It’s raining, but I’m not getting wet. The water’s moving through me as it teems down; there are moments of blindness as it passes straight through my eyes, like a forced blink from nature.

Strangely, I don’t fall straight through the ground, down into whatever is at the centre of the world. It’s a Skill, now—[Nascent Astral Projection]—and I’m able to choose when I interact with the world. I doubt anyone, or thing, can hurt me; the [Recluse Genius] I found said there were a handful of people above level 40, one above 50, none of which were experts on magic, ‘ironically’.

She called me a mud-ridden fool for being so on edge at such a low level, but ceded that I had survived more Seamwalker attacks than her.

We were safe here, she had said, but if there’s anything that I’ve learnt, it’s to prepare for future ills.

Under the auspice of the rising sun, I’ve made my way into town. Past the vineyards, the yawning Lizardfolk [Pickers] and [Tenders], by the early-morning [City Runners] and the [Shopkeepers] prepping for the day’s trade.

Nothing, as far as I could tell, knew I was there, not even the [Labourer] whom I walked through.

[Fishermen] lined the channel, their buckets of fish beginning to fill. It was a commercial boardwalk with mostly Lizardfolk and the odd Centaur. Low-levelled; it was further down and upstream that the better, and more prized catches for trade were found.

I feel a… suggestion, a tug in my core leading me back into the city. It’s a reminder to me that my Skills now work in this form, as if by achieving the Skill officially that I’m able to utilise the remainder of my abilities. Someone at the Divination or Mage’s Guild, no doubt; even a level 15 [Fortune Reader] would be my superior.

No, it’s the other sensation, that isn’t a suggestion, but a warning that’s brought me here. Not [Dangersense], which tells me nothing. Something weird, otherworldly, evil, apparitious—something eldritch.

It could be an artefact, a person, an animal, anything. It could be malicious, benevolent or apathetic. If someone of my revised level—10—is able to perceive this thing, it can’t be anything that can threaten the city. Beings unable to perceive it would be at its mercy, were it something capable of violence, and would surely have acted already.

It’s somewhere in the water. Within the confines of Levaintsil’s long harbour. When I’ve tripled my level, I’ll know for sure.

Nozumu’s projection winked out of existence. A rush of physicality, of being, came back to him as he opened his eyes. He sat upright on his couch and drank deeply from a cup of water he had prepared.

___________________

“Hmm.”

Ivory looked up at the sky and pondered Nozumu’s question. It was just past 7 in the morning, and the sky was a dangerous black-grey.

It fit, in a way. He racked his brain for something about the word. The problem was, he didn’t read anything other than when he was made to—back on Earth, anyway—and it wasn’t exactly a common one. Nor did anything eldritch exist on Earth; it was confined to fiction and hyperbole.

“Spooky…? That’s all I got. Sorry.”

Some grass crunched slightly in response. Ivory’s backyard was all grass, with a thin chalk pavement that led from the back door to the bathroom. They sat in the back corner, at one of the tables; the tall, leafy trees that the apartment back on to were rustling from the breeze.

Nozumu stopped tapping his feet and sighed.

“The Skill is in the almanac, but as a reference for higher level Skills. It would be like looking at how to… build a house, when all you want to do is cut some wood.”

“Well, that settles it. It’s probably just some little quirk of the Skill that’s categorising some rock washed in from who-knows-where as eldritch, because a million years ago some space goop fell on it.”

His reply was a low hum in agreement. Everything had an explanation, he thought, and that fit the bill. Or, it was a possible explanation, given that he was only level 10, and the Skill was entry-level. Both parties were satisfied with that.

Maybe an [Architect] or.. [Decorator]. Yes, that would be a good little side-mission. A hammock and deck chairs would go nicely, especially when it’s nice and sunny. Would be nice to any animals or birds or something in those big trees. Not palm trees, as you’d expect in a tropical place like Baleros, but… like ones you’d find in a park. Thick, with great branches upon branches. It may well be the one tree. Oh, and a workbench for inside…

A familiar snort brought him out of his daydream. He looked up to see Misoe perched in the air, looking up.

