Stats — the foundation of everything. They represented the raw core of a person's strength, and every fancy Magic or Skill in existence was built upon that base.
Strength and Endurance? Straightforward—hit harder, take hits better.
Dexterity and Agility were more nuanced. From Lucas's perspective, Dexterity covered precision and hand control—craftsmanship, traps, delicate mechanisms, all the fine-motor stuff. Agility was everything legs and reflexes: movement speed, reaction speed, attack rhythm.
And finally, Magic, the one tied to his spellcasting. Lucas often opened and closed his Status Panel just to "exercise" his mind flow, training through habit.
Mages, after all, were elite everywhere in the world—including Orario.
Development Abilities represented experience, talent, and knowledge made tangible, turned into power boosts. Swordsman, Blacksmith, Healing,—you name it.
Skills were different. They were crystallized wishes, miracles born from the soul itself—mysterious, personal, and infinitely diverse. They were what separated the extraordinary from the ordinary. What determined whether you'd stay average… or ascend.
Compared to others, Lucas's start had been absolutely busted.
Three Magics, seven Skills, and one Development Ability—all at Level 1.
He wasn't just blessed; he was straight-up maxed out. And with Lucas's Magic Notes, his potential in magic was practically limitless.
But one thing still bugged him—his Stats cap.
Thankfully, his System had a way around that.
The price? Simple. Money.
He could burn Experience Points or excelia and Valis to increase his Stats manually—pay-to-win style.
His [Heart of a Scholar] let him grind monsters in the Dungeon to rack up both EXP and loot, and [Proof of Transmigration] gave him the freedom to spend both however he wanted.
His current Stats had hit their potential limits—the numbers in parentheses on the Panel. But by dropping 100 EXP and a cool million Valis, he'd shattered the wall that stopped countless adventurers cold.
"Not bad," he muttered, stretching his fingers, "the System really delivers. Shame it drains my wallet faster than rent in Orario."
He leaned back with a half-smile. Half a year's savings, gone in a click. He had maybe fifteen hundred Valis left—just enough for tomorrow's food and a drink.
"But worth every coin."
His eyes gleamed. "Now, for today's real prize."
He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out an old, yellowed tome bound in rough leather. Heavy, well-worn, and absolutely radiating significance.
"This is wild," he whispered. "All this time grinding, and this is the first drop I've ever gotten from the System. Didn't even know this function existed."
First Magic: Myriad Phenomena: Primal Origin.
His adaptive, localized cheat system wasn't just for checking his Status—it had other functions. Hidden ones.
Like Drop Treasure Chests.
When he defeated enemies, there was a "chance" one might appear, containing random loot.
He'd just discovered the feature today, after hearing that ding in his head. If it hadn't been for that, he'd never have known.
Fortunately, only he and his Familia members could see the chest, and with his usual stoic "workface" on, no one had suspected a thing.
He'd long since learned that in the Dungeon, the most dangerous creatures weren't the monsters—or even Evilus—but your fellow adventurers.
Out here, robbery was just another side gig. Morality bent easily when Valis was on the line.
Lucas sighed, shaking his head. "Drop rate's garbage, but at least the loot's decent."
He glanced down at the book and raised a brow.
Item: [Grimoire – Scorch]
Origin: Azeroth
Type: Knowledge
Effect: A short fire spell with minimal base damage. On hit, it applies Ignite, dealing burn damage over time. Follow-up fire spells on ignited targets deal bonus damage.
Description: Pathetic damage. Great starter spell.
A Grimoire, a Skill set, and his personal focus—all three lined up perfectly. No wonder he'd prioritized increasing Magic.
He thought about his setup with a grin.
Demon Lord's Crest doubled his Endurance and Magic, and his mind pool was basically bottomless thanks to the regen boost—a local version of infinite chakra.
Hand of Omnipotence made him a true jack-of-all-trades. Every mage worth their staff dabbled in everything; mastery came later.
Heart of a Scholar gave him the "effort equals reward" buff plus artistic refinement—basically stat points to both elegance and utility.
True Essence of All Magic—a straight-up broken Skill. Power charging and instant casting in one package? Unfair didn't even begin to cover it.
Magic Guard, Magic Blessing gave him armor made of mind itself, damage reduction, sustain, and even a one-time death immunity per day.
Put it all together, and Lucas wasn't your typical adventurer. He was a full-on hexagon build—attack, defense, utility, control, style, and intellect all maxed out.
With that kind of loadout, what kind of idiot would pick "swordsman" over "mage"?
He pulled out a chair and sat at his desk, flicking on the warm glow of a Magic Stone lamp. With deliberate care, he set the old Grimoire in front of him.
Its leather cover was cracked, its corners frayed. Inside, the faded pages were filled with careful ink, detailing every nuance of the spell Scorch. Scribbled notes and annotations from previous users filled the margins—personal insights that elevated its worth even higher.
Under the soft light, Lucas's world shrank to ink and parchment. His fingers traced the pages absently. His brow furrowed, relaxed, furrowed again. Sometimes his lips moved as he pieced together new understanding.
He was completely absorbed.
By the time his stomach growled, the night sky outside had gone deep indigo. Stars glittered above, and moonlight filtered through the curtains.
He blinked, looked at the Magic Stone Clock, and reluctantly closed the book.
"Whew… so this is what real Magic feels like. Holy hell."
He lifted his right hand, palm up, eyes glowing faintly as he focused.
"Scorch."
A spark ignited at his fingertip—small, trembling, but undeniably alive.
It flared once, faint as candlelight.
Lucas's grin spread slow and wide. He didn't laugh out loud, but his shoulders shook anyway.
For the first time, he felt like a mage.