[Special Power: Skill Upgrade System.]
Damian focused on the notification, and the explanation unfolded immediately.
[Skill Upgrade System
Effect 1: Souls harvested from slain monsters may be converted into Skill Points.
Effect 2: Skill Points may be used to <Learn>, <Advance>, or <Limit Break> compatible Skills, Spells, Martial Skills, Daoist Arts, and other recognized techniques.
<Learning>: Converts sufficient Skill Points into foundational mastery of a compatible ability.
<Advancement>: Increases the mastery and effectiveness of an already acquired ability.
<Limit Break>: Allows a sufficiently developed ability to surpass its ordinary limitations and enter a higher state.]
[Valid Realms: Valoria / Shengyuan.]
Damian gawked speechlessly.
"What the fuck?"
This was absurd.
No, seriously, this was absurd.
Experience Pills had allowed him to cheat Valoria’s leveling system, but at least he still needed resources.
<One Proof, Eternal Proof> prevented genuine progress from ever being lost, but Damian still had to make that progress himself.
The <Skill Upgrade System> attacked an entirely different bottleneck, which was... studying?
How long did a swordsman normally need to take Swordsmanship from Novice to Journeyman?
How many months would Damian need to properly master a new spell?
How many years did cultivators spend repeatedly practicing martial skills until their bodies could perform them instinctively?
Apparently, Damian could now murder monsters and throw their souls into the problem.
Even worse, it worked in both worlds.
He could hunt monsters in Valoria to improve Shengyuan martial skills or kill demon beasts in Shengyuan and potentially use the resulting Skill Points to strengthen Mage spells.
And then <One Proof, Eternal Proof> ensured whatever progress he purchased could never naturally regress afterward.
Damian slowly covered his face. "This System is building an industrial production line out of personal growth."
The possibilities were disgusting.
Need to learn a difficult spell? Skill Points baby!
Push <Burning Hands> beyond ordinary mastery? Daddy Skill Points is here!
Acquire a sword technique in Shengyuan and lack twenty years to practice it? Skill Points!!
And what the hell did Limit Break mean?
Could <Firebolt> eventually stop being a mere Cantrip?
Could some basic Human-rank martial skill be pushed past its intended ceiling until its creator no longer recognized the damned thing?
The description carefully avoided promising miracles, and Damian knew better than to assume every ability could evolve infinitely.
Still, the fact that the function existed at all was enough.
For the first time, Damian found himself genuinely considering monster hunting not merely as Adventurer work, but as resource acquisition.
First money, then materials, along with experience.
And now... Skill Points!
Monsters had somehow become walking investment portfolios.
Damian chuckled darkly. "Okay. We’ll explore that after I stop feeling like my liver survived a war."
He closed the panels and moved on as there were still two appointments waiting for today.
......
Stephen’s carriage arrived less than half an hour later.
The middle-aged driver greeted Damian with the cheerful expression of a man who had discovered a repeat customer and therefore considered the relationship a lifelong friendship.
"Look at you! Proper Mage robes, expensive staff, no blood on your clothes. You’re moving up in the world, young master!" Stephen called from his seat.
Damian climbed inside. "Give me another few hours. I’m heading somewhere specifically designed to make me poor."
"Ah, marriage bureau?"
"The Mage Association."
Stephen nodded solemnly. "Same thing, except the Mage Association occasionally gives you something useful for your money."
Damian stared at the guy speechlessly.
Stephen stared ahead innocently and flicked the reins.
The carriage rolled into Rosewood’s morning traffic.
Their conversation remained equally useless for the rest of the journey, wandering from whether horses secretly judged their owners to Stephen’s insistence that wealthy nobles deliberately invented uncomfortable clothing so poor people could identify them from a distance.
By the time the Mage Association came into sight, Damian understood why he had remembered the man.
Stephen was an idiot, but he was a pleasant idiot.
Those were surprisingly valuable.
The Mage Association occupied an entire compound in one of Rosewood’s wealthier districts.
Damian had expected another guild-like building, but what he found looked more like a luxury hotel designed by wizards.
White stone walls rose behind sculpted gardens, their surfaces threaded with silver enchantments that shifted faintly beneath the morning light. Crystal lamps floated without visible support beneath enormous archways, while the glass entrance doors opened before Damian reached them.
The inside was even worse.
Or better, depending on whether one possessed money.
No counters existed here at all.
Instead, Damian entered an enormous magically cooled lounge furnished with soft couches, polished tables and private seating areas separated by translucent sound-blocking barriers.
Several Mages sat drinking tea or discussing documents while impeccably dressed servants moved between them.
