Paragon of Skills

The iron door groans on its hinges.

Steam rises from the seams between stone tiles, drifting in thick pulses as if the cell itself is exhaling. The glow from the mana-suppressing array flickers faintly now—flickers, because something inside is pushing against it.

Sir Greyson steps in, carrying a pack under one arm. Bread, roasted meat, water, and two sealed alchemical vials with a pill each. One is blue. One is gold. One for mana. One for muscle repair.

He stops just short of the bars.

Jacob sits in the center of the room, shirtless, eyes closed, his arms crossed over his knees. But what makes Greyson freeze isn't the posture. It's the lines—those infernal lines.

Red-hot veins blaze under Jacob's skin. Not just traced across the surface anymore. They pulse. Glow. Swirl like magma held in place by pure will.

Veins of Fire.

"Are you insane?" Greyson asks, voice sharp. "You're burning mana and the duel is tomorrow."

Jacob opens one eye. The chamber's steam glints off his brow like sweat, but Greyson can't tell if it's heat or effort that makes him look so pale.

"I need more," Jacob mutters. "Level 80. That's the minimum."

Greyson frowns. "Level 80 in a Gold Skill in less than a day? You'll collapse before you even make it to the arena."

Jacob doesn't answer.

Instead, he flares the Skill again. Steam curls tighter around him, and the scent of scorched limestone fills the air.

Greyson slams the satchel down near the bars. "Stop it. Eat. Rest. You won't win if you burn yourself out now."

"I can't stop." Jacob's voice is low. Fierce. "Julius is stronger. Faster. He's had training. He's had everything I didn't. The only way I win is if I Class. And the only way I Class is if I bring Veins of Fire to Level 80."

Greyson stares at the boy.

Not a boy. Not anymore.

"Even if you do," he says slowly, "that doesn't guarantee you'll awaken a Class suited to win."

Jacob smiles without humor. "It won't be about what's suited. It'll be about what's needed."

There's a pause. Then Jacob pushes himself to his feet. He wobbles slightly, his legs clearly strained. But the blades of flame that flare briefly to life at his sides are perfectly balanced.

He looks at Greyson through the steam.

"Spar me," he says.

Greyson blinks.

"What?"

"You heard me," Jacob says. "Right here. Right now."

Greyson folds his arms. "Even if I agreed, why should I? You could be lying. You could be a murderer pretending to help Felisia just to stay close. You have no background. No record. Only your word."

Jacob meets his gaze. "Then take me at that."

"That's not how the world works."

"I care about Felisia," Jacob says. "I lied about who I was because the truth would've gotten me killed. But I never lied about that. I want her to win. I want to help her."

He steps forward.

"I need you to believe in me now. Just for tonight."

Greyson's jaw clenches.

Then, without a word, he walks forward, unlocks the gate, and slides it open.

He steps inside and lets the door close behind him.

Jacob smiles. For the first time that day, it's genuine.

"Alright then," Greyson mutters, cracking his neck. "You'd better hope I don't kill you by accident."

Jacob's eyes flash.

"Julius better hope you do."

* * *

The stone of the arena is white under the sun, but I feel calm.

I am a bit tired, though, I think, stretching my neck and feeling the bruises that not even the pills Sir Greyson gave me could repair. That damn man didn't go easy on me at all.

A wall of noise greets me—cheers, laughter, mocking whistles. Most of it's just nobles amusing themselves. Betting against the "rat." I hear a few clear words over the din.

"He's going to get vaporized."

"Didn't he train in fire magic? Against Julius's water?"

"Poor bastard. He's going to boil in his own skin."

I ignore it.

Across the arena, Julius Shellford steps onto the field in shimmering blue battle garb. Water flows in runic lines across his bracers and his boots.

The moment he lands on the sand, Julius lifts a hand and casts two Skills.

Water Shield. Water Armor.

Both shimmer into place. His form glints with mana-polished precision—liquid plates sliding over his limbs, dense mist circling his off-hand like a coiled serpent.

Very noble. Very crisp.

The crowd cheers. They know what I know.

Fire versus water.

