“Thousand mana shards just for that?” Quin asked in a daze.

  “It seems simple, but without a proper guide, most Magi can't cross that boundary on their own,” the old man said. “The book is that proper guide.”

  “Grandpa,” Clay said. “We heard that to get the spells directly from the arcanas, you need to be attuned to a class first. Is that right?”

  “It is,” the old man said. “It’s common knowledge among the Magi.”

  “So, we need to master spells of specific arcanas to get attuned to a class,” Thorin said. “And we need to be attuned to a class to get the spells directly from the arcanas. That sounds off, grandpa. How did the first Magi get the spells then?”

  “Buy the book, and I’ll tell you,” the old man said with a sly smile.

  Thorin clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had a keen interest in the subject. For he learned the spell from the Death Arcana, yet he was still without a class. Perhaps it was an exception as a gift from his mother, but he wished to confirm it. The wily old man didn’t look like he would divulge even the slightest hint on the topic, however. Thus, he dropped it.

  The three cousins bid their farewell to the old man after finishing their milk and strolled away towards the other shops to spend what they’d earned. They first dealt with the materials they needed for the rites of their classes. They were cheap.

  The next stop was the white-stone plaza where the rootless Magi arranged their stalls. What they’d earned didn’t have enough purchasing power to allow their splurge in the official stores of the street market. So, they took their chance with the plaza where the prices were cheap because they lacked security and authenticity. The Business Arcana only watched over the fair completion of transactions inside the street market, after all. The validity of what changed hands didn’t concern it as long as the give and take occurred as agreed between the parties.

  Yet, they neither found a set of chained blades for Thorin nor did they come across a blueprint for a storage item. The branding spell for Byram wasn’t available either. Whatever caught Thorin’s eyes, failed the test of his spell. In the end, he settled on a stack of blades that barely qualified as a mana artifact set and a bundle of thin wire. Quin said he could create his weapon with them.

  Clay got his wish, though. A novice Artificer had refused to collaborate with the official shops in the market bearing the insignia of the Greysnow Guild and instead set up a small stall in the plaza. There, he’d laid out a sympathetic artifact that could work with Clay’s

  spell and receive enhanced amplification, far more than the pebbles did.

  A black and red metal ball that Thorin’s fist could engulf—it hardly looked threatening. But if it came at him with the speed and power that Clay’s spell provided, it would shatter his skull twice over.

  Though it was a prototype and the work of amateur hands, its price almost emptied their pockets. Thirty-eight mana shards. The prideful Artificer had puffed his chest when he named its price, and the three brothers deflated. Nonetheless, they bought it as their trump card and finally ended their stroll of the plaza.

  Before they returned, they visited the rental department and upgraded their residence with the two mana shards that remained. Now, they were truly broke. The new place was still a shack, but the density of mana here was one level higher. So, they all shifted with wide grins despite the steep spending. Even the bulls mooed along and flicked their tails with a jolly sway in their trots.

  They enjoyed the thicker mist of mana for the next few days as they meditated and practiced their spells. All three triggered the rest of their spells after several tries.

  Icetouch!

  The successful cast chilled Thorin’s core and extended frigid tendrils to his palms. Whatever he touched with the spell lost its heat. Yet, even the little amount of frost that he had expected betrayed him. The drop in temperature couldn’t even kill a mosquito. At best, it could relieve the discomfort of a hot summer afternoon.

  Thorin sighed. The constant letdowns from his arcanas were starting to numb him. The only spell he hadn’t learned now was the . His optimistic thoughts still burned the fire of hope for it. But its flickers were dimming. His optimism could only last so far.

  Deathbolt!

  Thorin cast the spell. However, its demand caught him off guard. The spell model guzzled mana far beyond what his other spells did. It nearly emptied his vessel in a single cast.

  “Please don’t disappoint me as well,” Thorin murmured as the spell formed a small globe of dark mist before his palm.

  It hummed as Thorin willed it forward, and the globe shot away. It plopped against the targeted tree, and the dark mist engulfed a small part of the bark. When it receded, the wood had withered away. It carried rot and death.

  Thorin laughed, thrilled with excitement. The damage didn’t justify the spell’s steep mana demand, but it was still better than his other spells. Even if it drained him, at least it gave him enough power to kill his enemies.

  “Clay! Quin!” Thorin hollered and rushed towards another area where his cousins practiced. He had to show off his spell.

  …..

  The accumulative effect of Thorin’s meditation finally increased his ‘Spirit’ to 2.60 at the end of the month. Though ever so slightly, each increment had been enhancing the efficiency of his spells and was giving him better control over his mana.

  So far, he’d used

  spell for his meditation. But with the increase of his mastery, the radiation it pulled from the Paper Arcana had shrunk. The rise in proficiency of the spells was a double-edged sword for Magi.

  Thus, once his ‘Spirit’ rose, Thorin switched to the spell. The radiation it pulled from the Space Arcana surged. But he couldn’t indulge in meditation for long. Because it was time to hunt again.

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  After a chunky meal to break their nightly fast, they departed. They took the same path and passed the pond they’d fought at before. They had a target this time. The nest of the Fire Snakes. The recent rise in their birth rate had triggered a population control mission from the Greysnow Guild. The three cousins aimed for that reward.

  “Did we really have to pick this?” Quin grumbled as they carved a path through the dense vines.

  “Stop whining already,” Thorin said. “The only other option was the Direwolves, and we can't fight their pack at our level.”

  “But they’re venomous,” Quin said. “We don’t have a healer with us.”

  “Their poison is heat based,” Clay said. “Thorin’s can relieve that to some extent. It won't be deadly for us.”

  After Thorin raised the spell to the pathfinder level, it finally showed some frost on the target. The area of effect also extended to a larger circle. Albeit the spell remained inapt for combat.

  “But still, let’s try not to get bit,” Thorin said.

  After a trek that took all morning and digested their food, they finally reached the sinkhole that the Fire Snakes had made their home. If they jumped in, they would break their ankles for sure. Luckily, the slope was gentle on one side.

  “Can't we just attack them from here?” Quin asked, keeping away from the edge in fear and disgust. “Must we go in?”

  “We’ll have to go in to collect the corpses anyway,” Thorin said. “We’re not going to eradicate them all, just trim their population a bit. So, one way or the other, we’ll be fighting them up close.”

  Quin sighed. “I just realized this today,” he said. “I hate snakes.”

  “It’s your lucky day then,” Clay clapped Quin’s back with a smirk. “You get to kill them.”

  The three took the softest slope and slid down amid Quin’s whines. It was never an ambush. So, their noise had already gathered a crowd of Fire Snakes while some still slid out of their nests. The unending stream of slithering beasts sent a shiver down Thorin’s spine. They were up against an overwhelming number.

  “Its fine,” Clay said, checking the mana tester when they reached the bed of the sinkhole. “Not all of them are a Fae.”

  Those who were Faes slung filaments of fire with their tongues while those who weren’t only carried the red of fire on their skin. They were still infants in the process of becoming a Fae. Thorin marked the former as his target and prepared his weapon. Clay and Quin too readied themselves. They howled as the fight began, and the combined hisses of the snakes rolled louder than a roar.

  ?