Magic in Immortal Frontier was like an extra limb. An intangible, dimensionless limb …

It was a completely alien construct for the user's mind, something they'd have to get slowly accustomed to. Motor coordination was acquired from the very beginning of human life, when the brain was especially malleable, but for everyone playing the game this development had long stabilized and their capacity for instinctual learning was decreasing with age.

Naturally, there were people with great talent for motor coordination, like circus performers for example. It wasn't just passion and hard work – they worked out various methods and techniques to aid in training each discipline. But those didn't exist for magic yet. The best those people could hope for was that their brains, which they maintained in top shape through routine activation, would keep up with the young players, and that their experience would give them an edge.

It was the same old story – experience versus youthful spirit. The former had a head start, but was bound to lose … because of its good will. In time, it would impart all its knowledge on the latter and be thoroughly outplayed, retreating into the shadows and drawing joy from the saplings it cultivated.

Carl may not have been gifted with athleticism, but he was at least a year younger than any of his competitors, had excellent memory, and his passion was all there, abundant and fiery. He also had 20 intelligence and perception, something that melee fighters simply didn't go for, while mages didn't need the buffs he did. He was in a unique and extremely advantageous position, which his superb utilization of grade 1 combat skills had already testified to. This time, however, there would be no system assist.

Champion's Conviction was his first choice. It wouldn't only improve his health and stamina, but also pain tolerance, which he was very eager to experiment with. He got his money back from Weaving Fate, then paid one Gold Crown to the custodian, who grudgingly opened the manual on the relevant page. There, Carl saw a long and detailed instruction together with a bunch of formulas. Those were the fundamental motions that shouldn't pose any challenge to adepts of the arcane arts. Still, comprehending them required intelligence, and executing – perception.

“I wonder how intelligence works in this game? How would it help me if I weren't bright enough? Or how would it inhibit me if my attribute was low?”

Not daring to dawdle, he began studying. He carefully read everything once within a minute, reflected back on it, paid another gold coin, and concentrated on the first formula. He memorized it in one attempt, closed his eyes and repeated it several times, then went for the second one. And that's when it hit him.

“Oh? So it is system aid after all. Intriguing!”

Very discreetly, some parts of the text were beckoning his attention, then redirecting him elsewhere once he focused on them. He felt that subtle interference before, especially when Toothy was tutoring him, but couldn't place it back then. Now, it was much more obvious – there was an optimized algorithm for implementing the individual steps harmoniously, and then juggling them efficiently. Soon, he understood the gist of it, which was a way of dispensing precisely balanced amounts of mana to all the viscera, as well as the cardiovascular and nervous systems, then administering it in a way that would augment the natural processes while suppressing the pain receptors.

“Fate? I'm curious, what would happen if I had insufficient intelligence to learn a given skill?”

“So you've noticed?” The elven enchantress smiled. “From what we've gathered so far, if your attribute exceeds the difficulty bar, then you will receive random hints of appropriate intensity. Otherwise, the letters and symbols will jumble and the image will blur. As you can imagine, genuine smarts can help counteract the negative effects, and boost the positive ones.”

“Hmm, the clever players already have an edge when it comes to analyzing and strategizing, but this will further multiply it, no?”

“You bet. Many are unhappy with that and have submitted their petitions, but I doubt they'll achieve anything. Cybercore has been promoting the dream of building a fortune through shrewdness and hard work all this time, so they're unlikely to budge. Are you having trouble?” The woman frowned.

“Have my actions so far given you a cause to worry?” Carl chuckled. “No. It is quite the contrary – this is exactly my forte. I think I'll take a quarter and return to the arena. You can go back now, thank you.”

True to his word, Carl rejoined his lobby in fifteen minutes with an air of confidence. There, he saw some new faces. The newcomers had light, elegant robes in vivid colors and complex geometric patterns, their foreheads adorned by precious diadems made of exotic materials, some even jewel-encrusted, and they either held high-quality staves, or dual-wielded wands which were currently sheathed like swords.

“Wow! This isn't from the system shop, maybe save for a few parts …”

Carl could only guess at the value invested in this team. Easily quadruple digits.

“Hello everyone,” he greeted childishly, which contrasted so unsettlingly with his gory visage.

“So, Commander Fate, this is the terrifying existence you're so fond of, that you want us to babysit him?” Psionic Voidspawn, a young, slim elven warlock with long black hair mocked. Carl couldn't tell, though, if he was serious or just joking with deadpan humor.

“Brother Lionheart, these are our finest mages,” Weaving Fate proudly presented. “We are ready to move out at once, as soon as you're done.”

“That's a lot of trouble just to get me rank 5 bracers. Would have been much easier to buy a pair,” Carl admitted awkwardly.

“Nonsense,” the woman rebuked courteously. “I was bound to join them anyway, so it's no trouble at all.”

“You're coming with?”

“Yes. My offensive magic might not be as strong as theirs due to my class and official duties, but this is the perfect opportunity to make up some experience.” She smiled merrily.

“The commander says your presence can greatly increase the number of ghosts in the dungeon and bring them all together. I'm looking forward to that. You just stay behind us and we will reap them all for proficiency gains.” The dark-clad warlock grinned ominously.

“Oh? So we're going ahead with that. Good.” Carl nodded with content. “I'll need a lot of mana potions, so I can train my skills up to advanced rank before I tackle the black wolves' den.”

“No-no, brother Lionheart, we have to engage them at range,” Weaving Fate refuted decisively. “Unlike wolves, ghosts don't run, they have no concept of fear. They'll rush towards anyone who gets close and inflict mental trauma on them, which is quite horrific for us, and I dare not think of what it would be like for you. Their ethereal attacks result in a curse and reduced vitality, stacking until you faint and die. They can also damage magical equipment they strike, with fine items being the most susceptible. Ideally, we want our only expenses in this dungeon to be the mana potions and magical bombs, of which we need an awful lot.”

