Cursed Explorer of the Arcana

"Pierre, come look at this beauty!" I yell, returning with my prize after all the events have concluded.

My placement in the duels earned me only a shoulder pat but no earful or any extra pocket money. It's whatever, because winning the free-for-all more than makes up for it. Words of praise and congratulatory smiles are nice and all, but something stupidly expensive is what really makes it all worth it.

A tiara, my tiara, the crown for the queen of the hill.

The pretty thing looks like someone has drowned silver in amber and then painted it with the tears of stars. Thaelmir is what the dwarves who first discovered it had named the matel, often referred to as eternal iron.

Filigree patterns weave through the band like delicate vines, barely visible unless caught in certain light. At the center sits a refined beauty of Hadron, small in size but purified of unclean mana… somehow. On both sides are four other gems of unique nature to reflect the four basic elements.

It's weird they added only five gems, instead of nine or six, to be honest. I still love it.

"You're no simple accessory." I catch my grinning reflection in the gems. "You are my crown."

"What do you-" Pierre soon appears at his desk, grumbling under his breath. But words fail to formulate once his eyes find my crown. "Thaelmir…"

"So it really is some good stuff, huh?" I float the question smugly, without the slightest clue what makes the metal oh so special. "Just curious… How much would it sell for?"

"Don't you fucking dare!" The man pokes my chest and pushes me away to lean closer. "But I'd give you about forty-two golds for a gram."

Holy shit! That'd be like… a crap ton of money. No way I can wear this thing daily without anyone trying to slit my throat for a quick fortune. They can try to give me a good practice, but it's better to remain cautious.

"So, what does it do?" I ask again.

Instead of answering right away, the man flicks the metal and doesn't even attempt to control his heavy breathing. "Have you ever considered which medium mana flows through the easiest?"

At the question, my brows furrow, and I subconsciously begin nibbling on my lips. "The mana vessel, and Hadron crystals, maybe?"

"No, and no!" Pierre wags his finger. "Our bodies are far from optimal, especially if one still uses mana in its gaseous state, and what the Hadron does is merely lump mana together. Thaelmir is different."

"Wait, what do you mean by gasue-"

"Later!" He interrupts me, gripped and abducted by passion. "The metal is the conduit and the gems… yes, catalysts for the mana. These lines of the Flow… What could they be?"

About a minute of back and forth, as well as a healthy, professional amount of cursing, follows. The metal basically guides mana that we usually have to pull out of our bodies, launching it like a slingshot. The naturally attuned gems of drowned amethyst, ashen amber, tornado tear, and summit diamonds then bolster their respective elements, and viola.

More speed, more kick, and perhaps even a slight increase in efficiency, as long as I route my mana through the tiara. And the inscriptions…

"I think it is defensive. Prevents overload but also acts as a repellent. Here, you see?" I point out the basically invisible lines.

If a master wishes to conceal their secrets, then there's very little we can do to unearth them without causing irreversible damage. It's not worth it, so guessing and looking really hard is the best we can do.

"No, no, no, Thaelmir does not overflow. I think what those lines do is tap into the Hadron in the center and supply the elemental gems. It's like a booster." Pierre explains, sitting right beside me.

Our master-student relationship is unique, even among my handful of other tutors. This man acts both like my friend, teacher, and nemesis all in one package, every single day. I think I'm just keep working hard under him out of spite, nevertheless, it's working.

"My gloves?" I ask, reminded of my other treasure.

In short order, Pierre is back with what is mine, and I pull the black and silver gloves on with a satisfied sigh. Feeling the smooth leather and comfy lining of fluff around my wrist, I also place my weightless crown onto my head.

"Time for a test!" I declare.

"Take it easy! I'm not curious enough to let you level the shop!" Pierre warned. I never told him exactly what the specific details of the gloves I asked for accomplish, but neither was I sure it'd work.

Hands above my chest, fingertips of both my hands touching, thumbs and fingertips forming a diamond or rhombus shape. The silver lines and inscriptions of the Flow align. On both palms of the gloves sit focus formations, connecting to the wider frame which I only need to ignite with a key.

One purple spark.

