Having a team name was a silly, simple thing, but the whole feeling inside the carriage changed. Like a breath of fresh air, everyone seemed rejuvenated. Even sitting in silence, reading or staring out the window, Melia could feel the energy recharging, the small smiles on her friends faces as they considered the future. No longer were they simply a group connected by the fact that they were all adventurers leveling in the same range, but they were a team.

  “So what do you all do when Ellesea’s in class?” Melia asked. She was genuinely curious, she never considered the fact that anybody might be anything on the side while being an adventurer. Adventuring seemed like one of those full time commitments that didn’t leave room for anything else. Obviously that wasn’t always the case.

  “It depends,” Jessica shrugged. “Sometimes we rest. A lot of the time we plan for the next couple of days ahead. Do our laundry, take care of expenses, replenish supplies. Use it to restock on Cennia’s ingredients.”

  The thought of adventurers in a fantasy world doing fantasy laundry greatly amused Melia. Y’cennia dug through her bags and sifted through her inventory, listing out reagents she was short on.

  “We’re low on [Silverleaf] again, and we could probably do with a top up of [Daybloom]. Some [Quickwort] for some stamina potions might be nice, and I think we should consider getting some [Ironspine Shells] if we can afford it.”

  “Defense potions?” Melia asked.

  “Yes!” Y’cennia smiled brightly. It was nice to have somebody understand what she was talking about. Not just when she brought up uncommon or rare ingredients, but what sort of potions they could be made into, too.

  “I could probably help with that, if you want.”

  Alastair perked up, as the one who mainly took the defensive potions, he was invested in their quality. Strangely though, Jessica frowned.

  “Thanks, Melia, but you can’t go paying for everything we need, you know.”

  “While, technically, I could, I agree and I wasn’t planning on it. Doesn’t mean I can’t help though. How do you normally accrue your ingredients? Do you buy them all or do you gather them?”

  “We gather some,” Y’cennia said, “but buy most. I have a few levels in [Herbalism], but I can’t always go to the areas the best plants grow.”

  “Yeah, I can definitely help with that,” Melia smiled. Jessica frowned harder.

  “Power leveling is a dangerous thing,” she said. “Short term gain, long term loss. I think we’d be better off if we kill everything ourselves.”

  “Oh, are you familiar with the concept of power leveling?” Melia was surprised. She wasn’t sure what gamer concepts would translate to real life people in this world. Power leveling was when a high level person forced a low level person to level rapidly, usually by killing monsters for them in such a way that they gained experience quickly, or ran them through dungeons they wouldn’t have otherwise been able to manage. She had power leveled her fair share of friends and acquaintances, and she had even heard of “professionals” offering to level characters for money. Jessica was right. Those characters did get stronger faster, but they never had the same deep understanding of their class and how to use it. Those players were superficial at best. Some of Melia’s own classes were like that, the ones she leveled out of boredom or necessity, rather than the ones she truly enjoyed playing.

  “It’s the primary way noble families prefer to level,” Ellesea said darkly, leaving it at that. Suddenly Melia had a hunch there was a side to power leveling she never considered, but that was a conversation for another time.

  “No, I don’t plan on taking away any of the hard work you need to put in or devaluing any of your effort.”

  Melia paused.

  “Technically I suppose you could still call it power leveling.”

  Jessica gave her a flat look and opened her mouth to complain, which Melia mostly ignored.

  “I have plenty of materials in storage. Do you still consider it power leveling when Y’cennia has to do all the work?”

  Jessica’s previous protest died on her lips while her eyes darted over to their [Alchemist], as if demanding her to speak up. Y’cennia, however, looked like Christmas came early.

  “Oooh,” she was practically bouncing off her bench, “What types do you have? Are they all plants and herbs? Do you have inorganics too? And oh! Did you gather them yourself? Hand gathered ingredients are so much better than store bought, even with my own pitiful skill in gathering I’ve seen better results.”

  Melia laughed, thinking how shops in the game only sold 3 star materials, and if she wanted to make high quality goods she needed to gather them herself or buy them from a player who did.

  “I’ve got mountains of everything,” Melia bragged. But it was true, if she emptied her bank, if everything she gathered from the game was still there, she had enough stone alone to rebuild a small hill. The rest would certainly fill mundane warehouses. “It all depends on what you can actually use.”

  “Here,” Y’cennia impatiently said, fidgeting in the air, clearly messing with her status screen. Like when Jessica showed Melia her title, a shimmering blue pane briefly materialized in front of the catkin. Unlike when sharing the screen itself though, Y’cennia reached into it and pulled out what looked like a small, slightly worn notebook. Melia’s face lit up. Her senses told her this was something she was familiar with, something she was secretly hoping existed in this world but had no idea how to begin asking about it.

