The Glass Mage: An Artisanal Progression Fantasy

Klaarson's eyes go blank for a moment as he reviews his upgraded Class. It's all I can do not to peek and ruin his surprise, but I settle for sharing a grin with Trevour, who's looking at me with guarded expectation. When did the bags under his eyes get so heavy?

I hope he doesn't blame me if it's not good and his friend is disappointed.

Just as the silence is starting to get awkward, Klaarson blinks, reemerging to the outside world. He scratches his chin. "Well, huh."

"What's that supposed to mean? Tell us, tell us!" Trevour demands, practically vibrating with excitement that's at odds with his exhausted appearance.

"I'm now an [Arcane Augmenter]. What in the abyss is that?" Klaarson asks, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.

"Never heard of it," Trevour says.

Marta shrugs, equally taken aback.

Melina and I glance at each other, and our eyes meet. A question lingers in my gaze, but she shakes her head fractionally. Now that's interesting. If she hasn't heard of it, then it's not likely anyone else has, either.

"Shares a name with your Domain, Nuri. What weird surgery did you do?" Avelina asks, tilting her chin and regarding me with suspicion.

I shrug, going for casual but likely not succeeding. "Nothing much. Just enhanced the Skills he was developing and tried to steer them a bit toward golemancy."

"They don't look like it," Klaarson mutters. His scowl deepens as he reads aloud the names of his new Skills. "[Strength in Numbers], [Harmonic Symbiont], [Squad Skill: Pack Mule], and [Riftborn Companion]. What in all the skies and seas are those? Wish they came with a manual."

"I can probably decipher most of the runes," I volunteer, but I know it's still not the same as an actual description. It's too bad that Skills aren't more verbose.

I wonder if I can work with Rakesh to create a technique or free-form spell that can automatically read runes and explain their function in sentences?

Lost in my excitement, I almost miss the tension around Klaarson's eyes and the way his jaw flexes. The sour note of his disappointment and confusion is impossible to ignore through my Domain, however, and the little details in his posture and expression rush to the forefront of my mind when I focus on him again.

"Thought the Class would be more exciting. Like a [Golem Master] or something. Maybe I made a mistake rushing into things," Klaarson says. He rubs the back of his neck, like he's fending off a headache, and I recognize his gloominess surfacing again.

It reminds me of me when I was younger.

"Steady, lad. No complaining until you test them out," Club says, patting Klaarson on the back awkwardly.

"Good point," Klaarson says, straightening up and trying to shake off his momentary slump. He puts on a brave smile. "I'll try the [Riftborn Companion] first. Maybe it's a golem of some kind."

"Or a monster," Trevour teases.

Klaarson activates the Skill, and I watch in fascination as the runic arrays drink in mana one after another. With the upgrade to his Class, he's successfully integrated his artificial core more deeply into his actual metaphysical system, and everything seems to be running more smoothly now than before.

Mana flows from the well of his core and floods his new Skill with power. The energy appears denser than it used to be. One by one, the crystalline runes of the fractal sculpture light up, blazing like a chandelier of hundreds of tiny candles in my Domain sight, until they reach a crescendo.

With a crack like glass shattering on the floor, the air splits open. Gleaming in the ruddy glow of the setting sutting, a set of sharp pincers reach out of formerly empty space. Pincers snap open and shut as a strange, glass-like creature tears itself through a ragged rift in reality. Slashing and clacking its claws, it emanates chaotic energy fluctuations that remind me of a real Rift, but far weaker, and I find myself stepping closer in anticipation.

Just what did Klaarson unlock?

A smooth carapace emerges a second later, moving gracefully on three pairs of short, multi-jointed legs. Lastly, a segmented tail, studded with jagged, razor sharp glass shards and twice again as long as the creature itself, slithers through the portal, flicking back and forth and refracting the light.

"Whoa, it is a monster!" Trevour whoops.

An enormous grin stretches across Klaarson's face, for real this time. "It's hideous. I love it!"

Club swallows hard and shuffles away. Under his breath, I hear him muttering. "Way too many legs."

The newly-minted [Arcane Augmenter] turns toward Mikko and nods at the Iron Lunk. "All right, I'm ready. Let me at it!"

Mikko thumbs the linked control rune. The sturdy old Lunk whirs back to life, though its movements are a little jerky after Ember showed off earlier. I wonder if she misaligned the gears with that last kick. We'll have to fix it back up later.

