no-brainer—it’s always good to have more stamina, and gives me more perception, which happens to be my second-highest stat.”
“Wow.” Erica’s eyes flickered with subtle surprise, just enough for me to catch. “That’s super smart.”
Christian, clearly eager to move past the attention, got straight to the point. “So, what’s up? Just passing by?”
“No, actually, we came to see you,” I said, pausing for a moment and glancing at Erica for one last nod of agreement. Once she gave it, I continued, “We wanted to ask if you’d be interested in teaming up with us until Rank G.”
Christian’s previously stern expression faded, and his eyes lit up and he could barely contain a smile. “Really? No joking?”
“Really.” Erica assured him.
Christian couldn’t contain his excitement. He leapt over the fence and scooped me up as if I weighed nothing. “Oh yes, yes! I’d love to! It’s been so hard finding a group to dive with.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Christian was a giant man-child, but in the best way possible. It wasn’t a bad thing, at least not to me. His carefree attitude made him incredibly fun to be around. He had the ability to be serious when needed, but his laid-back personality always put everyone at ease.
“We both plan to get our professions before heading into the dungeon, but we expect to have them by the end of the week,” Erica explained. “If not, we’ll just go in without one. Does that sound good?”
Christian nodded, his grin stretching ear to ear. “Take your time! It’s not like I’ve got much else to do anyway!”
I couldn’t help but crack a smile as I reached into my pocket and flipped him a small coin etched with my family’s crest—a hawk carrying a flower.
“What’s this for?” Christian asked, catching the coin and inspecting it with a puzzled expression.
“Show it to the guard at my house, and he’ll let you in. Stop by tomorrow anytime after noon, and you can go through our armory for anything you might still need,” I replied. Then, with a playful smirk, I added, “We don’t have any dancing shoes, though.”
Christian let out a deep, hearty laugh. "You bet. Thank you guys, for real." His expression softened with genuine gratitude as he pocketed the coin, the excitement never quite leaving his face.
We said our goodbyes, Christian’s smile still beaming as we turned to head back to the runescribe’s shop. Most profession shops offered starter kits or profession tomes, but they were a bit of a cheat. Profession tomes allowed you to gain a profession quickly, though they were outrageously expensive. Even then, it was far better to learn a profession naturally. The System rewarded talent and achievements you earned without outside help, and gaining a profession without natural aptitude made it harder to level up. Not to mention, learning something that wasn’t suited to you could actually hinder your overall growth in the long run.
We stepped into the runescribe’s shop, immediately noticing a shelf stacked with decorated boxes labeled as starter kits, and a singular profession tome resting in a glass case atop the highest shelf. The air was thick with the scent of ink and parchment, a few arcane symbols glowing faintly along the walls. We made our way through the shop, nodding and offering a smile to the deskkeep, who gave a polite wave in return. The atmosphere felt welcoming, yet subtly charged with the magic of the runes, as if every object here held more than just its physical form. The mana in the air was almost tangible, swirling with a multitude of affinities that intermingled and fed the runic symbols etched into the walls and shelves. It was like standing in the heart of an arcane storm, each breath thick with the energy of the environment.
I tried to focus, reaching out to sense the distinct threads of each affinity, but it was a challenge. They blended together, making it nearly impossible to separate them, each one pulling and twisting in its own dance. I stood there, eyes closed, letting the mana swirl around me. It felt like a puzzle, a web of energy waiting to be unraveled. I reached out mentally, gently tugging at each individual thread of mana, trying to identify their unique affinities. There were the simple affinities, a sharp, crystalline edge of fire, the earthy, grounding presence of earth, the fluid, ever-changing flow of water, and the ethereal, almost intangible nature of wind. Each affinity felt different, but they were all interconnected, like veins in a larger, living organism. The more I focused, the clearer the threads became, though the complexity of the whole network still eluded me. It was as if the mana was alive, moving in patterns I could sense but not fully understand yet. I didn’t rush, allowing myself to settle into the rhythm of it, embracing the challenge with a quiet determination. The air hummed with possibility, and I knew that this was just the beginning.
There were far more affinities than I had anticipated—one that I couldn’t quite identify, but it pulsed with an energy of organized chaos; another that radiated a calming, serene aura, likely the nature affinity that permeated Sylvanel; and a third, dark and cold, with an air of mystery—Shadow.
