Still seated under the tall oak, the first thing Rowan did was pull up his status.

  The twenty-five points he had to distribute were a definite boon, though they paled in comparison to his other reward. Still, Rowan couldn’t keep the smile off his face

  Let’s get to it, he thought, his mind already made up.

  He’d had more than enough time to think this through. But now that it was finally time to actually make a decision, Rowan found himself going over his choices once more.

  Strength and Focus are out. If I need to punch someone in the face to win a fight, I’m doing something wrong.

  Fourteen was already high for a mage, and pushing it further felt like a waste.

  I can mimic Focus with mastery. Putting a few points into it would let me keep an extra [Burning Whip] active, but I’ll get there on my own.

  Willpower was a strange one.

  The speed a mage's mana recovered was directly tied to how fast he was able to learn spells. Talent was at play there too, for sure. But it still took thousands of casts to fully master a difficult spell, and being able to perform more of those in a day was a bottleneck all mages dealt with.

  Well, except for Rowan.

  His trait, combined with the mana potions in the Vault made mana an abundant resource. It took him half an hour to fully refill his reserves. Cutting that down by a few minutes didn’t seem necessary.

  That left Dexterity, Vitality, and Intelligence. All three of them important in their own way.

  Those he couldn’t ignore.

  I’ll focus on Intelligence, he decided. Having more mana to work with is never a bad idea. Especially now that I’ll have a whole other affinity to play with.

  Wanting to get to it as soon as possible, Rowan put fifteen of his twenty-five stat points into Intelligence.

  The change was immediate.

  His Core didn’t grow any larger, that wasn’t what Intelligence did. What it did was compress his mana, allowing more of it to fit inside.

  Rowan looked inward, directing his focus towards his reserves.

  A solid fifty percent increase, he thought excitedly, a wide smile on his face.

  If he fought the shaman as he was right now, Rowan doubted that the fight would end with him running empty. It was a tremendous increase in power, but he wasn’t done yet. He still had ten more points to distribute.

  His first instinct was to dump all ten of those into Dexterity.

  Healing potions were usually enough to keep him alive. And with Zoe most likely joining their team, Vitality seemed like the least important of the three.

  However, that would have been a mistake.

  Rowan didn’t need to be able to survive multiple deadly attacks. But what he did need was to be able to survive one.

  Once again, he was reminded of his duel. Particularly, how it ended.

  If his Vitality had been any lower, the injury and subsequent blood loss might have been enough to drop him unconscious. Something that would have most definitely led to his death.

  Vitality was quiet. It didn’t let him break rocks with his bare hands, or run faster than a human had any right too. But that didn’t make it any less important.

  In the end, Rowan decided to split the difference.

  Five into both. That seems alright.

  Without hesitation, he confirmed his choice.

  A warm sensation engulfed him, his body changing as the System did its work.

  It lasted barely a second. Short enough that Rowan might have thought he’d imagined it. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  He looked over the changes.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Standing up, he immediately felt the difference.

  It was the most noticeable after affixing. Especially at lower ranks.

  Five points may not seem like a whole lot, but right now, Rowan was twenty percent faster than he was just moments ago.

  He had an urge to test himself. To rush towards the biggest, baddest opponent he could find and examine his newfound strength.

  A certain Silver-rank came to mind.

  But not yet. There’s still one more thing I need to do.

  Leaving the shade of the tree he’d spent the last week under, Rowan made his way inside. He wanted to be laying down for this next part, and his couch looked perfect for the job.

  After getting comfortable, he once again closed his eyes. Only this time, instead of sending his perception into himself, Rowan directed it towards the ring on his finger.

  Just advancing wasn’t enough to gain a second affinity. To do that, he needed a catalyst. One that he would hopefully find in the Vault.

  He couldn’t wait to see the changes his tier-up had brought, and with a lurching sensation, Rowan appeared in a grand hall.

  He wasn’t actually there. His body was still in Litwick, sprawled out on the couch. It was his spirit that had moved.

  The Vault was so much more than just a storage device. It was a Masterwork. Created by an ancestor of his more than a millennia ago.

  Archmage Ryoma Athlain, the Wanderer, he recalled.

  He was a White-Core mage with the tier four-affinity Link, and he’d used it to create a bloodline treasure that surpassed all others of its type, quantifiably. The System recognized it as a Masterwork, and it showed.

  The ring on his finger wasn’t the actual Vault, no more than a gate was a castle.

  That was what made it special. It held more than a thousand high-grade storage rings could have, and it was completely unnoticeable.

  To anyone else, it was a plain stone ring. Even Archmages weren’t capable of seeing through it. They might know what it was, but that wasn’t enough to crack it.

  To use it, you needed a Link.

  One only members of his family had.

  The combined wealth of a Great House—accumulated through centuries—locked away behind a bloodline spanning just as long.

  If someone particularly strong asked him for the ring, he could even give it away. It would come back to him sooner rather than later, the soul-bond making sure of that.

  Spiritually, the Vault was as light as a feather. Soul-bonding was usually done to treasured heirlooms, to weapons that a person would use for a lifetime. There was only a certain number of those a spirit could handle, but the Vault barely affected that.

  After all, it was just a ring.

  Rowan looked around, his eyes immediately drawn to a massive door inlaid into the opposite wall. Stone carvings adjourned its side, with beasts of all kinds battling towards the top.

  It was one of seven in the room. The one to its left was already opened, a large ruby shining brightly overhead. There were six more to its right, their gemstones dull. But Rowan’s gaze was focused on the door in front of him. A perfectly cut topaz glowing softly above.