The magistrate had me declare what type of magic I use and I had to fess up that I'm a user of Hell's Sword. That means fire magic.

To them, it's already over.

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Magistrate Orellus leans forward with barely restrained disdain. "Let the record show that the accused has been granted his trial by combat, and that Julius Shellford, Level 20, will represent House Shellford in the bout. May the gods show mercy."

No one believes I'll win.

Perfect.

I summon the Grimoire.

It appears behind my eyes, weightless, silent. The moment I look at Julius's shimmering spells, words and diagrams flicker into place.

[Water Shield – Silver Rank – Lv. 58]

15 distinct flaws detected.

Top flaw: Lateral edge cohesion varies under directional pressure. Shield will fold under angled attacks delivered with >270kg of impact from the left.

[Water Armor – Silver Rank – Lv. 62]

15 distinct flaws detected.

Top flaw: Moisture feedback loop delays between upper arm and shoulder joint. Results in 0.2s lag in motion following overextension.

I smile.

Water trumps fire?

Fools, I think while Julius takes a combat pose.

"Begin," Magistrate Orellus calls.

The word falls like a blade between us.

Julius moves fast—faster than I expected. He's not just some spoiled heir. His opening dash cuts through the arena like a tide surge. He swings the blade wide, water magic coiling off the edge like vapor mist. It's elegant.

It's clean.

It's not enough.

I don't block.

I bend.

Veins of Fire activates without effort now. Mana pours through me like liquid pressure behind stone. My foot pivots, Fire Walk igniting from the twin sole arteries, and I vanish left in a burst of red streaks. Julius's sword misses by a hair—slams into the air, water slicing through where I had been.

His eyes widen.

I'm behind him before he finishes turning. I don't use Hell's Sword—not yet. I don't need to.

Instead, I jab an elbow at the weak point in his armor—the shoulder joint. The Grimoire told me the delay: 0.2 seconds of lag.

I hit it with perfect timing.

The impact doesn't just stagger him—it folds the shoulder plate inward and knocks him into a backpedal. His Shield flares on reflex, intercepting what he assumes is a follow-up slash.

There is none.

I'm already circling. Keeping the flame tight. Focused.

"Is he dodging using Fire Walk?"

"That movement—did you see that?"

"No way he just slipped a Level 20 like that…"

The gallery begins to murmur. Confusion spreads like smoke.

"Enough playing around," Julius growls. Water crashes around him in a burst. A secondary shield flares to life. Dual layering—expensive, high Mana draw, difficult to control.

But that just means more flaws.

I activate the Grimoire again and whisper the command in my mind.

Focus: Shield layer two.

[Secondary Water Shield – Silver Rank – Lv. 46]

Top flaw: Incomplete lattice weave between concentric layers. Instability under burst heat conditions.

Weakness: Center-right, 18° off core line.

I almost laugh.

He brought a puddle to a furnace.

Hell's Sword appears in my hand.

It's time I show off my Class.

* * *

A Few Hours Prior

After the relentless sparring with Sir Greyson, it finally happened.

You have reached Level 80 in Veins of Fire.

I immediately summon the Class notification.

You qualify to receive a Class.

Would you like to Class now?

Yes.

The world lurches—heat, vision, pressure. I grit my teeth as mana floods in from places I didn't even know I had.

Choose the Skill for your Class to be built around.

I see a few Skills light up, like Minor Strength and Minor Endurance. Not the Grimoire, though.

Not all Skills create Classes.

I pick Hell's Sword.

You have awakened your Class.

You have Awakened Sword of Fire—

Error.

Veins of Fire has been added to the selection.

You have Awakened Infernal Swordsman—

Error.

The Grimoire Extraordinaire has been added to the selection.

You have Awakened Infernal Architect (Platinum)!

Infernal Architect (Platinum)

A rare class focused on internal control, structural enhancement, and precision execution. Its core strength lies in manipulating flame-based mana with engineered precision. Skills combine support, offense, and tactical shaping.

