He caught his reflection in a nearby pane of glass and allowed a thin smile to grace his lips. From this moment on, he was no longer a commoner—he was an Arcane Initiate.
He flipped through the handbook as he walked. For an Initiate, the rigid schedule of the classroom was gone, replaced by a flexible, self-study system. All lectures were now free of charge.
It was a stark contrast to the Era of Shadows ten millennia ago. In those dark times, knowledge was hoarded, and apprentices often risked their lives hunting monstrous beasts just to afford a single session with a mentor. The modern "Arcane Renaissance" had democratized basic magic, but that didn't mean the path was cheap.
Pierce’s brow furrowed as he scanned the price list:
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Soul-Nurturing Grass (Meditation booster): 5 Gold pieces.
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Mage Hand (Level 0 Spell Model): 20 Gold pieces.
In the Outer City, a skilled worker earned perhaps 80 Silver a month. It would take a commoner a year of starving and saving just to afford the most basic spell. Mages were, quite literally, "Gold-Devouring Holes."
With only thirty-plus gold pieces left—the last of his family’s inheritance—Pierce realized his savings wouldn't even cover two spells. I need to look into the mission board, he thought. But first, the freebies.
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He headed toward the logistics department. The boundary between the commoners’ grounds and the Initiates’ quarters was marked by a thick, persistent shroud of magical mist. As he approached, a pair of crimson eyes ignited in the fog.
A massive Lion Golem lay crouched nearby, its stone body radiating a silent, crushing pressure. It was a masterpiece of the Golemsmith’s craft. Similar sentinels were stationed every hundred yards. Pierce felt a chill. Without his badge—and the "Omniscient Eye"—he would have spent his entire life on the other side of that mist, looking in.
Passing through the fog, he emerged into a bustling plaza filled with grey-robed youths. Every student here carried themselves with a sharp, vibrant energy. Commoners lived at a physical level of 1.0, but these Initiates were already transcending those limits.
He entered the logistics building and found a silver-haired registrar buried under a mountain of paperwork.
"An Initiate’s first choice," the old man grunted, flicking a finger. A sheet of parchment drifted into the air, floating toward Pierce. "Pick one spell from the list."
Pierce didn’t need to look. "Mage Hand."
It was the quintessential apprentice spell—an invisible, spectral hand capable of manipulating objects at a distance. It was versatile, practical, and the foundation for almost all telekinetic arts.
After receiving the spell book, Pierce placed Master Julian’s gold coin on the desk.
The registrar’s eyebrows shot up. He tapped the coin, and a shimmering blue script flickered across the gold. "An Arcane Mark," Pierce noted. "Indeed. Julian’s personal seal," the old man said, looking at Pierce with newfound interest. "It's rare for a Master to use their personal quota on a new recruit. Pick a second spell."
Pierce chose "Daze"—a crucial crowd-control spell.
Armed with his two spell models and 30 gold pieces' worth of Soul-Nurturing Grass, Pierce’s wallet felt painfully light. He didn't linger. He turned and sprinted toward the library.
He was ready for the Omniscient Eye to begin its work on a whole new level.