Eventually, after an hour, Identify started to give me more information. It revealed not just what the chips were, but also their connection to the undead. Soon, tiny bits of the history were revealed like a patchwork quilt for each of those poor beings. Every chip told a story, a life turned into an abomination. With that realization, my ability moved up to 99%.

  Next, I turned to the broken glass. It littered the lab, remnants of alchemical experiments gone wrong. The glass wasn't ordinary; magic had hardened it, making it resistant to normal wear. Traces of compounds clung to its edges. Some were volatile, others inert. Each piece was a puzzle, a failed attempt at mastery. My spell dissected their properties, teasing out nuggets of information hidden within. I felt the Identify spell grow, stretching towards its next tier.

  I got the next bit when I was able to Identify one of the compounds in great detail.

  Xerealin- an alchemical agent used to boost the potency of reactions.

  I thought that might prove useful, so I set the pieces of glass with Xerealin on it aside for later use.

  The broken table was next. It had seen better days. Now, it was a mess of splinters and broken legs. I ran my spell over it, searching for anything of value. The wood was mundane, but the craftsmanship spoke of skill. It hinted at a workshop, a place of creation and destruction. The table had been a witness to countless experiments. My mind soaked in the details, leaving me wishing that I hadn’t known all the torture which this table had been the site of. Whether Darje or small creatures akin to our rabbits, no living being deserved what had happened here.

  Stone chips from the earth elemental experiments caught my eye. They were scattered around a marked section of the lab. Each chip was infused with elemental energy. It was aimless and couldn’t form a viable elemental. My effort to sing it to life earlier had drained out much of the remaining power. Yet, with that final surge, I pushed the Identify to common tier. Now, I just needed something new to test it on.

  I found a ruined chainmail shirt in the undead experimentation area. It was torn, links missing or broken. Yet, it radiated a faint magical aura. It had been enchanted, for all the good that had done for the one wearing it. The enchantment was faded; the magic drained. I poured my focus into Identify. It activated on command without any struggle. Then an image if the item began to take shape.

  I didn’t stop there though. I pushed to try to learn some of the history of the being who had worn this. Judging from the shape, he or she had been vaguely humanoid, but with bones that seemed more porous.

  Then the vision hit me. I saw the being who had worn it. His name flashed before my eyes, but it wasn’t important. He was a Forerunner. That much I knew for sure. He’d been trying to help his world, which was in fourth place. The mission to clear the dungeon of Darje came about and he made it this far, but then was captured.

  The things that were done to him by Azirin, the Darje necromancer, were unspeakable, yet I saw vague images. It was more than enough to turn my stomach. Then I lost my hold on the ability and blissfully, those dark images faded.

  Still, it was enough for me to understand.

  Identify (Common 1%) – May now be activated at will. Evolution has been directed towards history and lore of object.

  I chuckled. I probably should have focused on gaining tactical information or composition, instead, I’d let my mind go down the path of history. As Samvek was always saying, Intent matters.

  I eyed the materials scattered around the lab, my mind racing with possibilities. Crafting was never my strong suit, but the drive to push my abilities further spurred me on. The idea of creating glasses imbued with the Identify ability felt like a breakthrough, a tangible application of my skills that could benefit my team, even when I wasn’t with them.

  First, I needed to cut the glass. I had no idea how that was supposed to work. I tried to remember any of those shows I might have watched from the history or discovery channel. So many late nights with my dad meant that I’d watched more than my fair share of how-to-do-things type of tv shows, but my memory betrayed me. Maybe I’d fallen asleep during the episode about glass blowing. Still, I knew it could happen. The system gave me this occupation, I just needed the right materials and tools.

  The pieces with Xerealin seemed perfect for this, their magical hardness promising durability. I conjured a force construct, shaping it into a thin, sharp edge. I grinned at the thought I was getting double duty out of this exercise by working on both my occupation and my abilities at the same time.

  Concentrating, I carefully sliced through the glass, each cut precise, guided by my will. The glass resisted, but the force construct, fueled by my determination, sliced through, creating two perfect lenses. Well, if I was being fair, they were far from perfect. They lacked the smooth concave shape that I’d seen in my mom’s glasses, but they were going to do. I instinctively knew that they were good enough for system work.

  Finding a hammer in the ruins was a stroke of luck. It was old, its handle worn, but it felt right in my hand. I used it to gently tap the metal from the chainmail, flattening and shaping it into thin, delicate frames for the glasses. The metal bent to my will, transformed by the force of my blows and the vision in my mind. I lost track of time at this point, but was certain that it was taking hours. Maybe not very practical, but I was just learning.

  The wood from the broken table came next. Using my dagger, I whittled it down, shaping small pieces to serve as the arms of the glasses. The wood was pliant under my knife, slowly taking the form I envisioned. It was tedious work, requiring focus and patience, but piece by piece, the glasses began to take shape.