There was a full bar along one wall and a restaurant occupied another section.
Damian even noticed enchanted message boards displaying available magical contracts without anyone physically updating them.
"This is a Guild?" Damian muttered.
A handsome young servant in a black waistcoat approached and bowed politely.
"Welcome to the Rosewood Mage Association, sir. How may we assist you today?" he questioned professionally.
"I’d like to register as a Journeyman Mage," Damian replied.
The young man’s expression shifted for barely a second.
"A Journeyman registration? May I confirm that this will be your first registration with the Association, sir?" he asked carefully.
"Yes." Damian confirmed with a nod.
That finally earned visible surprise as most Mages registered while they were still Apprentices.
Even waiting until one hit the Novice Rank was unusual, so walking inside for the first time as a Journeyman was apparently downright bizarre.
Still, professionalism won immediately.
"Certainly, Lord Mage. Please follow me." The young servant prompted genially.
And from there, no interrogation followed, no crowd gathered, and nobody demanded that Damian launch a Level 3 Fireball through a wall to prove himself.
He was escorted directly into a private room, seated on a couch that was offensively comfortable, and offered tea, chilled fruit juice and several plates of pastries.
Pamphlets were placed on the table before him, but Damian barely opened the first before two Association personnel entered carrying a crystal sphere.
The examination took less than five minutes.
Damian placed his hand against the crystal, allowed it to inspect his Character Sheet and magical foundation, and received confirmation immediately.
[Journeyman Mage Status Verified.]
Everything after that happened with frightening efficiency.
His measurements were taken magically and soon, a fitted Journeyman Mage robe was produced from Association stock that was customized in black with gold embroidery at Damian’s request, the Mage Association insignia shining subtly over the chest.
A matching Bag of Holding followed, and Damian almost hugged that one.
His Exchange Storage was vastly superior in total capacity, but revealing it every time he needed to retrieve something would eventually become suspicious.
A normal spatial bag gave him an excuse.
He also received a Mage Guild Ring.
The black-and-gold ring projected a holographic interface similar to his Adventurer Guild Card, displaying identification, rank, Association records, active contracts and official credentials. It could also connect to his Caurelian bank account for payments.
Then came the strangest benefit.
[Title Acquired: Baron of Magic.]
Damian blinked in surprise at that.
The Association representative explained that Journeyman Mages were automatically recognized beneath ancient agreements between the Mage Association and human governments throughout Valoria.
Baron of Magic was the lowest universal magical nobility, with no fief, no hereditary soldiers, and no automatic political office.
Yet the title carried the legal dignity and social privileges of minor nobility almost anywhere human law dominated.
Damian rubbed his chin. "So I accidentally became a noble by eating pills."
Fortunately, he possessed enough sense not to say that aloud.
The Association rules came afterward.
The organization was financed primarily by its own Mages and therefore took thirty percent of work arranged through Association channels.
At first Damian nearly choked, then he saw the listed payments.
The tasks included construction enchantments, magical inspections, security wards, investigations, escort contracts requiring dedicated spellcasters, item production, rune repair, alchemy support, enchanting, and curse removal.
There was considerable overlap with organizations such as the Adventurer’s Guild, but the emphasis differed.
An Adventurer Mage generally left town with a party to hunt monsters, explore ruins or complete broader missions.
Association contracts overwhelmingly involved clients who specifically needed magic, often within cities where specialized expertise was worth far more than another armed body.
Hence the luxurious headquarters.
Mages were expensive to hire, so the Association that herded them was rich as hell.
As such, the thirty-percent cut apparently still left members earning considerably more than most equivalent-rank professions.
Of course, becoming a Mage normally required years of study whereas Damian had cheated. And still planned to.
Normal people had to learn Cantrips manually, study spell formulas, memorize magical structures and perform calculations while simultaneously controlling mana through their mind, soul, gestures, breathing and materials.
It was essentially advanced mathematics while performing a handstand and juggling with your feet.
Then you repeated the process until the universe finally agreed that you knew what you were doing.
Damian respected Mages considerably more afterward.
He finally opened the pamphlets.
One covered equipment and customization, one listed consumables and magical items, and the final booklet contained spell manuals and scrolls.
Damian started with equipment, and his overall happiness for the day lasted approximately thirty seconds.
"Five Gold?!"
That was the starting price of a respectable Common Mage robe carrying only basic durability, cleaning and spell-stability enchantments.
Some better Common robes even approached twenty Gold!
An <Uncommon Robe of Summer> offered strong resistance against cold while <The Sparkswall Ring> protected against lightning and electrical afflictions.
