After greeting his mom and grabbing a snack, Jack tiptoed to his sister’s room to return the borrowed valet costume. Holding the uniform in his hands, he frowned. “I’ll need to buy one like this for selling the scrolls,” he whispered, studying the fabric before placing it back. “I can’t keep borrowing it… or can I?” Shaking his head, he headed to his own room.

  Settling at his desk, he pulled out the spell scroll price list the shopkeeper had handed him. He scanned the rows of spells with a mixture of curiosity and nostalgia. “I know almost all of these,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I spent almost ten years making frost breath and fireball scrolls…” His gaze lingered on the wider selection offered by the shop. “Ninety-three spells. This is going to be so much more fun.”

  A grin spread across his face as he focused on the spells marked in red that an Apprentice Scribe could create. Eighteen in total. Of those, he could inscribe fourteen of them today. The remaining four required a higher level of the Inscribe Spell skill that was beyond his current level. “Those two are worth over a gold each,” he mused, tapping the paper where the most expensive items were listed. “Not happening anytime soon. But the rest are easy coin.”

  From the fourteen spell scrolls he could create, he limited his choice to the most expensive scrolls. “They shouldn’t take me more than an hour and a half, and the profits would be much higher.” Jack couldn’t help but regret telling the old shopkeeper his so-called ‘master’ could only create three types of scrolls. “Would he buy it if I said my master picked up a new spell overnight? Probably wouldn’t even care.” The old man seemed indifferent as long as the scrolls sold.

  Jack had the passive scribe skill, Perfect Recall. This skill allowed a scribe to memorise any information in written form. Text, runes, illustrations, drawings… all were covered by the skill. Perfect Recall at level 4 offered a 40% improvement in memory. Add in his 70% Class Compatibility score, and his memory was as good as it could ever get. He could memorise a complex new spell after correctly inscribing it on a scroll once.

  Shrugging, he grabbed a blank scroll and his new scribe pen and prepared to work on one of the expensive spells that the shop would purchase. As he was about to put ink to paper, he took a moment to appreciate the moment.

  My family is alive and well. He smiled, knowing his mom was cooking in the kitchen and little Richard was sleeping in his cradle. I’m young and healthy again… and I’m creating spell scrolls in my bedroom. He closed his eyes and gave a simple prayer to the Gods. Thank you for this opportunity.

  With renewed focus, he started inscribing a new scribe spell. The intricate runes and tight, packed text challenged his steady hand, but he relished every moment. An hour and ten minutes later, the scroll was complete.

  Jack appreciated the spell’s text.

  Time is the master of all men. Whether king or pauper, it shows no favour. Unleash what I crave, more time. Chronos Sphere.

  The Chronos Sphere skill was a rare mage spell linked to Chronos, the God of time. When cast as a skill by an Apprentice Mage, it would accelerate time for the mage by at least five times for three seconds. As the mage became more powerful, the speed would increase.

  As an inscribed spell on a scroll, the power level was set at the lower end of a new Apprentice Mage’s power. The scroll user would see time speed up by five times for three seconds.

  Despite learning the spell in his past life, none of the elven mages Jack worked with had the Chronos Sphere skill. He’d created a few, but as unimbued spell scrolls, he wasn’t able to sell or use them. Beyond crafting them for the experience, they were a waste of ink and paper.

  He remembered the blood magic ritual in the barn and how the twelve nobles had activated a chronos sphere scroll during the ritual. “I wonder how a dozen chronos sphere spell scrolls link into the ritual?”

  Having no answers, he admired his work, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “So relaxing and profitable.” He couldn’t stop smiling; this is what he wanted to do with his life.

  In a quick mental calculation, he noted, “They fetch 21 silvers at the shop. That’s nearly 7 silver profit for just an hour and ten minutes’ work.” His smile then faded into a rueful expression. “I worked with the wrong mages in my past life.”

  Memories of his years as a scarred hermit dreaming of justice surfaced. At the time, he was an outcast and spent most of his days in a small log cabin in the forest, away from most people. He’d met the mages in a small town tavern while drunk. After setting up the deal, he never considered looking for other ways to sell unimbued spell scrolls. He was too obsessed with revenge.

  His dealings with shady elven mages, the missed opportunities, the wasted potential… it was all in the past now. “What’s done is done.”

