Chapter 8: Spells
Leon Grant could no longer meditate, and sleeping was out of the question. Leaning by the window in his small room in the abandoned Apartments, he peered out into the dim moonlight, tense and vigilant. Summoning his arcane tome, he decided to focus on learning the three basic, or "zero-rank," spells inscribed in it. The first spells he saw were Grim Mist, White Fang of Bone, and Tired Touch.
Leon decided to start with White Fang of Bone. Unlike the other two, this spell had a direct offensive effect, which he knew was vital for survival in the treacherous Spirit Realm.
Learning magic without a mentor was challenging. The arcane symbols for White Fang of Bone were fewer than other spells but still required intense memorization and precision. According to the book, mastering even a basic zero-rank spell could take a novice a week or more, and this was just the initial phase—bringing the spell to life. Even then, miscasting was common, especially without frequent practice. Fortunately, these casting errors didn't cause harm to the caster, unlike higher-ranked spells that could backfire.
Spell mastery required persistence, a lifelong journey of commitment. For beginners like Leon, casting a zero-rank spell took about three seconds—from tracing the symbols in his mind to unleashing the spell. This timeframe wasn't an issue outside of combat, but in battle, those three seconds were a dangerous vulnerability. Experienced spellcasters learned to shorten this time, with some advanced mages casting in a fraction of a second, invoking spells with mere intent.
At the novice stage, magic practitioners were especially vulnerable; many zero-rank spells lacked sufficient power to be reliably lethal. For White Fang of Bone, the time spent casting often exposed novices to physical attackers. This limitation allowed fighters—known as Arc Warriors in their realm—to dominate at this early level. Arc Warriors drew power from their physical training and innate energy called "essence," empowering their attacks and resilience even when exhausted. Their path contrasted with magic users, who relied on spells but remained physically fragile without their magical defenses.
Yet, the versatility of magic offered potential far beyond what Arc Warriors could achieve. Even at low ranks, spellcasters could access various utilities beyond offense—disguise spells, protective wards, tracking spells, and even magical light for exploration or deciphering encrypted symbols. Meanwhile, Arc Warriors, in their initial stages, mostly focused on honing their combat skills.
As spellcasters advanced to the Iron and Silver ranks, their capabilities broadened further. They could manipulate spells for diverse scenarios and wield combat spells with increased potency. At these levels, their abilities surpassed novice fighters in raw power and versatility. Golden and Sanctum-ranked mages had spells that could reshape battlefields, summon powerful entities, heal grievous wounds, or create temporary shelters from thin air. In contrast, high-level warriors mainly enhanced their physical prowess, becoming faster, stronger, and more resilient in combat.
And at the peak, legendary mages wielded world-altering power. They could shift landscapes, summon elemental forces, open pathways through dimensional barriers, even touch stars. For these reasons, mages earned the respectful moniker of "Arc Lords" within their society. Their spells could bend reality itself, while legendary warriors, powerful as they were, remained bound to raw physical might.
As the night deepened, Leon's weariness grew. After a few hours of studying runes and repeatedly visualizing their forms, his vision began to blur, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. He felt confident that the city had settled into relative quiet, with no recent sounds of any roaming undead nearby. With that reassurance, Leon decided to risk a few hours of sleep. If more threats emerged in the daylight, he'd need his strength. He was grateful he didn't snore, amused at the thought that loud breathing might attract more creatures.
He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when a faint sunlight touched his face, slowly stirring him awake. Stretching, he shook off the sleep and took in the warmth of the morning light streaming into his room. Today was his second day in the Spirit Realm, and he resolved to push further with his spell practice. After eating some of his compressed rations, he went back to the arcane tome, tracing symbols in his mind and mentally drawing out each rune.
During a break, Leon took care to manage necessities in one of the upper rooms, even covering his tracks by burying any signs to avoid alerting nearby creatures.
He had barely returned to his spell practice when he heard something from the street below. His senses on high alert, he crept to the window and peered cautiously through the cracked glass toward the source. In the distance, he spotted a few small, greenish figures gathering at the end of the road—goblins.
These creatures, known as Gorklins, were common in the Spirit Realm. They stood between four to five feet tall, covered in green skin, and were notorious for their violent tendencies and lack of intelligence, comparable to human children in mental development. Gorklins lived in small, nomadic groups that roamed the Spirit Realm, scavenging for food and supplies. Cowardly by nature, their courage increased in proportion to their numbers, making them bolder when traveling in packs.
Although many Gorklins possessed limited intelligence, larger gatherings sometimes led to the emergence of exceptional individuals—more intelligent or magically adept Gorklins who would rise as leaders. When a Gorklin tribe grew large enough, these leaders would establish small clans, and in rare cases, even form kingdoms. Some of these leaders could channel essence to enhance their physical abilities, and a few even developed primitive magical skills, although these instances were rare.
Leon crouched low, watching the group carefully, weighing his options. He wasn't yet prepared to confront a group of Gorklins. If he could master White Fang of Bone, he'd stand a chance, but for now, his best move was to stay hidden and continue practicing. The sun had risen higher now, and the light cast a faint glow on his surroundings. Taking a deep breath, Leon returned to the tome and resumed his work on memorizing each rune, knowing he was only at the beginning of his journey into magic.