They tested their theory in the next battle when they met a pack of Ice Toads by a lake. The mana tester showed a healthy shade of white. So, under the rain of icicles along with their concert of croaks, the three charged ahead. Quin unleashed his axe, while Clay pelted them with pebbles. Thorin zipped around the shore of the lake and used his

  to give his brothers some buffer time. When Clay fell back and needed time to cast

  , Thorin sent in his paper blades to occupy the toads. When Quin needed assistance, the paper blades nicked the eyeballs and the tongues of the toads and stumbled them.

  They worked together, and the toads fell one after another. Even the damage from the weak

  piled on some toads, and they collapsed. Quin rushed in and finished them off as Clay rained a shower of pebbles on the rest.

  “Finally,” Thorin said, panting, when the last Ice Toad fell. The constant casts of the spell saw the bottom of his mana vessel. The battle emptied him. What he paid for it wasn’t just mana, however. Cuts and lacerations from the icicles had bled him. Some gouges were also from the few risky dives he took. And though sparse in this area, the group of Ghosts already eyed him from the depths of the woods. Luckily, they thirsted for his blood, but they also didn’t dare touch it.

  [Spell mastery level-up.]

  [Papercut -: Pathfinder Level 3/5]

  Yet again, as the spell leveled up, its range stretched outward. Its efficiency went up a notch as well, and so did the momentum and the edge it carried. Nevertheless, its final damage had reached a severe bottleneck. Without fixing the core issue of the softness of the paper, that aspect would continue to disappoint him.

  “How was it?” Clay asked, heaving on his knees. “Mine leveled up.”

  “Same,” Thorin said, swatting away the notification.

  “Mine didn’t,” Quin said. “It might need a bit more push.”

  “It could be because we fought together this time,” Thorin said.

  “Yeah, but it’s safer this way,” Clay said. “Better we take more time to level up our spells than take needless risks.”

  “Let’s end it here for today,” Thorin said, looking at the reddish sky of dusk. “There are some Ghosts in the area. Let’s hunt a couple on our way back.”

  “You’re already bleeding,” Quin said, grinning. “I can smear your blood on my axe and slaughter them all now.”

  “I don’t think you need to do that anymore,” Thorin said. “We couldn’t touch them without my blood before because we were mortals. Now, you have a spell. Give it a try, it’ll probably be effective on them. If that doesn’t work, try applying a layer of mana on your blade.”

  “If you guys are good with your wounds, let’s sort the loot and get going,” Clay said. “Else we might get uninvited guests.”

  “I’m good,” Quin said, picking up the old axe he’d thrown.

  “Me too,” Thorin said and prayed for the toads as usual before Clay carved them up and organized them. Even when they piled them up efficiently, they still filled Thorin’s inventory to the brim. “I’ll try to expand it before we come out next time,” he said as they targeted the Ghosts.

  …..

  They came back to the street market when the mixed aroma of dinner tangled in the air. The footpath that led away from the market’s core towards the residential area carried the lingering scents especially well. They grew stronger the closer the cousins got to their shack. Byram was already waiting for them with the roasted chicken, some sautéed greens and chopped onions, a spicy sauce, and a stack of rotis ready for folding into wraps.

  “You’re getting better at this,” Thorin commented, gulping when he saw his meal.

  “Just doing what I can,” Byram said with a smile. “Freshen up and eat while its hot.”

  “We came back at just the right time then,” Quin said, grinning.

  They sat around a makeshift dinner table outside the shack that consisted of natural stumps and the stumps that they buried to match their numbers. For a few bites, they savored the food. Then they talked with sips of the chilled ginger ale that Quin had to buy.

  “How much do you think it’ll all sell for?” Quin asked.

  “We’ll know when we go to the market tomorrow,” Clay said.

  “I need to buy a set of chained blades,” Thorin said.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I need to buy a blueprint for a storage item,” Quin said.

  “We haven’t even sold them yet. Stop listing your demands,” Clay grumbled.

