Elven Domination: Reincarnated with a Cloning System

He didn't know how resources came into play and what way they could increase the rank of someone's class, but before getting to that, he saw a table explaining the rank of classes and now he fully understood what the orange hue in Fira's class Flame Dancer meant.

Rarity Tier Color

Common: Green

Uncommon: Blue

Rare: Purple

Epic: Orange

Legendary: Red

Mythic: Black

'Hmm, the orange means her class Flame Dancer was an epic class. It's quite high—it was only two ranks below the highest rank, the mythic.'

Still, even after knowing the colors could represent the rank, he still didn't understand what rank his Authority was, as it was a color that wasn't even mentioned in the list. It was a cosmic gradient in color. He didn't know the exact rank, but he was sure it was higher than the mythic rank.

Arthur continued and found an important piece of information about how someone could get a higher-ranked class when they reached the initiate realm. The way to learn higher-ranked spells—the higher the rank of the spell you could comprehend before entering the initiate rank, the more chance you had to awaken a higher-ranked class, as the spell you learned could also determine what class you could get.

As she explained, if a person learned a common-ranked spell of fire, Fireball, they could get a common class when they entered the initiate realm, but she didn't say it was guaranteed as they could get a higher-ranked class too without even learning any spell purely based on their talent and affinity. But even so, it was proven that learning higher-ranked spells gave a person the chance to get a class higher than it would have been based on talent and affinity alone.

'Hmm, I have the same fire affinity and mana resonance as Fira, so I would at least try to get the same ranked class as her. But from what I can see, it seems Fira's mother had made her learn high-ranking spells before.'

'So if I wanted to have a high-ranking class, I have to learn spells at least of epic rank.'

He had seen quite a few epic-rank spells in her arsenal, and there was an incomplete legendary spell too, but Arthur knew one thing—he had no one who could teach him spells or anything that contained spells.

'I don't know where the hell I would get my hands on spells.'

He felt a bit disgruntled by this information, but still, he was grateful that he was even aware of this.

When he turned to the next page, now he finally understood why Fira didn't think too much when giving him the book.

He tried to turn the page to the next one, as on this page there was only a magic circle and a bit of information about what the circle was for. However, he wasn't able to go to the next page no matter how much he tried, which made it even more clear that Fira wasn't just acting out of emotions.

He felt that if he didn't fully learn the magic circle on this page, he couldn't turn to the next page, and it could be that both the second and third books were practically useless unless he completely understood the first one.

'Hah. From how poor my talent was before, I think this would be where my journey would have ended with this treasure trove of knowledge, or even before.'

But now it was different. He had the same talent in mana and comprehension as her. He would be able to utilize this knowledge. He felt lucky that Fira didn't know about this.

The first magic circle—he tried to replicate it. From the information that was written, it was a magic circle that would let him practice for the time when he would start to learn actual spells.

Arthur turned into deep focus as he used his mana to form the same magic circle in the air as the book.

At first, it was even hard for him to make a line with mana, before even trying to think about making the magic circle.

His hands trembled slightly, not out of fear—but because this was the first time he was shaping mana with precision.

Lines. That was all they were.

Simple, glowing lines suspended in the air. Yet forcing his mana to obey him, to not fizzle or lash out uncontrolled, was like taming a beast blindfolded.

Sweat formed on his forehead. The first stroke he traced with mana wobbled and collapsed, flickering out like a dying ember.

But Arthur didn't stop.

Again.

And again.

Each attempt edged him closer. The lines slowly gained form, and stability—faint, thin, but visible.

He bit down on his lip, eyes narrowed with tunnel focus. The world outside blurred. Even his breathing slowed as he entered a state of half-trance, half-persistence.

An hour passed.

Then two.

By the end of the third, the magic circle was finally... complete. Barely. Faint as mist, unstable at the edges, but whole.

And when it fully formed, something stirred.

Click.

It wasn't a sound exactly. More like something unlocking within the book—or perhaps within him.

The page shimmered softly, its golden ink reacting to his success.

Arthur's eyes widened as the once-stuck page flipped on its own, the next section revealing itself like a secret finally willing to speak.

He didn't smile.

He couldn't.

He was too drained, too aware of how much further he had to go.

But there was something in his eyes now. Not just determination.

Conviction.

And hunger.

The second circle began to unfold.

At first glance, it looked similar—familiar strokes, the same outer structure, the same core rune in the center. But within seconds, Arthur realized the terrifying truth.

This wasn't a new spell.

It was the same circle.

But evolved.

Arthur's eyes locked on it, seeing the complexity, but he didn't feel anything and was only eager to learn more.

This wasn't just about remembering the lines anymore.

This demanded understanding.

It was like being shown the first letter of the alphabet, successfully copying it... and then being handed a paragraph in a language you'd only just begun to learn.

His lips parted as he muttered, "It's... a progression system."

Each page wasn't a new spell. Each was a trial—a refined form of the same fundamental magic, evolving in difficulty, demanding more control, deeper insight, and better resonance and control with mana.

'So that's why I couldn't turn the page before.'

Understanding wasn't optional. It was the key.

His gaze sharpened.

This was good.

This was perfect.

Because of what Arthur lacked in instruction or resources, he could now make up for this system. If he kept up—if he could master each form—the book itself would become his teacher.

And perhaps... eventually... his class.

He took a breath and began again.

This time, the lines he drew with mana trembled harder. The complexity meant every wrong angle, every fluctuation in flow, created a ripple across the structure that shattered the entire formation.

His first attempt failed in three strokes.

The second collapsed after seven.

The third sparked a backlash that jolted his nerves like a slap.

Still—he did not stop.

It was a dance of frustration and obsession. His mana was inefficient, his control sloppy, but now that he knew it could be done—that the door could be pushed open—there was no turning back.

Time faded again.

The world grew quiet.

Until the incomplete, flickering outline of the evolved circle finally hovered in the air. It wasn't stable. Not yet. But the book pulsed faintly in recognition—as if nodding.

Not approval.

Acknowledgment.

Arthur gritted his teeth, pushing his mana to hold the circle a little longer.

But after ten seconds, it collapsed.

He didn't flinch. He simply sat back down and began again.

And again.

This was no longer a simple book of spells. It was a ladder—hidden in plain sight, each rung a crucible.

And Arthur was already climbing.