  He placed the chronos sphere scroll into a book for safekeeping, stood, and stretched. “Time for some strength training.” His enthusiasm faltered as the thought of planking came to mind.

  As he pondered how much to spend on a new bow—also known as procrastinating instead of exercising—he heard his mother calling.

  “Jack… Jack, do you want something to eat?” his mom called from the kitchen.

  Oh, thank the Gods. His smile returned. “That sounds great, Mom,” he called back, abandoning his exercise plans. I am a little hungry. I’ll do some exercise, after food… then another scroll.

  He hurried to the kitchen while recalling some great philosopher making the very persuasive argument that you shouldn’t exercise on an empty stomach. Can’t argue with that great logic, he joked to himself.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  His mom served him a steaming bowl of stew. The rich aroma made his stomach growl in anticipation. As they ate, she asked, “So, what’s your plan for the next week or so?”

  Jack had just over a week before he’d start work at the Royal Library. In his previous life, he’d spent virtually all of that time in his room practising his new Novice Scribe skills. He went through a lot of ink and paper copying text and sketching things, hoping to gain even one level before he started work. With so little time, he failed to gain any levels.

  He looked at the stew before him. Right now, I’d like to eat this delicious food, he thought while appreciating the aroma of the lightly spiced beef stew. “I plan to practise my scribe skills.” He said. “I thought I’d also spend some time enjoying Lundun before I devote myself to the Royal Library…” Testing the waters, he added, “I was thinking I might do some exercise as well.” This would be a good cover for him, a way to spend more time out of the house to practise his archery skills.

  Her spoon froze midair, and then she burst into laughter. “You? Exercise? What happened to my son?” She wiped tears from her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. “Next, you’ll be hiking with your dad.”

  He had to admit what he suggested was out of character for the sixteen-year-old who hadn’t exercised, by choice, a single day in his life. “Dad keeps fit,” he replied. “You’ll see. Next time Dad goes for a hike, I’ll be right alongside him.”

  His mom laughed harder. “Well, when your dad drags you out into the woods, don’t forget the mosquito repellent.”

  Despite the fact that during his past life, they’d had to literally drag him away from his desk to go for a short walk, he felt insulted. “You’ll see. I’ve even been reading about strength training.”

  After calming down and wiping the tears away, his mom said, “You’re going to volunteer to walk miles to be able to appreciate a view? Really? You?” She shook her head in disbelief again. “How hard did that bucket hit you in the head, Jack?” She started laughing again.

  His father had always enjoyed nature and would take them on long hikes to appreciate the things they all took for granted. At the time, Jack and Polly, to a lesser extent, hated it. What was there to appreciate in walking up steep hills in the blistering sun to see the same sky he could look at through his bedroom window? That was young Jack’s past attitude. Now, however, he was looking forward to the next time his father suggested they go for a hike.

  Jack smiled. “You’ll see… Before you shouted, I was about to do some strength exercises.” He flexed his weak arms. “Having stronger arms should help with my scribe skills.” He took a spoonful of stew like he hadn’t said anything out of character. “Hmm… This is fantastic, Mom.”

  His mother laughed again while shaking her head. “I’ll be sure to let your father know you’re looking forward to his next trek through the mosquito-infested woods.” She started eating her own stew while still chuckling.

  Jack smiled while he ate the heavenly stew. That should give me some leeway to train in archery. Despite the embarrassment, he considered the conversation a win.

  After food and chatting with his mom, he headed back to his room.

  “Time for some exercise.” Jack thought about the planking exercise and recalled another great philosopher making the very persuasive argument that you shouldn’t exercise on a full stomach. He patted his soft abdomen. Can’t argue with that great logic, he joked.

  “I’ll do another spell scroll and then exercise… Yeah, that makes most sense.” He sat at his study area and began working on another chronos sphere spell scroll. Just over an hour later, as he completed the scroll, his Inscribe Spell skill levelled up.

  [System Message-Internal View]

  Apprentice Scribe Skill Levelled.

  Inscribe Spell (6)

  Jack stopped in shock. “I got another level.” His Draughtsmanship skill had levelled recently. As an Apprentice Scribe, his skills should level over years, not days. “What is going on?”

  His scribe skills list confirmed the change.

