Spellcasters

The ranking system for lower-tier professionals was crude and simplistic, with no technical merit whatsoever.

The standards varied from place to place. Only the elves of the High Forest had an authoritative system, which was why so many other races adopted it.

Of course, no one else could be as "precise" as the elves. Becoming a professional at all was good enough; who could afford to be picky? As a result, even professionals of the same tier varied wildly in strength.

In some backwater places, successfully casting three different cantrips was enough to be called a beginner spellcaster. In others, a person only needed to meet a certain standard of physical fitness or magical capacity to qualify as a lower-tier professional.

There were many ways to obtain magic: sensing the elements through meditation, resonating with the Weave, offering devout faith to a deity, or making sacrifices to nature spirits, among others.

The methods each race used to comprehend their profession and acquire magic differed, but they shared a common path. They all led to the most primal form of magic, and they all passed through the Weave!

The Weave was like a vast electrical grid.

To draw "electricity" from the Weave, one either had to become a skilled "electrician" or offer "faith" in prayer for a deity's "blessing"!

For most people, faith was always a one-sided transaction. It was a "seller's market," and they couldn't even switch sellers.

Of course, having an "intermediary" made things much more convenient. As long as they were devout enough, priests, paladins, and other clergy could become spellcasters with hardly any spellcasting talent.

In fact, if they could just attract enough of a deity's attention, even someone with absolutely no spellcasting talent could become the most dazzling kid in the temple!

Oh.

No!

They called it divine magic!

There were all sorts of names for magic with different qualities: divine power, holy power, witchcraft, or arcane power.

Not having control over the core channel was always a hidden danger. Magic routed through a deity was already "tainted." As spellcasters used more and more "divine power," their bodies and souls alike were branded with the deity's mark. After death, their souls were gathered into the so-called "Divine Realm." This went beyond simply harvesting crops—it was like taking the people and the pot, all in one go!

Now Borne understood why there was such a huge difference between condensing a Seed of Power and advancing to Arcanist.

His family hadn't paid any attention when he condensed his Seed of Power. But the moment he advanced to Arcanist, they held a banquet to celebrate. Half the Netherese nobility came running at the news, and even those who couldn't attend sent people of some standing. Minor nobles were practically climbing over one another to get in, just to make an impression on Borne...

And all this was because he had advanced to Arcanist at the age of seven!

Borne wasn't naive enough to think that he, a newly advanced lower-tier Arcanist, was anything special. It was the potential he had shown that made them decide to invest in him early.

Even though both advances made someone a professional, the two were on completely different levels. To put it simply, the former was like starting a small business by setting up a stall, while the latter was like starting a business with a "nation" backing you, clearing the way with all kinds of policies and benefits. They were utterly incomparable!

As for why, all he could say was that "the world favored spellcasters!"

More precisely, the world favored those who brought it "new things."

Borne's Light Orb wasn't special. To put it bluntly, it was downright ordinary. Even a magic apprentice could produce a few spells that gave off light.

The real difference was that Borne's spell used geometric patterns. The Weave had recognized it as an original spell. Ordinarily, a spellcaster needed to master three to six spells before advancing, but an original spell let them skip that process. The Weave directly propelled Borne into the next tier. It not only gave him a chance to comprehend the Weave, but also doubled his magic, and for the next few days his reserves continued to grow rapidly. His mental strength and physical constitution had also improved by leaps and bounds.

This was the damn benefit of having the "world" push you forward. Compared to that, merely condensing a Seed of Power and gaining a little strength—then having to keep training just to slowly build up your physique—was pathetic.

Because the original spell an Arcanist mastered let them cast more spells than other spellcasters of the same tier, and their magical reserves were vastly greater.

And that was only at the beginning. The gap would keep widening!

He had only just advanced, and Borne had a feeling that by the time he reached the middle tier, his magic would be many times greater than it was now. Then, once he advanced to middle-tier Arcanist, his reserves would be...

"No wonder Grandfather's magical reserves are so terrifying..."

Still, Borne wasn't going to give up training his "qi." Becoming a legendary warrior or Monk was an astonishing feat. As long as he mastered the secret of "longevity" later on, he could keep training until he reached legendary status, even if it took a lifetime!

