53 – Class Evolution

People could adapt to anything. Saffra knew that on a personal level, not as some truism. Her life had veered off course wildly on two occasions now, and she’d settled into a routine both times, despite how world-ending each had seemed. And there were people who had gone through worse, she knew, and they had learned to get by. People were resilient. By nature, they survived.

That said. While Lady Vivi’s introduction into Saffra’s life was a good left turn for once, how could she possibly get used to…this?

A full set of transcendent quality gear. A ten-times multiplier on experience gain. A phoenix feather that summoned a Titled guardian. A spell that could one-shot monsters a hundred levels higher than her. With more, equally strong spells to come.

It was too much. And the surprises didn’t seem to be slowing down.

Over the course of the hour-long hunting expedition, she cast several dozen [Scorchlances], instantly killing three-quarters of her targets. The other one-fourth, she either missed or failed to properly manifest the spell, and Lady Vivi had to step in to save her. Which was deeply embarrassing, though she knew it shouldn’t be.

She didn’t level up twice with every kill. That would have been ridiculous—as if it happening once wasn’t. Levels weren’t totally predictable to begin with, but that initial jump had probably come from the Grand System recognizing the achievement of killing a monster a hundred levels higher. Leveling was feat-based as much as effort-based, and not always linear. The Grand System was far from perfectly understood, as she’d told Lady Vivi.

Saffra had been level three hundred and eighty-five when they had met, and she had gained one level since then through training and the events of the Convoy. Killing twenty-five monsters, which was equivalent to two hundred and fifty thanks to her apprenticeship status, had rocketed her up in advancement faster than she had thought possible.

As in, literally faster than she had thought possible. In her wildest dreams, she couldn’t have imagined a confluence of factors, no matter how imaginative, that would allow for fourteen levels in a single hour of hunting. She knew a person could make blazing progress through the lower ranks, especially below gold—noble families made use of heirloom gear and apprenticeship bonuses all the time. But that many levels? And so fast? It boggled the mind.

And kind of made her angry. Never mind that she was the one benefiting; the sheer unfairness didn’t sit right with her. Levels should go to those who worked the hardest. Or, more realistically, the hardest-working talents, since the world could never really be fair. Some people simply learned and grew faster.

But seriously. She had spent so many hundreds of nights studying until she’d crashed into bed in a dead stupor, or, more recently, risking her life out in the forests surrounding Prismarche, and in that time, she had seen progress at a tiny fraction of what she had this past hour. And she was most definitely not ‘trying harder’, nor had she suddenly become ‘more deserving’. She’d just been in the right place at the right time, and a strange, powerful mage had taken interest in her.

All that said. While a part of her was outraged, she couldn’t help but be a little giddy too. Or a lot giddy. She had gained fourteen levels in one day.

And more importantly: she had crossed the four-hundred barrier.

“There it is,” Saffra announced as the most recent monster exploded into a shower of ice shards. A thrill of excitement and anxiety seized her as the screen appeared, announcing her level—with two more screens behind it, waiting to be read.

“Oh? Good news?” Lady Vivi asked.

She’d warned Vivi that she was getting close, since obviously, the one-hundred-level summits were a big deal. Not just as some arbitrary crowning milestone—though it certainly felt incredible to say she’d climbed that mountain—but also because of tangible benefits. There were few hard and fast rules when it came to the Grand System and how it doled out classes, stats, and skills, but there was an undeniable trend toward the ten, fifty, and hundred-level increments providing larger bonuses, with the hundred-level marks often offering a class evolution and a cornerstone skill.

Holding her breath, she mentally reached out and dismissed the level-up notification. The screen behind it became visible. Her heart all but leapt into her throat as she read the words ‘Class Evolution’.

Saffra had spent the last few years aiming for an [Elementalist] class. If she was honest with herself, that decision didn’t stem from a deep fondness for elemental spells, but rather, a practical mindset. The truth of the matter was that more complex magics—sometimes even the most basic versions of them—were locked behind social connections.

Whether family inheritance, guild, noble title, or simply currying favor from an Institute mage, the more esoteric spells like divination, illusions, druidism, or any other weren’t available to an orphaned commoner of perhaps mildly impressive, but not truly notable talent.

Especially because her attitude issues hadn’t endeared her to the proper families or institutions. She’d never been good at sucking up, and most Grand Magi possessed fearsome egos. Ones that needed stroking if she wanted to get into their good graces and learn their magics.

Hence, she had pursued elemental spells. It was a staple branch for a reason. With no shortage of firepower or utility, [Elementalists] were highly sought after in adventuring teams—and that had always been her long-term goal. She’d not once imagined herself cooped up on the highest floors of the Institute, researching ever-more-inscrutable spells. She wanted to be out in the world. Making a difference.

So. Simple, effective, and easily available as elemental spells were, it had been her obvious choice.

But [Elementalist] wasn’t the evolution she received.

She blinked a few times. Rubbed her eyes and looked again. The words didn’t change.

***

Congratulations! Your class [Initiate Mage] has transitioned into [Pupil of the Magus Prime].

***

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The announcement caught her so off guard she couldn’t help but blurt out, “Huh?”

Nearly every waking moment in the past few years she had devoted to learning elemental spells. How could she not get that class variation?

…Because of her apprenticeship to a powerful draconic mage, obviously.

The implications slowly settled in. Inheritance-type classes weren’t unheard of. Maybe the most famous example was that of [Sword Saints] and their disciples. But they were vanishingly rare, because it meant the Grand System acknowledged the master of said pupil as so staggeringly important that even their student deserved a special class. So far as she knew, they didn’t bestow a specific benefit…but apprenticeship to someone even the Grand System acknowledged was, by itself, more valuable than nearly anything in the world.

That wasn’t what had Saffra freezing up, though. Not the biggest part. She already knew Lady Vivi, by simple merit of having reached level nineteen hundred, was one of the strongest casters in the world. Likely near peerless even among immortal-kind, not too much weaker than the Dragon King.

No. The part she didn’t understand was that inherited classes surely required intent. The Grand System wouldn’t label a [Disciple of the Sword Saint] as such unless the Sword Saint truly considered his disciple his disciple. Apprenticeship statuses were just that: statuses. Easily gained and easily lost—nobles bought them for their scions all the time. Classes, while not permanent, were obviously a far stronger decree.

“Good news?” Lady Vivi prompted again, oblivious to Saffra’s internal panic.

“Y-yeah. Class evolution.”

She spoke the words automatically, thoughts rushing forward.

This meant…Lady Vivi actually saw her as her apprentice? Her promise to train her wasn’t a temporary muse that would fade any day now?

Well. Saffra supposed she didn’t actually know how student-type classes worked. They might be as transient as apprenticeship statuses, even if that didn’t make sense.

“[Elementalist]?” Lady Vivi insisted, the extended silence making her look at Saffra oddly. “What is it?”

“No. Um. I got…I got something else. Something weirder.”

Pupil of the Magus Prime.

What was that, anyway? ‘Magus Prime’? From her understanding, that would be Lady Vivi’s [Sword Saint] equivalent. A special class assigned by the Grand System in acknowledgement of incredible talent in her field. She had never heard of it though. Maybe ‘Magus Prime’ was a title that held great weight in dragon society, in the same way Sword Saint did for mortals?

There was another interpretation. That Magus Prime wasn’t a long-standing title that many casters before Lady Vivi had held. But rather what it said. Magus Prime. The Highest Mage.