image [https://i.imgur.com/5wIIx8r.jpg]

Charitybelle and I ate breakfast and strolled to the library together the following day. I pointed out each section and presented some of my favorite books. After milling about, I showed her my work area on the fourth floor.

She watched me grid a sheet of parchment but soon grew bored. “Why don’t they create a stencil or something to automate this? This is going to take forever.”

I mimicked Fabulosa’s southern twang. “You fancy sword-swinging gals are too fast for us clerical types.”

She slapped my arm but gave me a generous laugh.

I shrugged. “Mr. Fergus taught me to grid them this way, so that is how I do it.”

I returned to my work while Charitybelle searched for books with maps. She stayed longer than I expected and found a few regional charts by noon but no continent-wide maps.

“Did you learn anything else?”

Charitybelle wrinkled her nose. “Not much. It’s hard going. I spent the past hour looking for scientific topics before realizing no science existed. Instead, they label everything under natural philosophy.”

“I guess that makes sense. Everything unproven belongs in philosophy.”

“Besides the vocabulary issues, I can barely read anything. It’s so hard to tell the difference between these letters. It takes time to recognize each word. By the time I reach the end of a sentence, I forget what the beginning entailed. But I haven’t given up. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Charitybelle bid me farewell and promised to meet me in Formal Hall for dinner.

Once I learned the technique, I didn’t need to concentrate to align everything. Despite the welcome distraction of Charitybelle’s company, I increased my output to eight pages. Having a chatterbox like her sitting beside me passed the time quickly. At this pace, I would finish in a few days. Mr. Fergus checked my work occasionally, and the lack of corrections encouraged me.

Charitybelle spent the next couple of days perusing the stacks. Her visits to the library never lasted longer than a few hours, but we always saw each other in Formal Hall in the mornings and evenings. The others continued adventuring in the countryside and spent their nights at the inn.

After I finished ruling parchments, Mr. Fergus taught me the basics of lettering. He handed me a sheet of vellum, a quill, and a bottle of watery ink. He showed me how to wash the ink off the vellum, so I wouldn’t waste parchment while practicing.

Inking on vellum challenged me more than parchment. Its smooth surface pronounced errors and irregularities, but learning it became part of the process.

I practiced my vertical strokes to make the letters as uniform as possible. The silverpoint rules I’d made with the wire helped me align the letterforms when I graduated to parchment.

Mr. Fergus spent the days with me, correcting misaligned strokes. He policed uneven spacing and ensured my ascender and descender strokes didn’t vary in length. The key to consistent lettering involved a consistent grip and angle on the stylus.

Maintaining a steady hand challenged me, but after a week, I didn’t need anyone sitting behind me. I practiced the alphabet, learning one letter at a time. I switched to alternating letters and discovered it was much harder to maintain consistency. After mastering letters, I worked on letter spacing and word spacing. Finally, I embraced the art of judging line length.

Learning letters dominated my routine for the next few weeks, and the workdays ended when I’d lost the light.

PinkFox and ArtGirl joined us at Formal Hall one night, and it felt great to catch up. The latest news revolved around the gang breaking barriers between players and NPCs. They’d become regular fixtures at the pub and made many local friends.

I smiled when I saw them. I admired the wear, tear, and mud on their outfits. “It’s great to see you guys again. I see C-Belle every day. She comes to the library, looking for maps of the continent. She says you’re getting to know the NPCs.”

PinkFox nodded. “Yeah, we’re trying to find more monsters.”

“Have you asked C-Belle? She and I have learned a few things. Ogres, giants, and dragons dwell in the southern swamps, but all that sounds high level.”

ArtGirl tilted her head toward her friend. “We’re more interested in things nearby. Pinky and I have been pumping the locals.”

PinkFox nodded. “We learned about the other cities on the Grayton River—the main water channel leading to the port of Arlington. The big cities bully neighboring villages but rarely war with one another.”

ArtGirl bit her lower lip, and she tried to remember something. “From what we hear, the threat of monsters in the continent’s interior stops people from attacking one another. We’ve got goblins harrying cities in the western continent, and the eastern half has orcs.”

I nodded. “Yeah, goblins raid from the Bluepeaks and the orcs from the Doublespines.”

PinkFox jumped in. “But if you ask the locals, the biggest problems come from Arlington—the West’s only port town. Since all the big cities are on the Grayton River, traffic flows through Arlington’s locks and canals, and its tolls are high. Arlington’s taxes warp everyone’s economy. Prices for local goods are too cheap, and imports from the East Coast are too expensive.”

ArtGirl pointed to me. “But that’s their problem. What we care about is monsters in the continent’s center. Everyone avoids it, so we figure that’s where the action is.”

Everyone had gained more experience. PinkFox and ArtGirl advanced to level 4, while Charitybelle remained at level 3. The running joke with the gang was that my level 0 made me a virgin. I could have pointed out that weeks of effort and only reaching level 4 seemed too slow, but I held my tongue.

