Chapter 7: Accidental Advancement

Chapter 7: Accidental Advancement

Now that his father was staying with them, the house had grown livelier. More people came to look for him. Ember even got to see many of their close relatives in the clan, as well as his grandfather.

He certainly did not have the look of an old man, appearing only in his middle age, with not even a single strand of grey hair. Well, his Silver rank and levels perhaps helped with that. He was one of the elite few in the clan, and the whole of Seynhold, who had ascended beyond level 100. Although it seemed like there was only one level of difference between level 99 and level 100, there was also a difference in rank.

From what he had learned, the hierarchy of class was like this: Rank > Tier > Level.

For Copper, Iron, and Silver, each rank was divided into three tiers, with level divisions within them, as follows:

Copper

• Tier 1: Level 1 – 8
• Tier 2: Level 9 – 16
• Tier 3: Level 17 – 24

Iron

• Tier 4: Level 25 – 49
• Tier 5: Level 50 – 74
• Tier 6: Level 75 – 99

Silver

• Tier 7: Level 100 – 174
• Tier 8: Level 175 – 249
• Tier 9: Level 250 – 324

Of course, there were still Tier 10 and above, but those fell under the legendary Gold rank. Ember might have been able to draw a division of its tiers from the prior nine tiers, but that would only be an assumption. Besides, Gold-class rankers were like legendary figures. There were only a handful of them in the entire Seynfield, each either the head of a prestigious house or holding some other influential position, such as governing lord of a city or commander of a legion.

House Blackstone did not possess a Gold-classed patriarch, from what he understood. They had more than a few Silver-class rankers. His father might be joining their ranks soon enough. It was how he had obtained the long leave, as he would be attempting to reach Silver class in the next three or four years.

All this had little to do with Ember. He was still a decade away from achieving his class, but he liked collecting tidbits of secrets, as some of them were too interesting to ignore. Sadly, his primary source of information, Rain, was not privy to much of the classified knowledge either. Besides, these days she was preoccupied with something else.

“No, no!” Cliff Blackstone stammered. “Your breathing is incorrect. Your stride’s still as clumsy as last month’s.”

His sister hurled forward with her sword, ready to plunge it into the knight’s chest without hesitation. His father parried with his left arm. Despite the ease with which he carried himself throughout the spar, he did not hold back much, sending an electric spasm through Rain’s palms.

“Come again,” he shouted. “I’d rather leave you in house arrest than let you enter the trial with this flimsy skill of yours.”

Ember watched from the porch, his eyes flinching at each strike that battered and bruised his sister. Involuntarily, he hugged the spider construct tightly.

“Your movement is still headless and straightforward,” his father accused. “What did you say your mastery of Enhanced Running was? At five? I have seen disabled people run faster, with far more resolve.”

Ember was unsure if he was saying it for effect, but with mana and magic being a thing, it might as well be possible.

“Step with purpose. Don’t assume you can strike me just because you have pulled more force into your swing. Think and strategise. Watch and learn.”

Then he hit her on the calves, causing a yelp to escape her lips.

Cliff Blackstone was worse than those sadistic gym trainers who goaded you with insults so that you would train harder. He was like a slave driver. Every morning and evening, he would help his eldest daughter practise, only letting her rest when she had nothing more to give.

Even his mother, bless her kind heart, was unable to watch after the first couple of days. Ember could not help but wonder about his own situation when he would be her age.

No, no, no. I am a mana prodigy. I don’t have to train swordsmanship like a lunatic.

On that note, his mana sense was almost on the precipice of reaching the ninth level. Ember could feel it in his skin. It would only take a couple of hours of diligent practice. He had known that for about a week now, only hesitating because earning that point would prompt his Tier 2 advancement.

Normally, Ember would have been elated to no end, but remembering the near-death agony, he could not help but hesitate. He was not even three, yet expected to endure such excruciating torment.

I should have taken the pain tolerance skill.

On that note, he was unsure whether he should hide his advancement or not. Well, his family would find out either way, as his father could likely tell anyone’s tier at a glance. So there was no point hiding it. Moreover, his father’s healing skill was more dependable than Rain’s, if the worst came to pass.

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I should wait until Dad finally has some time to spare. Perhaps in the afternoon, he decided.

But that plan was thwarted, as the knight headed out at noon and only returned by sunset. The first thing he did after returning was present his mother with a crystal vial filled with a thick yellow liquid glistening in the light.

“Is that an elixir?” Ember asked, eyeing the vial. He could feel the high density of mana despite the insulation.

“Unhuh, this is something for your mother,” his father grinned, “to help her keep her beauty for decades to come.”

He tilted his head, ruminating on the implication behind that. An anti-ageing potion?

Rossana rolled her eyes. “Is that a potion to raise my racial tier?”

Ember squeaked as if thunderstruck. You can do that, evolve race with potions? Why had he been diligent for so long if it is true?

“It looks to be of Iron rank,” his mother said, biting her lower lip. “How much did that cost?”

“Only a bit of my credits.”

Rossana shot him a peeved look. “Out with it already.”

“A thousand credits,” he muttered. “But I got a huge discount for being—”

“A thousand credits?” his mother screamed, jumping to her feet. “Are you out of your mind, Cliff Blackstone?”

The Iron Knight flinched slightly. “It’s only a thousand credits. I have ten times more to spare.”

“Well, not anymore, from the sound of it,” Rossana sighed. “Can’t you return it?”

Cliff shook his head. “Returning it will waste one of my rank privileges for the year,” he said, scrunching his nose. “Besides, it’s less than what my beautiful wife deserves.”

The wife in question fought to keep the blush off her cheeks. “You could have used that on Rain’s gear.”