Kana tucked the book under her arm as she stepped into Suri’s house, her mind still lingering on the chapter she hadn’t finished. Something about early bow enchantments and resonance tuning. She barely noticed the faint shimmer until it moved.
She froze in the doorway, blinking.
A figure stood in the kitchen—faceless, humanoid, and translucent. Its surface shimmered like a mirage, flickering with layers of faint color. It moved with smooth, deliberate motions, scrubbing a pan under running water.
Kana nearly dropped the book.
“Convenient, right?” Suri said with a grin, appearing behind the enigmatic humanoid with a plate of roasted rootmeat. “One of my new skills: [Illusion Call]. I can shape it however I want, but for dishes, a human shape works best.”
Kana squinted at the thing. “Is... that how you’re supposed to use the skill?”
“Why not?” Suri said, breezily sliding into a chair. “It’s helpful. And stylish.”
“But is that really an illusion?” Kana took a cautious step closer. The figure was handling objects. That wasn’t how illusions were supposed to work.
Suri shrugged. “You’re the one who said my class is about illusions. It touches things just fine. But I can’t touch it.”
Kana narrowed her eyes. “So… it can touch the world, but you can’t touch it? Sounds more like a ghost than an illusion.”
“Hey!” Suri jumped, nearly dropping her food.
Kana grinned. “I’m kidding. Mostly. But have you tried channeling your mana into it?”
Suri blinked. “Huh. No. I didn’t think of that.”
Suri stood, wiping her hands on her tunic, and stepped toward the figure. A faint glow shimmered over her fingertips—blue, soft, not unlike moonlight on water. She pressed her hand into the illusion.
Her expression twisted.
“Ugh. It feels… slimy.”
Kana raised an eyebrow. “Slimy?”
“Yeah. Like… wet silk but not wet or not wet enough.”
Kana crossed her arms, thoughtful. “That’s not how illusions are supposed to behave. If it’s made of mana, then it has a form. A physical one. That’s... something else.”
Suri grinned. “Does that mean I’m special?”
Kana’s eyes lingered on the illusion as it calmly set a dish to dry. “Or cursed.”
Suri threw leftover food at her.
So that’s why she didn’t choose [Shaman]?
……
A few quiet days had passed since Kana’s awakening. She was halfway through a dense chapter on historical mana rituals when a knock sounded at the door.
Without looking up, she called out, “My mother’s not here. Come back later.”
A calm, authoritative voice replied, “This is a letter from His Majesty. For Kana. Please open the door.”
Kana blinked, slowly setting the book aside. “For me?”
She crossed the room, unlatched the door, and pulled it open.
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A knight stood in polished armor, flanked by two others. He held a sealed scroll, the royal crest stamped in gold wax. Without waiting for permission, he unrolled it and began to read in a clear, practiced voice:
“By decree of His Majesty King J, and in accordance with the Kingdom’s Class Research Initiative:
Kana, bearer of the class [Ranger], you have been selected for royal sponsorship. Due to the rarity and unfamiliar nature of your class, you are invited to attend the Royal Academy in the capital. Your tuition, expenses, and training will be covered by the crown.
In return, you will be expected to report your skill progress and class development to the Head of Research—the Academy’s Principal.”
He rolled the scroll with precision and handed it to her. It was a quick review, all the classes chosen except for listed in the scrolls which would be reported directly to the king by the administrator were required to be reported to the village chief and it’s not even a week since she gave her chosen class to the chief.
“Report to the capital when you turn fifteen. Instructions and a travel escort will be sent then. Until that time, continue your familiarity with your class.”
Kana took the scroll with both hands, her voice caught somewhere between confusion and awe. “Al… alright.”
The knight gave a short bow and turned without another word, his cloak fluttering behind him as he mounted a waiting horse.
The door had barely shut before Suri barged in, out of breath and beaming.
“Hey Kana! I got a letter—I’m going to the capital!”
Kana raised the scroll. “Same. Looks like we’re both getting dragged into this.”
Suril groaned. “Ugh. That means we’ll be stuck seeing Boris’s smug face for the next eight years.”
Kana smirked. “Let’s hope he picks a skill that comes with a mute button.”
Suri snorted. “Maybe, Professional Idiot. Current Skill: always talking.”
They both laughed, but Kana's eyes drifted back to the scroll.
……
Kana had a different plan.
Her [Incomplete Transcender] title granted her multiplying experience—and somehow, she just knew that defeating monsters would increase her level. The knowledge felt natural, almost like muscle memory. No one had told her. No books had said it directly. But the thought carried weight in her mind, the way gravity tells a stone how to fall.
Were others even aware of “leveling up”? They talked about skills growing stronger, yes, but never in numbers. Never with that word. Like a game.
She kept the thought to herself.
Her mother had agreed, cautiously, to let her learn archery. Kana had explained her [Ranger] class—what little she understood of it—and her mother, while skeptical, relented. No one fully understood their classes anyway. The records passed down were fragmented and few. You were expected to discover your path yourself.
So she made her way to the outskirts of the village, past rows of wind-worn fields and half-tilled soil, toward the watchtower that marked the only entrance. It was a squat structure of stone and wood, topped with a small bell and a wide view of the hills beyond.
The man stationed there was Aldo—Gatekeeper, Watchman, and local archery enthusiast. He held the class of [Bowman], a common profession with known capabilities, even recognized by the Kingdom as a class who specialises in using Bows.
Kana waved as she approached, her footsteps kicking up dust.
“Uncle Aldo!”
The lanky man looked down from the tower’s edge, his sun-creased face breaking into a grin. His wiry frame belied thick forearms that bore the marks of decades with a bowstring.
“Well if it isn’t Kana the Book-Eater. What brings our village genius out here?”
She raised the basket in her hands with a grin. “A bribe.”
“Now that,” Aldo said as he climbed down, “is the right way to ask for a favor.”
“I want to learn how to handle a bow,” she said as he reached the ground. “From what I’ve read, my class is something similar. [Ranger].”
Aldo tilted his head, curious. “Huh. [Ranger], eh? Haven’t heard that one. Closest I’ve seen is [Bowman] or [Scout] for archery but sounds promising, though.”
He peeked inside the basket, smiled, and then slung his bow off his shoulder.
“Let me eat first,” he said with mock seriousness, “or I’ll start teaching you how to shoot carrots.”
“Deal,” Kana said, handing it over.
As he sat beneath the shade of the tower, Kana watched him thoughtfully. She had a thousand questions. About aim, wind, draw strength. But more than that—she wanted to see what it felt like to use her class.
Because deep down, she already suspected: the System wasn’t just about titles and classes.
It was about potential and taking advantage of it.