Mana begins to gather between my hands, and the conversation goes smoothly, superbly smoothly… Through the shape of my hand, the output gets directed right towards my body, becoming mana. My mana.

My supposed teacher watches with a conflicted look. "What is this? Are you… disturbing the mana or something? The connection at your left wrist is slightly misaligned."

I'm just about to explain when the door of the store slams open. A witch is standing there, her hair grizzled and her robes red and gray.

"There you are, little devil!" Martha slowly takes one step after another towards me. "Did you think you could just waltz off like that? No more responsibilities?"

***

Responsibilities turned out to be nothing more than mere formalities. I was still some sort of hot stuff, so people flocked to chat and congratulate even half a day after the entire tournament was wrapped up.

I even got introduced to a handful of young noble guys… They looked decent, had the money, and all. Who knows, they might be viable Y and Z plans.

After fulfilling the role of a cripled social butterfly, we celebrated. For three days. And I was allowed to try mead again. The lavish dinners and all the expenses weren't for my triumph alone. Val got fourth place, which is decent, and Victor's bunch earned a modest third place, while our third-year squad returned victorious.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

All in all, the Fist got their money's worth.

Then the third day came, and I was kidnapped once more. While I was sleeping and stuffing myself on repeat, the adults colluded and made plans for me, without me. The Fist called it trial time, to test me as an upcoming member, and Mom and Dad… They were on board wholeheartedly.

So here we are, trudging north, just the six of us.

My parents insisted on coming along, of course, they did. Statistically speaking, whenever I traveled somewhere without their company, things always went south, even if I always managed to just barely not die.

Both of them fit the power criteria to become low-level mercenaries within the Fist, and coupled with a stiff-collared relic, we have little to fear. Especially now that kidnappings would be extra idiotic with the spotlight still on us.

Oh, and I also have Kayla and Victor with me. No Valka… No moron to mock, no mind sync, no meat shield, no unstoppable duo. And worst of all, no Alwina. Just when I was about to teach the little thing how to fly because her mother is a little inept… It's preposterous.

But we also made a bet, Val and I. It's not about the Class-up itself since that's our sole objective for the entirety of summer. No, we want to see who can level up more and earn more during these few months.

"Grinding Skills…" I groan, even though we're still just traveling, I haven't even started yet. "Whoever can enjoy this must be mentally challenged." The joy of the little steps is nothing compared to the big bang at the end.

And I have two big bangs, waiting and seducing me with that sweet joy and ecstasy of elevating a Class. It's cruel, but the wait isn't strictly necessary. I do have most of my Skills on the brink of completion.

"Eli, Eli, Eli!" That intonation… Even if I were half-dead, delirious, and a demonic voice spoke those words, I'd still see Kayla's face in my mind. "You've been to Turan before! How is it? Which food is a must-try?"

Honestly, about half the stuff we ate back in Soldermo I would refuse to serve to humans altogether. Not because it was a backwater city selling crap, or not only that… It's simply because most crops and livestock are hauled to the frontlines, and people could even turn tree bark and moss into staple food to survive.

Especially during spring.

"Uhm, Mister Kantor?" I ignore the girl by redirecting the attention. "Did it have to be Turan?"

Fighters are flocking towards Barlek, that much is obvious. Still, there's work in Valeria, and I think Mythralis could also do with some extra security. That place got done dirty… But no, instead, we head towards one of the worst countries – speaking from experience – to pick up random jobs for medium pay.

The elderly man is about Bennett's age with a similar build, a little cooler sword, and much more hair worn in a short ponytail. His armor is proper Fist issues quality stuff and it tend to draw quite some attention. But he's retired now, only chaperoning us around for some exercise.

At first glance, the man comes across as silent and easygoing… Timid even.

[Warrior lvl ???]

Compared to Bennett's straightforward – often really dumb and annoying – attitude, this one is way less to my liking.

"Call me Alvaro, young Tyrant." He chuckles to himself. He sometimes seems like doing everything under a deceleration spell. "And why, you ask… It's because our work matters here the most. It is experience you need, not with monsters, but clients."

I don't really wanna kill our clients… Okay, jokes aside, that's not necessarily an approach I can get behind. Talking to people won't really upgrade my Skills. This leaves me with only one surefire option to guarantee a good masacare.