  What Y’cennia pulled from her status and was now thrusting into Melia’s face was her [Journal]. Much like a [Mage]’s [Spellbook], which listed every spell they knew, [Journals] existed for craftsmen to display and categorize the recipes for their professions.

  When this world was a game, Melia (and every other crafter) would often link their [Journal] into chat to show prospective buyers what services they offered. Or simply to brag about knowing rare recipes. Sometimes, when a player wanted to buy a crafted good but didn’t know exactly what they wanted, they could ask to see somebody’s [Journal] and browse their listings. If they found something they liked, they’d commission a piece or haggle a price.

  What Melia didn’t know was how closely guarded these system books were to the people of Ebonvale. A [Journal] or [Spellbook] was the equivalent of their life’s work. Every tiny bit of advancement, every scrape and scratch, digging into corners and reaching, dredging deep to refine, improve, or invent recipes of their own, putting their own spin on things for the sake of being just a tiny bit better. Spells, especially, were incredibly closely guarded, with each and every caster coveting the most efficient, most powerful spell formations.

  So it was that Ellesea raised her eyebrows at Y’cennia’s instant capitulation to show the gnome what she could do, without even waiting for Melia to demand seeing it. She certainly would have put up more of a fight before revealing her own [Spellbook]…though in the end, if it made the difference between learning the ancient haste techniques for her [Arcane Blast] or not, she would have capitulated quickly.

  She did not however, not even in her wildest dreams, expect the gnome to pull out a book of her own. After staring intently at what must have been her status screen, Melia reached forward, just like Y’cennia had done, and pulled out…something.

  “W-what is that?!” Ellesea gasped, staring at the “book”. The object clearly had pages, a cover and a spine, so it loosely fit the definition of “book”. But by looks alone it more closely resembled a paving stone for the kingdom’s grand highways rather than something somebody was supposed to read. It was quite possibly taller than the gnome herself, and easily just as wide. She had seen ancient textbooks and dictionaries in the academy library thinner than this, and those were the largest, heaviest books she had ever seen. By thickness alone, a good six inches at least, the book had to contain decades, maybe centuries worth of knowledge.

  “Hmm?” Melia asked, distracted. She had flipped open Y’cennia’s [Journal], which looked like a mere pamphlet in comparison, and was seemingly taking notes.

  “This is my [Journal],” Melia explained without thinking.

  Ellesea was not alone in her flabbergasted state. Jessica and Alastair were both staring at it, mouths wide open, while Y’cennia had taken one look at it, instantly wilted, but then must have seen some sliver of hope, because she instantly brightened. Ellesea had just been trying to rationalize the massive tome, since some people liked to find ways of padding their books with weak spells or skills, making them look bigger, or somehow gotten the system to use bigger writing. Larger words meant less words per page, and more pages meant a bigger book. Size was, in fact, something people bragged about.

  But Melia made no move to hide her tome from their vision, and Ellesea caught a glimpse of the writing inside. She was shocked. Any doubts or fears that this tome was artificially enhanced flew right out the carriage window.

  The writing was nearly microscopic, she had to squint just to make out individual lines. Every inch of every page was crammed full of information, beautiful diagrams, sketches that would make the most gifted artist jealous. Melia jumped huge chunks of chapters at a time, as if trying to find where the [Alchemy] section was amidst everything else.

  “Gods above, girl, how many classes are in there?” Jessica finally asked.

  “37,” Melia said absently, but immediately came to her senses, quickly glancing up. Once more she had that strange look on her face, as if afraid that revealing her true strength would somehow make the others scared of her.

  Well, they were already terrified, but deep down they were resigned to being stuck with her. Jessica’s mouth slowly shut.

  “You have 37 classes?” Alastair managed to ask.

  “And you won’t tell us what your main class is?” Jessica huffed, slumping back.

  “38, I guess if you include that one,” Melia shrugged, turning back to the books. “And no. Not yet.”

  “So what are you doing?” Y’cennia finally asked. She was too excited at the prospect of leveling to care much about overpowered dragon-gnomes.

  “Creating an accelerated leveling track for you,” Melia grinned, glancing up at the girl to give her a reassuring nod. She quickly returned to studying the books. “I’ve got some ideas. If it works out, I hope to get you up to everybody else’s level by the end of next week.”

  Four pairs of eyes stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “You want to…do what?” Jessica asked numbly.