Their lack of progress came from a scarcity of new quests and monsters. They spend entire afternoons hunting for a single fight. As much as my gameplay had stalled, theirs wasn’t exactly in high gear either.

My big news to share at dinner arrived the following day in the form of a system alert. While practicing my lettering, I received my first skill acquisition message.

Skill Acquired

Manuscript Creation

Description

You’ve learned the art of manuscript creation, a valuable skill for scribes, clerks, and scholars.

Rank

1

Progress to rank 2

0%

Even without the mention of magic, I admired the message with pride. Players earned skills—and gaining them required commitment. The Book of Dungeons, though a stingy game, rewarded merit. A progress bar showed the percentage of how far I needed to reach the next skill rank.

Redoubling my efforts on the vellum, I lettered the alphabet, practiced words, and calculated line lengths. The work helped me develop an appreciation for the subtlety of the letterforms. My manuscript creation skill hit rank 2 and progressed to 85 percent of rank 3 by the end of the first day. Seeing some light at the end of the tunnel energized me, making the work less tedious.

I arrived late for dinner with the great news.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The girls showed polite enthusiasm and genuine amusement at my news. After my disclosure, they recited new skills appearing on their character sheet—survival, slashing weapons, blunt weapons, piercing weapons, ranged weapons, dodging, and stealth.

I tried not to feel dismayed by their adventures. But when they mentioned making ranks in light magic, I stopped the conversation by palming the table. “Wait—light magic? How are you learning light magic?” I searched their faces to see if they were joking. They weren’t.

ArtGirl waved her hand. “Relax. It’s not what you think. We’re just casting heals and our cantrip, Heavenly Favor. It ranks up your light magic skill as you use it. Higher spells like Rest and Mend rank it up a little faster.”

I looked at her in disbelief and double-checked my character sheet. “But I’ve experimented with cantrips and never got skill ranks off them. My skill list doesn’t include magic.”

PinkFox grinned at my confusion. “They rank up faster in combat.”

ArtGirl shrugged. “I’m only rank 3.”

PinkFox chimed in. “Yeah, I’m rank 3 too. Fab is up to 5 on primal magic. She picked up Ice Bolt when she leveled to 5 yesterday.”

My befuddlement confused them.

PinkFox comically mimicked my expression by opening her eyes and mouth. “Why are you so surprised by this?”

“And you’re saying Fab is now rank 5, on her own, without a magic tutor?”

PinkFox leaned back as comprehension dawned on her face. “Oh. Wait, I keep forgetting you’re still at level zero. Patch, you honestly have to start playing the game. Two things happen when you level—you get better stats and one power point to spend on a spell or combat ability. You don’t need a tutor.”

I waved my hands. “I know all that, but the interface doesn’t show how casting spells improves skill ranks.”

ArtGirl nodded. “The interface hides how it works. We didn’t understand how it worked until we started grinding through monsters. It’s a chicken and egg issue. You don’t get magic skills until you spam them enough to unlock the skill. In combat, it happens faster. And only after it’s unlocked does it show your progress to the next rank.”

“Do you mean I could be at 99 percent toward gaining rank 1 in light magic and not know it?”

Charitybelle nodded. “The interface hides it until you reach rank 1. I didn’t figure it out until the event log reported that I’d gained a skill rank in light magic from casting Heavenly Favor. Getting a skill unlocks its description, and you can see how everything works. Crimson probably doesn’t want to overwhelm newbies, but the lack of interface creates more confusion. It’ll take you longer out of combat, but your interface once you’ve spammed your cantrips enough. That’s what cantrips mean—they’re spells that unskilled players can cast.”

It wouldn’t be an issue in regular play, but this contest fostered aberrant behavior. It wasn’t a wonder Crimson hadn’t addressed the shortcoming. I growled. “I experimented with the cantrips, but not enough to gain a rank. There’s no reason to cast them on campus.”

Misunderstanding interface functionality commonly plagued gamers, but players usually learned how everything worked from one another. But The Book of Dungeons played unlike other RPGs. I couldn’t chat with friends or check forums to find where monsters lurked. I couldn’t read tutorials or watch videos of professional gamers to see strategies.

The number of quests quickly petered out, and monster hunts rarely produced significant experience. Aside from this major misunderstanding, I’d missed little by staying on campus and helping Mr. Fergus. Missing a few weeks of spellcasting wasn’t fatal in the big picture, but it annoyed me.

Charitybelle twirled her finger as she explained. “Your rank in magic determines your spell damage, and casting spells increases your rank. It’s a little feedback loop.”

I couldn’t help but ask another question. “You mentioned Ice Bolt. What’s that?”

PinkFox answered. “It’s pretty keen. Fab pulls moisture from the air. There’s this quick puff of cold fog around her hands, and shards of ice fan out at multiple targets. It’s good against groups of weedy monsters. She’s picking up Scorch when she hits level 6. It sets things on fire.”

