The world inverts, pulling me within the velvety black nightscape of my soul. Everything around me fades away as my awareness closes down to a pinprick of existence—and then expands as everything I’ve ever thought of before in my entire life fills my consciousness. My heartbeat slows, stutters, stops; everything pauses as time itself seems to freeze.

Bright starbursts of light explode in the darkness, tearing open the inky sky and merging with my spinning memories. Raw energy swirls in through the open portals, powerful enough to make me shudder. The strange, pale light grows in intensity, glowing as it engulfs my entire being. My soul is alight, blinding bright.

Mana inundates me, although I’m not harvesting it into my core. It’s not naturalized to me, either. There’s something strangely primal about the energy that feels different from the ambient mana around me. It’s more akin to the energy in a Rift, but far denser.

“The womb of creation,” I murmur, recalling something Tem told me years ago before we entered the Greater Rift outside Silaraon.

With his words ringing in my mind, the strange experience finally makes sense. The only time I can remember something remotely similar is when I first gained my [Assistant Glassworker] Class, though that was less intense by a few orders of magnitude.

My inner sight gains clarity. With a working of willpower, I direct my metaphysical gaze toward the incomprehensibly complex structure of my Class structure.

[Glassworker]

Surprise ripples through me. The name hasn’t changed. The runic arrays are static. It’s stable, showing no sign of evolving or upgrading. Have I jumped to an incorrect conclusion about what’s happening?

Energy continues rushing into me, stronger than before yet somehow not tearing me apart from the inside out. This time, the flow of power swirls through the nebulous cloud of my memories that spools out around me, carrying them along like driftwood caught in a whirlpool.

Images of working in the studio flash through my mind. Close on its heels are countless moments compressed into one—the many arduous hours that I poured into earning [Manasight]. A smile forms on my formless being within my soul.

One after another, memories flicker by more quickly than I can follow: meditating on sharpness on the road, learning to fold concepts into ambient mana when I sliced apart the Crimson Crabs, forcing my Skills past their maximum in the Lesser Rift with Smoke, wielding Lady Evershed’s borrowed Skill [The Weight of the World: The Domineering Manifestation of Pride], learning how runes work with Scalpel, unlocking the poetic mysteries of imbuing with Master Melidandri, transcending my limitations and earning a Domain, grappling with the potency of violence and walking away the victor, contesting the Oletheros with my [Arcane Domain], learning how to animate my sculpted animals, raising the massive [Sanctuary of Glass] in Natan, encountering new concepts in the Orpheus House, and assisting Shiphrah with restoring my core and channels.

Finally, the spiraling galaxy of memory slows, settling on the most recent events in my life. Playing through my mind in perfect clarity, as though captured by an [Image Mage] or via an enchanted artifact that can record both sight and sound, I watch the fight between me and Saphora from a bird’s-eye view. It’s not a memory, strictly speaking. Whatever I’m viewing is accurate, faithfully capturing the recent battle in pristine detail.

Why am I seeing this?

In answer, the world’s energy swirls, faster and faster, and finally spins into a vortex deep within. A profound, sonorous chime rings all around, making my bones rattle as it reverberates through me, body and soul.

I suck in a sharp breath as I realize what’s happening. Falling further inward, I seek to confirm my suspicion, trembling in anticipation at what I’ll find.

At last, all the power I’ve pursued over the last few years has borne fruit. I’ve done it. I’ve finally transformed my Class. I rush closer, flying on invisible wings of intent, eager to see what I’ve become. Yet to my surprise, [Glassworker] is unchanged.

Instead, a new banner unfurls.

[Mage]

A bitter pang shoots through me. Aside from the practical drawbacks of ranking up two Classes at once, a more unsettling thought takes root. Is this really how I see myself? Despite all the mystery around how Classes and Skills work, most people agree that they require intent and self-revelation: no matter how much I might wish to be an [Actuary] or [Matador] or [Juggler], I’ll never gain the Class because I have no real world connection or personal conviction that they suit me.

But is this really me?

Is that how I see myself?

No wonder I witnessed all the times I used magic without relying only on my glass-related Skills, or at least not exclusively. I was reliving core memories that shaped who I am. For all my protest that I’m not a [Mage], there’s no denying it now. Emblazoned in the depths of my soul is the truth of the world.

I let out a weak laugh. Azariah is going to make so much fun of me when he finds out that I really am a [Mage] now.

It’s hard to argue with the heavens, but something about it doesn’t quite sit right with me. I’m not sure I truly consider myself a [Mage]. I research runes. I manipulate mana in creative ways. I seek out and use higher-order concepts.

The fact remains, however, that I’m a [Glassworker]. That hasn’t been taken away from me. I’m proud of the Class. But I don’t want to limp along, torn between two options for the rest of my life, always wondering which to prioritize.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Why not both? a voice whispers in the back of my mind. Quiet at first, but growing stronger. There isn’t a rule that I have to feed one and starve the other. I’ve never been one to settle for the simple answer. I’ve never walked the well-trod path. I’ve never been content with the current state of things. My tendency is to push and prod, to uncover secrets and chase glory.

More than that, I’m determined to keep my friends alive. I pursue power for the sake of serving and protecting, not for dominating and destroying. If becoming a Mage in truth is the way to safeguard my friends and family, then I’ll gladly trade the rest of my crafting career to accomplish my dream.

Another chime rings out in my soul space, subdued compared with the deep, realty-shaking tolling of bells when my new Class settled into my core. I perk up. Of course! With the advent of a new Class, there’s also an inaugural Class Skill. I can’t deny my eagerness to see what I’ve received this time, despite recently gorging myself on my friends’ Skills.

