Paragon of Skills

I sit on a slab of cool stone and force myself to stay still. The cavern air could roast bread, yet the rock against my back feels almost cold.

I drink, count slow breaths, and wait until the hollow tug on my mana eases.

Ding

Mana Pool 71 → 72

It takes the better part of an hour, but at last new mana hums under my skin.

Three Molten Snappers shuffle in the tunnel ahead. I step toward them.

I call Hell's Sword, and it materializes smoothly.

Each improvement feels clear to me, sharper now because of the Grimoire Extraordinaire. I sense each imperfection now that I'm getting closer to level one-hundred.

The closest turtle snaps its head around, eyes glowing angrily. It charges, and I respond calmly with Fire Slash. I can see the precise line the Grimoire pointed out earlier, the perfect arc that connects mana flow to the blade's path.

Ding

Fire Slash – Level 58 → Level 59

My slash is tight, controlled, precise—the flame cuts through the turtle's vulnerable throat joint, dropping it instantly.

The second snapper rushes next. Fire Shield flickers into existence, cleaner than ever before, precisely positioned. I remember the Grimoire's earlier critique: uneven mana spread, weak on the left side. I've adjusted, practiced, corrected. Now, the turtle slams into a perfectly solid wall of flame, bouncing back dazed. I step in, plunging Hell's Sword straight through its glowing eyes.

Goodnight, I think to myself, turning toward the third monster.

As the third turtle lashes out with its heavy tail, Fire Armor flares to life. This time I see clearly, thanks to the Grimoire's guidance, how the mana circulation around my body could be tighter, stronger. The impact barely shifts my balance. I turn smoothly, driving the sword down between the turtle's armored plates, feeling the resistance melt away beneath my improved precision.

With each encounter, my skills become clearer, my movements cleaner, more refined. The Grimoire Extraordinaire constantly highlights imperfections, but now they're fewer, easier to manage.

I continue deeper into the Emberdeep Cavern, exploring carefully.

Soon, I have enough jiggling crystals in my pockets that I smile to myself and stop.

When all the shard clicks into place, they fuse into a single crystal. It pulses softly, and words form in my mind.

Would you like to absorb Fire Walk?

"Yes!"

I stare into the crystal, taking a deep breath. Mana gently hums around me, filling the air like an invisible mist. Slowly, I lower the crystal into my palm, watching its glow fade as the energy seeps into my skin.

You have absorbed Fire Walk.

Fire Walk (Silver - Movement Skill)

I close the prompt and immediately check the Grimoire. It hovers into view with a quiet whisper of flame.

[Fire Walk – Silver Rank – Lv. 1]

Mana Cost per Step: 5.1 MP

Flame Lift Duration: 0.8 seconds

Trajectory Control: 9%

Speed Boost: 15%

Heat Output: 2 HP

Efficiency: 1%

Grimoire Extraordinaire: Fire Walk Lv. 1 contains 9 distinct flaws.

The top entry glows brighter than the others:

Ignition Delay – Initial burst of mana flares unevenly from rear heel veins, causing directional wobble. Suggested Fix: Begin channel through the Twin Sole Arteries, then braid outward through the Ember Pathway. Time ignition with mid-step weight shift.

I lift my heel slightly and breathe. Mana flows. This time, when I cast the Skill again, I push it through the corrected veins. The result is immediate. I step forward and the ground behind me erupts in a clean curve of flame. My boot doesn't drag. No wobble.

Ding

Fire Walk – Level 1 → Level 6

Mana Cost per Step: 3.1 → 2.4 MP

Flame Lift Duration: 0.8 → 1.2 seconds

Trajectory Control: 9% → 18%

Speed Boost: 15% → 18%

Heat Output: 2 HP

Efficiency: 1% → 6%

Not perfect. But cleaner already.

I test the Skill across the next chamber. Lava creeps down cracks in the wall, spilling across the rock floor in slow pulses. I hop from one dry patch to another, weaving my path as the Grimoire overlays small lines of suggestion across the floor. Every adjustment it recommends, I follow. Sometimes it's the angle of my foot. Sometimes it's the timing of my breath. Each fix brings the movement closer to something that feels like instinct.

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I continue until my mana dips too low to safely fight. Then I stop.

I settle on a ledge overlooking a pit of cooling slag. My arms ache. My shoulders are raw. But every part of me feels wired with power, not fatigue.

I have all the Skills now. I just need to level them up.

When I close my eyes, I see it all laid out in glowing script—the Skill set, each one nearly polished. Hell's Sword. Fire Armor. Fire Shield. Fire Slash. Fire Walk. Only one thing remains.

The final piece sitting in my pack. The last Crystal.

Fire Veins.

Sir Greyson said that fighting people stronger than you allows you to level up your Skills faster. I think I have the perfect targets for this.

* * *

I wait until I hear them.

Ragged footsteps. Coughs. The scrape of boots on slag-slick stone.

Target Status – Brenn (Spear): Dominant leg compromised. Grip strength degraded.

Target Status – Mal (Axe): Cracked rib. Reduced arm lift. Guard sloped.

