Three days and dozens of house rules/expectations later, Agmus Makamendius, or simply Agmus Mak is excavating around one of the book towers on the third floor. The boy, still only addressed as such, is off to the side, a bandana tied over his nose and mouth to protect his breathing. He shoves a crate over to a wall without a bookshelf, kicking up a storm of dust. He slams his eyes shut as a coughing fit takes over him, the piece of cloth doing little to fend off years worth of neglect.
"They're here somewhere..." Mak mumbles to himself, "Could have sworn they were by my collection of Elvish romance nov-- Ah! Here it is!"
A small, wooden treasure chest as big as a shoebox sees light for the first time in who knows how long after being pulled from beneath a pile of junk. Mak doesn't bother dusting it off and makes his way to a chest high pile of books. He unceremoniously shoves at the middle, toppling the books, scattering papers, and revealing a little round table. The chest has found a new, albeit temporary, home.
The boy continues to move things toward the section of wall that acted as a temporary holding area until the arms of a red velvet couch makes its appearance from beneath a collection of robes. He listens to Mak as he diligently works to rescue the furniture.
"When I was a young lad, no older than you, I was told I had a rather special Class Core. Those people were right in their assertions, but it also had a severe handicap."
Mak withdraws his dark crystal wand and taps the top of the chest with it, the lid flicking open violently enough to rock the table. Inside, three smaller boxes that look like decks of playing cards sit snuggly in a lining of red velvet similar to that of the couch.
"Until I reached level fifty, I only had the first tier of essences open to me. Hopefully you recall that for every ten levels one obtains, the next tier of abilities opens up to them. One to nine for first tier, ten to nineteen for second, twenty to twenty nine for third and so on until level ninety four. At ninety five the 'player', as an essence user is colloquially termed, earns the right to tier ten abilities. This is a highly coveted, and rarely seen, achievement. There might be only a few dozen people to ever reach this pinnacle of essence use."
Mak puffs out his chest and quickly basks in his own self aggrandizement.
"Anyway, for the first fifty levels or so I only had the first tier available to me, but-- and this is one of the things that made my Class Core exceptional-- I have all six Classes open. Most have one, some have two, and very rarely does anyone have three. Four is right out. So, for as long as I had to reach level fifty, I only had the first tier of Armist, Archer, Rogue, Caster, Brawler, and Healer to use. This actually afforded me two important aspects to the beginnings of my career as an adventurer, or 'player' as we are normally called."
Just as he was about to launch into what appears to be a well rehearsed monologue, Mak glances over to see a four person couch, seemingly untouched by whatever slothful affliction had been cast on the rest of the great room. Like an island of clean, serenity in a sea of disastrous negligence, the red velvet furniture is still surrounded by stacks of stuff except for a few feet in front of it. The boy stops in his tracks to look over at Mak for approval, thin arms resting after pushing a sideways barrel halfway to the wall.
"Huh… I didn't know I still had that thing… Anyway, let us both continue..." And they do.
After pushing past the forest of clutter, Mak gets comfortable in the center of the plush couch. He sets two of the boxes down next him and stares at the third held in his fingertips.
"First, I maximized the potential of all the first tier essences I ever used, up to level two, three, even four, whatever was the highest level they could reach. Most people don't bother doing this since they usually get to the second tier of essences by then. All I had to do was remove them using something called a 'blank card' and then sell them at auction. This is the second great part to my humble beginnings.
"You see, since these maxed out essences only required someone with an open spot in the corresponding class's first tier, they were bought up as soon as they became available. I did this for all six Classes and you wouldn't believe how much a maxed out, first tier essence can go for.
"Young nobles, children of merchants, anyone with money who wanted to experience or utilize more power with less effort snatched them all up. That meant more money for me to do it over and over again. Of course, I may have saved some of the rarer essences and personal favorites for myself. Anway, with a slight push of your will, you just equip them by summoning your personal sheet. Like so--"
Without any visible movement from the old man, a wide stretch of gossamer parchment appears in midair within his view and reach. On its left half is a written listing of Makamendius' personal statistics with accompanying numerical value such as health, magic, strength, speed, etc. On the right half is a five by ten grid of standing rectangles, or as it is called, "one's Deck."
The top row of rectangles is lit up by a slightly smaller rectangle within each as are rows six through ten. The remaining rows are dull-grey and empty. Behind this grid are five more grids, staggered, and in the shape of a three dimensional cube. Each on is lit up the same way. Off to the right of the grids is a single rectangle no bigger than the others. The card inside this one depicts an old man similar in image to Makamendius; tall, covered head to toe in dark robes, long grey beard, hood no longer hiding a head of long, grey hair. The man in the picture is holding up a wand behind a table containing chalices, coins, and swords. Centered and close to the bottom edge is the number "1". Superimposed over the middle is a familiar black star.
From the pack, Mak draws a feintly glowing card, holds it up to the floating parchment, and stares at it. "This is an essence, or as some simply call it, a 'card,' just as its appearance suggests. Trapped within this card is the very magic that makes up the world: primordial elements, mastered weapon techniques, eldritch knowledge, and ways to imbue one's self with more power than can be imagined. All these things and more are waiting to connect with you in this little card-shaped component."
A wipe of the boy's forearm across the brow and a nod is his only response as he continues to move a stack of books. The body of a fifteen year old boy, especially one who was held in captivity for so long, isn't meant for extended, arduous work, however, and he plops down on another short stack of books to catch his breath.
