CHAPTER 11 — “Festival of Fools” #2
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐│ CLASS EVOLUTION COMPLETE ││ Arcane Apothecary → Archmage Remnant ││ (Legendary --- UNIQUE) │├─────────────────────────────────────────────────┤│ New Base Stats: ││ HP: 260 → 310 (+50) ││ MP: 130 → 200 (+70) ││ INT: 40 → 55 (+15) ││ WIS: 42 → 58 (+16) ││ ││ NEW SKILLS UNLOCKED: ││ ││ \[Arcane Bolt\] Lv.
1 (Active) ││ --- Basic offensive magic (finally) ││ --- Damage: 40-60 (INT scaling) ││ --- Cost: 15 MP ││ --- "You can throw magic at people now.
││ Like a real mage. Took you long enough.
" ││ ││ \[Mana Shield\] Lv.1 (Active) ││ --- Absorbs incoming damage using MP ││ --- Efficiency: 1 MP = 2 damage absorbed ││ --- Cost: 10 MP base + damage absorbed ││ --- "Defense!
Actual magical defense! ││ The crowd goes wild.
" ││ ││ \[Arcane Memory\] Lv.1 (Passive) ││ --- Occasionally remember spells from past life ││ --- Triggers: Random, stress-based, or skill ││ --- Duration: Varies ││ --- "Your soul is a library.
Most of the books ││ are locked, but sometimes one falls open.
" ││ ││ PASSIVE ABILITIES: ││ ││ \[What Was Lost\] --- Active ││ --- Once per day, access FULL Archmage-level ││ abilities for 30 seconds ││ --- Cooldown: 24 hours ││ --- Warning: Massive mana drain after use ││ --- "For half a minute, you remember what ││ you truly were.
Use it wisely." ││ ││ \[What Remains\] --- Passive ││ --- +30% effectiveness to all mana-based ││ effects permanently ││ --- Applies to: Damage, healing, utility ││ --- "A shadow of your former power.
But ││ shadows can be surprisingly sharp.
" ││ ││ TRAIT UPDATE: \[Fragmented Soul\] ││ --- Recovery rate: 11.
8% → 23.6% (DOUBLED) ││ --- Current recovered: 21.
4% ││ --- Estimated time to full recovery: Reduced ││ significantly ││ ││ SKILL TREES UNLOCKED: ││ --- \[Echoes of Power\] (0/15) ││ --- \[Architect's Domain\] (0/10) ││ --- Previous trees retained ││ ││ "You are no longer an Arcane Apothecary.
││ You are the Archmage Remnant---a fragment of ││ something greater, fighting to become whole.
││ The journey is far from over. But you're ││ finally on the right path.
" │└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
I open my eyes.
The world looks different. Not physically—the cottage is the same, Mariella is the same, Johnson is the same sarcastic rabbit.
But there’s an overlay now. I can see mana flows without activating [Arcane Sight].
I can feel the ambient magical energy in the air, in the walls, in the ground beneath my feet.
And I have offensive magic.
Finally.
“Velthar?” Mariella is watching me with concern. “Are you okay? You went still for a moment, and then your eyes started glowing.”
“My eyes glowed?”
“Blue. Bright blue.” She frowns. “They’re still doing it a little.”
I check my reflection in the window. She’s right—there’s a faint luminescence behind my irises, barely visible but definitely present.
Side effect of the class, Johnson explains. Your mana channels are more active now. The eyes are the most visible manifestation. It’ll fade to baseline eventually, but you’ll probably always have a bit of glow when you’re using magic.
“Great. I’m a nightlight.”
A very dangerous nightlight.
I flex my hands, feeling the power waiting there. It’s not much—not compared to what I used to have—but it’s real. Offensive magic. Defensive magic. The foundations of actual combat casting instead of just throwing alchemical bombs and hoping for the best.
“The class evolution worked,” I say. “I’m… I’m an [Archmage Remnant] now. Legendary tier.”
Mariella’s eyebrows rise. “Legendary? That’s…”
“Rare. Very rare. Probably unique, actually.” I show her my status screen—the parts I can share publicly, anyway. “It won’t give me everything back. Not yet. But the recovery rate doubled. And I have actual magic now. Not just potions.”
She studies the numbers, expression thoughtful.
“What does [What Was Lost] do?”
“Once per day, I can access my full original power. For thirty seconds.”
“Your full power. As in, Level 97 Archmage full power?”
“Theoretically. I haven’t tested it.”
“That’s…” She pauses, searching for the right word. “That’s terrifying.”
“For my enemies, hopefully.”
“For everyone in the general vicinity.” But she’s smiling slightly. “You’re really doing it, aren’t you? Climbing back to what you were.”