  “If we get enough mana shards,” Thorin said. “Let’s upgrade to a better residence. The mana density here isn’t good enough. My meditation speed has slowed down recently.”

  “That’s also because of the high mastery of your spells,” Clay said. “The diary mentioned that right? Use a new spell and see if it works.”

  “We still need to change to a bigger place,” Thorin said, tipping Byram’s glass with an impish smile just as he was about to drink. The ginger ale went up his nose, and he hacked. “This fucker mumbles in his sleep a lot.”

  “Hyde and Brand also need their own places,” Quin said. The bulls mooed from the side.

  “We’ll take a look if we have enough,” Clay said. “It’s not a priority for now though. We also need to buy the materials for our class rites. We need to start saving for those.”

  “You guys have it easy. You only need to master two spells for that. I need to push five of my spells to the adept level,” Thorin said. “I’ll start working on the rest now.”

  “I’ll also start learning my ,” Quin said.

  “Yeah, I’ll practice my too,” Clay said.

  “Say, what if in the middle of the battle, I start casting or ?” Thorin asked. “Will it level up at the same speed as

  ? Or is it just the combat-type spells?”

  “It will work,” Quin said, chomping the wrap. “Just ask the mana beast to wait for your cast. It’ll understand for sure. It definitely won't bite your ass off.”

  “Byram, did you ask around the market again?” Clay asked.

  “Yes, sir. I did,” Byram said. “But they all said the same thing. The guild that controls the street market has banned the purchase or sale of the inception spell model.”

  “Rampant rise of rogue Magi will eat into their share of resources,” Thorin said. “It’s understandable.”

  “We really were lucky then,” Quin said. “We got branded with the genuine spell model.”

  “We’ll keep looking,” Thorin said to Byram. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m already content, sir,” Byram said, smiling. “I’ll earn with my boys enough, and when I’m older, I’ll marry a beautiful girl and settle down. A mortal’s life suits a dull man like me.”

  “If you really want that, then alright,” Thorin said. “But we’ll look for it anyway to at least give you a choice.”

  ……

  The next morning, the three cousins headed off to the market amid the tweeting birds and the settling mist. The street woke with the break of dawn as well. The freshly swept and sluiced paths prepared for another day of bustling business. The shops opened their doors as the shopkeepers stretched and groaned at the threshold. Thorin and the two said their quiet hellos to those they’d conversed with before and strolled over to their first stop.

  Because of the absolute isolation of Thorin’s inventory, the space bubble, the blood and the flesh it held still carried the warmth and the freshness of life. The tendrils of time couldn’t touch them. So, the restaurant bought them all at a fair price.

  Their next target was the artifact shop that lightened their burden of the bones, the skins, and the claws and the fangs from their loot. They asked for the Fae-Cores as well, but the three refused. They sold the cores to the potion shop. Though it lacked vitality because of the downfall of the Potioneers, it paid more for the cores. They needed it more than the artifact shop, after all.

  Finally, when their inventory thinned, they headed to the spell shop. The old man greeted them with a glass of warm, sweetened milk each. Quin downed his while Thorin and Clay took their time, gulping between slurps.

  “How many did you hunt?” the old man asked.

  “Just five,” Clay said and took out the vials of ashes. “But they’re pure this time.”

  The old man checked them against the pleasant morning sunlight and gave the five vials a nod. “They’re still mortal level, so I can give you two mana shards for each.”

  “Alright,” Clay said.

  “Grandpa, what’s that?” Thorin asked, pointing at a book that sat with arrogance in a glass case behind the old man.

  “It’s not something you can afford right now,” the old man said, smiling. “It’s a thousand mana shards per copy.”

  Clay spurted his milk while Thorin choked on his sip. Quin gaped at the old man then stared at the book with sparkles in his eyes. “What kind of spell is it?” he asked.

  “It’s not a spell,” the old man said. “It’s a book that teaches you how to learn spells. Directly from the arcanas. It’s a book that puts me out of business. The guild restricts its sales in large numbers as well. Hence, the price of thousand mana shards.”

  ?