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Mak is suprised to realize that someone was actually present for his little spiel, as if he had given it many times before to the books and the dust bunnies. His gaze shifts over to the boy and assesses him: head drooping, chest and shoulders heaving, sweat dripping, and stomach growling.
"Have you… eaten recently? Or… at all? Wait, where is that card before I forget?"
Mak puts the card back, rifles through the rest, and draws four more cards, the last two being the same.
Minor Increase Stamina IV Xperia: 100% (maxed) Tier 1 Boon Armist, Archer, Brawler
-Increase Max Stamina by 50%
-Decrease Stamina drain by 12% for physical activities and Skills
Minor Passive Stamina Regen II
Xperia: 100% (maxed)
Tier 1 Boon
Armist, Archer, Rogue, Brawler
-Increase Stamina regeneration by 30% as long Stamina is not being drained
Minor Increase Strength III
Xperia: 100% (maxed) Tier 1 Boon All Classes
-Increase Strength by 3
-[Brawler] Increase unarmed attack damage by 10%
He strides over to the boy and uses the cards to tap him on top of his head. Blearily looking up at Mak, his eyes shift over to the cards.
"Equip these to Brawler first, then you can have a lunch. Dinner? What time is it now?"
The boy takes the cards, barely able to gather enough willpower to summon his own ethereal parchment. He focuses on the right half as Mak showed him the other day and the parchment turned on its side, zooming in on the deck. Behind the first grid [Armist] and stacked into the shape of a cube, stand five more grids. He scrolls to the fifth grid [Brawler] and the others cycled behind it in order.
He holds up the first card up to the deck as he was taught and a rectangle in the middle of the first row lights up.
"Now," Mak says as he pulls a long, loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese from thin air, "Equip them to the spaces farthest to the left, leaving a space between the two strength cards. That way, if you get a Support card you can combine them both and possibly creating a Prial, or three of a kind. It'll make sense when you actually do it. I'm sure we'll run across that eventually."
The boy does as he's instructed as easily as one plays Solitaire. After equipping all four he notices something welling up inside him. With each pulse of his heart he feels a surge of vitality and power coursing through his body like erupting flames. He leaps to his feet, inspecting his hands in wonder. Mak places two slices of the bread and part of the cheese in those hands and gestures for him to sit back down. The older man also sets a flask of water next to him.
"Yes, very exciting. You should have more energy now so after you eat, please continue clearing as much as you can so that we can clean and reorganize everything. I'll continue searching through these tier one cards to find good fits for you."
Another three days later and the grand room is multitudes better than it ever had been in several years. Most of the overburdened containers are still off to the side, but a simple organization system set in place by the boy was chipping away at them and getting them ready to be put in their rightful places.
Any rotten food stuffs, broken objects, and other types of obvious trash Agmus Makamendius haphazardly turned to ash in a metal box with high powered flames. His intention was to use them for a garden that may or may not exist outside the tower, neither having been out since their arrival. What baffled the high leveled wizard, was that he indeed has a spell equipped that could've helped him maintain the place, but he never thought to use it for that reason.
Its not that Mak never imagined using Summon Phantom Servant II and the two ethereal humanoids it created as maids, rather, their four hour time limit and twenty four hour cool down meant they're priority was to assist in the more mundane things that Mak chose not to bother with such as carrying him up and down the stairs, scratching his back, and moving him from room to room. One time he summoned one to retrieve a book from across the room, because he finally found a good spot on his bed to lay down in, letting it stand by the bed like some kind of creepy nightlight before its timer ran out.
Now, however, they're getting some real use. Their effective range meant that Mak had to be nearby, so while the boy did his best to clean, organize, and direct the eerily blue, ghostly figures into doing simple tasks, Mak lazed about on the red velvet couch and went over the novelties that the boy had rediscovered. Boxes of cards were piling up on the cushion next to Mak and a space was filling up with more things that had grabbed his attention during the cleaning.
"This was a gift from a… princess? In the east, I think. I might actually have been regifted now that I think about it. And these boots… I'm pretty sure I made these boots and enchanted them during my teenage enchanting phase. I was about your age, maybe they'll fit you. Hold on… Are those your only clothes? Did you find any around here that might fit you?"
The boy brushes his hair out of his eyes and looks around, walks up to a crate, and holds up a faded red, short sleeved tunic giving off a barely perceptible golden aura. He also picks up a pair of dark blue pants with black leather accents. This one has a smokey grey aura.
"Hm… I like that shirt, but not with those pants. Is there maybe another one in red or black?"
The boy throws the shirt over his shoulder and neatly folds the pants before stowing them back where he found them. In another crate he finds the black pants Mak was talking about as well as some unenchanted socks and underwear.
"The enchanted underwear sold well, too, but there was an issue with too many teenage pregnancies so I was contracted to stop making them. I'm still getting five gold every month, by the way, after sixt-- er-- so many years."
With a new set of clothes on, the boy was about to fold up his old set to wash later, but Mak tossed them in the ash crate. With so many hand me downs leftover from his youth there was no need for the dingy rags any more, not that the boy was sad to see them go. One of the enchantments that became a staple for the young Mak was [Self-Repair], so the old clothes would actually outlast the mountains surrounding the forest surrounding the tower.
Not knowing what to do about the added fifty percent resistence to fire damage and twenty five point increase to defense, the boy focuses on the ten percent increase to mobility and nimbly steps around the room continuing his work.
Mak strokes his beard in thought and searches for more cards. "This is going even better than I expected," he mumbles to himself as he seperates a few more cards.
"He'll only need a few more starters and some training and then… he might just be the one…"