Klaarson glares down the automaton. He slashes his hand toward it like swinging the edge of a knife, a snarl pulling back his lips. The summoned golem dashes forward, skittering across ground faster than Klaarson can run, rushing to meet the attack from the Iron Lunk.

Just before the attack lands, it digs its claws into the ground and leave deep furrows as its sharp claws take hold, abruptly arresting its momentum. Klaarson's golem springs back in time to avoid the heavy overhead blow from the hulking metal training dummy, and ducks under a follow up slash.

The Iron Lunk clunks as it hits the end of its gears, pausing for half a second as it winds up and prepares to swing its heavy limbs back the other way.

In a flash, the glass scorpion's tail lashes out over its own head, stabbing straight toward the smooth "torso" temporarily exposed between strikes. The wicked needlepoint of its stinger bites into the steel, puncturing the half-inch armor cladding with hardly any effort.

Whooping in glee, Klaarson directs it to snap with its front pincers. The Iron Lunk is too broad for the scorpion to grab, but it scores deep cuts across its front.

Mikko chuckles and twists the control rune, ratcheting up the difficulty. Instantly, the Lunk accelerates, raining down a flurry of attacks on the golem.

"Dodge!" Klaarson shouts at his Riftborn scorpion, his voice cracking in strain at the prospect of his new golem losing in its first sparring match.

Unfortunately, its stinger is stuck, embedded too deeply into the Iron Lunk for it to pull back its tail and run to safety. The metal limbs slam down on the golem, battering it down into the ground. Over and over the blows rain down on the golem until it's buried three inches deep in the dirt.

Klaarson rushes forward, heedless of the danger, and grabs the arch of its tail. He yanks until it pops free. Before he can drag the strange scorpion to safety, a final smash from the Iron Lunk proves too much for it to handle. The glass cracks, and mana gushes out of the construct at an alarming rate.

Klaarson stares down at the mangled wreck with a forlorn look on his face. "Can you fix it?" he asks me softly.

"No need," I answer, nodding at the glimmering glass that's already melting away. "As far as I understand the runes, it's drawing on raw mana from between the realms and turning it into glass to make a temporary golem, much like monsters are spawned in Rifts. My guess is that it won't persist like flesh and blood, though. The body will evaporate back into mana once it takes too much damage. Though it looks like the broken glass sticks around. Maybe you can use the glass as weapons?"

"That's awesome!" Club says, pocketing a particularly wicked looking sharp glass shard. "I'll save this for later."

At the same time, Klaarson frowns and crosses his arms. "What's the point of that? I was hoping for an army of golems, not a helper that falls apart after just one fight."

"That thing would have killed an unarmored monster with the first tail strike," Club points out. "Against most people, it would be a real menace! Not a chance I'd volunteer to fight it. Don't feel bad about that showing."

"Plus, you have plenty of room for Skill growth. I wouldn't be surprised if it gets stronger and more durable as you rank up your Skill," I remind Klaarson.

Whew, is this how I sounded to people who tried to help me a few years ago? No wonder they all said I was whiny!

"That makes sense," Klaarson says, a slow blush creeping up his face. "Sorry about the complaining. I'm just, well. I'm confused, I guess. I don't know what that has to do with augmentation."

"Try out [Harmonic Symbiont] next time," Melina suggests. "Maybe you can enhance the golem with your assistant Skills? I agree it was a pretty good first attempt, though. That stinger would have gone right through a person. Scary!"

Klaarson brightens immediately. "Oh! That's a good idea. But I can't pull on the new Skill again. It's going to take a while to refresh. Maybe tomorrow?"

"What happens if you use [Symbiont] on me?" Trevour asks. He rolls his shoulders and bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet, like a [Boxer] warming up for a match.

"Sure," Klaarson shrugs.

Energy swells within him as he taps into his new Skill. Thin tendrils of pure mana weave between Klaarson and Trevour, forming a lattice. A few seconds later, a bond snaps into place between the two teammates, and power flows across the framework.

"Whoa! My muscles feel hot, like I was exercising under the sun. Bet I'm stronger now," Trevour says. He dashes toward my poor training dummy, ducks under an imaginary blow, and punches the Iron Lunk hard enough to make me wince.

The automaton rocks backward, but doesn't fall off its stand this time. A faint outline of knuckles shows up in the metal, but the deformation is nothing like the hole left by the needle sharp point of the scorpion's stinger.

Hissing in pain, Trevour shakes out his hand. "Ow, that was dumb. I shoulda punched something softer."

