Chapter 15
Al sat cross-legged near the edge of the fire, a dented tin cup of something that passed for coffee in his hand. The stone rested beside him on a folded bit of cloth, dim now, its blue light reduced to a faint heartbeat.
He exhaled, then muttered, “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got for me today.”
The faint chime came instantly.
[System Interface: Active.]Name: Aleric Tanim** Designation: Native Anchor** Class: Undefined Alignment: Neutral Human
Level: 1 Experience: 400 / 1000 Health (HP): 100 Mana: 60 Stamina: 85
Attributes: Strength – 11 Constitution – 12 Dexterity – 10 Agility – 9 Mind – 10 Wisdom – 8 Luck – 16 Charisma – 9
Trait:American Magic (Prototype)Artifact Linked: Stone of Seven Sons — Dimensional Stability: +10% — Power Synchronization: Active
Class Advancement: Locked Skill Tree: Locked Status: Stable
He frowned. “Level one. Figures. I go through hell, pick up a glowing rock that hums in my chest, and I’m still bottom rung.”
Evan had just finished brushing down her horse. She looked over and grinned. “Talking to ghosts again, Marine?”
“Just arguing with my HUD,” Al said dryly.
“Your what?”
He gestured toward the air. The faint blue System text shimmered into visibility for her too. She crouched beside him, eyebrows lifting. “That’s… new. Most of us don’t see readouts like that until we reach second circle.”
“Guess I skipped a few memos.”
Evan leaned closer, studying the glowing words. “Level one, huh? That means the System’s recognized you. You’ve already earned experience—four hundred marks.”
“From what?”
She smiled faintly. “Surviving, probably. Killing goblins, touching cursed relics, arguing with nobles. The System values initiative.”
“Good to know it’s got a sense of humor,” Al muttered.
Evan chuckled. “Here—see those lines? Health, Mana, Stamina. Health isn’t quite life. It’s a barrier that absorbs most physical harm, but you can still bleed if something hits you hard enough. Mana is your raw magical energy. Stamina’s your endurance—run out of that and you drop.”
“Got it,” Al said, squinting at the numbers. “So HP’s basically a personal shield, Mana’s the fuel tank, and Stamina’s the battery that keeps the motor turning.”
She tilted her head. “I have no idea what half of that means, but yes, roughly.”
He cracked a grin. “That’s American Magic for you. We turn everything into a field manual.”
Rhyosyn approached then, her red hair catching the weak light. She looked down at the faintly glowing display, her expression unreadable. “You can open and close the interface at will?”
“Seems like it,” Al said. “I just think about it, and it answers.”
“That shouldn’t be possible without formal binding,” Rhyosyn murmured. “The System treats most people as servants, not partners.”
“Yeah, well,” Al said, closing the menu with a flicker of thought, “back home, we don’t do servitude real well.”
Evan laughed softly. “You’re serious. You think your magic’s different because of where you’re from?”
“I don’t think,” Al said, raising one hand toward the coals. “I know.”
He focused, remembering the spark he’d conjured the night before. A faint glow flared between his fingers — small, unstable, but real. The System chimed again.
[Prototype Spell Created: Utility – Spark]Power Source: Adaptive Will (American Magic)** Mana Cost: 1 Effect: Generates a minor ignition source.
The spark danced, caught, and flickered out.
Rhyosyn watched, her lips pressed into a thin line. “No focus. No spellform. Just will.”
“Yeah,” Al said. “That’s the point.”
Evan looked delighted. “So your magic just… works when you need it?”
“More like it works if I believe it should,” Al said, flexing his hand. “Guess that’s the trick.”
Rhyosyn’s gaze lingered on him. “Belief,” she repeated softly. “That is dangerous magic, Marine. The kind that changes worlds.”
Al looked down at his palm, the faint trace of light fading. “Funny,” he said. “That’s what we called progress.”
The System pinged again, almost like it was laughing with him.
[System Notice: Trait Resonance Increased.]Luck +1.
Evan laughed aloud. “You even get experience for being cocky.”
Al smirked, looking at the rising sun through the mist. “Figures. American Magic runs on attitude.”