“Slowly. Painfully. With more near-death experiences than I’d prefer.” I stand up, testing my body. Everything feels… tighter. More efficient. The class evolution has done something to my baseline capabilities. “But yes. I’m doing it.”
Touching moment, Johnson says. Very inspirational. But might I remind you that there’s still a burning smell coming from the kitchen area?
We all turn to look at the stove.
The pot that was emitting smoke earlier is now emitting flames.
“I should probably deal with that,” Mariella says.
“Probably.”
She rushes to handle the fire, and I take a moment to just… breathe. To appreciate where I am. Level 15. Legendary class. Over 20% of my soul recovered.
Two months ago, I was a Level 1 Healer pulling weeds from a dead man’s garden.
Now I’m something else entirely.
Still not an Archmage, Johnson observes. But closer. Getting closer every day.
Closer.
Yeah.
I can work with closer.
The village is different when I walk through it an hour later.
Not physically—the buildings are the same, the streets are the same, the general air of poverty and desperation hasn’t magically lifted.
But the people are different. There’s movement where there used to be stillness.
Conversation where there used to be silence.
Something that might, if you squinted, be called hope.
And everyone keeps looking at me.
“Mr. Flower Man!” Mira appears from somewhere, launching herself at my legs with the kind of full-body commitment that only small children and charging bulls can achieve. “You came back!”
“I always come back.”
“Mama says you were fighting monsters again. Big monsters. Floor Five monsters!”
News travels fast in small villages. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“I was,” I confirm, carefully extracting her from my legs before she cuts off circulation. “But I won. The monsters are gone.”
“ALL the monsters?”
“All the ones on that floor, anyway.”
“That’s so cool!” She bounces in place, eyes wide with admiration that I definitely don’t deserve. “Can you teach me to fight monsters? I want to fight monsters!”
“Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“No fighting monsters until you’re at least eighteen. And even then, only if you’ve trained properly and have good equipment and a solid party and—” I stop, realizing I sound like someone’s worried parent. “Just… no. Not yet.”
Mira pouts, but it’s the good-natured pout of a child who’s already planning to ask again later.
“Fine. But will you come to the festival tonight?”
“Festival?”
“The Harvest Festival! Everyone’s going. There’s going to be food and music and dancing and Granny Thorn is making her special soup—”
“I’ve had Granny Thorn’s soup.”
“—and you HAVE to come because Mama says you’re the reason we’re having a festival at all!”
I look around the village, taking in details I’d missed before. There are decorations going up—ribbons tied to posts, flowers arranged in windows, tables being set up in the central square. People are cooking, preparing, celebrating.
When was the last time this village had something to celebrate?
“I’ll be there,” I say.
Mira cheers, hugs my legs one more time, and then sprints off to share the news with whoever will listen. I watch her go, something complicated settling in my chest.
You’re getting attached, Johnson observes from my shoulder. He’s been riding there more often lately, which I pretend to find annoying but secretly appreciate.
“I’m protecting a resource. The village is useful.”
Keep telling yourself that.
“I will.”
And when you start caring about these people for their own sake instead of their strategic value?
“That’s not going to happen.”
It already has. He hops down, stretching. You’re not as cold as you pretend to be, Velthar. The mask is slipping.
“What mask?”
The one that says you don’t need anyone. That you’re better off alone. That caring is a weakness that got you killed last time. He looks up at me with those ancient, knowing eyes. It’s a good mask. Very convincing. But masks crack eventually.
I don’t have a response to that.
He doesn’t seem to need one.
The afternoon passes in a blur of preparations and interruptions.
Bram finds me near the market square and spends twenty minutes describing his training progress in exhaustive detail. He’s unlocked [Basic Combat Awareness]—finally—and seems to think this makes him ready to enter the dungeon.
“Absolutely not,” I tell him.
“But you said—”
“I said I’d train you. I didn’t say I’d send you to die. There’s a process, Bram. Steps. You don’t skip steps.”
“You skip steps all the time!”
“I skip steps because I have twenty years of combat experience trapped in a body that’s slowly remembering how to access it. You have enthusiasm and a talent for hitting things with other things. These are not equivalent qualifications.”
He sulks, but he accepts it. Progress.
Garrett appears around midday, looking more alert than I’ve seen him. The retired S-rank has been spending more time at the training grounds lately, showing Bram and a few other young villagers basic defensive techniques.
“Heard you cleared Floor 5,” he says, falling into step beside me. “Also heard you got a class evolution. Legendary tier.”
“News really does travel fast here.”
“Small village. Big news.” He studies me with those sharp old eyes. “You look different. More… present. Like there’s more of you than there was yesterday.”
“Something like that.”
“Going to share details?”
“I’m an [Archmage Remnant] now. The System gave me a path back to what I was.”
“Not the full thing, though.”