Class Skills granted:

Furnace Core (Passive)

Flameform Blueprint (Active)

Magma Thread (Passive)

Ember Keystone (Active)

Architect's Insight (Passive)

Hellspire (Active)

Ignition Array (Active)

Seven Skills?!

"You accepted the Class already?" Sir Greyson asks, stopping the fight. "How many levels did you get? And how many Skills?"

"Wait, I still haven't checked the levels. But Skills… Seven."

"Seven?!"

Sir Greyson is flabbergasted.

You only get four on average, five if you're talented. Six if you're a genius.

Seven? Seven is unheard of, apparently.

Furnace Core (Passive)

Your body becomes a living engine. As your mana circulates, heat builds efficiently instead of being lost. You recover mana faster when in motion, and fire-based Skills hit harder the longer they're sustained.

Flameform Blueprint (Active)

You can visualize and shape your flame-based Skills before casting them. Control the arc, spread, angle, and duration mid-cast. Perfect for refined attacks or setting traps in combat.

Infernal Thread (Passive)

Your Skills thread through reinforced mana channels. All Fire-based Skills are more resistant, powerful, and cost less to cast.

Ember Keystone (Active)

Anchor a single fire-based Skill in the environment or in midair. The Skill will hold its form for several seconds, even without active input. Can be used to trap, block, or bait.

Architect's Insight (Passive)

Reveals the mana structure of enemy fire, heat, and energy-based Skills. You see cracks in the design, and gain bonus precision when targeting flaws mid-combat.

Hellspire (Active)

Conjure a spiraling lance of compressed fire and drive it into a target zone. The flame doesn't explode immediately—instead, it anchors like a spike and builds pressure. After a short delay, the lance erupts from the inside out. The longer it's left embedded, the more destructive the release.

Ignition Array (Active)

Design and deploy up to five flame nodes around a battlefield. Each node emits low, nearly invisible heat signatures until manually triggered. When activated, the nodes release coordinated flame arcs that converge on your target or zone, striking from multiple angles.

Name: Jacob Cloud

Class: Infernal Architect (Platinum) - Lv. 8

Level: 7

Race: Human

Affiliation: None

Core Skills:

Hell's Sword – Lv. 100 (Gold – Offensive)

Fire Slash – Lv. 100 (Silver – Offensive)

Fire Shield – Lv. 100 (Silver – Defensive)

Fire Armor – Lv. 100 (Silver – Defensive)

Fire Walk – Lv. 100 (Silver – Movement)

Veins of Fire – Lv. 81 (Gold – Support)

The Grimoire Extraordinaire (Rainbow – Support)

Class Skills:

Furnace Core (Passive) – Lv. 1

Flameform Blueprint (Active) – Lv. 1

Infernal Thread (Passive) – Lv. 1

Ember Keystone (Active) – Lv. 1

Architect's Insight (Passive) – Lv. 1

Hellspire (Active) – Lv. 1

Ignition Array (Active) – Lv. 1

Attributes:

Strength (STR): 36

Dexterity (DEX): 51

Endurance (END): 39

Vitality (VIT): 42

Intelligence (INT): 58

Spirit (SPI): 61

Wisdom (WIS): 55

Charisma (CHA): 18

Luck (LCK): 10

The Infernal Architect Class gives me the following split in Attributes:

+4 INT, +4 SPI, +3 WIS, +2 DEX, +2 VIT, +1 STR, +1 END, +0 CHA, +0 LCK, +5 Free Attributes

One might wonder why a Class based on Hell's Sword would have so little Strength and Endurance, but it actually makes a lot of sense. Apparently, with Veins of Fire empowering my physique, this would be a Skill-based Class, relying way more on Skills to empower myself than Attributes.

I felt Sir Greyson's boots thud against the stone before I heard him speak. He stood just outside the bars, folding his arms as though he could pin me in place with that gesture alone.

"You really did it," he said, staring at the parchment in my hand, fingers twitching around its edge. "Infernal Architect, Level 8. Seven Skills all at once."

"How confident are you feeling now?"

I smile and I don't answer.

"Let me sleep a couple of hours. And thank you, Sir Greyson. I owe you. I'll remember this."