“Raining. [Wind Umbrella].”

A shield of air whipped up a metre above them, covering their table and then some. It clipped through the trellis, agitating the great tree behind them.

It didn’t occur to him to hold or prop up his wand; just cast the spell and broaden its scope. Level 20 sure was something.

“Dry as a bone. So, why don’t we look for it?”

Nozumu looked up from the Drathian newspaper he had organised through the Mage’s Guild.

“Look for what?”

“You know, the thing you sensed. You’ll level, no doubt.”

“Who am I speaking to, and what happened to the Ivory Henderson that wanted to ‘chill’?”

“Aww, c’mon. This is different.”

“No. Well, not yet. I think on that note it is time to go to the Mage’s Guild. Or is it the Polytechnic?”

“Confusing. Both. The whole place is just the Polytechnic.”

_______________________

It was a reasonable walk into town, some 20 minutes. Yet, they remained dry and stable-footed on the rocky ground, trod by nedges and Centaur, through Ivory’s Skill.

Like the three of them, all the [Labourers] and [Builders] had got the memo: it was going to rain. There was nary a [Worker] to be found on the round into Levaintsil proper, save for those working on the vineyards, whose work was not impeded by mother nature.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The rain was a consistent downpour, now; not pissing down as Ivory would have otherwise described it, but a good, solid rain event.

“‘Event’? It always rains. There’s science behind why it rains—hell, you can force it to rain with Skills and magic.”

Nozumu sighed, but was thankful he had his [Student] Skills.

“Rain makes people stay home, helps or impedes crop growth, and many more things. I would argue it is the most common thing that can affect everyone in the world in so many different ways, good or bad. The sun is a celestial body, and some constellations are only visible when the rain is natural.”

Damn, Skills again. Of course.

“Alright, hard to argue with that. But calling it an event’s still weird. It’s just raining—hey!”

Ivory kicked a puddle back at Nozumu, who called for a truce. Misoe shook her head in his arms.

_____________

The Mage’s Guild was just waking up when they arrived. To Ivory, it looked like the bulk of the crowd were [Mages] beating the midday queues for their errands, and early birds who wanted to read the selection of papers in (relative) quiet.

The [Guildmistress], Yanzix, was behind the counter this morning, one of three. She was speaking with another Naga, head to tail in a spellcaster’s apparel. Ivory could practically taste the mana emanating from it; another immediate identifier that this was a [Mage]. A high-levelled one, he suspected—no one would wear a black, leather bodysuit as a snake-person unless it had some benefit. Like a pair of enchanted crocs.

“She will probably just come to us. We do stick out, after all. Yeah, you too.”

Speak for yourself, mate, Misoe’s look said. She regretted it (not), as Ivory immediately scooped her up and squeezed her in a great hug. She had definitely grown a bit.

“Surely they’ll let me bring her in?” Ivory asked, letting Misoe go.

“Of course. There are animal rearing programs here, and we can always ask.”

“Yeah, good. Even if we can’t, can just ham it up for Yanzix who will make an exception.”

Nozumu’s eyebrow narrowed as he tilted his head to the side.

“What! May as well try and get what we want. It’s not as if she’s some dangerous beast. Oh but you could be, couldn’t you! Yes you could!”

He pushed his lips out in baby-speak, grabbing her again and squishing her against his chest.

It was a cute little scene, one of many happening in the Mage’s Guild that morning. Not cute, though, especially not Naga that looked straight out of The Matrix; Nozumu thought what kind of class those people would have. [Rebel] and many others, no doubt; frankly, that’s the first thing Nozumu’d have done. A cultural divide like no other.

Naturally, though, he didn’t think of it long; it was a lull in the otherwise hectic churning of his new Skills in his head that Nozumu was sorting out. Figuring out why these lights were flashing, how to turn them off, figuring out what they were doing; a novice thrown into the deep end of a class that he was not prepared for. Talking about it, and hearing the perspective of an Earther—was that what she had called him?—killed much of the pressure to figure it all out.