I reached for the thread that drew me in most—the one pulsing with organized chaos. Its power was energetic, rapid, almost frantic. As I drew closer to it mentally, I felt an electric arc of energy crackle through the air. Ah, now I know what you are. I opened my eyes and looked down at my hands, watching as lightning jumped between my fingertips. Holding my hand out in front of me, I examined it slowly, just as notifications flashed into my vision.
You have resonated with the “Lightning Affinity”
You have gained the “Lightning Affinity”
You have learned 1 Skill
Mana Sense (Rare)
It's easier for you to sense affinities within the environmental mana. This skill is passive.
Erica stood quietly, a smile tugging at her lips before asking. "You just got your first affinity, didn't you?"
"Yep," I replied, still mesmerized by the blue lightning crawling across my fingertips, inching toward my bloodmark on my forearm. In a sudden moment of panic, I shook my hand, trying to dispel the electric energy that clung to my limb. With a little luck, my lightning dispersed quite quickly, responding to my will.
Apparently, I’d caught the attention of the Runescribe, who had been watching from behind the front desk. As soon as he saw that I’d noticed him, he spoke up. “That’s a rare sight.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, still a little confused.
“Most people don’t walk into a Runescribing shop and just pluck an affinity out of the air for themselves. Especially one that’s barely even there,” he explained, his voice filled with intrigue.
“Say, when you gained the affinity, did you also get Mana Sense?” he added, clearly curious.
I nodded, “Yeah. How’d you figure that out?”
“I did it too, accidentally though, during the tutorial, at the end of Rank G,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he examined me from a distance. “Jackson Taylor,” he added, his tone changing slightly, as if he’d just made the connection. “Talented family I guess.” He smiled and shook his head.
I watched him in silence as he walked toward us, reaching up to the profession tome. “Oh no, I’m gonna go with a starter kit.” I said.
He smirked in approval, reaching toward one of the kits, “Smart kid.” he said, handing me the kit, “On the house, not because of who you are, but because of what you just did, one condition though, you return when you gain the profession so I can teach you how to tattoo.”
I nodded eagerly, taking the decorated box and shoving it into my spatial ring with a mental command. I reached for his hand, “Deal.”
Erica had been silently inspecting the art on the walls, tattoos that were purely cosmetic, and some that mentioned stat gains. “Hey, shopkeeper guy, how much is a ‘Stattoo’.” She held in a laugh, clearly proud of her pun.
“Depends,” he said, gesturing to a tattoo of a bear’s claw on his arm, “I specialize in strength and vitality tattoos, so those would be quicker and easier for me to do. For a quality one, those are my most expensive since it's the best work I can produce. For anything else, I'd have to spend quite a bit more time crafting a tattoo for another stat, which would make it a little more expensive.”
Erica nodded thoughtfully, seeming to understand the standard business practice. “Okay. If Jack here is talentless and can’t get the Runescribe profession, I’ll pay you a visit.”
I rolled my eyes at her teasing. “I’d love to keep chatting, but we should go find something for you,” I said, turning my attention to Erica.
Erica nodded, “Yeah, we should get going if we’re done here. Thank you, for the starter kit you gave Jack.”
“No problem, names Phil by the way. Remember, you’re coming back here when you get your profession.”
I nodded toward him, repeating his name back to him so I could remember it better, “Of course Phil, I owe ya, even if you’d still be doing me a favor.”
We kept the visit brief, efficient, and more effective than either of us had expected. Gaining an affinity was no small feat, especially without even having a race level yet. But I had walked into a profession shop and walked out with more than I’d hoped for. I was excited as hell—lightning was just fucking cool.
I’d visited a number of alchemy labs in Sylvanel with my parents over the years. They were always ordering massive quantities of potions and contracting alchemists to create specialized brews for our military forces in case of monster attacks. Fortunately, those were rare, especially with us “tree huggers” around. I’d never fully aligned with my dad’s love for nature, though I’d learned to appreciate it in my own way. He’d be pretty disappointed to know that Nature wasn’t my first affinity. I also wouldn’t mention how the Nature affinity hadn’t quite felt right to me—it was a shame, really. I wished I could experience the supposed constant calmness it brought to others. My Mom could replicate the feeling with a skill she had, but imagining that feeling but it constantly running through my body sounded like bliss.