  [Class Screen-Internal View]

  Class: Apprentice Scribe (31)

  Compatibility: 70%

  - Copy Text (4)

  - Translate Text (3)

  - Draughtsmanship (5)

  - Perfect Recall (4)

  - Create Cypher/Decipher (3)

  - Inscribe Spell (6)

  - Bind Book (2)

  “I had to be close to a level again…” he mumbled. “That must be it.” The only thing that made sense was that he’d been close to levelling up before he died.

  Jack thought about his other skills. “Will they level quickly as well?”

  He was tempted to start using his other skills. Copy Text required him to make verbatim copies of anything containing text… scrolls, books, etc.

  “I could spend the day copying a book and then, bind it…” He began to get excited at the thought before recalling his plans. “I have to exercise and earn coin to buy a bow.” He reminded himself, setting his sights on the road ahead.

  A little dejected, he put down his scribe pen and started to exercise.

  Jack lay on the floor in pain after exercises consisting of six push-ups, nine sit-ups, a couple of minutes twisting his body to exercise his core muscles, and twenty-three seconds of planking hell.

  “I wish exercise could level up quickly.” He chuckled at the thought while rubbing his sore abdominal muscles. He looked at the wall clock. “I only exercised for a few minutes, and I’m already tired.”

  “I’m so weak.” He thought about different ways to kill the Baron to motivate himself. It was how he managed to exercise through the pain in his past life. “I can do this. I have to do this for my family.”

  After a few minutes’ rest, he sat back down at his study area, pulled out another blank scroll and started to craft another chronos sphere spell scroll.

  An hour later, he looked at the intricate runes and spell’s text. “That was even faster than before. Just one hour to earn almost 7 silver profit. I’ll have enough for a bow in no time.” He smiled while reading the spell’s text out loud.

  “Time is the master of all men. Whether king or pauper, it shows no favour. Unleash what I crave, more time. Chronos Sphere.”

  He stroked his finger across the intricate runes. “I wonder what it must feel like for a mage to cast a spell like this?” He imagined himself as a Master Mage blasting out higher-level Fireballs and Frost Breath spells as Baron Greaves and his fellow blood mages ran away in fear.

  Jack chuckled at the thought. In truth, the spell, when cast by an Apprentice Mage, would freeze a low-level goblin solid with only minimal impact on the surrounding environment.

  Powerful? Yes. Devastating? Not really.

  “I have to exercise again.” Sighing, he stored away the chronos sphere scroll and exercised.

  Jack lay on the floor in even more pain after only five push-ups, seven sit-ups, a minute and a half of twisting his body to exercise his core muscles, and eighteen seconds of planking.

  “Owwww.” He took a deep breath. “Why does it have to get harder before it gets easier?” He tried to stay positive. “At least my skin doesn’t hurt, and I can breathe. I can do this. I have to.”

  Almost three hours, two chronos sphere scrolls, and two sets of planking hell later, Jack heard his father enter the house. He groaned as he stood from his desk after hiding the spell scroll he’d just started working on. “Ow,” he moaned as he headed towards his bedroom door. He looked at the hard boards of his mattress-free bed. “I’m going to ache in the morning. I’m so going to collect a bucket of spider egg sacs.”

  The brave Apprentice Mage stood alone on a barren, windswept plain, where the cold cut sharper than any blade. Before him stood a ten-thousand-strong army of trolls and undead orcs. Arthur raised his hand, steady and unyielding, and spoke the words with a calm authority that brooked no error.

  I call upon the frozen wastes of Tartarus, in the land where a dragon’s breath freezes all,” he intoned. His voice, low and controlled, carried over the desolate expanse. The air already heavy with winter’s chill responded as if stirred by his command.

  With a measured pause, Arthur completed the summons, “Unleash thy frozen fury. Frost Breath.” At once, a palpable force seemed to ripple through the ground. The ambient cold intensified, and before him, a shockwave of ice surged forth, obliterating the horde of trolls and orcs. The power of his words transformed into a visible torrent of frost that travelled with the precision of a well-aimed missile, leaving behind a trail of hardened ice and a testament to the ancient force from which it was drawn.

  At that moment, Arthur’s resolve was clear. His invocation was not mere ritual. It was a call to the deep, relentless magic of the frozen wastes, a power that held sway even in the land where the touch of a dragon could turn the entire world to ice.

  It was a fun book to read, but the author took big liberties with the spell’s description. If only the spell were that powerful, the Kingdom wouldn’t have a goblin problem. Hmm… maybe a Master Mage wields that much power?