  “That’s over a hundred levels in 8 days,” Y’cennia whispered. What went unsaid was how obviously impossible that was. Y’cennia recently gained two levels in just as many days, but that was far from the norm. She might normally gain a level in two weeks, and that was while she was still low level herself. Once she got higher, those would be harder to come by. If she wanted to catch up to Ellesea, who was the highest in their group, she’d need a hundred and twelve levels. That wasn’t something anybody could power through. Not even the amazing [Bolero of Fire] buff could do that.

  Melia, on the other hand, had a vastly different understanding of “grinding”.

  “You realize you can’t level for her, right?” Jessica complained. “That’s why crafters take so long to reach high ranks. You can’t power level them like a combat class.”

  “Who said anything about me leveling for her?” Melia asked, finally handing Y’cennia’s [Journal] back. She had a firm grasp of what the catgirl could handle skill-wise. This could work.

  “And that’s a bit of a misunderstanding. You’re absolutely right; I can’t do anything to help her level faster with my own skills or interfering with hers. If she wants to get experience, she needs to put in the hard work. But hard work is often limited the most by time and resources…which we have in abundance.”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Melia turned to the catgirl and looked at her seriously.

  “Y’cennia, I’ve seen you sit down and brew potions for hours on end. Are you willing to do more of that?”

  “Of course?” Y’cennia asked. That was the basis of crafting. Perfection born from repetition.

  “No,” Melia chuckled, guessing that there was likely a gap in their understanding of scale. Y’cennia was thinking of brewing for a few hours in a day, while Melia was planning on having her craft for days out of the week.

  “If I give you the materials, can you lock yourself in a room and craft for 10, 12 hours at a time? With breaks, obviously. I won’t stop you from eating or using the bathroom.”

  Y’cennia’s eyes lit up so huge, Melia had to wonder if she instead needed to enforce those breaks.

  “You…really have enough materials to keep her busy for days?” Jessica asked weakly.

  “You underestimate my resolve,” Melia squinted her eyes. “I’ll have her higher level than all of you in a month.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  If there was one thing Jessica DID know, it was that she DIDN’T know what to think about Melia.

  She had no idea how to even begin thinking about the crazy gnome.

  Crazy.

  She might be literally insane.

  Obviously powerful, and goddess above, probably more than a little unhinged.

  At this point Jessica didn’t even know what to think when it came to the question if she was a dragon or not.

  What started as an amusing game…wasn’t funny anymore.

  It seemed like every 5 minutes the gnome was pulling some new revelation out of her butt that threatened to upend the stability of the known world.

  Legendary potions.

  System granted titles.

  High level skills for a seemingly unending roster of classes.

  38 classes? Who in their right mind leveled 38 classes?

  Was that something dragons did?

  She knew people had “main” classes and “side” or “secondary” classes. It’s how people gained class evolutions and specific branching paths.

  But no sane person ever had more than 5. 8 at the absolute most. The human brain simply didn’t have the capacity to juggle that many different specializations.

  Sure, certain classes meshed well with each other. Especially in the crafts. [Blacksmiths] were often [Weaponsmiths] and [Armorsmiths].

  But even smiths who dedicated their entire lives to their professions were usually only a [Grandmaster] in one or the other, never both.

  And yet Melia was an [Archmage].

  The system itself had recognized her efforts and given her proof that she had an unmatched understanding in a specific field.

  But if she wasn’t lying to them, she hadn’t touched the [Mage] class in years? Never mind her supposed century long slumber, she hadn’t “mained” a [Mage] for years before that.

  One did not just “not main” a class they had a system-blessed title of mastery in!

  …staring at the tiny gnome standing on the bench next to Y’cennia, gesticulating at a recipe [Journal] the size of a luggage trunk only fueled Jessica’s doubts.

  And there was the fact that she claimed to have a mountain of materials stashed away in the bank.

  Who used the bank to store mundane things like herbs and spices? Jessica knew that, like anything, some materials were more rare than others and worth going to certain lengths to protect. But the bank?

  The system integrated, cross-continent, world spanning bank?

  Every financial institution worth its salt in any kingdom or empire strove to be part of “the bank”. It was an ancient working of great power, said by some to be a bargain with the gods, that allowed accounts to be tied to individual people, accessible only by them and 100 percent secure. Nobody else could ever get access to an account unless the system granted it.

  Most people had an account at one bank or another, even Jessica did, but she, like most people, only had a meager savings where she deposited any money she didn’t feel comfortable holding on hand. Purchasing a personal vault was something else entirely.