Every spellcaster had a "musclehead" inside them!

For the past few days, newly advanced Arcanist Borne had been meditating hard, making the most of the "gift" the world had left him and working to increase his magic. He had even slipped away halfway through the banquet. His behavior had earned him widespread "praise," and Borne had shot to the top of Seventon's "trending topics." His name—Borne Ioulaum—could be heard everywhere, from salons to social gatherings.

At last, when he sensed that his magic had stopped growing, Borne called it a day. Feeling the "surging" magic within him, he smiled. Compared to before, his reserves had grown by more than half over the past few days.

The only downside was that after experiencing a limited-time boost, he was back to the pace of an old ox dragging a broken cart. It was unbearable, and he didn't even feel like meditating anymore.

"Magic is a combination of mental strength and elements. So what is 'qi'?"

Borne stopped meditating, took out some paper and a pen, and began to draw at his desk. He had spent his spare moments over the past few days thinking about the differences between the two kinds of power.

He even wondered: if magic could stir the "world" into action, could "qi" also trigger the "world" to propel someone forward?

Magic and "qi" could both strengthen the body, but they were fundamentally different.

The former drew in power from outside, then used incantations and spell patterns to resonate with it, unleashing power capable of destroying heaven and earth.

The latter searched for power within the human body!

One was macroscopic, the other microscopic.

But one thing was certain: the first person to cultivate "qi" must have received a "reward" from the "world" as well. Unfortunately, there was too little information about "qi." As far as anyone knew, Borne was the only person to have cultivated it. And although Borne had condensed a Seed of Power through "qi," the Seed he had formed was different from the kind possessed by martial professionals.

There was too little information, and the variables didn't line up. He would have to put the research off for now.

Magic was his main focus at present. If he could advance to high-tier spellcaster, or even high-tier Arcanist, sooner, he would gain access to more resources. That would make it much easier to work backward and study "qi."

Now that he knew arcana was the foundation, there was no need to rush into learning spells. He would focus on practical applications first, then specialize in one field (there were many schools of magic, each with its own branches; he would explain them later).

When Borne first began interacting with the elements, he had realized that they were sentient. The elemental creatures of the Elemental Plane were, in the language of xianxia stories, "spirits that had come to life."

During his "Enlightenment," Borne had communicated with the elements through sensing them, drawing them into his spirit body and "imbuing" himself with them until they became magic.

It was a little like spiritual energy in cultivation novels. Both could be absorbed into the body, but compared with the descriptions of spiritual energy in those novels, elemental magic was far less impressive.

Aside from slightly improving its host's physical constitution, its main purpose was to use the elements within the body to draw on those outside and cast spells. Put simply, it served as a bridge.

Over tens of thousands of years, different races had developed all sorts of methods for doing this.

"Then in what form does magic exist within its host, and how does it strengthen the host's body?"

Borne's interests were clearly rather unusual, and that was exactly what the count appreciated about him. Those who followed the rules were never going to become Arcanists or get very far.

When exploring the mysteries of magic, looking at things from different angles often led to different discoveries. Arcanists mastered power; they didn't pursue it. Those who pursued power would eventually become its slaves!

When you couldn't solve a problem, you could always "ask someone." With a high-tier Arcanist for a grandfather, it would be foolish to keep struggling alone.

When Borne went to the count with a pile of questions, the count didn't answer them directly. Instead, he handed Borne another pile of books and materials and told him to look things up for himself!

Borne: ...

"Fine... I guess I was still too naive..."

As the count put it, "My answer isn't necessarily your answer. Even the 'answers' in books aren't necessarily correct, and answers aren't set in stone!"

After that, he announced that Borne had "graduated" and didn't need to keep attending lessons every day. He could still continue the routine training for martial professionals, but the instructor would no longer be from the academy. He would be replaced by a family knight.

Borne ranted furiously to himself. This teaching method was unbelievable—just dump a pile of books on him and tell him to figure it out? Was that really a thing?

Borne knew geniuses had their own ways of learning, but he wasn't one. He had only gained early awareness thanks to the advantages of his transmigration. That didn't make him a genius.

The count was raising him as a genius, and Borne suddenly felt a little uneasy...

