Archmagus System

The cavern stretched deeper into the unknown, the faint glow of crystalline veins lighting our path forward. I ran my hand along the shimmering walls, the texture cool under my touch. While the beauty of the place was striking, my thoughts buzzed with possibilities after the earlier battle. The thrill of my growing proficiency with magic filled me with confidence.

Hamish trailed behind, lugging the loot we'd scavenged from the kobolds. He hefted a small, crude kobold spear with a dubious look. "So I'm stuck with this toothpick while yer shootin' bloody magic spikes like it's second nature?" he muttered, his tone as sharp as the spear's jagged point.

I glanced back with a smirk. "You could grab a couple of their knives. Dual-wielding is all the rage, or so I hear."

Hamish snorted. "Aye, maybe if I fancied meself a ninja or a 12-year-old boy. This'll have to do. But I'm not lettin' go of me shovel."

"Smart choice," I said. "The shovel's gotten you this far, right?"

Hamish gave a mock salute, the shovel slung over his shoulder with exaggerated pride. "Aye aye, Captain Thorn. Lead on. Can't wait to see what other hellish surprises yer glitter magic stirs up."

The faint chittering sound of kobold voices echoed ahead as we approached a wider chamber. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth, and five kobolds skittered about, their yellow eyes glinting in the dim light. I slowed, raising a hand to signal Hamish to stop.

"Alright, here we go," I muttered, summoning a thorn spell. The energy formed quickly now, the motion feeling almost instinctive. I picked a target—a kobold darting unpredictably—and fired. But the spike missed as the creature twisted at the last second, embedding harmlessly in the stone wall behind it.

"Fast little bugger," I growled, preparing another. Several kobolds ventured over to the wall, inspecting the spike curiously. One of the more clever ones, but not by much, started pulling on the spike. His comrades laughed with shrill, harsh voices when the spike vanished, sending him tumbling backward.

Moira's voice was warm and steady. "Magic's not bound by rules, love. Think less physics, more instinct. Shape it, bend it—make it do what you want."

Her words sparked an idea. I hesitated, channeling my willpower into the spell. Instead of visualizing a straight shot, I imagined the thorn veering sharply, hunting the kobold down. When I released the spell, it arced around a stalagmite, striking the fallen kobold's flank with a sickening crunch. The creature yelped, clutching its shattered ribs, before collapsing. Its companions froze, their shrieks falling silent as they glanced nervously at one another.

Moira's voice carried a note of pride. "Clever boy."

Hamish stared, wide-eyed. "Ye just... bent that thing in the air. Bloody hell."

Encouraged by the skill's potential, I felt thrilled. My fingers tingled as I visualized another attempt. This time, I imagined the thorn splitting mid-air into two smaller spikes, the thought igniting visions of thorny shotgun blasts. When I cast, the spell responded as I willed it. Both spikes struck their marks, felling two kobolds at once.

Hamish shook his head in disbelief. "I'm fightin' with a shovel while ye're inventin' magical weapons."

The remaining kobolds, panicked, lunged toward us with reckless aggression. Hamish swung his shovel in a wide arc, sending one tumbling backward. Another leapt at me, its claws outstretched, but I reacted quickly, summoning another thorn that pierced its chest mid-air.

Hamish grunted as he deflected a spear with the flat of his shovel, then swung it upward with brutal force. "Oh yeah, this old man still has it," he muttered, though his eyes flicked toward me with frustration as my glowing thorns struck down yet another attacker.

By the time the last kobold fell, silence returned to the chamber. I crouched, placing my hand on the ground, my curiosity piqued. Could I control more than thorns? I focused intently, and with a faint tremor, the dirt began to shift. Pebbles lifted into the air, swirling gently before falling back. My chest tightened with exhilaration. I had done that. No tools, no machines—just my will and the earth's response.

"Do you know what this means, Hamish? Dirt! Rocks! I can move dirt!" I exclaimed, standing abruptly. "Do you realize how much easier this makes archaeology?"

