Settling at his desk, he pulled out the spell scroll price list the shopkeeper had handed him. He scanned the rows of spells with a mixture of curiosity and nostalgia. “I know almost all of these,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I spent over ten years making [Frost Breath] and [Fireball] scrolls…” His gaze lingered on the wider selection offered by the shop. “Ninety-three spells. This is going to be so much more fun.”
A grin spread across his face as he focused on the spells marked in red that an Apprentice Scribe could create. Eighteen in total. Of those, he could inscribe fourteen of them today. The remaining four required a higher level of the [Inscribe Spell] skill that was beyond his current level. “Those two are worth over a gold each,” he mused, tapping the paper where the most expensive items were listed. Not happening anytime soon. But the rest are easy coin.
From the fourteen spell scrolls he could create, he limited his choice to the most expensive scrolls. “They shouldn’t take me more than an hour and a half, and the profits would be much higher.” Jack couldn’t help but regret telling the old shopkeeper his so-called master could only create three types of scrolls. Would he buy it if I said my master picked up a new spell overnight? Probably wouldn’t even care. The old man seemed indifferent as long as the scrolls sold.
Jack had the passive scribe skill, [Perfect Recall]. This skill allowed a scribe to memorise any information in written form. Text, runes, illustrations, drawings… all were covered by the skill. [Perfect Recall] at level 5 offered a 50% improvement in memory. Add in his 70% Class Compatibility score, and his memory was as good as it could ever get. He could memorise a complex new spell after correctly inscribing it on a scroll once.
Shrugging, he grabbed a blank scroll and his new scribe pen and prepared to work on one of the expensive spells that the shop would purchase. As he was about to put ink to paper, he took a moment to appreciate the moment.
My family is alive and well. He smiled, knowing his mom was cooking in the kitchen and little Richard was sleeping in his cradle. I’m young and healthy again… and I’m creating spell scrolls in my bedroom. He closed his eyes and gave a simple prayer to the Gods. Thank you for this opportunity.
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With renewed focus, he started inscribing a new scribe spell. The intricate runes and tight, packed text challenged his steady hand, but he relished every moment. An hour and ten minutes later, the scroll was complete.
Jack appreciated the spell’s text.
Time is the master of all men. Whether king or pauper, it shows no favour. Unleash what I crave, more time. Chronos Sphere.
The [Chronos Sphere] skill was a rare mage spell linked to Chronos, the God of time. When cast as a skill by an Apprentice Time Mage, it would accelerate time for the mage by at least five times for three seconds. As the mage became more powerful, the speed would increase.
As an inscribed spell on a scroll, the power level was set at the lower end of a new Apprentice Mage’s power. The scroll user would see time speed up by five times for three seconds.
Despite learning the spell in his past life, none of the elven mages Jack worked with had the [Chronos Sphere] skill. He’d created a few, but as unimbued spell scrolls, he wasn’t able to sell or use them. Beyond crafting them for the experience, they were a waste of ink and paper.
He remembered the blood magic ritual in the barn and how the twelve nobles had activated a [Chronos Sphere] scroll during the ritual. I wonder how a dozen [Chronos Sphere] spell scrolls link into the ritual?
Having no answers, he admired his work, a satisfied smile crossed his lips. “So relaxing and profitable.” He couldn’t stop smiling; this is what he wanted to do with his life.
In a quick mental calculation, he noted, “They fetch 21 silvers at the shop. That’s nearly 7 silver profit for just an hour and ten minutes’ work.” His smile then faded into a rueful expression. I worked with the wrong mages in my past life.
Memories of his years as a scarred hermit dreaming of justice surfaced. At the time, he was an outcast and spent most of his days in a small log cabin in the forest, away from most people. He’d met the mages in a small town tavern while drunk. After setting up the deal, he never considered looking for other ways to sell unimbued spell scrolls. He was too obsessed with revenge.
His dealings with shady elven mages, the missed opportunities, the wasted potential… it was all in the past now. “What’s done is done.”
He placed the [Chronos Sphere] scroll into a book for safekeeping, stood, and stretched. “Time for some strength training.” His enthusiasm faltered as the thought of planking came to mind.
As he pondered how much to spend on a new bow—also known as procrastinating instead of exercising—he heard his mother calling.
“Jack… Jack, do you want something to eat?” his mom called from the kitchen.
Oh, thank the Gods. His smile returned. “That sounds great, Mom,” he called back, abandoning his exercise plans. I am a little hungry. I’ll do some exercise, after food… then another scroll.
He hurried to the kitchen while recalling some great philosopher making the very persuasive argument that you shouldn’t exercise on an empty stomach. Can’t argue with that great logic, he joked to himself.
[Cultivation] [Progression] [Fantasy] [Action] [Anti-Hero]
Synopsis (Click to Expand)
Two paths define the world: The Arcane and the Auric. Damon walks a third: The mind.
But a unique power is not a gift. It is a curse.
“Pain is the chisel. Will is the hammer. Mind is the stone.”