“Mana is volatile magic that hungers to consume us, but it also holds the answer to life itself.

To resist the power that cages us, we must first leap into mana’s uncharted instabilities. Some travelers will never return, while others will rise above and wield sorcery we never imagined possible.”

- Malachi Vanderlo, Founder of Specialization Trees.

CHAPTER ONE

Levy had considered himself fortunate each day of the last week as everything seemed to go his way, but now, when he finally arrived at Geriwald, he realized how wrong he was. Everything had worked out, yes, and he was as prepared as he ever could’ve been, but still he was shocked at what he saw. He was like a dog chasing a rabbit all this time, just this rabbit turned out to be a skunk that sprayed him in the face.

He stood halfway between his first dungeon and a crowd of trainees dispersing from the ostentatious training grounds. Decorated walls with depictions of glorious battles, a field of manicured grass with fenced-off arenas—Levy had never seen anything like the training grounds in his small town.

It was not the training grounds, however, that made Levy feel like a beggar who’d suddenly been transported into the king’s dining hall during a banquet. It was what Levy saw among the huge group of trainees now heading toward him. They were overpowered and over-geared from head to toe. They were a glittering image of what actual good fortune looked like.

Levy was not fortunate. He clearly had the worst luck of anyone here.

Every two years, a Deviant had visited Levy’s town and offered a portal to Geriwald for anyone who was eighteen or older, and every two years Levy would remind himself that his time would come. Only two things needed to happen first. He had to amass ten silver—by any means necessary short of landing himself in prison—and then he had to turn eighteen. Both had finally happened, and just in time. He had earned his tenth silver only last week and turned eighteen a few days ago. The Deviant had arrived soon after. He had thought this made him lucky.

His parents’ business, Havvoc Books, did not make much coin. So Levy had spent all of his teenage years accumulating everything he could sell and searching for the best prices he could fetch. He’d had a plan for the last five years. Dirt was richer than he was now, but he was finally here. He’d made it.

When Levy had not been studying and training with mana, he’d mostly assisted his parents in their library where they lent out books and scrolls for a meager but relaxing living. The free time Levy had left went into earning coin. The fastest yet most dangerous way was venturing into Rayoak Forest and collecting what valuable plants he could while avoiding the monsters that lurked all around. At level 1, even looking at one the wrong way could mean an attack, and he couldn’t survive a single blow. He knew so from experience.

He hadn’t known what had happened when he’d suddenly been killed—put into a protective state where mana shielded his body from further harm as it prepared him for resurrection. It was the same thing that happened to everyone before they died, and it was the single greatest benefit of the Ancient. However, while the Ancient kept everyone from dying a permanent death, he could also take away this privilege.

Levy did not want to irritate the Ancient in the slightest, which was certainly going to happen if he kept venturing into a forest way above his measly level of 1 just to be killed over and over again.

He had not let this single death deter him, but caution was free. From these many trips into the forest, Levy had collected enough rare plants to trade for something not valuable to others but very valuable to him, cheap ingredients needed for his enchanting spells. He did this throughout the years and recently provided some crappy-but-better-than-nothing enchants for the travelers who stopped in the small town of Sheln.

Stuck at primary level 1, Levy couldn’t compete with the full-fledged enchanter in town, but he did get away with earning some coin by providing not only the ingredient the Tier 1 enchant required but the service of permanently enchanting the item at half of the cost of the other enchanter’s service.

Levy had leveled up his enchanting skill to 7 over the years because there was no restriction on leveling skills or stats like there was to advancing a primary level. The other enchanter hardly minded. Tier 1 enchants paid a fraction of what the wealthy man earned each week.

In exchange for Levy’s ten silver, the Deviant provided three things. One was a transport for Levy to the first dungeon’s entrance in Geriwald, a city Levy wouldn’t be able to reach on his own. More importantly, this payment also granted him the one thing he’d looked forward to for years. He was now a traveler, meaning he could start earning experience and progress past level 1. The last perquisite that came with unlocking leveling was that Levy now had access to a storage locker in Geriwald for the few belongings he’d brought with him. It was mostly just spare underwear because he’d sold most else.

He had not come here to enter the training grounds. Admittance cost a whole other ten silver, which was equivalent to a gold coin, and it was his understanding that training began a week ago. No, he was here to enter the first dungeon for his preliminary challenge. There was a great reward if he passed, but there was an insurmountable problem in the way.

