The Classless Sorcerer's Self-Stealing System

[Sage ---> System Notification]

> You've received a gift from [Vermillion].

> Do you accept?

***

"Hm?" Blychert mumbled at the familiar sound of his sage terminal, immediately glancing across to review the message.

Smirking somewhat, he accepted the gift without delay and opened it.

***

[Encoded Message Capsule]

Blychert,

I received word from your master regarding certain events. I am remiss to learn that the anomaly in Kelvalder was not an isolated incident. My own research into the matter was largely hampered by other businesses during my own visit to Frostwall, so I apologize for not having been able to offer you more foresight prior to your journey. My advice would be to avoid the dungeon completely for now, but I know I can't force you.

Whatever you do, Bly, under no circumstance should you engage with this Pale Lady

I fear your master was correct in saying that her connection to sage may be more than you are capable of facing. You must understand, there are greater forces at work across Sulren I had hoped to shield you from until you were better equipped as a classless to defend yourself from them. But seeing that our timetable has advanced quite significantly, we can no longer afford such a luxury. As such, I have included a template for a spell that will help shield your mind from such entities. You should begin training as soon as possible, so that you might synthesize it before too long.

This is the only practical wisdom I can offer in my current condition.

I will find some time to prepare a communication spell so that we can speak to one another more freely. Until then, please be safe, and make smart choices.

A.

P.S. You sought an opinion on specializations; I will give one. I have absolutely no idea how you received a specialization point, but I suppose that doesn't matter. If you intend to use it, then my advice is the same as it's always been: go with your gut.

[Clear Mind] – added

***

Well, that was unexpected.

Not entirely unwelcome, and he'd been looking for the opportunity to speak with Alyse for the better of a week anyway.

Still, her words weren't entirely encouraging to hear. What did she mean by "greater forces" at work? It was clear based on the words that she had other insights; some other angle that she wasn't being honest about. If she had been content to keep things from him before, it made sense that she was keeping other things hidden now too.

What was Alyse Crane's endgame?

He supposed they'd been lying to each other, anyway, so maybe it was just best to come clean and have a fresh start.

"Trelen?" master Bartolo's muffled voice said from the other side of his bedroom door.

Closing his sage terminal, Blychert replied, "Come in."

The door opened, and Bartolo stepped inside. Curiously, however, he was fully dressed in his typical traveling attire. Apart from the disguise he wore as Jilvarlok, he very much looked like the Bartolo that Bly remembered fondly from their time in Darskaart.

He was going somewhere.

"Where are you off to?" Bly creased his brow amusedly.

The master sorcerer glance over his shoulder for a moment, before closing the door behind him. Settling his travel bag down in the nearby chair, he stopped to catch his breath, before saying, "Greygarde. Only a day or two. Maybe more."

Blychert's expression shifted to one of concern, "Everything alright?"

"Hopefully." Bartolo nodded, "An old acquaintance of mine reached out. I'm… concerned for their well-being, is all."

"Think it's a trap?"

Barotlo's lips parted for a moment, but no words came out. His eyes wandered around the room, before he finally said, "It's a possibility I've duly considered. But I'm going anyway. If she's in trouble, I… well, I need to help."

"Great, then I'm coming with you." Bly hopped off the bed, already fixing to pack his things.

His business with Skaldan and the dungeon was important, but he wasn't about to let his own master go back to Greygarde while they were both still being hunted. If this was something Bartolo had to do, then there was no way Bly was going to let him go alone.

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Out of the question.

"Stop, Blychert." Bartolo murmured, but Bly wasn't stopping, instead proceeding to throw a couple of things into one of his own travel bags. The master sorcerer grabbed him by the wrist suddenly, and turned him to face, "Stop. You're not going. You'll stay here, focus on your training and—"

"And what?" Bly argued loudly. Bartolo's expression became confused, visibly distraught. Blychert sighed, and said in a softer tone of voice, "Alyse sent me a message today. Said she's been holding things back from me, that she didn't want me to be exposed to whatever's out there. Well, she didn't do a great job. Did she? I guess you were gone most of the last year anyway, so what do you care?"

"Blychert…" Bartolo murmured.

Stepping back from the master sorcerer's grip, Bly shook his head, "Fine, you can go. I'll just stay here, out of your way. It's better that way, right? Maybe the two of you can play High Favor to see who gets to be stuck with me next."

"You are out of line, young man." Bartolo said sternly, "I have done everything within my power to keep you safe, to keep you fed, to keep you well trained, but that isn't enough for you. Is it? You go out of your way, heedlessly, finding trouble at every turn."

"It finds me!" Blychert blew up, "Or… maybe I'm the trouble. Because that's who we are, right? People like me?"

"That's not what I meant…"

"But you know it's true." Bly nodded, turning away towards his window, and muttering, "Well, don't worry. I know it's true too."

Silence fell over the room, and only the muffled sounds of the tavern downstairs and the faint crackling of his candles seemed to break it up at all.

"We will… discuss this more when I've returned. Blychert, please take care of yourself." Bartolo said softly. His footsteps then creaked against the floorboards, the door opened, and he was gone.

Blychert gritted his teeth.

