The Classless Sorcerer's Self-Stealing System

Kubranul descended.

The great dragon's formidable stature dominated the emptiness of the chamber, as those who still had the courage to fight on, rose to their feet, making ready to stand their ground.

"Hyaghhhhh!" Nazojan shouted furiously, a blood-filled rage bulged from his eyes, and he leapt into a frenzied dash towards the dragon without any care for caution. It cost him shortly, the dragon's sense of timing much stronger now after having seen the guardian attack already. In a single swing of his tail, Nazojan was sent flying into the darkness of the chamber beyond.

Following Nelkaar, Blychert felt a familiar fear bubbling up to the surface of his mind. But there wasn't much time to linger on such thoughts, for he quickly cast a shield spell in front of the swordsman, though it burst upon impact with Kubranul's swinging tail. Nelkaar didn't seem to hesitate though, pushing straight through the latent mana with ease. Her sword shimmered, the crimson of her helmet shined, and she moved into a series of impressive strikes of her own.

Further behind, the spellcasters and long-range attacks had begun to move back into a promising formation, though they were still heavily scattered and slow to the cast, undoubtedly thanks to the devastation Kubranul had just caused with a single attack.

Regardless, the grit and rage were palpable in the air.

Spells fired off one after the other; Merlind, Kagal, Velanni, and Jhannrick saw to that. Ilhrae hadn't seemed to have recovered from her mental break, though Falko appeared to be doing everything within his power to make sure that she was at least out of harm's way.

It was undeniable suddenly, the swelling and bolstering of Blychert's vitality, as he felt the effects of both Jhannrick's blood magic and Kagal's enchantments surge through him. In turn, Bly cautiously focused on keeping to what Nelkaar had asked of him: defensive spells when required. Shield spells sprawled across the chamber amidst the fire and steel, the occasional elemental spell when he could afford it.

Just like before, the group seemed to have found a viable rhythm. And with the added desire to avenge their fallen comrades, it was clear that everyone was giving this their all. Dark ichor oozed from the many wounds now licking Kubranul's body, though the dragon did not relent so easily. And given what he was, Bly didn't expect him to either.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted throughout the chamber.

With a steady beat of wings, a massive gale began to build around Kubranul, blowing everyone backwards and away from where he stood. Unable to keep hold of Nelkaar, Blychert found himself tumbling back across the floor, hardly able to withstand such a massive wall of force.

But it wasn't just the wind.

Tremendous heat and a buildup of lightning soon pumped through the chamber as well, affecting everyone within range of the gale. Pain riddled Bly's body, unable to prevent the sustained damage he was taking with any kind of shield. He had already spent so much mana today that it was starting to affect his reaction time.

"Input… spell override: armor of frost." Bly grind out, still lying flat on the ground. It was just about the only spell he could think of that might help him in this situation, not that he felt even remotely at a level to counter something like this.

"Nelkaar!" Jhannrick's voice shouted in desperate agony, no doubt suffering from the same effects that Bly was, "You must finish it! I—I'll give you everything I have!"

As the blood mage finished, Blychert felt another bolstering of magical energy within him, but this time it was by far the strongest effect he'd ever felt placed over himself.

Glancing over his shoulder, Bly quickly realized that most of the others were completely locked out by the gale's extreme pressuring force. Kagal and Velanni were held at a standstill behind a barrier spell, Merlind and the others were nowhere to be found, and Jhannrick stood with his arms held out in casting.

The wizard's arms streaked with blood, the droplets of which flung back across his robes and face, as he gritted his teeth ferociously. Jhannrick fell to one knee, and then the other, and still he maintained his spell. Whatever it was he was casting, whatever effect it was having on Bly, it was undoubtedly taking everything the wizard had at his disposal.

Squinting, Bly turned back ahead just able to see the silhouette of Nelkaar fighting against the tumultuous current, doing everything she could, no doubt, to move forward despite the harsher forces at work against them.

Bly's breath quavered, and his resolve sputtered in the moment.

These were the real heroes here.

Jhannrick, Nazojan, Nelkaar, the others…

Blychert had no doubt that they would lay down their very lives for this cause if it meant that everyone else would live to see another day, that such a foul beast would be brought low to where it belonged. They had suffered, their companions had fallen, and yet they fought with every breath.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Kubranul, the Thunderfang Dragon, was a mighty foe. He terrified Blychert, shook him to his very core, perhaps now more than ever, knowing that all of Bly's magic wasn't nearly powerful enough to go toe-to-toe with such a creature.

If only he were stronger.

If only Bly were a real sorcerer, not some faker with an ability he couldn't even control. What could he hope to offer the others, those heroes, in the face of such calamity?

"And when all else fails, just go with your gut. Improvising is our bread and butter, after all."

Blychert's eyes widened, unsure why his mind was churning up old memories at a time like this, but happy to have remembered a fond message such as that one.

In any case, maybe Alyse was right.

Bly couldn't help but smile hopelessly.

He was no sorcerer.

He was a classless, no better than a liar, really.

