He slammed back into his own body. It was akin to waking from a nightmare of falling off a cliff. Rafe yelped and threw his arms out to…what? Stop the fall, catch himself. As his breathing calmed, Rafe smiled sardonically.

  “I believe this belongs to you,” a voice said from in front of him, startling him into jumping back.

  “Waaa!” he yelped. “Where did you come from?! Don't do that.”

  “I'm…sorry?” the man in front of him tilted his head, a frown taking shape on his well-defined face.

  “No, it's fine. It's just that I'm feeling a little uncomfortable, you know? It's like my body doesn't belong to me anymore, so heavy and unwieldy. Anyway, what were you saying?”

  “This, I believe Noid was so eager to get rid of you, he forgot to give you this gift he made for you.”

  It was a sword, no surprise there. Rafe got it out of the sheath with zero hesitation, and yes, it was shiny enough. He had no idea where the light was coming from, as they were in the void, but he had to see his face through a reflective surface.

  “Hmmm…” he said, turning left and right to examine the new scar.

  It was very thin, very fine and white, a lot longer than Noid's own. A scar ran diagonally from the left of his temple to just below his nose. A tuft of his hair was whiting, and the rest was more raven-black now than dark-brown.

  “I'm part of the family now, aren't I? Like Noid and the… enchantress? I even got me a white hair. I want to blame Noid's blessing for that. Say, do you think my scar looks hot?”

  The god in front of him blinked, tilting his head again.

  “I…don't know.”

  Rafe scoffed in what he hoped was an obviously joking manner, as he was not keen on being vapourised.

  “You just don't get it, get us, the scar-faced. I'm sure Noid would get it.”

  The void around them rumbled in amusement.

  The first Skyholm pressed his lips together.

  “Great, another crazy one.”

  Rafe ignored him, having finally gotten to inspect the very well-crafted practice blade. It had veins of erudite, a great energy-conducting alloy. Then there was the main ingredient, a matte black metal most dwarves didn't use because of its dullness, but it contrasted well with the shimmering blue erudite veins. It was an unbreakable metal, at least by anything ranked near it.

  “It's a rank D sword,” the first Skyholm commented helpfully.

  “I don't care what rank my practice sword is. It isn't even in the same shape as my usual saber.”

  He tried to sheathe it in disappointment but a god stopped him, taking the sword from his hands.

  “You haven't even tested it yet. The sword is an artifact of course, created by a Skyholm crafter no less,” the god told him.

  “Why would he waste materials this expensive and rare on a blunt— well hello there.”

  It had grown sharp in the god’s hand. It started to morph, lengthen into a longsword, and then it broadened to a greatsword. It shortened to a katana, then it turned into a double-edged shortsword. Back into its saber, almost katana-like shape, it started to light up like a disco ball. Rafe recognised the first Skyholm's transcendent light magic. It settled in the end into a blue sword of light.

  “That's wrong,” Rafe commented.

  “What is?”

  “The colour. I prefer my sabers red, even if the history of red sabers has them mislabeled a bit.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah…” he said. “And blues are just too…argh, perfect. At least go with green. You're inquisitive, aren't you?”

  The first Skyholm handed the sword back to Rafe quietly, his face expressionless. It turned back into its resting saber form. A matte sword with a radiant blue thin main vein in its core radiating branching veins of blue from the centre of the blade to its edges like a leaf.

  “Hmmm? It won't work, how come?” Rafe asked as he tried to will the sword to change form.

  “Are you putting all your mind to it? Try to picture it morphing. You don't want people recognising those metals, too precious. Gotta have to disguise it at least.”

  “I'm putting all my mind to it,” Rafe complained.

  “Are you? I don't see your face knitted in concentration. Your eyes aren't focused enough. Stare at it like…no I don't mean to glare at it. You must stare at it in concentration. Yes, just like that. Like you're constipated.”

  Rafe froze, lifting his head slowly to stare up at the god in front of him.

  “You…you…you are messing with me? Me?!”

  The first Skyholm leaned his head back, his eyes closed, his expression smug, somehow serene.

  “You should have been the more angelic one,” Rafe muttered.

  “Did you think you were the only one who could tease? I'll have you know I was no walkover even in my day. Anyway, all you have to do is imbue energy into it. I may make it sound easy, but it in no way is, especially for someone like you whose mana is still locked. You’ll need to somehow manipulate your stamina, which is quite the task, I assure you.”

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Rafe allowed himself a few moments to study the sword and admire its craftsmanship. Then with a sigh, he sheathed it again.

  “Noid said you could explain the problem with my skills.”

  “Certainly. But first, call me by my name as well. I am Ah-Riam Akh’Braiden. The rest just call me Liam.”

  “That's fine, I guess.”

  “Did Noid tell you much about leveling up in the system era?”

  “He didn't,” Rafe said, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

  “Do not be too critical of your master, he has sacrificed a lot to make sure your opportunities were this impressive. I wouldn't be shocked if he goes into the semi-endless slumber.”

  “That…sounds bad,” Rafe said, looking back toward where he thought Noid's atrium was, as though directions were a thing in the void.

  “It is. Now, the essence…”

  ****

  “So to recap, the system only streamlined the hundreds of techniques people from the past used to collect essence.”

  Liam nodded. Rafe went on.

  “You could distribute essence, most times unconsciously through the kind of training you did. For example, warrior types who were always working with swords or the like found their physical stats increasing over time. Those that practiced magic were physically weaker, but had high mental stats, even though they didn't know it.”

  Liam nodded, encouraging him further.

  Rafe went on to explain - in his own words - how even crafters found some improvement in stats like dexterity, which today is a hidden stat. But even more notable, even the most average people born in worlds with essence would reach the equivalent of a level ten by the time they were fifteen. They might even make it to level twenty before they die, dying at a much higher age than ordinary people born in Essence Deserts.