The count was treating him as his heir and had high hopes for him. The banquet a few days ago hadn't just celebrated Borne's advancement; it had also sent a message to all of Seventon's nobility: the Ioulaum House had chosen its heir!

As for Viscount Gordon, the count's response was: "What's that guy?"

Heh!

He was the family's failed character slot. Borne was the true heir.

Far away in the countryside, Viscount Gordon had heard the news and felt a bitter jumble of emotions. His son was so outstanding that his dad had become a failure. The whole thing was damn messed up...

Of course, the main reason was that the Ioulaum family had few descendants. The count had only one son, Gordon. He had hoped Gordon would amount to something, or at least carry on the family line. Instead, Gordon had fixated on one woman and run off to the countryside. If Gordon hadn't been his only son, he would have been dealt with long ago.

But the family had always had few descendants. Ever since the count's father's generation, there had been only one heir at a time.

Other families had dozens or even hundreds of siblings in every generation, and the competition among potential heirs was fierce. The Ioulaum family didn't need to choose. Thanks to his long lifespan, the count could simply skip over Gordon and raise the next generation himself.

Borne suddenly felt the pressure weighing on him. Damn it, he'd overdone the act...

In truth, Borne had considered keeping a low profile in the countryside at first. Maybe set a small goal, like training until he was "max level" before making his entrance and crushing anyone who dared challenge him.

But reality had been cruel.

He had no system and no Golden Finger. More importantly, he had no resources and no money. How was he supposed to get stronger, by eating dirt? Or drinking the wind?

With only the scattered memories from his previous life, he could barely even make a hammer...

Only by showing talent could he draw attention and get the family to invest resources in him. That was why Borne had worked so hard to show what he could do. As for why he had pushed himself so recklessly afterward, that was purely because he had been terrified when he learned this was Faerûn.

But now he'd overdone the "act," and that was a problem...

The count was treating him like a genuine genius...

There was no choice. All he could do now was grit his teeth and keep "acting." He couldn't exactly tell them he was a transmigrator and that it had all been an act. That wouldn't just be asking for trouble; it would be asking for death...

With no other option, Borne summoned a servant and had the books and materials moved to his study.

"MMPH, I refuse to believe that the sparks from the collision of two civilizations can't help me 'act' like a genius..."

Borne silently cheered himself on.

His face took on an expression of grim resolve. To an outsider, though, Borne looked more like a genius with an arrogant streak.

The count was quite pleased. Young people were young people, and Borne wasn't even old enough to count as one—he was just a little kid who had only recently learned to walk. A little pride was nothing to worry about. A touch of arrogance could even help him improve.

That very evening, the count returned to Giles Academy. Someone saw him enter the dean's office.

Anyone who could get into Giles Academy was smart. Borne Ioulaum had been dominating Seventon's "trending topics" for days, and news about him could be heard everywhere. Even the Giles Academy, known for gathering talented people, was constantly brought up for comparison. Naturally, its students had heard of him.

A seven-year-old Arcanist was unbelievable, but it wasn't impossible if he was the deputy dean's grandson. The students were bound to be jealous, and malicious rumors and speculation were sure to spread.

When a high-tier Arcanist let people see where he was going, it was significant in itself. And at a time like this, clever people knew it meant one thing: The wolf is coming!

With a new batch of books in hand, Borne immersed himself in the sea of magic. But compared with the earlier days, when a teacher had guided him through it, he now felt more like he was lost at sea.

The materials were all over the place. There were several kinds of Elven script alone, seven or eight types of Dwarven runes, and all sorts of half-finished incantations from who knew where. Borne found notes and markings from at least six different people in the books. Sometimes a rune or a fragment of an incantation had two or three different annotations and interpretations beside it. If those notes hadn't given him some answers, Borne felt he wouldn't even have been able to stay afloat; he might have sunk straight to the bottom.

As he read, Borne forgot what he had been looking for. The questions he had wanted answered were long gone from his mind. When he was tired, he meditated instead. When he was hungry, there was food nearby. With "qi," his hands and feet never went numb. Someone made sure to prepare food and keep it within his reach all day and night.

That day, the count came to see Borne. When he saw how Borne was doing, he nodded to himself.

(I was so moved to see the recommendation votes break into the double digits. Thank you all for your support!)