But even still, he was trying to be better, to be honest in the lie within which he lived. Every day was a new day to be someone different, to be someone stronger—stronger for someone else. Every deceitful manifestation of his classless nature was another chance to prove that this world, that this life, that his friends and his mentors, and all his fellow adventurers who had come to trust him thus far, that all of it meant more to him than anything; that it was real. He was going to cherish those things—no, he was going to fashion them in to something brilliant. Even if someone like him didn't deserve those kinds of things, and even if he could only hold onto them for a few more, fleeting moments, they were his to harness right here and now.

If there really were any sparks in the lies that he told, then it was time to let them shine.

Standing to his own two feet, Bly gritted his teeth and raised his left arm amidst the billowing surge of Kubranul's gale. However, he steadied his focus with a clear and uninhibited mind, rejecting the fear he'd once felt for this monstrosity. Wind, heat, and lightning rippled throughout the chamber, lifting pieces of stone through the air as all of it swirled together in a calamitous vortex centered on the massive dragon.

Without a doubt, it was now or never for Bly to act.

"Nelkaar! I can—get you close!" Blychert shouted frantically, feeling the bloom of unrestrained mana rise within him. He had little more energy than that to shout, focusing fully on the massive combo spell he was about to let loose.

Bartolo always demanded caution, and Alyse always threw caution to the wind. Bly truly had no idea where he fell on that spectrum, but one thing was for certain: this was going to be the biggest spell he'd ever cast in his entire life.

The crimson-armored swordsman glanced behind her and stared. Time seemed to stand still at that moment, as Bly waited for her to make some sort of acknowledgment of his efforts. Mana was already beginning to build, and he wasn't going to be able to stop himself from casting it at this point, so he just hoped she wouldn't mind.

However, the swordsman nodded slowly in response, and seemed to position herself steadily. There was no way she could know what he was about to do, but she seemed ready for it nonetheless.

A surge of magical energy brought Bly's attention back to the spells at hand.

Mana churned within his core, lifting his entire body to a steady, buzzing sensation. Raw, magical energy was bouncing around inside of him like a leather ball, making him somewhat nauseous if it weren't for the tremendous adrenaline rush, Jhannrick's magic, and the simultaneous exhaustion he felt. With his transmogrifier and his devouring threads working at maximum effort to replenish his mana pool, Bly was quickly aware that he was getting closer to the edge; the point where no mage usually returned.

Well, he had some experience with that phenomenon.

If he was really about to kick the bucket, then sage was just going to have to step in and save him once again. He wasn't saving himself for anything, not for this one.

Searing, white-hot pain radiated up from Blychert's left hand all of a sudden. He barely knew what had hit him, as his left arm rag dolled behind him for a moment. Blychert winced, but gritted his teeth as he pulled his wounded arm back to the fore. Glancing down, three of his fingers and a good cross-section of his hand were now missing entirely, only scorched flesh left in its wake.

But even that wasn't enough to deter Blychert's will.

As the buildup of magical energy reached its tipping point, Blychert focused on his training; he focused on the arduous, repetitive defensive sessions with Bartolo, the grueling and exhausting offensive days spent with Alyse, and burned an image into his mind of what he was trying to accomplish with this magic at his disposal. It was a fuzzy picture, half-baked at best, and yet he held onto it with everything he had left.

"What fools you are!" Kubranul roared, his ice-blue eyes flashing wide, "You stand against the abundance, and dare to challenge me my reclamation?! Why did I not see it before… when my purpose is so clearly laid out before me! You cannot withstand my thundering fury, so die and be silent!"

The ferocity of Kubranul's gale increased, but it wasn't enough to deter Blychert.

Suddenly, his mana released, and not one, but two massive walls of pure ice formed on either side of Nelkaar, stretching all the way across to where the dragon yet stood. It was the most intensive spell combo Bly had ever pulled off, and it ached and burned his very insides just to do it, as the fatigue of mana exhaustion overcame him.

Like a flash of lightning, Nelkaar stepped off her back foot and rushed forward, her longsword glimmering like that of a blood moon.

Bly strained against the pull of his twin ice walls. Kubranul's gale pummeled it ceaselessly from all sides, battering it with stone, fire, and wind, but it was holding. All he could do now was concentrate on maintaining the shields that were keeping him alive, and hope that his betters would see this out.

Ice shattered ahead, and Bly's eye widened, no longer able to see Nelkaar as she dashed forward through the icy tunnel. However, a shimmering red object lifted through the air on the other side in the blink of an eye.

Crimson energy radiated from a singular point, before erupting into a singular slice of the same exact hue.

Wind died down as the faint crimson aura sparkled, heat and lightning subsided, and the swirling stone fell by the wayside. Nelkaar's armored form stood before the dragon, which looked down upon her with an almost unknowing expression. In that moment, Bly feared the worst. But suddenly, Kubranul's head slid down from his neck, and coiled to the ground, the rest of his body falling limp in a tremendous heap at the swordsman's feet, her blade running thick with dark ichor.

Kubranul, the Thunderfang Dragon, was dead.