Misoe saw the movement first, and blew into Ivory’s ear; he turned and saw Yanzix waving them over.

“Come, come—good morning to the three of you. With me is the captain of the Gold-ranked adventuring team, The Chalk Heroes. Erazt, this is Ivory, Nozumu and Misoe respectively.”

Her introduction came as they came to the counter, on Erazt’s left. He turned to them and bowed his head.

“Well met.”

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Erazt looked back at Yanzix, who gave him a stare and a flick of her eyes.

“We are a team of eight that works around Levaintsil and assists the Polytechnic with administration, as well as with students’ practical work and training. If you are interested in adventuring, perhaps we may see more of one another.”

Erazt inclined his head once more, and turned to leave.

“Farewell.”

He slithered off, seemingly unimpeded by the lack of traction between his body and the floor.

“Don’t mind him, he’s not the chatty sort. He is one of The Chalkies’ [Mages]. A good lad, known him since he was a boy. You will be seeing his team around the place, so it’s good to get in early.”

She beckoned

“Usually, we require a teeny bit more time, but a few unannounced students doesn’t hurt. I’ve narrowed down what classes I think you’d pick—see there, I’ve circled them—but a surprise is lovely too.”

Nozumu, Ivory and Misoe peered down at the huge timetable on the beige parchment. There were eight classes circled:

1. Culinary arts—11pm

2. Adventuring—11.30pm

3. Animal Management—12pm

4. Divination—1.30pm

5. Enchanting—2pm

6. General Magic—3pm

7. Natural studies—3pm

8. Higher studies—3pm

… And they were the ones in the afternoon. Aeromancy at 6, a greatweapon seminar at 8.30, and midnight aquaerobics to name a few more.

There was no standard of how long a class was; the average time was an hour, but the more specialised seminars, such as animal management and economic [Scribing] were at the behest of the course convenor. General magic, your standard [Mage]’s class, was every day, and followed a three week rotation whereby a particular aspect of magic was studied. After three weeks, the cycle begun again—and students would move on to the next, slowly losing enrolments as the need for more specialised instruction dropped.

Culinary arts, on the other hand, was weekly, and cycled through different kinds of cooking for those with the class and those without. It was a far more practical course, aimed at providing real experience in cafes, restaurants and in the home.

It was a chaotic institution befitting a Lizardfolk settlement. Its primary purpose was to set you on your way, not hold your hand; to refine skills, or pick up a new class.

“... Do we need to go to these every day?”

Ivory’s question was joined by rapid nods of agreement by Nozumu. Yanzix shook her head.

“Oh, no, definitely not. Today’s just a lucky day for you both that so much is on. You’ll have time for three classes today, after which we can discuss your practical placements.”

“Thank g—nice. Animal management definitely, and the magic one, but I’m not sure about the third. What you reckon?”

“I think it will be beneficial to also do animal management, and I will go to divination. And… higher studies, I think.”

Ivory peered at the parchment, focussing on the entry. A spurt of information filled his head.

“Sounds like a university course, like a ‘learning to learn’. Oh, that’s at the same time as the magic one, damn. Well, why don’t I go to divination as well? That’s two we both want, and one to complement the other.”

Yanzix lifted two thumbs up, one at each of the boys.

“Nice teamwork! [Check Schedule]—a bit under three hours ‘til your first class. How exciting! The [Beast Masters] runs their operation in the Wiswealds, just behind your place. Check in on Herian—in the main building—and he can show you, if he’s there. One of the [Brewers] or anyone really can too, if he’s busy. Do whatever you did to stay dry, and be careful not to trip. Your next two classes are both here in the city, so head back as soon as you’re done. Off you pop.”

Yanzix dismissed her students and slithered back behind the counter. There were no back-to-school blues here, no sir. Only the excitement—mostly through Misoe—and the desire to see the Wiswealds.

Man. It was nice to just walk around and go to fantasy TAFE, and witness the marvels of magic. No cataclysm or any weird shit; just a probably ancient rock that stunk of an evil time in the past. Something like this could be something to get used to.