Directing my disembodied avatar to the other side of my core, I move around the enormous new Skill structure that coalesces within me. After the last revelation of my second Class, I’m more wary than I would be otherwise, although I’m still quivering with excitement.

[Legacy of the Scalpel]

With a gasp, I return to my senses as though swimming up to the surface from a great depth. My gut clenches. I whip my head around, looking for intruders. What happened? How? Is this some sort of cruel joke? [Lady] Saphora’s revenge?

Yet I’m all alone in the garden. Gentle warmth radiates from the sun. It’s a calm, beautiful day, in contrast to the turmoil raging in my heart.

I force myself to breathe until I’m feeling less frantic. I run through my options, trying to keep track of the positive and negative. On the plus side, my Domain is sharper. The world around me is far clearer, as though I’d been peering through warped and dirty glass previously, and now have clear views through clean windows. Additionally, my understanding of my Skills seems to have advanced; I intuitively have a stronger sense of what their runes mean, where their limits are, and how to surpass those limits with work. Best of all, the mana in my core is more responsive than ever before.

Downsides? My fist clenches. I’ve memorialized my most hated captor. Her twisted legacy is now etched into my soul in truth. Am I destined to walk her path? Is she simply a vision of my future self?

“I refuse,” I growl.

Without considering the consequences, I fling myself back into the depths of my soul. I blink open my metaphysical eyes, staring at the provocatively-named Skill in front of me. No more wavering. No more hesitating. I’m the master of my own life. Nothing can change that. Not this strange Skill, nor my memories of the abuse suffered at her hand. I’ve torn apart Skills and rebuilt them before. I can do it again if this one holds an insidious trap.

Bracing myself for what’s to come, I pour mana into the Skill. It hums to life, initializing with a blaze of gorgeous, creamy light that flows through every color all at once. It seems to move through the entire wavelength simultaneously. On a hunch, I activate [Arcane Domain: My Eyes Shall Pierce the Veil], which confirms that the new Skill is thrumming with light in both lower and higher frequencies than I can even see with my normal senses. The light intensifies as I pour more mana into the Skill.

Nothing else happens.

I release the Skill, more confused than ever. Shouldn’t that have done something? Surely it’s not just a reminder of the worst moment of my life. That can’t be right.

Part of me wants to burn it down, melting all the crystalized mana into slag and using it as fuel to rebuild my other Skills. Bearing her name bothers me more than I want to admit. I want nothing to do with her. We’re nothing alike, I protest.

Yet I can’t deny that I learned an immense amount from her. My entire comprehension of runes is due to apprenticing with her. While her methods were barbaric, her analytic abilities were exceptional. My past is immutable, but my future is still unwritten. I don’t have to follow her example. I can forge my own way forward.

Slow down and think, Nuri, I admonish myself sternly. It’s called a “Legacy,” whatever that means. With a start, I wonder if it’s similar to an Inheritance, which gives the inheritor the Skills of the previous owner while retaining their ranks. I doubt I’d inherit any of Scalpel’s fleshwarping Skills, but I have carried on her research. Maybe [Legacy of the Scalpel] relates to runes or a method of Skill enhancement.

The more I think about it, the more that seems likely. Nothing happened previously because I had no target in mind. There was nothing to analyze, edit, or upgrade.

Certainly floods me. Before the primordial mana of the heaven’s imprimatur ebbs away, I reactivate [Legacy of the Scalpel]. I have work to do.

Instead of upgrading the new Skills I received from my team, I turn my attention toward my distinct Classes. I flare my mana, forcing as much power into the Skill as I can, and grasp the structures of the two Classes. As I hoped, the Legacy Skill immediately highlights overlapping elements in the Classes, such as the way mana manipulation works to control [Greater Heat Manipulation].

I’m a glassblower, an artisan, a crafter. I’m also a runic researcher and manipulator of mana. There is no reason to bifurcate my identity. Drawing on my experience with creating [Vitrification], I force the two Classes toward each other.

Removing runes and slicing away arrays that are redundant feels effortless. Empowered by the Legacy of the soul surgeon—I never did learn her Class, although I think it was more arcane than simply [Fleshwarper] or something—I catch a vision for combining the Classes. Instead of wasting time ranking up two separate Classes, I will grow in strength by embracing both halves of my identity.

Joy lends me wings. I move faster and faster, melting down and rearranging the elements of the two Classes so that I can merge them into one. Amazingly, it feels like glass-making. Combining them is like a hot join in the studio. Never before have the constituent runes felt so malleable, so eager to follow my commands.

No. My invitations.

Master Melidandri’s imbuing showed me a different path to power. A more excellent way.

The irony of using Scalpel’s powerful tools in service of Melidandri’s gentle leading isn’t lost on me. Guiding the mana is no longer a challenge or struggle, but a collaboration. More, a celebration!

An entire world opens up to me as all the pieces finally slide into place. Where two Classes once existed, a single gleaming edifice now stands, proud and triumphant. I memorize every sharp angle and gentle curve, reading the unfurled banner with exultation.

I return to my body, surfacing from my soul, and leap to my feet. A laugh bubbles up from within me, pure and full of joy. For far too long, I’ve been at the mercy of those stronger than I am. But for once we finally have a fighting chance. I’ll keep my friends safe, come what may.

After all, I’m no longer a weak and naïve [Glassworker]. I’ve become something stronger. Greater. The culmination of all my setbacks, lucky encounters, and hard work over the years. Now?

I am a [Glass Mage].

End Book Five