Chapter 145 - 139

"This isn't something you can just dive into and expect to get results immediately," Eugene said patiently. Nick rolled his eyes. He was well aware that significantly more experience was necessary to advance at higher levels. As his father was at level ninety-two, he probably needed millions of Exp per level. However, that didn't diminish the value of his idea. "I'm not suggesting you'll reach a hundred tomorrow. Probably not even in a month. But if I'm correct, you could potentially achieve that by year's end. And it's not like you have a much better plan. Hoping for powerful monsters to wander into Floria seems likely to result in disaster." "I think it might be worth a try, dear," his mother interjected before Eugene could become any more stubborn. "It reminds me of something my mother used to say: 'There comes a point in every knight's life when they must decide whether they are a blade or merely a man with a blade. Only then can they advance.'" Nick hadn't known about that, but it somewhat aligned with his understanding of the requirements for Prestige. A path couldn't be deemed complete if the one who walked it didn't know themselves. They might be doing all the right things, but without understanding, it mattered little. Arthur suggested that there were additional requirements, and I'm quite certain this is one of the more significant ones. Dad is already renowned for being a fair ruler and a formidable warrior. His fire skills are exceptional, and he possesses the necessary Feats for advancement, especially after the dungeon and the stampede. Now, he just needs to close the gap in Exp and address the reason he mentioned for choosing elemental swordsmanship over the pure kind. "I suppose the old biddy knew a thing or two. My old master used to say something similar, though it included much more growling and cursing at me for choosing fire," Eugene finally replied. It was the late evening of the final day before Nick would be cleared to use magic again, and he was far too energized to go to sleep. He felt sore all over, but this time, the pain wasn't in his coils. Rather, his body had been put through the ringer. The last three members of the Crowley family in Floria, along with a napping Talbot, were sitting in the living room near the hearth. Nick had spent the rest of the morning after his training and the afternoon trying to piece together his loose understanding of Prestige to help his father develop a solid plan for his advancement. Initially, he intended to speak with Elia and Rhea, but the foxgirl had left a message at Ogden's stating that she needed a couple of days to work on something and that she was certain nothing would happen in the meantime. With that avenue closed and with another day before he could get back to Arthur for those lessons, Nick needed to spend his time somehow. Walking around town had long since lost its charm. He had already scoured every bookshop and potion seller for anything that might catch his fancy, but with the sudden departure of the caravan, the local vendors had only managed to acquire limited new stock. Given the expedition's abysmal failure to retrieve valuable materials from the dungeon, there was nothing new in town, a situation that would persist for some time until the next caravan arrived, or, if Arthur was correct, when the agents of the nearby nobles and powerful figures came snooping around. Until then, however, he was left to his own devices. Nick could have spent that time reading his notes or tomes, but he had already gone through them all, and without his magic, he couldn't even experiment if a flash of inspiration struck him. Therefore, he'd spend a good ten hours brooding. This eventually turned into thinking. Such a thing was very dangerous, especially when the thinker had vast experience with arcane powers and few morals to restrain him. Fortunately for the fate of the world, Nick had become fixated on his father's problem. The result was a series of questions that, if answered, would prove he was right in believing there was a gap between the two aspects of the man's class. Eugene was a Flame Swordsman, a rare class that he had not received during his Class Ceremony. Learning this initially surprised Nick, but he soon realized it could be nothing else. Sure, Floria hosted a group experienced in fire magic, but he sincerely doubted his father had spent much time learning from Sashara's priests. Having observed their long-range battle style, he knew he hadn't picked up anything from them. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "I'm still stuck at the idea that I'm somehow lacking," Eugene grumbled. Nick barely refrained from rolling his eyes. That wouldn't help right now, as it was clearly a sore spot. He didn't particularly care about his father's unresolved issues with his old mentor, and even less about why he'd sent Devon to him despite those issues, but it was becoming difficult to avoid discussing them, as they seemed to be at the heart of the matter. Luckily, his mother knew how to soothe her husband. "No one is saying you, as a person, are lacking. Nick's idea is simply that you might gain more Exp if you were to develop your… more traditional abilities as a swordsman, rather than focusing so much on the fire manipulation aspect." "I have not yet been defeated by anyone in pure swordsmanship," Eugene replied, digging in his heels. "That's because you've been fighting recruits or soldiers trained to fight monsters—and that you've trained yourself. You know the ins and outs of their fighting style and are much stronger, both physically and in terms of mana." Nick tried his best to sound as soothing as his mother, but if her amused look was any indication, he hadn't succeeded. "Look," he continued, "I'm asking you to follow my lead just this once. By now, you know I have unique insight into this kind of thing. This is one of those cases, and the worst outcome is