Rare equipment became ridiculous.
A <Bracers of Defence> significantly improved magical and physical protection while the wearer remained unarmored, while the <Protecty Sparkswall> strengthened spell difficulty and defensive ability under its specialized lightning enchantment.
Epic items were obscene.
<The Potent Robe> enhanced Cantrip output and generated a protective magical buffer based upon the wearer’s force of personality, while a <Spellcrux Amulet> could restore an expended Spell Slot once per day.
Damian quietly closed that page, then reopened it because suffering apparently fascinated him.
He found his very own Apprentice’s Arcane Robe, which went for seven Gold.
Seven!
Counting the robe, Blackwood Staff, Ring of Minor Mental Recovery, Ring of Lesser Protection and Amulet of Cleansing, Damian estimated the supposedly basic starter equipment he had received as an Otherworlder was worth around thirty-six Gold and several Silver.
His face went blank.
"No wonder those four were furious..." He muttered with shock.
And that did not even include his Spellbook!
Meanwhile, custom-made equipment began at ten Gold for Common-grade work and climbed depending upon requested enchantments.
Damian checked Uncommon prices... then stopped checking at the Uncommon prices tab.
He could not afford to even look.
Consumables were only slightly less horrifying.
Basic enchanted jewelry commonly began above fifty Silver and crossed one Gold with disturbing ease.
Potions, however, caught his attention as there were three broad commercial categories.
Resource Restoration potions restored health, stamina or Mental Energy.
Buff potions temporarily enhanced performance through effects such as Arcane Overload or Berserk.
Enhancement potions altered the body more fundamentally, with products derived from dragon blood, giant strength and other rare substances carrying prices reaching hundreds of Gold.
More importantly, Damian finally found the answer to Mu Qingyao’s question.
Resource Restoration potions scaled by rank.
Common, Novice-grade medicines used the familiar Vial naming convention: Vial of Healing, Vial of Vigor and Vial of Restoration.
Uncommon Journeyman versions were called Draughts.
Rare Adept versions became Concoctions.
Epic Master-grade versions were named Elixirs.
The Association charged a guaranteed-quality flat rate of twenty Copper for Common Vials.
Draughts cost one Silver.
Concoctions began at one Gold.
Elixirs? Fifty Gold each!
Damian stared at the healing progression.
A suitable higher-tier Healing potion could affect beings far beyond the Level 5 limit of an ordinary Vial.
Which meant Mu Jianhong’s condition suddenly looked considerably less hopeless.
Damian’s fingers slowly tapped the page.
"So I probably can save her father..."
His expression became thoughtful.
The more interesting question was what Mu Qingyao would consider that worth.
He smiled faintly and moved on.
The spell catalog finally destroyed whatever remained of his financial confidence.
Every spell he already possessed was there.
<Burning Hands> cost five Silver for a legally bound manual with non-refundable, non-resalable learning rights, while disposable scrolls cost seventy-five Copper.
<Mage Armor> cost seven Silver, with ninety-Copper scrolls.
<Magic Missile> was surprisingly cheap at one Silver for the manual and fifty Copper per scroll.
Then Damian found <Misty Step>.
Three Gold to learn it, and the scroll alone cost forty Silver per roll!
His eyes twitched.
Still, there was no point becoming a Level 6 Mage while possessing Level 3 Spell Slots and nothing worth placing inside them.
Damian spent nearly an hour comparing options before finally surrendering forty-three Gold.
Two Level 1 manuals entered his possession.
<Entangle> and <Witch Bolt>.
Three Level 2 spells followed, <Scorching Ray>, <Barkskin> and <Web>.
Finally came two Level 3 spells that Damian considered almost mandatory, which were <Counterspell> and <Fireball>.
All of this for forty-three Gold.
Damian stared at the payment confirmation as though someone had stabbed him.
His once-comfortable cash reserves had been almost entirely swallowed in a single morning.
He collected the seven manuals, placed them carefully into his new Bag of Holding for appearances, and walked out of the Mage Association with the dignified posture expected of a newly recognized Baron of Magic.
Stephen was still waiting outside, and the driver glanced at him with a knowing glance.
"You look poorer, My Lord." Stephen teased with a chuckle.
"I am poorer." Damian could only admit with a sigh.
"Congratulations on becoming a proper Mage then, Sir." Stephen added with a crooked grin.
Damian climbed into the carriage with a dark expression.
"Trade and Commerce Guild, Stephen! Immediately!"
He had just discovered exactly how expensive being powerful was.
Now he needed to make some damn money!
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