"Definitely did some damage, though," Marta says in encouragement, walking over and running her fingertips across the shallow dent. "How long does it last? We could put it on Club for a finishing blow if we're in a tough fight."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Should be about five minutes, if I'm gauging the flow of mana properly," I say. "Can you cast it on anyone else at the same time?"

Klaarson frowns in concentration. Mana swirls in his core for a moment, but nothing happens. He shrugs. "Guess not. I'll have to choose my moments carefully."

"Maybe. What about [Strength in Numbers]?"

"Oh! That's right," he says, catching the excitement of my suggestion. He activates the Skill, and arcane energies spin up. Slender ethereal ropes reach out to everyone nearby. The connections to Marta, Trevour, Club, and me take hold, but the others fizzle. The Linas are farther away from Klaarson, however, and don't seem to be in range of the Skill's area of effect.

As soon as the connection is formed, I feel a familiar empowering presence of mana coiling around my limbs. It's not much, not compared with what I can do with the full force of my advanced mana manipulation skills and monstrous Capacity, but it's still noticeable. For a man new to his Class and not yet past the First Threshold, it's impressive.

"Auntie Em, move closer to Klaarson! Mikko, Linas, you too. I wonder if the Skill automatically targets you once you're in range, or if Klaar needs to reinitiate the arcane connection."

Ember jogs forward, and as soon as she reaches a dozen long paces away from Klaarson, the enhancement Skill kicks in without requiring a new activation. The same process repeats with the twins.

I breathe in sharply. "No way, the benefits increase with each person! Mikko, get over here. Hurry!"

When my brother reaches the border of the effective sphere of influence, the empowering effect grows substantially. "Ha! Even better! It's not proportional to adding one more person. Mikko gave us a huge boost since he's got more muscles than brains."

"Thank you," Mikko says, flexing.

A chuckle ripples through the group. Everyone else seems interested in the empowering effect, and each person drifts closer to take advantage of the augmentation. Who can blame them?

Our excited chatter draws Reijo's attention from inside the house. He waves to us and strides over to join in the fun. When he reaches the effective range of the Skill, however, nothing happens. Maybe it's because Klaarson doesn't know him?

"Hey, can you add our father?"

Klaarson scrunches up his face, but still nothing happens other than a vein throbbing on his forehead. He shakes his head a moment later. "Seems like I'm at my limit."

"Eight people is pretty good for now. You'll probably add more once you rank it up. Let's see if the enhancement persists after leaving the sphere of influence. My assumption, based on the runes I've reviewed, is that the initial connection needs close range, but the tether should continue even if you're farther away."

Mikko dashes away, eager to test the theory. I watch closely through my Domain as he flies by the outer limit of the Skill. The mana-bond thins, but doesn't break. It's not until Mikko runs through the back yard, past the garden, and into the trees of the nearby forest that the connection wanes. By the time it winks out entirely, he's a good quarter mile away.

"Pretty good distance," Trevour grunts when I share my findings. "But I don't understand the difference between the two Skills. Don't they both boost our strength?"

I stroke my beard. "Yes, but that seems incidental in this case. From what I can see of the runes, [Strength in Numbers] seems to share the best attributes of everyone in range with each other. Everyone in the squad benefits from proximity and teamwork, which makes sense given the Assistant Skills it was based on."

"And [Harmonic Symbiont]?" Klaarson asks.

"That's a singular enhancement based on some sort of resonance between you and your target, but it seems to go both ways. Trevour got a boost to strength, based on your [Strength in Numbers] Skill. I'll bet that in return, you can tap into his flag Skills."

"Wait, he can be a temporary bannerman? How long does the Skill last?" Trevour demands.

I hold up both hands, palms out. "Well, hang on. That's my best guess. I don't know if it works quite like that."

Ghostly light flickers into existence between Klaarson and Trevour, shaped like a flag. It's unadorned, lacking color, crests, and words, and it doesn't last long, but it's unmistakably one of Trevour's banners of command.

"Ah, there we go," I say, grinning. "That's more in line with what I expect from a Skill at the peak of bronze. With some hard training, you'll have your first Silver Skill in no time!"

"Incredible," Trevour breathes. "I'll teach you how to use the most basic signals, Klaar. That's an awesome ability!"

"Thanks! It's balanced out by my Iron Skill," Klaarson says with a laugh. "But if [Squad Skill: Pack Mule] does what I think it will, then I can carry more items when working with you, or maybe cook faster if I'm feeding friends. That's how my [Caravan Assistant] Skills worked."