  Rafe couldn't imagine the kind of dedication people in the presystem era must have needed to advance. No wonder the people in the trial were limited by age.

  “Good. You have learned the basics of leveling up presystem.”

  “Okay, okay. How does this affect my skills?”

  “We are getting to that. So the system helps people in stat distribution in the modern era through things like classes, professions. I guess that's self-explanatory. Then there is races. Humans for instance, at rank F get one free stat every race level.”

  “One?” Rafe said in astonishment.

  “Every race gets only one race stat at F rank. The only reason I brought this up was the fact that humans are among only a select minority of races able to choose their paths. They can be anything, so all your race stats will be free stats. At a high enough level, your class will also give you some free stats, but that's a long way away. Some races like the elemenoids have a free stat only distributable to their mental stats. Such a race would be forced by their nature to be mages, and they are usually better at it than humans.”

  “I think I'm following. So a race like dwarves would be forced into having a strength point at every level.”

  “Yes. Luckily, that is only a problem before they unlock their dexterity stat. Dwarves also have a high affinity for that one.”

  “Elves?”

  “Coordination, agility, sometimes perception, but elves are sometimes also able to get free stat points.”

  Rafe had no more intention to interrupt.

  “Now, skills. There is a maximum amount of essence a skill’s internal structure can take, depending on its rarity. Basic skills at level twenty, common at forty, uncommon at sixty, rare at seventy-five, epic at one hundred, ancient at two hundred, legendary at five hundred. Keep in mind that leveling a legendary skill is much harder than a basic skill, and it's not a matter of simple addition or multiplication. It's logarithmic.

  “In case a person who died thousands of years ago knows more math than you, if you need one essence per level of a basic skill, you'd need ten times that for a common skill, and then you'd need a hundred times that ten for an uncommon skill.”

  Rafe counted on his hands. “And you'd need what, a thousand times that one thousand Essence for a rare skill, then… that's way too many zeros.”

  “Keep in mind that no basic skill I've ever studied only needs one essence unit to advance. Anyway, the system packages essence into experience. Thousands of particles of essence make up one unit of experience, and I know no skill that requires only one experience point to level, much less a class.”

  Liam cleared his throat and took some time to get his thoughts in order.

  “To gain experience, you need to do something, to practice your sword, your craft. As you do that your soul processes the essence into experience which helps you level, which then helps you get stats.

  “But …pay attention to this. There was a selfish culture before the system. It was barbaric for lack of a better word, but they experimented on the rifts, the dungeons, the towers. They started to harvest essence from the monsters borne of the cores via a certain ritual. And then, not content with that, these bastards started to harvest essence from people.”

  He waited for Rafe to react.

  “How deplorable,” Rafe said, aghast (but not truly).

  “Indeed. Luckily, those worlds were devastated during the latter millennium of the presystem era. Anyway, those rituals were adopted by the system and that's how and why people get more essence from killing monsters and each other in this era. It was one of the methods the system streamlined.”

  “Okay…” Rafe said since the man now had trouble meeting his eyes for some reason.

  Liam cleared his throat. “Anyway, the already packaged essence we get from monsters and other humans, it can't…I don't know how to explain this…it only marginally helps with skill leveling.”

  “Huh?” Rafe wasn't kidding.

  He could tell they'd reached the heart of the matter. He just couldn't tell what that heart was.

  “Classes and skills, their structures are very different. In Enith's world, which is where the template for the system's functionality originated from for obvious reasons, they had something they called a core skill, some called it spirit bound. The other skills were called supportive skills. The core skill is the class in this era. The main difference (between core and supportive skills) is their locations, with the class very close to the core of your soul because it is something that literally defines you, defines how you're going to grow. Do you understand?”

  “I'm following,” was all Rafe could say.

  “Processed essence follows a very specific route when it enters our soul. Even essence we process ourselves…well, most of it - ninety percent I'd wager - goes to the core of the soul. Classes ultimately level faster and more than skills is what I'm saying. Keep in mind the structure of a class is a million times more complex, more demanding than that of a skill. Also more adaptable, so with them taking almost all the essence, even that made for skills, well, skills are always left in the dust. There isn't even any competition.”

  “Oh,” Rafe nodded in understanding.

  “There is a way to make your skills level faster though. Consolidation. You reach a bottleneck to advancement, and instead of trying to break through focus on getting your skills to acceptable maximum levels. If your skills are those with well-charted evolutionary paths, the system will help you evolve them as you evolve your class or race or whatever else you're evolving, so it's pretty standard practice. Still, during consolidation, you do not need processed essence. Sure, you can go for it, as fighting is a type of practice in and of itself (and it's the most effective), but most of that externally processed essence is wasted.

  “For skills, it is always practice that works. With the class not taking experience, you can get as much as fifty percent of the internally processed essence to level your skills. Skill leveling is easier at bottlenecks.”

  “I get that,” Rafe said with a nod.

  “Do you? So you understand where I'm going with this?”

  “I think so. I didn't have a class, so all the experience ended up going into my skills, my skill leveling became easier?”

  “Close, but no. Wouldn't the factions of the multiverse do that if it was that simple? The fact is even if you don't have a class, you can still level. I told you in Essence rich worlds unawakened children would be at level ten by the time they were your age. And they'd have no class.”

  Rafe frowned.

  “So what's wrong with me?”

  “Luck. Fate. A multitude of lucky coincidences has reacted to give you this opportunity.”

  Rafe just blinked at the man in confusion. “Huh?”

  “Do you know how I got my aspect of the lost weapon? No, how I ended up having seven aspects? Oh, aspects were what people in my world called affinities. So, do you know how that happened?”

  Rafe was quiet for a moment.

  “...a soul injury.”