  Jessica suddenly had a horrifying, yet somehow hilarious vision of Melia opening up a vault at Etiole’s Bank of Horizon, the oldest, longest standing, and most prestigious bank in the human kingdom. It had been open for hundreds of years, the trusted fortress where nobility and kings stored their precious heirlooms and family treasures.

  And there Melia was, opening up a door to an avalanche of weeds.

  The only saving grace was how amusing the shocked faces of the surrounding nobles would be.

  The gnome in question, oblivious to Jessica’s inner turmoil, was currently pulling out case after case of glass vials, handing them over to their [Alchemist], who was struggling to fit them into her own limited inventory.

  And that was another question.

  How big was Melia’s inventory?

  She had to have at least half a dozen system-linked bags, satchels, and expansions. Jessica didn’t even want to begin thinking about how expensive all of that would be.

  Jessica once saw a small pouch put up on auction, a rare drop from some mid level dungeon somewhere. It was a mere 6 slot bag, laughably small compared to something legendary from a rank 7 or 8 dungeon. Generally speaking, each slot of a bag was rated as one square foot of theoretical space, though obviously sometimes it was larger or smaller, depending on the exact things being stored. But considering the fact that the pouch was small enough to look like a coin purse? And just as unassuming to look at from a distance? It was easy to see how valuable something like that could be.

  That bag sold for nearly 20 gold on auction.

  20 gold! 20!

  For rank 2 and 3 adventurers, 20 gold was several months, maybe even years, of honest, grueling work. The average day laborer could expect to see a handful of gold a year.

  Jessica didn’t want to guess how many slots Melia had for storage.

  Which made her reconsider another aspect of the gnome’s claim to be a dragon.

  Dragons were famous for coveting gold and treasure. But at what point did “so much treasure” become “too much to count and keep track of?”

  If the gnome was to be believed, she was stupidly rich.

  And Jessica knew some very stupid people.

  Both rich and not.

  Jessica didn’t even want to think about the other thing Melia considered “treasure”...the title she and her teammates recently received hidden away, probably never to see the light of day again.

  It turned out there were a lot of things Jessica didn’t want to think about, and more than half of them had something or other to do with the happy, bouncing little gnome standing on the seat cushion across from her.

  How could something so small be so full of surprises? Jessica had never really known any of the other races before. After getting used to the shock of Y’cennia’s ears being on the top of her head instead of the side, or occasionally catching the movement of her tail out of the corner of her eye, or finding a frustrating amount of cat hair on their shared things, the catkin simply became just another person.

  But Jessica was having trouble adapting Melia to those same standards. She was far too small and much too cute to take seriously most of the time. She was smaller than most children at the abbey, though slightly more womanly in some aspects, and her pitch black hair clashed violently with her white and pink highlights. Jessica had heard hair color like that was common in some races, and of course she had heard about vibrant gnomish hair in greens and oranges, but seeing was believing and she was having a hard time with that.

  Case in point: they were nearing the end of their long carriage ride and the tops of Horizon’s spires were just starting to become visible on the coast. They were a grand sight to see from the slowly sloping plains of the countryside leading to Hammerfall, which was a higher elevation than the capital, with its harbor built partially out onto the water. From far enough away, as they had been most of their ride, nothing could be seen of the pristine white city save for the towers of the castle, hidden behind the gentle plains and rolling hills. Until at last, only a half an hour away, a valley split between two hills and the road dipped down sharply. Horizon was built into something of a protected cove or valley, almost like a pearl hidden inside an oyster.

  And what a pearl it was.

  Jessica still got chills every now and again when she saw it after a long absence.

  The city was vast, filling the entirety of the hidden valley, stretching along the entire North Gold Coast. The mountains formed cliffs on either side of the cove, protecting it from would- be invaders from all but a single direction, which was heavily fortified by the best centuries of legendary craftsmen could produce.

  At one point, the city began building up instead of out, despite having plenty of space, and Horizon became the multi-level monstrosity that it was today. Eutevor Castle, the stronghold of the royal family, glistened brightly as seven behemoth levels of ancient wrought stone reflected the midday sun off the lapping waves.

  Home to over five hundred thousand souls, the largest city in the known world.

  It was no surprise then that Melia abandoned her conversation with Y’cennia the moment the carriage turned, those ivory spires visible through the window.

  Melia, who had been standing on the seat cushions the entire time so she could be closer in height with the rest of the team, scrambled to the window. She stretched up as high as she could, bracing her arms on the window ledge and sticking her head as far out as she could possibly reach.