"Squad Skills can be shared with your team," I inform Klaarson. "There's a good chance you'll all be able to carry extra loot out of a Rift. Maybe it's a small storage space!"

"Extra dimensional Skills exist below Silver? Sounds advanced," Melina points out. She sounds skeptical, not that I can blame her.

"Rarely. But it's not any stranger than you getting [In the Blink of an Eye], Mel."

"True enough," she concedes.

"Sounds like a good way to get rich," Trevour says, rubbing his palms together. "We're gonna be famous!"

Klaarson and Trevour slap hands in a quick, complicated pattern, and I sense the echoes of their excitement through my Domain. "I'll bet it's got a whole host of other useful tricks. This is great! I've always liked helping people. I just didn't feel cut out for the life of a [Caravanner]."

"Welcome to delving. Lots of fun, but a much lower life expectancy," I tease, clapping Klaarson on the shoulder. "Hey, anyone else want an upgrade while we're at it?"

Everyone declines, probably because of the pain Klaarson went through each time I've helped him with his runes. Club hoists his cudgel, to no one's surprise, indicating he's keeping what he has.

Can't blame him. His Class-granted ability to turn his club into a short staff means he can make use of some of the pointers he picked up from Nicanor on the road. He's refining his combat technique, and I know Mikko will outfit him with a shield and a brand new, heavier club made of mana-infused steel soon.

Marta likewise keeps the knife I made her. Avelina's been helping her advance her fire magic, earning the [Mistress of the Caravan's Hearthfire] a new Skill called [Rain of Fire], and now she's able to keep up a much longer barrage of flamestrikes with the glass weapon.

After everyone has a go with the Iron Lunk, we slip away to get some rest—everyone but Trevour, that is. I pull him aside to go over leadership exercises.

Trevour and I spend the rest of the evening discussing tactics and directing his squad in a fight. He's not as adept with a weapon as the others, but he's the fastest and most fearless of the lot, and he learns quickly. I couldn't ask for a more eager student, though his exhaustion from so many weeks of training eventually overtakes his enthusiasm, and I tell him to get some rest.

When we meet up the next day, I'm carrying a long, reinforced glass rod I made that he can use as a flagpole. One end tapers to a deadly point, imbued with sharpness, so his pole can pull double duty as a spear during fights in the local Rift.

"Thank you, Nuri," Trevour says, cradling his new flagpole in his arms. "I don't know how you do it, but I can already tell that sending my mana through this will be way more effective than using a regular pole."

I grin. "Don't mention it! I'm looking forward to seeing how your Class will translate in the Rift. [Assistant Bannerman] is fairly unusual, but it can't be worse for delving than [Assistant Glassblower] was."

"Thanks. I think," Trevour murmurs, his lips quirking into a smirk. He manifests one of his ghostly flags, taking much less mana than previous attempts, and I immediately get the sense that we need to walk eastward.

"Neat! How does that work?"

"I just push my intent into the flag, and it tells anyone who can see it where to go."

"Similar to imbuing," I muse. "Should help with coordination on your upcoming delve. You're an effective leader."

Trevour puffs up his chest at the praise. "Lots of practice coordinating the caravan's directions. Different flag formations and colors arrangements mean different things. Usually, I worked with that annoying [Navigator] to communicate new paths and to interact with other caravans across long distances. Can't wait to be in charge for once!"

"You'll do great," I assure him. Now, let's see if you can cut down on mana leakage. Try encapsulating the intent in a thin wrapper of mana. The barrier is inviolable. Nothing gets in or out."

He nods seriously, and gets to work. With some pointers, his mana-flags quickly become more tangible, visible to both the naked eye and to our mana senses, and they take less energy to manifest. In the middle of chaotic fights in the Rift, he'll provide the team with vital communication and direction with his flags, even from a neighboring cavern, as long as everyone can sense them.

Turns out that Trevour's Class is why his mana senses are so much more advanced than the others: he only used physical flags within Yuvaan's caravan, where they were easily seen by everyone nearby. When approaching new villages or sharing news about potential monsters on the road with other caravans, he relied on manifesting spectral flags made of pure mana. Not all of the other [Bannermen] were adept at creating clearly understood flags. He constantly honed his senses to accurately receive incoming communications.