  Combining the wood, the metal from the chainmail, bone chips, and the magically hardened glass with Xerealin on it required a delicate touch. I layered the materials, and held them in place as I applied a binding agent I had identified. At least the lab had a good variety of things for me to work with. It was the small details which I couldn’t imitate, like tiny screws and hinges to allow the arms to bend. Instead, I shaped bits of bone chips to hold the arms tightly connected to the frames. The process was intricate, demanding every ounce of my concentration.

  Then came the most crucial part: imbuing the glasses with the Identify ability. I drew deep, visualizing the ability as a tangible force, a thread of energy that I could weave into the glasses. I almost lost it as I considered what I was doing. I was no enchanter. I didn’t have a spell to do this. The system gave me abilities, but it also set parameters about how those abilities worked.

  Nothing in the description of any of my abilities suggested that I’d be able to do this. Yet, Samvek had seen my status sheet. He knew what I was capable of. If he suggested it, I had to imagine that it was possible.

  That was when I had the epiphany. I could focus on a spell or an ability, so why not an occupation? I thought about what it meant to be a Junkman Artificer. I mentally sunk into that part of my status sheet, and then I felt the tingles.

  I held the nearly completed glasses in my hands, focusing intently, channeling my will into them. The air around me seemed to thicken, charged with the power of my concentration.

  Imprinting my ability onto the glasses was unlike anything I had done before. It was as if I was reaching not just into the core of my class, but deeper. I was reaching into my core nature as a Forerunner and then extracting a sliver of it to imprint onto the glasses. The task demanded a level of focus and control that pushed me to my limits, but I didn't falter. I couldn't. This lab had shown me the power of preparation. I needed the power this occupation could bring as much as I needed the power of my class and levels.

  Finally, as the last vestiges of my energy wove into the glasses, I felt a click. Not physical, but metaphysical. A connection formed, a bond between the glasses and my ability. I held my breath, hardly daring to believe it had worked.

  The glasses shimmered in my sight.

  First project accepted. Junkman Artificer class applied.

  The glasses reshaped in my hand as the matter fused in ways that I couldn’t imitate. The system made up what I was lacking, but that was supposed to be what this class was. The glasses now had folding arms. They looked much the same as what I had created, but they were stronger, more durable. Closer to a visor than a pair of reading glasses.

  Yet something was missing. I wouldn’t have noticed it before, but I started to sing. I pulled on the vague bits of spiritual energy in the air to fuel something more in these glasses. When that wasn’t enough, I dug deeper into my own soul. I was full of spiritual energy and so I tapped that. There was no pain, but I instinctively knew that I needed to be careful about infusing myself into the glasses.

  Then I was dumbstruck as another voice joined with me. He was singing alongside me and his voice, while low and guttural, contained the power of Spirit Singing. How that could be, I didn’t know, but I just kept singing as I felt Urg matching my rhythm and adding his power to mine.

  Chapter 29- Holding Off

  Our voices entwined, and I sensed an increase in spiritual energy flowing into the glasses. The wood soaked it up the best, but the bone did a decent job too. The glass and metal, on the other hand, seemed more resistant. There was a distinct flavor to the energy being coaxed into the glasses by Urg. It was unlike the spiritual energy which imbued the fire and earth parts, and it was definitely different from that around the undead.

  I was beginning to understand general spiritual energy as being more of a conceptual energy related to an aspect of reality. That probably wasn’t putting it into proper terms, but I felt a need to try to at least understand or quantify what I was experiencing. This energy was definitely similar to life mana. What I was trying to figure out—was how it differed.

  Then Urg’s song ended, and he settled back onto the ground. I felt drained just as he did, but the notification I got lifted me.

  You have successfully created your first item using the Junkman Artificer occupation. You have touched upon lesser trade skills- carving, design, metalworking, and glass working.

  You have gained sufficient experience to reach level 2 in your occupation.

  New item created: Vibrant Visor of Identification (common)- this item has been crafted by Silas Renner. It is imbued with 10 charges of the ability: Identify at a common level. Specialization: History of an item or being. Uses recharge at the rate of one per day.

  Vibrant bonus: Faster identification of living beings and greater depth of detail.

  Vitality: +5

  It was better than I could have hoped for. I’d expected it to be a limited use item, but the recharge fact probably had something to do with all that spiritual energy we poured into it at the end.

  Once I gave the glasses to Samvek, he examined them. After a few seconds he said, “These are impressive considering that you’re so new to this. At some point, once you’ve reached a point where your climb through the levels stalls out, the clan will support your development as a crafter.”

  His tone left no doubt about his thoughts. Crafting was nice to him, but gaining power in a combat class was more important. I just enjoyed the achievement and then did some slow training for the rest of the day before sleeping again.

  For the next ten days, I continued examining the lab and letting my imagination run wild. I didn’t craft anything else mostly because Samvek insisted that most of my time be spent on training. It was showing real results. At some point, I seemed to cross a threshold where all of my martial skills combined together. We even worked on grappling and unarmed combat.

  Samvek was without a doubt a master of every type of combat that he had me practice. One time while I was lying on my back for a moment before getting up after being thrown by him again, I asked, “Just how high are your skill levels at?”