"Stop it!" Mom does not buy the puppy eyes.

Dad is a little weaker against her daughter. He falters, but it seems I've grown too old. "Darling… we're only here because you have a history of going missing. No mass murder until Mister Kantor says so!"

That's so unfair! I want my Valka back, and I want my chaos back. Okay, maybe a week or two easygoing missions or two before diving into mayhem.

"Oh, great champion!" This time, Victor catches up with me, the sound coming out of his mouth not much better received than Kayla's. "Since now it's just the three of us, how about we come up with a few formations?"

"I take the front, Kayla supports, you shoot." I offer my opinion.

Most people would vomit blood upon hearing a Mage voluntarily stepping up as vanguard, but the other two aren't exactly up for the task. A team of three isn't exactly ideal, and neither is our team composition. The five of us, plus an extra, are meant to function as a squad, and yet here we are.

I just can't wrap my head around the situation.

With his mouth slightly open, Victor remains blessedly silent for a few moments. "Yeah… That's what I had on my mind as well. That, or we play tag if something massive comes along."

"Tag?"

"Yeah!" Kayla chimes in. "One keeps it busy while the others tear out its guts!" She explains all sunny and bouncy. "It's what we always do."

Huh… We usually just had Val go toe to toe with anything and eat all the hits while I did the murder. It's a harebrained approach, however, considering both our specialities, it worked like a charm.

"So, do I engage first or let you set up?" Since I can't just slip away, it's best I get the most out of this.

***

After days on a carriage and another spent on foot, we finally arrive at the southern junction of the warrior country. Northeast to the forest I fought myself through and claimed with my flames sits a… surprisingly decent city.

"This is Mammon." Captain Alvaro presents the sight as soon as we crest the rolling hills. "Southern hub of transport and seat of the… Falk-something Duchy." Oh yeah, why even bother learning the names?

Although in my mind, there's an unrelated question.

"About how far west is Solermo from here?" The innocent words of pure curiosity leave my mouth.

"Four days on foot." The man swiftly replies. "Why, would-"

"No, Eli, NO!" Mom reads the room right away. "You said everything has already been cleaned up!"

"I just wanna make sure! The same way you double-check when washing the dishes." I fold my arms and look away for plausible deniability.

"So if you happened to find any dirt left… Would you clean it off?" Victor chimes in. As always, he has already sniffed out what's on my mind.

"Ah, forget it!"

Grudges are grudges, and my memory is pretty decent when it comes to people who happened to hurt me. Oh well, if not now then I'll pay a visit in the future. Anyways, back to the present…

Solid city, reinforced like Granhall, only slightly smaller like a younger sibling. Traffic is abundant and that hopefully means plenty of work in the area, with hopes of extermination still at the back of my heart.

We enter, we're welcomed beyond simple toleration, and we head straight for the city center. To eat, first things first. Diving into work with an empty stomach is pointless. But so is renting any nearby lodging when a nomadic life is ahead of us.

Once again, unlike Valeria, every major hub, be that commerce or fate, is a small fortress of its own. Guards aren't swarming everywhere, but about every third person is walking around with clubs or knives for the sake of self-defense.

Enterprise of Adventuring Activity

"Ah, we're here once again…" I recall the wacky adventure we went through. Degenerated rabbits, tiny crabs, inquisitors, and there was also that quest for silk bison poo… That wasn't pleasant. "No sewers cleaning! Please…"

That one is a dealbreaker.

Upon entering, we find the usual, strange, professional atmosphere. The place isn't buzzing with activity, and even those loitering around all look our way with a certain cautious look. The badge is responsible for it, displaying the War God's hand and his bloody colors… So things go our way.

The gains? Migrating hills, suspicion of a shape-shifting monster, a criminal who supposedly can walk through walls, and, to quote the description, weird wolves. We took it all without any resistance or extra convincing. Simply because the Fist can and to avoid the bothersome back and forth for single, individual jobs.

"So what exactly are migrating hills?" I scratch my head.

It is Kayla who answers." Hedgehogs. Their tongues are funny!"

Brilliant. Let's just get those Skill levels and test this crown of mine in action.