Levy had expected to find others here like him, young men and women who had little more than their clothes and something sharp that hardly could be called a weapon. He had expected the equipment worn by his peers to be no better than what could be purchased from an amateur tailor or blacksmith for less than a few silver coins. Frankly, Levy would’ve been thankful for gear like that.

Most of what he’d worn throughout the years was what his mother could sew together for him from his outgrown or ripped clothing. He’d always made sure he’d told her how much he appreciated her effort, but it was also true that sometimes he felt that the only difference between him and a beggar was the begging part. His shirt was thin enough for a gentle breeze to go straight through him, and his pants were ragged and held together with a threadbare cinch older than he was.

These trainees, these…fifty of them? Hoary’s ass, there were a lot. These fifty trainees did not purchase their equipment from amateur tailors or blacksmiths. It looked more like entire sets of armor had been bestowed upon them by the Ancient himself. Their armor even matched. Their gloves, boots, and robes or cuirasses were all the same blue, red, or just plain old—glimmering in Levy’s eyes—silver.

Anger overcame him. Why are they all so rich?

He could see they were all level 1 like him as he used their shared connection with the system of mana to also view their names, which he cared little about right now. It was their stats he really wanted to see, even though he had a feeling it would push him over the edge. To inspect their stats, however, he would have to wait for them to come closer, where they could inspect him as well.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He had to somehow talk his way into grouping with not just one but two of them. Three was the max any group could be during these starter levels. If Levy went into the dungeon alone, there would still be just as many monsters to face, and these monsters would all be the same level as if Levy faced them with a group. That meant going alone was nothing but a disadvantage. There might’ve been a traveler who’d completed the dungeon solo, but they certainly would’ve had better gear than Levy did.

Traveler, was that what Levy really was now? He supposed he was, even if he didn’t feel like one. As a traveler, he could walk out of Geriwald right now and avoid the historical amount of embarrassment that he was about to face. There were plenty of low-level monsters just outside the wall, with a guard nearby to kill off any and all if Levy ran back in need of aid. There was no shame in this.

However, he’d miss out on a few things that he was fairly certain he couldn’t pass up. Everyone knew that the loot from the first group of monsters contained a decent item for any level 1. Well, any level 1 who didn’t fart gold dust. It would either be a robe or a cuirass with good stats.

Levy had one item worth mentioning, his hand-me-down yet beloved sword a traveler had used to pay Levy for a dozen enchants over a month.

Tarnished Tickler

Damage: 1

Speed: 2

If only it was tarnished from slaying so many beasts, it could’ve been repaired, but no, it apparently dropped that way. It was still a weapon with a working handle and blade. Even with the lowest damage available to swords, Levy could take down a weak level 1 monster with some well-placed stabs or hard swings to the head.

Level 1 creatures were not present in the first dungeon, though. This was known. They were at least level 3 and usually waited in packs.

What else this weapon provided to Levy was an opportunity for it to be enchanted with a minor stat increase. Even a small stat boost could be extremely beneficial if it was the right stat.

Most of the trainees seemed too preoccupied with each other to notice Levy. The ones who did barely offered a glance, looking away quickly as if worried a long gander might invite conversation.

That was, in fact, exactly what Levy had hoped for. However, they passed by and left him standing on the dusty dirt path with the last of his hope trying to find a way out of him. He held onto it like his cinch held his loose pants to his waist.

It’s time, he told himself. You’ve been waiting years for this. Stop being a coward. He sucked in a breath, puffed out his chest in false confidence, and strode over to the group.

Then he slouched and began to eavesdrop.

It seemed that most of these young men and women were interested in one person more than anyone else. He was tall, blond, and if Levy was better at determining this sort of thing, he might go so far as to claim the young man was blessed with handsomeness in addition to his obvious riches. His jawline exuded more strength and confidence than the gleam of his polished gold-tinted armor.

“I’m going with Drale and Constance,” he announced. “So stop asking,” he added with a slight chuckle. “Also, we’re going last.”

Mana projected the young man’s name and level to Levy’s vision.

Auden, 1

Levy wanted to inspect Auden’s stats and gear, but there was no way to inspect anyone’s stats without mana alerting them of the inspection.

Speaking of, someone named “Drale” was inspecting Levy right now. It was one of the two people Auden had mentioned who would go with him into the dungeon. Levy glanced around and noticed more than a few people staring at him. One young man started laughing and Levy realized it was Drale.

Levy noticed a few things about Drale even before inspecting him back. One, he was an ass. Two, he seemed to be a warrior. Three, he was one of several analytes here among the trainees.