“That's alright, I'd like to try anyway. I'll leave the Black Fang behind, and instead use the longest daggers available. Could you get me a pair while I apply my new skill? Just make sure they're light and have a hand guard.”

“Mhm, consecrated silver is what you're looking for, the quality doesn't matter. I'll get it done,” the elven enchantress acceded reluctantly. “You really think you can pull it off now? It hasn't even been 20 minutes …”

“Seventeen,” Carl corrected. “Well, let's see. Brother Bulwark, may I?

The stout axeman, who had been viciously hacking away at Amaranthine Bushido all this time, suffering grievous wounds in return, for the benefit of awestruck NPCs, ceased the noisy madness and walked over, harrowed yet delighted.

“It will be my pleasure, brother Lionheart.”

“I see you're making quick progress,” Carl praised. “I'll test you later. For now, I want to revise my understanding of a singular formula, which differs from the rest. It is a tall hurdle, elevating an otherwise high quality skill to the peak. If I can get it right, then all the other pieces should fall into place. I will now focus, and when I give you a signal, deliver a painful blow, and don't hold back. Any healers present?” he asked, seeing that Fleeting Time and his family stood to the side and listened to Theodore, who held a wolf pelt and gesticulated animatedly. “No? Okay. Mercy! Oh …”

Hearing his call, the whole group came running.

“Did I get this right? You want to learn a peak grade 0 skill after memorizing the instructions for 17 minutes?” Melting Heart, a sophisticated elven entropic sorceress sporting a fire-ice theme, inquired with unconcealed disbelief.

“Haha! Dream on!” Psionic Voidspawn belittled.

“If your execution is not fluent enough, then it will never succeed. And if it's very bad, you might even get backlash, including painful injuries and lasting debuffs,” Attractive Ion, an old human wizard with the air of a silly youngster, warned sincerely.

“That's why I'm in the arena.” Carl smiled, then invited Fleeting Time and Merciful Breeze into a bout. Taking a few deep breaths with closed eyes, he prepared himself mentally. Once he opened them, his gaze was determined and heated – that warlock punk was playing on his nerves.

Radiant Bulwark got jolted, then raised his brows, and finally realized the imposing stare he was given was his cue. The masterwork axe flew in a beautiful arc and landed on Carl's right shoulder, exactly as before – and such were the results, as well.

“Ah!” Merciful Breeze, who already saw the Skyborne Lions mutilate each other without end, couldn't help but exclaim with dread. But she wasn't the only one whose subconscious squirmed – of the players present, most had winced and recoiled witnessing the swift and brutal attack. Such was the power of empathy. They simply couldn't imagine what kind of torment that was for someone on full realism.

“Heal him!”

“Wait, he's not dead?!”

“What?! His health hit 1 and then stopped!”

Carl wasn't happy about that attempt. He was nowhere near ready, as he lacked a proper buildup. The pain suppression failed and he was in agony, holding on by a thread until the soothing healing arrived. Somehow he stopped his avatar from fainting, but the axe still had to be removed …

“Get up, you useless filth!”

He had to get back into his fighting spirit – he needed it badly, and he wanted it badly.

“No way!”

“Woah …”

While a commotion ensued, Carl raised back to his feet, supported by two healers.

“Go on,” he weakly commanded through one working lung.

Radiant Bulwark knew he didn't have to be gentle. It was an unspoken understanding between two warriors. As he ripped his weapon out, Carl swayed, but stabilized himself. Soon, his health returned to the maximum, which was now down to 53. Went to show the severity of the internal damage, not to mention Carl lost blood, as he wasn't using Arrest Bleeding, and the bones remained crushed.

“Again!”

And the axe found the same spot …

… “Again!”

And for the third time in succession, the pain wasn't quelled …

“How long can he … keep this up?” The bewildered Psionic Voidspawn voiced everyone's thoughts. This was not fun to watch at all, yet the audience couldn't take their eyes off of the heroic man who defied logic.

Carl knew he was close. Vitality boost was the foundation on which he tried to build, and it even felt as if it was functioning, albeit barely, but that last formula almost doubled the difficulty. While every other one moved to enhance, this one moved to inhibit, and as such it exceeded Carl's multitasking capability. If only he could …

“Fate!”

“Y-yes?” The woman jumped up in fright.

“Do you have any more perception potions?”

“Mhm, we even have some common ones for you already. There you go. Shouldn't you restore yourself for this? Your maximum health is down to 9, and I can see you're not feeling well …”

“No need.”

If Carl died under the influence, the buff would disappear and he would have to drink another brew. But he finally felt in the zone, and that excruciating strain was keeping him on edge.

As his perception zoomed to 25, he could perceive his horizons expanding. Suddenly, everything was so much clearer – the sounds, the vision, the smell of blood, the searing heat of injuries. And so was his mana. Focusing all his attention on it, he applied the vitality boost. It now seemed to be functioning properly. Splitting a thought for the execution of pain suppression, he tried to lock it in place without letting the other part leave his grasp. He was so close …

When something is malfunctioning, just hit it with a hammer, right?

“Again!”

“Congratulations! You have learned the skill [Champion's Conviction]!

[Champion's Conviction] (activable)

Empowering skill, grade 0 (peak), entry level.

Effects: x*(1+x/base_vitality)/s mana upkeep for 0.03x points of vitality, target: self, augments vitality and improves pain tolerance, exhausts proportionally to the upkeep costs.