He was so… angry.

That anger was burning deep inside his chest, almost suffocating with how overpowering it felt. How in the span of little over a year could his life have turned out to be so spectacularly abnormal? No, it wasn't abnormal, it was completely and utterly perverse.

He couldn't even be a normal classless, could he? He was… he was…

Wiping a tear from his eye, Blychert cleared his throat and stood tall.

It was getting late. The others would be expecting him soon.

"Okay, listen up!"

Blychert rubbed the palms of his hands together in quick succession, before cupping them up to his face and blowing out warm air into the pocket. The sun had disappeared beyond the western horizon hours ago, and in its stead an unsettling cold brought about by a light snowstorm and unrelenting wind.

There was still no sign of Skaldan, but Bly couldn't do much about that, and thus he turned to face Reingard alongside the rest of the rotation party.

"We're minus five minutes from dispatch." Reingard continued loudly, just above the sounds of small chatter from the party, "So let's get a gear and supply check going. Remember, three days' worth of rations. We're only scheduled for thirty-six hours, but let's stay prepared people."

At least the party spirits seemed to be quite high, despite the late hour and the weather, which gave Bly a bit of confidence. He was still in a bad mood, but the prospect of being able to blow off some steam in the dungeon was perhaps just what he needed. And if they could find Cynric? That would at least make all the trouble worthwhile.

Either way, Bly was ready.

He'd checked and double-checked his gear twice. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing else to prepare.

"Hey, what'd I miss—?" Skaldan's voice said abruptly from behind where Bly was standing. Turning, he saw the rosy-cheeked, somewhat out of breath young man coming to halt, "Sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to sneak out of a castle!"

Blychert chuckled, "You didn't miss anything. Gear check, and then I think we're going in."

"Oh, yeah? Great…" Skaldan nodded, a bit hurriedly.

He seemed nervous.

It was at that moment that Bly realized he'd never asked if Skaldan had been down in the dungeon before.

"You okay?" Bly asked.

"Hm?" Skaldan looked at him directly, grinning, "'Yeah, you?"

Blychert nodded slowly. However, he felt compelled to say, "Let's try to take it steady, yeah? We're still part of Reingard's rotation. So, we're starting on nine, making our way up, which means we've got a lot of ground to cover before we hit the seventh floor. I'm on damage-support. You?"

"Uhm—damage." Skaldan insisted, again his tone slightly anxious, "Wow, we're actually doing this. Huh?"

"…Yeah." Bly nodded.

For better or worse, they had a plan. Hopefully, something good would come out of it. If not? Blychert wasn't sure where it left them standing. Gurogan seemed like the weakest link in terms of loyalties, at least as far as the Church and the Guild were concerned. If they could just reach Cynric…

Opening his sage terminal, Blychert shifted across to his inventory page and scrolled down.

There was one thing he'd been avoiding since his fight with Kubranul; one thing he wasn't entirely sure of was a good idea. Until now, he'd been perfectly content forgetting about it. However, he was heading back down into the dungeon. He'd gotten a taste of what the Silver Vault could produce, even if it wasn't the norm.

But none of that mattered.

He had a goal that he was pursuing. He owed it not just to himself to use every possible means at his disposal, but to Skaldan, and to everyone else who had suffered at the hands of both the Pale Lady and the Guild. Who knew how many, if any knew about the seemingly secret war brewing between two mysterious factions?

Did it matter?

Blychert was going to do everything he could to stop it.

***

[Thundermaw Amulet (Raided)]

Thundering Siege. Gain the condition [Invulnerable] for a number of seconds equal to [Endurance + Willpower] when activated. While activated, gain the trait [Lightning Charged]. While the trait [Lightning Charged] is active, dealing damage to any target will create a vortex of lightning, dealing damage every [1] second to each target within a [10] meter radius. This vortex effect can be triggered every [10] seconds].

Tenacity. Endurance +3

Discipline. Willpower +2

Raided. Stamina +50, Health +50

> Item Rarity: Very Rare

> Item Level: -

> Item Class: Jewelry - Neck (amulet)

> Item Set: Scion of the Thundermaw Dragon

***

As Blychert finished equipping the item, Reingard called out.

"Alright, let's move out!" he shouted, and the rotation party promptly began to move across the plaza towards the Silver Vault.

A gust of sharp, piercing wind split through the plaza, bringing with it a chill and a flurry of snow. As the party stepped down the main path, the massive doors leading into the dungeon began to lurch open. Inside, the familiar darkness, and the pale light of the foremost wayshrine.

The rotation party gathered around the device, and Reingard held up his hand, "Last chance to back out."

"Hit it, you fucking bastard, before my balls freeze off!" someone shouted within the group, promoting a good, hearty laughter from the remaining members of the party.

"Bunch of animals…" Reingard smirked, shaking his head all the while.

Lifting his hand to touch the wayshrine, a flash of pale light consumed Reingard, followed by the rest of the rotation party in the blink of an eye. All thoughts and worries left Blychert's mind as the light consumed him too. His only worry now was Cynric, and whatever fight came with prying into that side of things.

He was prepared for this.

He had no other choice.