Analytes had violet hair of varying shades. Drale’s was light in color, close to blue. It was thick and with locks ending in many soft points. His hair was otherwise short on the sides, though he had very dark eyebrows over harsh eyes, and a thick beard of the same black shade of hair.

He looked like he’d slain all sorts of creatures even though he was just level 1 like everyone else here. His time in the training grounds had provided him with an increase of stats, most likely, but not as much as his gear did.

Drale, 1

Str: 12 +3

Dex: 12 +3

Agil: 11 +2

CoM: 3 +0

Specialization: Survival

Recommended level: 5

The first number was the total amount of each stat, including the added points from the gear. So Drale’s strength and dexterity were a total of 12 each. Having +3 next to each stat meant his strength and dexterity were both enhanced by 3 because of his gear or his level. Considering he was only level 1, it had to all be from gear in this case. His gear also added +2 to his agility, which was only 9 without gear.

Inspecting someone else didn’t provide all the information available without them granting a full inspect, but Levy had seen enough. Even without being able to inspect Drale’s gear, Levy recognized Drale’s weapon by the white color of the blade.

Sturdy Bone Sword

Damage: 4

Speed: 3

It was a Tier 2 weapon made from a skilled blacksmith with enough sturdy bones, which were a drop from creatures that were too high level for anyone here to beat. A quick scan showed that all of Drale’s equipment looked as if it was Tier 2. It was probably the same for everyone here. A level 1 couldn’t equip anything above Tier 2, otherwise Levy was certain many people here would be sporting Tier 3.

Drale said something in analyse, which Levy didn’t know even a lick of. Then the warrior laughed again. Levy’s face soured. He didn’t bother inspecting himself to see what Drale saw. He had all of his visible stats memorized.

Levy, 1

Str: 8 +0

Dex: 8 +0

Agil: 8 +0

CoM: 9 +0

Specialization: Enchanting

Recommended level: 2

Levy thought of how he looked through the eyes of the other travelers right now. Yes, he was clearly impoverished because he had spent everything to get here and unlock leveling. But other than his clothes, he took pride in his appearance. His lush brown hair was kempt atop his head. When looking in a mirror, he thought his light brown eyes reflected his curiosity and intelligence quite well, even if his smile made him look a little more silly than handsome. He was not tall or short, not thin or heavy. He had more of a wide jaw, where stubble collected when he had gone a while without a razor, but not today. He was clean-shaven and ready for anything. There were travelers like Drale who seemed intent on crushing his spirit, but he wasn’t about to let them.

Levy had thought his good stats would have given him the opportunity to form a group of his liking when he arrived here with the other new travelers. He had decent strength, dexterity, agility, and most importantly, he had a very high CoM—congruity of mana. Just like all the stats, CoM was a good attempt for the system to quantify how skilled Levy was with using mana, sorcery, magic, spellcasting, whatever someone wanted to call it.

Having a CoM of 9 was exceptional for a level 1. It was known as the most difficult stat to increase before leveling became available. Levy figured Drale was laughing at Levy’s recommended level of 2. Levy didn’t think this would be so bad if everyone else had the same lack of gear as him.

About five other people all inspected him, too many names for him to keep track of. They seemed incredibly disinterested, as expected, but what surprised him was the comment of one young woman.

“Enchanting?” she asked snidely. “You can’t expect anyone is going to group with you.”

He couldn’t help but show his offense. “What do you mean? Enchanting is very valuable to any group.”

Another chimed in, a man with red shining armor. “Enchanting in town you mean, but not part of a group.”

“Not just in town—” Levy tried to explain, but another person interrupted him.

“Look at what he’s wearing. He obviously has no idea about anything.”

“A man’s intelligence has nothing to do with his clothing!” Levy retorted. “Are none of you enchanters?” he asked the group, seeing that many had already turned around to stare at him.

One muttered “enchanter?” in confusion, while others chuckled and made comments about Levy’s lack of coin, his lack of wit, and one comment that really pissed him off, his lack of even having a proper belt.

He normally would ignore all of this…except that he desperately needed a group. Not everyone had seemed so put off, mostly because there were still a large number of people who had not noticed what was going on around Levy. They were too focused finding their own trio to enter the dungeon.

Embarrassed but through the worst of it, Levy felt emboldened as he made his way toward the middle of the group. This was where people appeared most desperate to find the best trio they could.

(© First published by B.T. Narro on Royal Road, 11/12/2023)