  Jessica had to fight the urge not to yank her back inside and scold her for nearly falling out. She was so small, it was easy to forget she could easily survive such a paltry fall; even if the carriage ran her over she might not feel anything. She had demonstrated that quite well when she obliterated the invading dragon the other day. Her stats were impossibly high.

  And yet there she was, bouncing energetically on the balls of her feet as she stretched as far as her tiny body allowed. When she turned, her already huge and expressive eyes were wide with wonder and delight.

  “It’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed breathlessly back to Jessica, as if making some grand declaration and seeking her approval. “And so big!”

  Jessica snorted.

  Hadn’t she supposedly been an adventurer before? It wasn’t like the city was built in a day, or even a decade. Horizon had been standing for at least 8 centuries, probably even longer. To some of the races, like the elves, that might not be considered long, but it was certainly present and established during the Age of Ruin.

  Also…Melia was a gnome. Everything was big to gnomes.

  Before Jessica could point out the discrepancy, Melia inadvertently did so herself.

  “It’s so much more vibrant than I remember,” she mumbled. Maybe the others weren’t even meant to hear it, and she was talking to herself. “I wonder if everything’s the same?”

  “I would be surprised if it is,” Alastair said, making the gnome jump. Jessica was right, she had forgotten about the rest of them entirely. Watching the gnome teeter precariously on top of the bench where she stood made multiple emotions war within Jessica, and before she could stop herself, her protective instincts kicked in. She quickly reached across the seat and snatched Melia up, and before she even realized it, the gnome was bouncing in her lap.

  Jessica stared at her hands, which were trained automatically after years of watching children in the abbey. Before mortification could set in, because she just treated an insanely powerful individual like a child, before Jessica could throw herself out the window to die of embarrassment, Melia giggled.

  “Thanks,” she said brightly, but focused on Alastair. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, a hundred years is a long time for ‘everything’ to stay the same. Surely many large things are similar, like the bank we need to visit, but all the small things? Shops, roads, little side attractions? There’s things that have changed since we were kids. I couldn’t tell you everything.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Melia said thoughtfully. She had a finger on her chin, Jessica had to resist the urge to pinch her cheek.

  “Is the city still set up in lanes?”

  “More or less, yes.”

  The palace was the original focal point of the city, with large lanes like the spokes of a wheel branching off of it, running toward the rim of the valley as the city grew away from it. But the city didn’t only grow out, it grew up, as several spires and mesas of rock littered the valley, and the original architects did not tear them down, electing to build up and over them. Sometimes into and through them.

  As such, great highways of stone rose and fell, marvelous arches and triumphs of architecture worked tirelessly to keep the city afloat.

  In the case of King’s Harbor, quite literally floating.

  A first time visitor to Horizon would often be overwhelmed, not just by the grandness and majesty of the capital, but the maze-like streets and spiderweb-like domain that meant people needed to travel in three dimensions, not just two.

  “Hawker’s Alley still the place to go for craftsmen?” Melia asked.

  “Yes,” Alastair groaned. People always equated fighting and hot tempers with adventurers, but they didn’t always realize craftsmen could be just as pushy and stubborn themselves. Not to mention they often had very high physical stats from slaving away at their class.

  “Oh, we’ll have to stop by there at some point,” Melia giggled, bouncing up and down.

  “Good luck not getting run over,” Jessica grumbled.

  The view from the window was once again blocked as the carriage began a final descent into the valley below. Cliff-like walls rose around them as the road plunged, dipping the carriage into shadow despite the sun high in the sky. But the cramped feeling didn’t last long. After only a minute longer, the brightness returned in full force, amplified by all the sun-bleached white stone of Horizon.

  And the first thing to welcome them into the valley was the Walk of Remembrance.

  The highway, wide enough for seven carriages abreast, was paved by gigantic flagstones laid down by dwarven master [Masons], cut so smoothly and perfectly that not a bump could be felt between their joining. Along the side of the highway, like giant sentinels standing watch over the kingdom, stood great statues of heroes past. From ancient times, to the more modern and most recent calamities during the Age of Upheaval, great men and women from all races and walks of life were immortalized as titans of stone.

  Each and every one of these great people were bastions of humanity, the greatest and most powerful, who sacrificed and gave the most so that the world would not fall into darkness. Figures who were so far above most mortal men, nearly demigods themselves, each one of them of such a high level, no less than rank 10 or 11, to be feared, elevated and revered-

  The spellbound, awestruck moment in the carriage was shattered with a laugh.

  “Pwah!” Melia failed to stifle a snort. “Look at Zeke’s horns! They didn’t even get them right!”