that you'll refresh your sword skills. It's not like it would take time away from your routine." A moment of silence passed as Eugene stared straight ahead. Eventually, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. Nick had the good grace to refrain from pumping his fist; it wouldn't do to appear as a smug winner, after all. "So what does your experiment consist of?" With a grin, Nick launched into his explanation. "The main thing about your class is that it incorporates both fire magic and swordsmanship. It stands to reason that you need to bring both aspects to their peak if you want the System to recognize you as worthy of Prestige. Now, I've personally seen what your fire attacks can achieve. I don't think anyone would deny that only someone like Arthur or Marthas could surpass you in raw power." Adding a bit of flattery might have been over the top, but from the easing of his father's shoulders, Nick felt he had succeeded. This wasn't a matter of lacking respect for his skills—it was about helping him reach his full potential. "But you said it yourself: your class is [Flame Swordsman]. Now, I'm not an expert in martial arts or in what martial classes need to advance, but I have seen Akari and Mom train, and I know they both focus much more on pure skill despite having secondary abilities. I believe that if you spend some time deepening your pool of sword skills and even incorporating them into your style, you might see greater results than you expect." A quick look at his parents told him she didn't think he'd gone overboard, but Eugene didn't seem moved, so he decided to try with one last pitch. "Think of it this way: a class is like a tree. It is born the day we are assigned our path, and it continues to grow independently. You just need to ensure it is watered and protected from excessive rainfall, cold, or heat. That's what nearly everyone does to foster growth, and while it results in a mature tree, there is so much more that it could be." Seeing that this time, both Eugene and Elena were leaning forward, he continued with his analogy. "Now, there are many things you can do to help the tree grow better. You could add fertilizer to the earth, which is basically what we do when we develop our class-related skills. Better skills mean a sturdier tree. But that's not all. Now, we get to the more specific part. Your tree is a blend of two different species, something that in horticulture is known as grafting, which involves taking a branch from another plant and inserting it into the tree." "This means that to nurture the new portion of the tree, I need to care for it differently," Eugene concluded, looking thoughtful. "But I thought the swordsmanship was the original tree, while the fire magic was the grafted portion," Elena commented, tilting her head. Both turned to look at Nick. "That would be the case normally, yes. But in this instance, it's not." That was evidently not enough for Elena, who lifted an eyebrow, but Nick kept his eyes on Eugene, who had gone still. "How did you change your class, Dad?" He asked softly. Eugene sighed. "That's not... No, I suppose you've already grasped this much. You'd find out sooner or later." Elena turned to him in surprise. "What do you mean? You told me you went to the temple in Alluria and paid them with money your mother gave you to change it. What else did you do?" Running a hand through his hair, Eugene stood up. He then walked over to the small library in the corner of the living room, where the books the family had used to teach Nick and Devon how to read were kept, and took out a perfectly unremarkable tome. "I used my ancestor's method to change it." It took a moment for Nick to recover from his surprise. He had never suspected that such a valuable book could be hiding in plain sight, and so close to him! But when he realized who his father was referring to, he sat up straight. "Aleister Crowley!" "Yes, this is the only journal of his that remains. Everything else was burned by him, but this... I think he didn't see the need to burn it, as it doesn't contain any actual spells. Just his rants about the temples' monopoly over class changes and speculation on how to do the process without them." The way Eugene looked at the book made it clear he was conflicted about what he had done, but Nick didn't care. He made grabby hand motions, and his father only hesitated for a moment before handing it over. "You are mature enough, I suppose. Certainly more so than when I did the ritual." But by then, Nick wasn't listening anymore, as the precious book in his hands commanded his full attention. "A Comprehensive Guide to Class-Changing, by Aleister Crowley," was a promising title. Flipping through it, Nick was surprised to discover pages filled with annotations, streams of consciousness, and even a few diagrams. The book was clearly unfinished, as the last page was only halfway through and concluded with the start of an idea for "catalyst choices." Nevertheless, Nick didn't complain. To have the work of another Occultist, one strong enough to have defended Floria from the fae all on his own… He barely had the presence of mind to search for what his father had utilized. He found it easily, as the page was earmarked. A hiss escaped his lips at the poor treatment, but his attention was drawn to the words. "The most important thing to keep in mind is that to change one's class, an individual must be certain that their Path is Wrong. If they were to continue on it, they'd be destined for despair. That is why a natural class change is almost unheard of. This requirement can be waived only if a Will of Absolute tier is available. Something like a powerful artifact or the reliquaries belonging to a god would suffice." The last sentence was underlined several times, clearly not by the original writer. Looking up, Nick noticed his father's slightly ashamed expression. "What did you steal?" he asked, unable to hold back a grin.