Charitybelle changed the subject while I digested the news. “Have you guys found any magic items yet?”

ArtGirl shook her head. “We got a steel-reinforced leather helmet today from a wandering gnoll mercenary. It was our first item with a green rarity rating. This gnoll was a big guy, but we took him down with none of us dropping below half-health. RIP and I already have something in our head slot. Pink picked up a shield, so Fab took it. When she pulled a group of giant beetles with Ice Bolt, RIP had difficulty getting monster aggro off her.”

I spoke to no one in particular, circling back to the topic of spells. “And Fab is rank 5 in primal magic with no tutors or books?”

ArtGirl shrugged. “It just takes combat practice.”

Charitybelle rolled her eyes. “Or a whole lot of spamming.”

The nonchalance in her voice made me inwardly laugh at myself for not unlocking my magic skills yet.

The girls refreshed their drinks and conversed about preparing for a hunt.

I echoed her words. “It just takes practice.”

The noise in Formal Hall bothered me, so I excused myself. “I need to go. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” After everyone wished me goodnight, I left Formal Hall and fled to my room.

Charitybelle called after me. “Have fun spamming!”

I collapsed on my mattress and rubbed my eyes over how foolish I’d been. The rat quest had put me off so much that I’d never dedicated myself to grinding through cantrips. After repeatedly casting Heavenly Favor, my character sheet gained a new skill, celebrated by an update window.

Skill Acquired

Light Magic

Description

You’ve learned how to cast light spells. Light, or divine magic, derives its power from the moon, Laros. This school’s traditional color is yellow, and its influence presides over the domains of illumination, healing, and revelation.

Rank

1

Progress to rank 2

0%

Had I known spellcasting counted as a skill, I would have been spamming magic earlier and more often than I had been. I had to cast Heavenly Favor only four times to get it, so I must have been close to rank 1 and not known it. I cursed the interface for hiding it from me and turned my thoughts to the other schools of magic.

Minor Hex and Shocking Reach required an enemy target. I dressed and ran outside, not caring about the late hour.

In the dark, I gave up scanning the ground for insects or rats to assault. As close as I came to reaching rank 1 in light magic, targeting vermin might take all night.

Inspiration hit me, and I ran to the empty academy yard. When I reached a target dummy, my mana pool had returned to full. I let my offensive spells rip. After emptying my mana pool, I waited for it to refill. After a few more casts, a new skill alert gave a similar message.

Skill Acquired

Primal Magic

Description

You’ve learned how to cast primal spells. Primal, or unfiltered magic, derives its power from the star, Phaos. It is the purest and oldest school of magic, and its traditional color is red. Its influence presides over the domains of energy, elements, and the heavens.

Rank

1

Progress to rank 2

0%

I regenerated some of my mana and cast Shocking Reach at the target dummy again, hoping the popping electrical discharges and odor of ozone weren’t disturbing anyone.

The skill progression in my interface showed that out-of-combat casting increased my magic skills, albeit slowly. I began my journey to the second rank in primal magic. After expending the rest of my mana on subsequent casts of Shocking Reach, my progression reached 20 percent.

I quit attacking the dummy. Zapping it made lots of noise, and people wanted to sleep—a consideration that had never stopped me in Atlantic City. Instead, I tried Minor Hex. The spell made less noise and eventually elicited another game prompt.

Skill Acquired

Dark Magic

Description

You’ve learned how to cast dark spells. Dark, or void magic, derives its power from the moon, Tarnen. It is the magic of illusion and loss, and its traditional color is purple. Its influence presides over the domains of shadow, death, and deception.

Rank

1

Progress to rank 2

0%

The thrill of realization made me heady, but the domain of death magic creeped me out.

This bad little boy from New Jersey didn’t want to fall back on his ugly ways or be seduced by dark influences. Even though Baldrick, the academy’s illusionist, suggested I use Minor Hex on the pilfering rats, something about him unnerved me.

Each Minor Hex cast ranked the skill a few points toward rank 2 of dark magic. I released the spell repeatedly until I hit it. An alert sounded, and I checked my interface.

Available Spells

Tier 1

Dim

Power Points

0

I focused on Dim’s description and learned it acted as the opposite of the traditional Light spell. Its name could have been Black Light. Dim made Stealth easier, which made sense because dark magic encompassed misdirection and shadows. It also represented the magic of death and lies, which seemed worse, and I wanted nothing less than to generate bad karma. Having a dubious reputation in one world was enough for me, so I stopped ranking up dark magic.

I strategized as I returned to my room. I could cast Heavenly Favor throughout the day, but progressing in primal magic required an enemy target. Spamming cantrips would become my new routine. I wondered if there might be something portable, like a voodoo doll or something on which I could sharpen my skills.

I cast Heavenly Favor on myself before collapsing onto my sleeping pallet and fell into unconsciousness.