The thought of affinities lingered in my mind. My bloodmark was supposed to make acquiring the time and lunar affinities almost effortless. I decided to ask Erica if she’d be okay with me making a quick stop at a clock shop after we picked up her starter kits for both jewelcrafting and alchemy. She’d been undecided, so we agreed on buying both kits for now and letting her think it over later.
The rest day was unsurprisingly uneventful, and we picked up the kits without issue. We eventually made our way to a cozy little shop that specialized in purely cosmetic jewelry and various doodads—items I remembered being in abundance before the integration. The shop also carried watches, and anything related to the physical representation of time would naturally leave traces of the time affinity. A clocktower would have been ideal, but unfortunately, Sylvanel didn’t have one. Still, I figured this would work for now.
“Are you going in or just standing there?” Erica asked.
“Give me a moment, I’m trying to hype myself up. I’m gonna look crazy just walking into a shop and sitting there with my eyes closed, doing nothing,” I replied.
“Seriously? It’s not weird at all. People do this all the time. Just go,” Erica sighed, giving me a nudge to move forward. “Go.”
I rolled my shoulders back, shaking off my nervousness, and walked toward the door. As soon as I entered, I was greeted by the soft tick-tick-tick of various clocks, each one a small masterpiece of intricate gears and delicate hands. The air was filled with a sense of stillness, and despite the hustle of the outside world, the shop felt like a sanctuary. I found an unoccupied corner by a window, trying my best to ignore the odd looks I might get.
Erica, a few steps behind me, was already looking at the jewelry with interest. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the quiet tick of the clocks fill my senses. Reaching out with my mind, I focused on the soft, steady hum that seemed to pulse in the air around me—traces of the time affinity woven into every second that passed.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, reaching for the faint thread of time, hoping it would respond to me the same way the lightning had.
I hadn’t even touched it yet, before it shot toward me, a tangible web of golden-orange light swirling around me, wrapping me in a thin cocoon before all of it streamed toward my forearm, settling in a ball before slowly sinking into my skin. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, just... strange. Time seemed to slow once more, the same odd feeling I’d experienced during my class selection. This time, however, it was fleeting—lasting only a second before fading, much shorter than it had been before.
You have resonated with the “Time Affinity”
You have gained the “Time Affinity”
I blinked away a grogginess from my eyes and let out a yawn. “Wow, that really made me tired.” I’d heard that gaining the time affinity had this effect, as your body tricked itself into thinking it had lived an entire day in that moment. It only lasted the day of acquiring the affinity, but it was still one of those unexplained phenomena in the multiverse. I was sure some time mage out there had the answer, but they probably weren’t in a rush to share their secrets.
Erica stared in awe at me, “That was so damn pretty to watch.”
The older couple that she’d acquainted herself with in the short time she’d been looking for jewelry nodded their heads in agreement both letting out a quiet sound of approval. They didn’t really comment, other than a “Good for you!” and a “Congratulations.” which I’d been grateful for, as right now, I genuinely just wanted to go home and sleep.
Erica had chosen a pair of earrings she found pretty, while I secretly purchased a simple silver bracelet. I planned to give it to her on our first dungeon delve—a small token to commemorate the start of our journey. It felt fitting to mark the occasion, a moment that would hold meaning for both of us, even if our paths eventually diverged. I tucked the bracelet into my jacket pocket, keeping it hidden as Erica walked beside me, her arm linked with mine. The stroll felt like a serene evening walk, though the sun still hung high in the sky, barely dipping past its peak. The exhaustion from gaining my time affinity wasn’t overwhelming, but the constant waves of drowsiness made it hard to ignore. As the familiar gate of my home came into view through the trees, I briefly considered using the last of my energy to sprint toward the comfort of my bed. Instead, I chose to fight the impulse, savoring the extra moments I could spend with Erica. Our relationship had taken an unexpected but welcome turn, shifting from purely platonic best friends—without even a hint of flirtation—to a young couple others naturally assumed we were, all within less than twenty-four hours. It was quite a turnaround, which my mother said she fully expected.
Offering my greetings to the guard, telling him about Christian stopping by tomorrow with a family coin, me and Erica bee-lined for my room. She planned to tinker in the workshop with her jewelcrafting kit and alchemy kit after I fell asleep.