  He stared back at me and I thought he wasn’t going to answer but then he shook his head. “Just so you know, a question like that is considered very rude in the wider multiverse, even if asking a senior member of the clan. If you notice, I haven’t asked you again about where your skills are at. I only initially needed to know so that I could prepare your training curriculum.”

  I nodded to show that I understood, and he continued, “But just so you know, the lowest of my combat skills are over 250 and the highest is nearly 400. My mentor won’t allow me to form an epic class core until I have at least three skills over 400 and all of my abilities and battle arts have reached legendary tier.”

  I popped back up. Those numbers seemed staggering to me. I had grown significantly recently with three skills now above 100. The higher they got, the harder it became to grow them. I could only imagine how long Samvek had been at this. Him telling me about his own limits made me feel better about the way he trained me, and I recommitted to exceeding all his expectations.

  It helped that I’d gained a significant number of stat points for passing 100 in a skill prior to forming an uncommon core. The system seemed to treat that as an accomplishment worth noting. The three skills that had broken that threshold were Staff Fighting, Blunt Weapons, and Polearms. Several other skills were closing in on it and so I was more than fine with waiting a bit longer. I could now see why Samvek wanted me to grow stronger without worrying too much about levels.

  Even my abilities and spells were growing faster. The main source of my frustration was that no matter how much I worked on the epic abilities they barely budged. I’d only made a single percent of growth on Spirit Singing, despite spending hours each day doing it while I ran forms or performed other rote physical activities. Shape Conjured Construct grew a bit faster, but I’d only gain two percentage points in it.

  I understood that the lack of combat was holding back my growth. The system rewarded real world exercises the best. But even crafting the glasses had helped my Spirit Singing more than just playing with the lingering remnants of spiritual energy in the lab. That was when it hit me. Perhaps working with a denser concentration of spiritual energy would make the difference.

  Since I wasn’t willing to ask Samvek if I could experiment on him; I started singing and targeting my own soul. My idea was to try to increase the potency of my spiritual energy. It might have seemed intuitive, but nothing was further from the truth, as I couldn’t make it work.

  When I couldn’t grasp onto my own soul, despite feeling it very clearly, I tried pulling in bits of the lingering energy from the elementals. The same thing happened. Holding that energy was easy enough, but I couldn’t find a way to push it into my own soul.

  After a few hours of this, Samvek said, “I’m no expert but, I’ve always heard that it’s impossible to affect your own soul with an ability. That was one of the reasons for the formations of the sects. The founders offered more than just ideals. They actually helped refine the souls of their followers.”

  To say I was frustrated would have been an understatement. It wasn’t that I cared about modifying my soul; it was that I had visions of being able to strengthen those of people back on Earth. First Mom and Cece but then perhaps others. I imagined it would make them better able to adapt to the system and I might even be able to boost their starting stats that way. But I wasn’t willing to just start experimenting on my family. For all I knew, I’d end up severing their souls from their bodies.

  Then it hit me. I could experiment on Urg. If anything went wrong, I could just re-summon him. He still didn’t talk much, but since he had displayed the ability to use Spirit Singing, I knew he was growing. Since I only summoned him once a day, the summoning spell hadn’t progressed that much, but it was growing.

  Most of the time, he laid around doing nothing. So, I walked over to where he was. He seemed to know I was coming before I got to where he was atop a slab in the earth elemental pit. He rose up and looked at me. As always, his eyes seemed to pierce into me.

  “Uh, Urg, I was wondering if we could experiment on each other with Spirit Singing. I’m hoping that I can empower you or at least our connection. I already tried on myself, but I can’t make it work.”

  “Can’t be.”

  His answer was short as always, but left me wondering. “Can’t or won’t?”

  He seemed to consider my question before answering, “Can’t.”

  Hmm… I wondered what he knew that I didn’t. “Why can’t I? Are you saying that it won’t work? Why?”

  This time his answer took far longer. I started to grow impatient as I waited more than five minutes for him to answer.

  “Soul reflection.”

  I was confused by that. Did he think that anything I did to him would reflect back to me? I knew that we shared positive magical effects that the other received, but any change I could make with Spirit Singing felt like it was more than just a buff. This went beyond mana and was an altering of the fundamental nature of a being.

  Samvek seemed to appear out of nowhere, “You keep broaching subjects which I’m not qualified to teach you about, but what do you understand about the nature of an eidolon?”

  I rattled off to him the line from the spell description. “An eidolon is a spirit creature which takes upon itself the material of the physical realm to reflect a blending of your needs and its desires. The eidolon is a singular being which cannot be truly destroyed in the physical realm.”

  “And why do you think he takes on a form which matches your needs and desires?”

  I shrugged. “I just assumed that was a positive effect of the spell.”

  “You’re still thinking of spells incorrectly. Spells are not always bound to you as tightly as an ability, but core spells are a close part of you. And this spell is part of your inheritance, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “So it will be even closer to you. But remember that all abilities and spells take things out of you. Whether it be mana which is produced by the system and fills the multiverse, or spiritual energy which is produced by living beings.”

  “You mean that you think the spell taps into my spiritual energy not just mana?”