*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter - Chalice Theocracy*
Morning bells tolled through the marble corridors of the Ivory Gate Academy, their echoes climbing the stone arches like the voice of a watchful god. Aris walked in silence beside Fox, who trotted with lazy indifference, his tail flicking at the humidity that clung to the early light.
Fox finally wanted to try his chances again, his mental voice carrying that particular tone of concern he reserved for when Aris was being particularly self-destructive. "You're starting to smell like one of those basement maniacs. You sure you're still a healer?"
Aris exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose in gesture that had become habitual when Fox pointed out uncomfortable truths. "The only thing keeping me alive is that witness stone. I am doing everthing I can. I have to"
Fox's ear twitched, body language suggesting he was considering whether to push the point. "You're also burning yourself out. Maybe, just maybe, try something less dark?"
"I need something new," Aris muttered, more to himself than to the fox, thoughts already churning through possibilities. "Something that actually grows."
By midday, he found himself sitting alone at the back of Scholar Maezena Silvermeadow's class. The elderly halfling woman moved like an ancient oak - slow but deliberate, each gesture containing more intention than the movement itself suggested. Her silver hair was braided with tiny crystal beads that shimmered under the candlelight, creating constellations in miniature that shifted as she moved. The lesson was nearly over when Aris stood up, decision crystallizing into action.
"Miss Maezena," he called softly, voice carrying through the classroom's acoustics with clarity he hadn't intended.
Her bright green eyes shifted toward him, their usual kindness marked with faint curiosity. "Yes, Aris Orvellis. You've been unusually quiet lately. Have the duels silenced your tongue?"
The class chuckled at that, familiar pattern of social hierarchy expressing itself through laughter. Aris didn't flinch, had learned to let such things slide past him like water around stone. "No, ma'am. I just wanted to ask..." He paused, organizing his thoughts into proper phrasing. "What spell would best complement Light Missile? What would give me actual tactical options instead of just stronger versions of the same attack?"
That earned him silence. The halfling folded her hands, considering him carefully. "Few of your route ever ask for offensive spells. They settle with Holy Smite and Holy Defense, call it divine grace, and never touch it again."
"I need more than grace," Aris replied, his voice steadier than he felt, carrying conviction born from multiple near-death experiences. "I need options. Versatility."
Maezana tilted her head, intrigued. She gestured for him to follow her to the teacher's desk. From beneath a pile of scrolls, she withdrew one bound in red twine, sealed with wax embossed with the emblem of a sunburst.
"This," she said, placing it into his hands with ceremony that suggested the scroll's significance exceeded its physical dimensions, "is Radiant Mark. A simple sigil of faith, used by Templars to bind light to their strikes." She paused, watching his reaction. "It doesn't hurt by itself, but it makes all your holy attacks - like your Light Missile - strike true and harder. Think of it as tactical preparation rather than direct damage. You mark your enemy, then everything you do to them becomes more effective."
Aris nodded, mind already racing through applications and combinations. "Could you... show me? Demonstration works better for me than description." Better, he didn't add, because he needed to witness the spell to capture it through his Echo ability - though he still didn't fully understand how that worked or why interference followed successful observation.
Maezena smiled thinly, expression suggesting she understood more than he'd said aloud. "Demonstration is the best teacher."
She raised her right hand, murmuring words that resonated faintly in Aris's bones. A circle of pale light appeared midair, glowing softly before latching onto a wooden target dummy. The mark pulsed like a heartbeat.
[Bzzt!]
The interference hit him like always - brief electrical sensation behind his eyes, that strange skip in consciousness that suggested reality was loading new information into his brain through means that bypassed normal learning. He blinked, tried not to react visibly, though his hands trembled slightly with the rush of new knowledge settling into neural pathways.
"Now," she said, "if I were to follow with a light-based strike..."
She conjured a small missile of light, flicking it toward the marked dummy. When it hit, the circle flashed brilliantly, amplifying the impact. The dummy cracked clean through the middle, splinters flying.
Aris's heart raced. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until the familiar jolt flashed behind his eyes, the whisper of new knowledge searing into his mind. Radiant Mark. Either the game was now living in his head or he was hallucinating himself to visualize.
Maezena blinked, noticing his sudden shiver. "Already? My, you are an odd one." Her tone carried less surprise than confirmation of suspicion. "Most students take weeks to grasp even the theoretical foundation."
"Just lucky," Aris muttered, clutching the scroll tightly enough that his knuckles whitened. Lucky in ways that transcended simple fortune, blessed by accidents of system mechanics and hidden talents he still barely understood.
By evening, the campus emptied, leaving only the rustle of wind through the outer forest where the academy's botanical gardens met the wild. Aris walked past the herb beds, picking through clusters of swiftgrass and honeyroot, his satchel rustling softly.
He stopped by a large oak whose bark shimmered faintly with dew. "Alright," he murmured, "let's see if this works."
He raised his hand, visualizing the sigil Maezana had shown him. Light pooled around his fingers, forming a delicate rune. Three interlocking circles bound by a line of gold. When it struck the tree, the mark flared briefly, then settled into a glowing pattern that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Okay... now let's see what you can do," he said.
He gathered the familiar energy of Light Missile, feeling the pressure build behind his eyes. One. Two. Three orbs flickered to life. Then six. Then eight, swirling around him like tiny suns. He directed them at the mark.
