Victor allowed himself several minutes of rest before forcing himself to open his eyes again and assess the latest situation.

Stretching, he blinked the wet crust out of his eyes and stood up. He wanted to just keep sitting against the door, but he knew that a little walking would be the best way to regain a little bit of energy.

As he paced next to the still smoldering corpse of the rat, Victor frowned. It was fairly common knowledge that the dungeon would provide him with the absolute essentials he needed to survive — food, water, even shelter for rest.

…As long as he continued killing monsters, or at least exploring. With a faint smirk, Victor recalled something one of the senior delving students at the imperial academy had told him once while dropping off a fresh load of brainsucker corpses.

You’ll keep living as long as you don’t die.

But at the same time, Victor wasn’t so naive as to expect the dungeon to provide him with everything he needed to emerge victorious, regardless of how well he was performing.

There was another saying he had picked up from the delvers. Momentum is key.

From what he gathered, they meant that as long as you were doing well, the dungeon would continue to dish out rewards, and all you had to do in order to keep pushing further and further without issue was to just not fuck up or overextend yourself.

But if you did fuck up, things had a tendency to rapidly deteriorate. Whether you were on the offensive or the defensive, the dungeon liked to keep it that way.

Victor had been rather fortunate in that regard. The monstrous rat had put him into full on flight mode, and it was only desperation that led to his narrow victory.

He was under no illusion about the odds of his success. It seemed quite likely that he could have just as easily ended up dead after his first confrontation — just like the fight with the woman several hours before.

Victor’s frown deepened. Over the past two days, he had experienced no small degree of good fortune. He shouldn’t let himself come to expect it.

He needed to be careful. Always stack the odds in his favor, if possible. Granted, the circumstances that led to his current situation were quite extreme…

Shaking his head, Victor decided that it was time to get out of his own head and start putting together a practical plan of action — which meant investigating the message that had appeared in his mind right after he killed the rat.

Returning to the doorway, Victor leaned against it and willed the luminous letters to appear again.

Conjure Fiendfire has advanced to Rank 2!

Please choose between the following three spells: Friendly Fiend, Fiendfire Barrier, Fiendish Firebolt.

After reading the text, Victor frowned. The message didn’t actually give him much information. Somehow — likely based on what he had just done in some way — the spell had become stronger, and now he could choose between three… what, modifications to it?

“How does a spell advance in rank?”

Victor waited patiently for several moments, but nothing happened. Rolling his eyes, he summoned the tome.

Bits of the rat were still burning, though it was mostly a charred skeleton in a heap of glowing embers. Kneeling beside it, Victor opened the book, holding it besides the dull orange glow and repeating his question.

Fortunately, the book actually responded this time.

Spells may advance in rank through a combination of feats and the use of arcane energy.

Victor nodded slowly. That explanation certainly fit the events — it had felt like no small feat of willpower, it was the first time he killed a monster, and he spent all of his available energy to do it.

“Thanks.” As he spoke, Victor realized it was the first time he had thanked his Focus, which made him feel rather embarrassed. He had been treating the book like a mere object, but despite everything he had ever heard about Focuses, it clearly had a mind and personality.

The book didn’t respond, however.

Victor coughed. “What does ‘Friendly Fiend’ do?”

Half expecting the book to give a non-answer, Victor was quite relieved when the dark ink shifted to reveal a short paragraph surrounded by ornate, decorative visual embellishments.

Friendly Fiend: Rank 2 Spell

Expend arcane energy to summon a friendly infernal spirit to provide light and perform reconnaissance.

Victor read and reread the passage several times to be sure he understood it. “Any other details? Like, how far away from me can it go?”

This time, the book refused to answer, the page remaining completely static. Sighing, Victor resigned himself to the fact that what he had was all that he was going to get.

“Thanks anyway. What about ‘Fiendfire Barrier?’”

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Fiendfire Barrier: Rank 2 Spell

Drain arcane energy to conjure a spectral shield of infernal energy which will incinerate any foe who attempts to pass.

Repeating the process again, Victor asked for more information, and the book refused to give any. Victor shrugged. It didn’t hurt to try, even if he doubted anything would have changed this time.

“And what about ‘Fiendish Firebolt?’ What does that one do?”

Fiendish Firebolt: Rank 2 Spell

Expend arcane energy to unleash a streaking bolt of infernal fury with which to smite your foes.

Looking up from the book, Victor frowned at the dying embers of the former rat corpse. It sounded like all three options were based on things he had already done with the basic spell — and they were even listed in chronological order.

While he had only one data point to go by, Victor strongly suspected there was a pattern there. It would certainly be a good thing to keep in mind for the future.

Flipping the book closed, Victor stood back up and returned to the intricately engraved stone doorway. Leaning against it, he considered his options.

By what criteria should he make his choice? There wasn’t that much information to go by. What he had called a passage was really just a single sentence for each upgrade, after all.

Furrowing his brow, Victor thought back to some of the specific wording that the book had used. It said that he would have to expend arcane energy to summon the friendly fiend or to unleash the fiendish firebolt, but it used the word drain for the fiendfire barrier.

That had to be meaningful. Sure, he could be reading too much into it — but that just didn’t feel likely. To him, the first two sounded like an upfront cost, while the latter sounded like an ongoing expense.