Hamish gave me a flat look. "Aye, yer the bloody king of dirt now. Grand."

I grinned. "Don't be thick. If there's treasure, I can uncover it. If there's danger, I can bury it. Earth obeys me! Imagine what I can do with experience."

Hamish frowned, considering it. "Meh. Maybe."

The next few chambers brought fewer surprises but no less danger. Small groups of kobolds lunged from the shadows, their screeches punctuating the air. My growing confidence in magic turned each encounter into a practiced dance of spellwork and strategy. Hamish fought with unrelenting fervor, his shovel proving to be an unlikely but effective weapon. At one point, he kicked up a cloud of dirt into a kobold's face before swinging the shovel into its chest with a rib shattering thud.

"BAH!" Hamish huffed, taking out his frustration on a pair of kobolds. "Yer wee magic may be fancy, but nothing beats solid steel!" He brought the blade of his shovel down with a satisfying BONG, felling both creatures, one after the other.

In a side room off a long hallway, we encountered a sealed stone door with no visible handle. Inspired by my growing connection to the earth, I placed my hand on the stone and willed it to respond. The edges cracked and crumbled slightly, revealing a hidden mechanism. A rope holding a counterweight was all that kept the door shut. Using a jagged kobold dagger, I severed it, and the door rumbled open.

The air inside the room felt heavy, charged with ancient energy. At its center, resting on a simple pedestal carved from stone, was a weathered and ancient book. The leather cover was cracked and dark, its edges frayed, yet it exuded a quiet power. Intricate runes shimmered faintly across its surface, shifting as if alive.

Hamish stepped back, eyeing the book with suspicion. "Don't touch that thing, Robbie. Books like that scream curses."

Ignoring him, I approached the pedestal, my curiosity outweighing any hesitation. Moira's voice whispered gently in my mind. "This is no curse, Robert. This is knowledge—meant for you."

I reached out and lifted the book, its weight surprisingly light. The moment my hands touched the cover, a rush of energy surged through me, and the runes glowed brightly. The room seemed to fade, replaced by visions of creatures and swirling magic. Images of beasts disintegrating into pure energy flashed in my mind, their essence unraveling and reshaping into tools, ingredients, and glowing tomes.

"What is this?" I murmured aloud.

Moira's voice was warm, filled with admiration. "This, my dear, is the skill of Essence Refinement. With this power, you can unweave defeated creatures, extracting every valuable aspect from them—meat, hide, magical organs, and even the skills they held." Fascinated with the possible implications of a skill like this, I shared with hamish what Moira had said. 

Hamish peered over my shoulder, his face pale. "Yer tellin' me that book lets you turn monsters into... loot?"

I nodded slowly, flipping open the first page. The runes shimmered, reshaping themselves into readable text. "It's more than that. It's about efficiency. Nothing is wasted. Everything they were can become something useful!"

Hamish shook his head, muttering. "I'll never get used to yer bloody magic. Try it out on a kobold. Theres one back in the other room. "

As I closed the book, its runes settled into a faint glow. A sense of understanding filled me, as though the knowledge had already begun to take root. Moira's voice returned, soft and proud. "You've taken your first step into mastery. Essence Refinement will serve you well, Robert. It will grow as you do. Right now, it's a Tier 1 special skill."

That last phrase caught my attention. "Tier 1? You mean this can... evolve?"

"Indeed," Moira replied, her tone filled with quiet reverence. "Special skills like Essence Refinement are unique and incredibly rare. They imprint on the soul itself, not just the mind, and they follow laws older than magic itself. Unlike spells, these skills are part of the fabric of the universe, written into its deepest threads."

I processed her words, intrigued. "So, what happens as it evolves?"

"As a skill increases in tier, so does its ability and functionality," she explained gently. "Right now, as a Tier 1 skill, Essence Refinement allows you to unweave small creatures and monsters, extracting their components with precision—meat, hide, magical organs, and sometimes skill books or scrolls. But at higher tiers?" Her voice carried a note of awe. "It can be used on larger beasts, or even magical constructs, yielding rarer and more valuable rewards."