  Advancing in rank granted him access to more of his inheritance. A portion of it that would hopefully be better than the basic equipment offered behind the first door.

  Not wasting any time, Rowan stepped closer. The massive stone slabs trembled as they opened outwards, revealing a large room.

  His eyes scanned the room, marveling at what he saw.

  Rows upon rows of enchanted weapons filled the wall to his left. From daggers to battle axes, and everything in between. The subtle gleam of enchantments adorning them.

  To his right, there were armors of all kinds. Heavy imperial warplate next to lightweight leather.

  But the central wall drew his attention.

  Rowan made his way closer, his fingers brushing across the various rings, amulets, and other protective gear. Each piece was rare or above, something a Silver-rank wouldn’t be ashamed to have.

  If Rowan had to guess, it was worth more than what they made from the goblin quest.

  He slipped it on, grinning as another appeared from nothing to take its place.

  There were enough of them here to outfit a legion. And as he looked around the room, taking in everything it had to offer, Rowan felt a sense of awe overtake him.

  This was on a whole other level when compared to the first chamber.

  That held basic weapons—finely made, but mundane nonetheless. Enchantments were different. A skilled blacksmith was needed to work the materials, carving runes, while an enchanter Imbued them with an Intent.

  His eyes moved towards the center of the wall, where his real prize stood.

  Four separate bookshelves dominated it. The only similarity between the two rooms. Each one was a masterpiece of craftsmanship carved from different types of wood.

  The first one was a rich, crimson mahogany. Its grain shimmering faintly as though embers smoldered just beneath the surface. The tomes it held grew in thickness the further up he looked. There were three of them on the third shelf, and Rowan recognized one binding immediately.

  How could he not? He’d spent hours poring over it.

  [Fireball] was a spell he’d been working on for weeks. It was the only Chant-level Fire spell he’d had access to. Till now, at least.

  A sudden need to pour over all of them nearly overwhelmed him. But he held himself back, his gaze instead locked on the spell tome at the top, alongside a full Fire affinity Core. It was larger than all the rest, and it wasn’t just for show.

  “A Hymn,” Rowan muttered, carefully grabbing the book, almost reverently tracing the cover.

  Cinderstorm, Hymn-level.

  A spell that brings ruin through a cascading wave of Fire.

  Cinderstorm engulfs the battlefield in rolling waves of flame, each pulse growing in intensity as it spreads outward. The spell is relentless, consuming all in its path with fiery vengeance. Its strength lies in its ability to overwhelm defenses, reducing even fortified positions to ash.

  The spell draws heavily on the caster’s mana reserves. Making it a devastating, if costly opener. Mastery requires not just power, but foresight, as once unleashed, nothing short of another Hymn will stop it.

  Note. Do not take this spell lightly. Miscasting it isn’t a mistake most get to learn from.

  He set it back, his hands shaking.

  “That’s going to be fun,” he muttered, grinning from ear to ear.

  To the right of it was a shelf made of smooth, pale-blue ashwood, seeming to ripple under the dim light. It had the same layout as the first one. Whisper and Murmur-level spells at the bottom, three Chant’s on top, and a single Hymn to draw it all together.

  Earth magic was on the next one. Built from rugged, dark brown oak. Its surface was rough to the touch, as though carved directly from an ancient tree.

  Finally, he reached the shelf he was looking for. It was crafted from pale, silvery birchwood. The grains themselves seeming to dance as if caught in an unseen breeze.

  He picked up one of the Chant-level tomes, opening it and reading through the first page.

  [Cyclone Stride], Chant-level.

  A spell that transforms the caster’s movements into a blur of wind and fury.

  Cyclone Stride enhances the caster’s speed to an extraordinary degree, leaving trails of wind in their wake that tear at nearby enemies. Each step carries a burst of kinetic energy, allowing the caster to strike with devastating force or evade incoming attacks effortlessly.

  While unparalleled in mobility, the spell requires precision. Without discipline, the caster risks losing control of their movements, causing collateral damage—or worse.

  Note. Speed without control is a disaster waiting to happen.

  This was exactly what he’d been looking for. A way for him to leverage his magic in order to deal with one of his weaknesses. Namely, being slower than things that wanted to kill him.

  But mastering a Wind based Chant-level spell wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. He would need to work up to it, but thankfully, there were other options for him to choose from.

  Rowan picked out a spell from a shelf below, nodding as he read.

  [Tailwind], Murmur-level.

  A spell that bestows the gift of speed, carried by the wind’s favor.

  When cast, [Tailwind] enhances the movement speed of the caster by a tremendous amount. The effect is akin to running with a strong wind at your back, one that molds itself to your movements, making every step faster and lighter. It is useful in battles when quick repositioning is key. Though beware, the sudden increase in speed can prove disorienting.

  Note. You’d think combining it with [Whisper Step] would be a good idea. It isn’t.

  “This is it,” he said, closing his eyes, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over him.

  There was only one thing he needed to do before he could start learning a whole other school of magic.

  Rowan reached for the top shelf, scanning the spell’s name.

  “[Sky Sunder].” He whispered.

  But there was something else next to it. And out of the two, Rowan was more focused on the latter.

  He grabbed the fist-sized orb.

  Actually acquiring a second affinity was different from advancing. It required a mage to take another mana type into himself. To Imbue it into his Core. And to do that, another Core was needed.

  Rowan’s grip tightened around the smooth gem.

  Focusing, he withdrew his spirit from the Vault.

  He appeared back in his house, still lying on his couch. Only unlike before, there was something in his hands. Something that would make everything he’d been doing for the last week worth it.