His talent is excellent, but he's never had a teacher like me before. With his new flag pole and my tutelage, he's leaping forward in both comprehension and technique. After a few hours of practice, I leave him with further instructions for the day and head off to hammer out a plan with the rest of the team.

As I wander over to the SCA grounds, I stroke my beard, wondering how many other previously overlooked Classes could apply to either delving or warfare. We'll need as many reinforcements as possible when Tapirs inevitably returns and seeks vengeance. Like my friend Smoke proved, Classes don't need to define your actions; they just give you tools to apply as you see fit.

Teuria is an outlier. [Lightning Mage] practically screams "natural born artillery mage." Her training is a joint effort between Melina and Ember, and sure enough, they're all working together at the SCA when I arrive, just as they have each day for the last few weeks.

An eye-searing bolt strikes three training dummies across the courtyard in rapid succession, crossing the distance between Teuria and the targets faster than I can follow, even with the sensory acceleration provided by my Domain.

I clap as I approach, and they all spin around to wave in greeting. The two women have refined the young [Mage]'s Skills and helped her hone her affinity, transforming her potent lightning strikes from chaotic discharges of energy into the focused edge of a blade meant for war.

Ember is mostly responsible for that. While [Devour] is more like the dark abyss of hungry, consuming fire, it's still an ethereal attack that operates on much the same principle as Teuria's elemental mana projections. Melina's contributions are more moral support than anything, but her mana manipulation is definitely more subtle and refined than our former boss's more brute-force approach.

"Wish I had a thimbleful of your talent," I call out to the young woman, who's still grinning from her successful triple-strike.

"Pssh, you're talented beyond belief, Nuri," Melina cuts in. "Don't diminish her hard work by dismissing it as talent. She was born with a lightning affinity, not advanced mana control. That strike was all her."

I incline my head. "Perish the thought. I know how much effort you're putting into your training, Teuria."

"She's something else," Ember says in clipped tones. There's admiration there, yes, but an undercurrent of something more wary. Sad, perhaps.

"Her sheer capacity for destruction outpaces all of us—I'll bet even Nicanor will be wary around her when he gets back!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ember sighs. "She's so young. Childhood should be full of wonder and discovery, not the harsh realities of war."

"I can handle it!" Teuria insists.

"You're a person, not a weapon. Remember that," Ember says gruffly. She scowls at Teuria to add weight to her words, but she doesn't mean it unkindly.

"Well! Let's talk more about our upcoming Delve," I say, offering as charming a smile as I can to lift the mood again. They put aside the heavy topic and we buckle down to the task at hand, going over last minute planning and coaching Teuria on strategic positioning.

All the while, in the back of my mind, I wonder just how terrifying the [Lightning Mage] will become. She'll scale harder than any [Mage] I've met once she inevitably reaches the Second Threshold one day. With that much firepower, I hope she's always on our side.

After our meeting concludes, I drop by Ezio's office for a quick report on my efforts to create large-scale runic formations. Thanks to his direction and brilliant insight, I feel like I'm on the cusp of making a breakthrough in recreating the runes of my Skills on a larger scale outside of my soul space.

I want to get his advice on a few unexpected pitfalls I've encountered on the way, but I can't stay long. He provides me with a few ideas before departing to teach a class, and I head back to the glass studio for more war preparation.

Just like that, the last few days before our delve fly by in a blur. I haven't been idle, alternating between sparring, scouting out Rifts weak enough for the team to challenge without dying, researching with Ezio, and building up a vast stockpile of glass golems, glass armor based on a refined version of our old mother-of-pearl prototype, and a wide variety of imbued weapons.

When the war comes, our armies will all be equipped with the finest gear I can provide. I only wish I had more mana, since I'm exhausting my full Capacity every day to pump out more and more items. We'll need them when we face off against the [Death Mage] and his cabal.

In the blink of an eye, our grueling month is over. The reservation we made to use the Army's training Rift comes due. All of our intense training, which felt so long at the time, now feels far too short to prepare the team. What if they're not ready? What if someone gets hurt? Will it be my fault for not instructing and preparing them better?

Part of me wonders if this is what parents feel like when their children try difficult things or encounter something new. The pride at their accomplishments, the hope of seeing them flourish. Most of all, the fear that makes the back of their throats close up and and their hearts clench as they wonder if their sons or daughters will get hurt, physically or emotionally, when they inevitably face their first failures and setbacks along the way.

But there's nothing for it. For better or worse, the time has come to once more delve into a Rift, challenging the most dangerous places in existence for the promise of strength, wealth, and glory.