I let out a low whistle, my mind already racing with the possibilities. "This could make us unstoppable."

Moira chuckled warmly. "It was once the pride of Clan Lamont," she said, her voice tinged with respect. "Their mastery of Essence Refinement brought them great power and wealth, allowing them to craft incredible artifacts and sustain their lands. It is a skill that commands reverence." She paused, then added softly, "When you carry this skill, you carry their legacy."

Her words settled heavily on my shoulders, a mix of pride and responsibility welling up in my chest. "Clan Lamont... I'll honor that legacy," I said firmly.

"I know you will," Moira said, her voice kind.

Hamish's voice broke the moment. "Well then, Captain Thorn, let's see yer new fancy skill in action. That kobold back in the hallway's not goin' anywhere."

Curiosity sparked, and I nodded, the book still warm in my hands. We retraced our steps back to the chamber where we'd fought the kobolds earlier. One of their bodies remained sprawled near the wall, its lifeless form illuminated by the faint crystal glow.

I crouched beside the kobold, the weight of the new skill pressing on my thoughts. Placing my hand lightly on its chest, I closed my eyes and focused. The faint hum of Essence Refinement resonated within me, and Moira's voice guided me softly.

"Breathe deeply, Robert. Feel the threads of its essence. Imagine them unraveling, piece by piece."

The moment I concentrated, the kobold's body began to shimmer faintly. Its edges blurred, glowing softly as the skill activated. With each passing second, the creature's form seemed to dissolve, breaking apart into particles of light. As the body vanished, items began to materialize beside it—a neatly bundled hide, sharp teeth gleaming like polished ivory, and a small pouch of coarse, glimmering dust.

Hamish let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned. You've turned it into treasure. That's clean loot, too—no guts, no mess. Just... sorted like magic." He paused, then smirked. "Which I guess it is."

But there was more. As the body fully dissolved, a flood of images rushed through my mind. I staggered slightly, the memories almost too vivid. I saw the kobold as it first appeared among its kin, small and eager, holding a jagged spear it had been handed. A gruff voice barked at it: "Keep intruders out. Kill them. Eat 'em if you're hungry. Treasure goes to BigBoss."

The memory left me shaken, a vivid glimpse into its life. I didn't share what I'd seen with Hamish; somehow, the memories felt personal, like a secret that didn't belong to me. Still, the experience lingered, Now i know that these creatures weren't mindless—they had purpose, even if it was brutal and cruel."*

Shaking aside the memory for now, I grew curious about the items. I picked up the teeth and the hide, slipping them into the deep pocket of my jacket. They felt clean and refined, as though freshly prepared by skilled hands. Then my attention turned to the strange pouch of dust. I held it up, examining the faint shimmer it gave off in the light of the crystals.

"What's that, then?" Hamish asked, stepping closer, his shovel still gripped tightly in one hand.

I untied the pouch and pinched a small amount of the dust between my fingers. It was coarse but not unpleasant to the touch, almost like fine sand mixed with metallic flecks. "I'm not sure," I admitted. "But it feels... potent. Like it holds some kind of energy."

Moira's voice broke in, her tone thoughtful. "That's arcane residue. It's rare, formed when magic suffuses a creature over time. It can be used to craft magical items or enhance spells. Hold onto it—it's far more valuable than it seems."

I nodded, carefully tying the pouch back up and tucking it into my bag. "Good to know. We might need this later."

Hamish gave a short laugh. "Arcane residue, eh? Sounds fancy. Sounds made up."

Moira's voice chimed in, steady and reassuring. "You've done well, Robert. Essence Refinement is as much about understanding as it is about resources. You're not just taking from them—you're learning from them. This will serve you in ways you can't yet imagine."

I'd have to remember to use this as often as possible.