My biggest problem isn’t what I can do with these spells. It’s whether I can cast them at all.

Victor had used up the entirety of his reserve of arcane energy — an entire human soul’s worth, he reminded himself darkly. While the barrier did seem appealing, he doubted he would be able to sustain it for very long.

That left the friendly fiend and the fiendish firebolt.

…The choice was pretty obvious.

“I would like to upgrade to Friendly Fiend.”

Conjure Fiendfire: Rank 1 Spell has advanced to Friendly Fiend: Rank 2 Spell.

While the firebolt would undoubtedly be a powerful weapon, as readily proven by the smoking ashes of the overgrown rat, Victor figured that he would be able to get continuous — and rather essential — utility out of the summon.

He needed light, after all, and he doubted the firebolt would cost so little energy as to let him continuously cast it to light his way.

No, at this point, his magic was clearly about efficiency — how much utility he could gain for how little cost.

At the same time, Victor could feel the alien limb of his soul that was the spell morphing and growing, repurposing itself to a new end. It was a bizarre sensation, but it didn’t last long, and once it was complete, the spell felt as natural an extension of his self as the original rank one version had.

Bracing himself, Victor flexed it, using his own body’s energy to conjure the summon.

It took more than he hoped but less than he feared, and he only wavered slightly as a crimson light burst to life in front of him.

A headache assaulted him, and Victor did his best not to glare at the bright light. He didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with his own summon.

At first he had to squint, but his eyes adjusted quickly, even if it continued to make his headache grow worse.

The creature was about the same size as the original spell had been, but it had a more defined shape — consisting of a perfect, glowing sphere the size of his fist surrounded by a halo of flickering flames, rising up to give the whole thing a classic teardrop shape.

Peering closer, Victor thought he could just barely make out two darker, deeper red spots in the center, making him think of eyes.

Running a hand through his hair, Victor grinned sheepishly. “Can you understand me?”

In response, the flame gently bobbed up and down, to Victor’s delight. “Does that mean yes?” The flame repeated the motion, and Victor grinned. “What about no?”

This time, the flame drifted side to side horizontally.

By now, Victor was completely unaware of his headache, and his exhaustion was all but forgotten. “Is there any other way you can talk to me?”

The creature remained motionless for several seconds, before drifting side to side. “Oh.” Victor furrowed his brow. “Well, if you do need something, how about you get my attention by… I don’t know, maybe circling around me? And then we can try to figure something out.” He paused. “Does that work?”

The flame bobbed up and down.

“Great.” Victor sighed. “I guess we should go check out that chest.”

Straightening up, Victor walked past the extinguished ruins of the corpse, and the spirit moved to follow beside and just barely in front of him.

The cobblestone walkway was fairly short, and within several more paces they were back at the shore. Victor glared at the motionless water. “You better not play any more tricks on me.”

Bending down — slowly, cautiously — Victor picked up the small metal chest. It was a bit heavier than he expected.

Looking around, he straightened up. Nothing attacked him, and he began to back up carefully. Still, nothing happened. Satisfied — if not still somewhat wary — Victor retreated back to the doorway.

Setting the chest on the ground, Victor studied the lock. Where was he supposed to get a key? “Great, a locked box as my reward and no key.”

The flaming spirit drifted over to the skeletal remains of the monstrous rodent. Victor eyed the pile of ash — and a metallic glint reflected some of his summon’s crimson light back at him.

Oh. Of course.

Hopping over, Victor dug through the ash, and his hand touched hot metal. Yanking it back with a yelp, Victor shook it off while internally cursing himself. Of course it was hot.

This time, he wrapped his hand in his own sleeve, retrieving the crude key without issue.

It fit into the lock perfectly, and the chest popped open — revealing a medium sized waterskin, a tin of what was probably dried meat, based on all the others he had seen like it, and an assortment of basic butcher’s tools.

Victor rolled his eyes. Great. I’ll take the food and drink, but what the hell am I supposed to do with the other shit? It could have at least given me a knife longer than my pinky…

Sighing, Victor slung the water skin over his shoulder by the accompanying strap. It felt full, to his pleasure. He also took the tin — confirming that it was indeed meat first — and the pathetic knife.

He left the rest of the tools.

So what now?

Perhaps the book would have some suggestions… or maybe, I can get some additional spells.

Flipping it back open, Victor sat down cross legged and took a small swig of water. “So. Thanks for the spell.” He coughed. “Think you can give me any others? I’m at a bit of a loss here.”

Really, he was at a loss here. What was he supposed to do with nothing but a bit of light and a tiny knife?

As ink swirled across the pages, Victor’s hopes rose…

No.

…and came crashing back down.

“Why not?” he demanded. “Do you not have any others?”s

I do. But you have to understand that the power I grant you comes at a cost… a cost that needs to be repaid.

And besides, I don’t want you relying solely on spells. They aren’t even the main feature of your class.

Victor frowned. He wanted to ask about what the supposed cost was — was it just arcane energy, or something else? But the last bit seemed more pressing. “Can you tell me what is the main feature?”

The ink shifted once more, forming a single word. The letters were bold and plain, with none of the decorative ornamentation Victor had come to expect. As his gaze took in the page, the word seared itself into his mind.

Soulforge.