They struck in unison.
The tree exploded outward, bark shattering like brittle glass subjected to extreme temperature change. The impact crater went deeper than it should have, the mark amplifying damage in geometric rather than arithmetic progression. Wood fragments flew in all directions, some pieces embedding themselves in nearby trees. The mark flared once more before fading into smoke and residual light particles that dissolved like dying fireflies.
[Bzzt!]
Aris stumbled back, stunned by both the physical destruction and the sensation flooding through him. His body as notification shimmered in the corner of his vision - interference that resolved into something approaching coherence.
He blinked at the data manifesting in his awareness, barely daring to believe what he was perceiving. His body felt lighter, his mana flowing cleaner and brighter, channels that had been narrow suddenly opening wider. More spell slots. Lower cost. The title progression from Acolyte Healer to Cantor Healer carrying mechanical benefits that transcended simple names.
He grinned, expression rare and genuine enough that his face felt strange shaping it. "Guess I'm officially a Cantor Healer now."
Fox padded up from behind, looking decidedly unimpressed by the destruction. "You also just blew up a tree. Very healer-like of you. Very subtle. I'm sure no one will notice the giant crater and scattered wood everywhere."
Aris laughed, sound carrying relief and triumph in equal measure. "You saw that? It worked! The mark amplified every missile!"
Fox squinted. "I'm just saying, if you start setting the forest on fire, I'm not helping explain it to the professors."
Aris knelt to inspect the ruined bark, the faint glow still lingering in the splinters. "This... this might actually change everything. And if I merge it to...."
The next morning brought another round of scheduled duels. The practice grounds were crowded. Students sparring, instructors shouting, the faint smell of ozone from spells and scorched dirt in the air.
He gulped down one of his homebrew cocktail potions, grimacing at the metallic taste that suggested blood as primary ingredient - which it was, though he tried not to think too carefully about the ethics involved. The liquid burned going down, warmth spreading through his system as various stat enhancements kicked in. "Alright, let's do this."
His first opponent was a human priest route, a boy from the northern provinces whose arrogance could fill the entire field.
"You're the potion freak, right?" the boy smirked, voice pitched to carry to nearby observers. "Try not to blow yourself up this time."
Aris didn't reply, had learned that words before combat were wasted breath better saved for actual fighting. He raised his hand, muttered the sigil words - language that felt ancient even in his mouth - and a golden mark appeared on the boy's chest, glowing through his robes like beacon.
The student blinked. "What the...?"
Light Missile.
Eight orbs flared and launched, striking the mark. The light amplified each hit like thunderclaps. The boy flew backward, shield shattering, his robes smoking.
The crowd gasped. Even Rathvoss, overseeing the duels, raised an eyebrow.
Aris lowered his hand, chest heaving. The mark faded, and with it the tension in the air.
Rathvoss barked, "That's more like it! Finally using your brain instead of luck. Still, you need to step up."
Aris almost smiled. Almost.
His second duel came faster than expected. A Fae student - tall, elegant, with silver eyes that seemed to reflect more light than they received - stepped into the ring. He'd fought Aris once before, during that midnight ambush months ago when students had decided that hierarchy needed reinforcement through violence. The fae's expression carried recognition and something darker: grudge nursed over time, awaiting opportunity for expression.
"Still standing, human?" the fae hissed.
"Still trying," Aris replied.
The fae conjured ice blades, circling him. Aris waited, counting heartbeats. Then he marked him.
The fae blinked as the golden rune appeared over his chest. "What trick..."
The first ice blade came flying. Aris dodged barely, slamming a Light Missile into the mark. It flashed, detonating in a radiant burst that knocked the fae back. The fae tried again, casting ice bolts in a storm. Aris ducked behind his shield, feeling the magic ricochet off. One bolt struck the fae's leg on the rebound.
The onlookers cheered as the fae fell to his knees, frost dissipating around him.
Aris stood panting, sweat dripping from his chin, the sigil still glowing faintly in his palm. The crowd's noise blurred together. Cheers, whispers, disbelief.
Fox barked from the edge of the ring. "That's two wins, smart boy!"
Rathvoss strode over, his booming voice cutting through the commotion. "Aris Orvellis, looks like you're finally learning other tricks. But you need to get better." He clapped him on the shoulder, almost proud. "Keep this up, and you might even survive the third dungeon."
Aris half-laughed, half-gasped, lungs burning from exertion and residual anxiety. "I'll... take that as encouragement, sir."
That night, as he sat back in his small alchemy lab, the faint shimmer of the witness stone glowed through his tunic. He held the scroll of Radiant Mark beside him. "I need to pick my spell slots fitting my build. I can just learn everything"
He felt like someone becoming - transformation in progress, incomplete but undeniable. The title of Cantor Healer meant something beyond mere nomenclature. It meant growth. Progress. The possibility that he might actually develop into someone capable rather than simply someone alive.
"Temple route, No Inquistor" he whispered. "Cantor. I'm moving up."
Fox yawned beside the table. "Just don't forget. Every step higher makes the fall worse."
Aris smiled faintly. "Then I'll just keep climbing."
Outside, the academy bells tolled again. Three slow chimes echoing through the marble halls. And for once, Aris didn't feel behind. He felt ready.