Valerius and the two thugs he calls backup drag themselves into the next stretch of tunnel. They're burned, slow, exhausted. The one with the spear—Brenn—has a limp now. The one with the axe—Mal—keeps clutching his side. Valerius looks worse than both of them, sweat streaking the dust down his face. His Hell's Sword flickers beside him, barely stable.

I'm ahead of them, crouched behind a fractured pillar. The traps I restored are still active. And they've been doing my job for me. Every ten paces, something tries to kill them—a dart, a jet of steam, a pit that opens for just a second. I'm not looking to kill them with the traps. I just want to wear them down.

I can hear the difference now. Less cursing. Less shouting. Just breath and steel and tired boots.

I let them get to the ramp that leads down to the magma vault. Then I step out.

They see me at once.

Hell's Sword floats at my side, bright and steady. The light catches my face. I don't speak right away.

Valerius stops mid-step. "You."

Brenn grips his spear tighter, but he's slow on the draw. Mal lifts his axe with one hand—his other arm hangs limp.

"You're dead," Mal growls.

I shake my head once.

"We'll see what you can do."

I flex my fingers. The mana obeys. The blade tilts, adjusting its angle midair.

Valerius draws his own Hell's Sword. His stance is tight, nervous now. He doesn't look like a noble anymore—just a kid who got dragged too far down the tunnel.

"Kill him!" he barks, but it breaks halfway through the shout.

They rush me. Brenn first, the spear lunging. Mal behind him, axe raised.

I step back, just one pace.

Hell's Sword tears forward—not wild, not showy. Just efficient. It snaps around the spear's edge, clips Brenn's shoulder, veers wide, then cuts toward Mal's ribs. Mal shifts too slow. The edge licks past his guard, and I hear the grunt when it connects.

They both reel back.

I call the sword to heel. It stops at my side, glowing hotter now.

Valerius doesn't move. He's watching. And I can feel it—he's not sure anymore.

Brenn grits his teeth and straightens his grip on the spear, blood dripping down his arm. He tries to laugh. "So the rat finally grew teeth. Shame he forgot what real steel feels like."

Mal spits on the floor. "Doesn't matter what tricks you've got, boy. You're still not classed. You can float that sword all you want. One good swing and your lungs'll be decorating the wall."

I say nothing.

They want the sound of fear. I give them silence.

Valerius steers.

"You're a rat who got lucky. And now you're cornered."

"You talk a lot," I say, quiet. "But I've seen what you swing. If that's how rich people fight, no wonder you're hiding behind two men half-dead from traps I lit."

Brenn growls and rushes in again, activating a movement Skill, but it's rough and not even close to what I saw Felisia do. He just speeds up and jabs low with his spear, thinking I'll dodge backward.

I don't.

I've sparred with Sir Greyson. This guy can barely use his weapon.

"You're not fast enough to threaten me," I tell him. "Even with a Class."

Mal charges next. He tries to swing wide, use his height. I duck, step in, and slam a fist into his cracked rib. He howls. The axe falls from his hand.

"I'd tell you to go home," I murmur, "but it looks like you'll need someone to carry you there."

I kick his knee out from under him. He collapses with a strangled cry, clutching his side.

Only Valerius is left now. His eyes are wild, sweat rolling down his temples. His Hell's Sword wavers in the air, trying to imitate mine, but the blade stutters—he's forcing it too hard.

"I've learned one more trick, you know?" I smile at Valerius. "Apparently, levitation is not the only secret effect for Hell's Sword. You can usually only summon one since it's a Skill. However, if you channel through the right veins at the same time."

I dispel Hell's Sword and pour Mana throughout my body, mirroring the two pathways. Suddenly, two fiery blades appear beside me. A moment later, they've shot through the chest of the thugs, who sputter and cough before dying.

I look at Valerius now as the two flaming swords come to my hands.

I walk by and he's so dazed he can't do anything.

I kick his knee out from under him. He collapses with a strangled cry, clutching his side.

He jumps back to his feet, backpedalling. His focus is gone and so is his Hell's Sword.

He breathes fast. I take one step forward.

"Stay back," he snaps.

I take another.

He points his finger at me.

"You're nothing! My father is an important man! Do you think you can just kill me like I'm nothing?!"

I look at him and tilt my head.

"Riddle me this. Why do you think you could all this way and just… steal Skill Shards like that from me? Why do you think you had the right to try and kill me? How absurd is that?"

"I—I…" Valerius stammers. "You cheated me! You—"

I slash the poor bastard's throat with one of the Hell's Swords and the I dispel them both, leaving him to die on the ground.

"I don't fucking get it," I mutter.

I look down at the other two corpses.

I've killed before in a hurry, but this felt more methodical.

I've seen corpses in the mines before, quite a few, actually.

It's just…

"What a fucking moron," I swear under my breath. "Whatever, there's a Boss or something, right?"

I shake my head.

Maybe I should tell Felisia but…

I take a look at my Skill.

I think I can push them all at level one-hundred in the next twenty-four hours.

These two actually didn't give me a fight at all.