Second Life as a Soldier

I also started understanding how class and affinity relate to the world.

Turns out, the world runs on two interconnected systems: Class Progression and Mana Cultivation.

Class progression isn’t level-based like a game. It’s more like a profession. You grow by doing the job. A Swordsman improves by refining swordsmanship. A Duelist gets better through actual duels. My father, who was a low-ranked scribe, completed his Tier 2 trial when his Writing skill evolved into Fast Writing, and he gained Calligraphy as a class skill. Classes are, in essence, the jobs you live.

That’s when I came across the formal classification of class ranks, something scholars and trainers had standardized over generations: Novice (Tier 1), Initiate (Tier 2), Adept (Tier 3), Expert (Tier 4), Master (Tier 5), Grandmaster (Tier 6), and Perfected (Tier 7).

On the other hand, Mana Cultivation is how your body grows stronger. The more mana you accumulate and refine, the more your stats improve. Like class progression, mana cultivation is divided into seven tiers, though anything beyond Tier 4 is shrouded in mystery, even in the library, most of it is speculation.

To reach Tier 2 in mana cultivation, the books stated that the body must meet certain baseline requirements: thirty-five points across the physical attributes and thirty across the spiritual ones. This threshold marks the point where the body becomes capable of housing and circulating mana effectively.

Apparently, most trained soldiers and nobles awaken with their physical stat requirements for Tier 2 already fulfilled, thanks to good food, physical labor, and combat focus. To reach Tier 3, things get complex, you must form a mana pathway, some kind of internal circuit or channel system to flow mana through the body. Tier 4 requires the formation of a mana core. But I’m still unclear on what exactly that means.

Statistically speaking, the average commoner has 25 physical attributes and 20 spiritual attributes at the time of awakening, they naturally breakthrough in both class and cultivation by age 40–45. But by then, physical stats start degrading, and unless they’ve found some magical treasure or potion, most never reach Tier 3.

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

The more I read, the more it became clear that class progression and mana cultivation weren’t two separate tracks, they were two sides of the same coin. Every scholarly account treated them as deeply connected, growing together like roots and branches of a single tree.Though a few texts referenced rare individuals who managed to advance significantly in one without the other, they were always exceptions, not the norm. The overwhelming consensus was that growth in one system reinforced the other. Scholars described how a Swordsman’s physical training didn’t just build skill, it actively shaped the flow of mana in the body, forming pathways through repeated, focused motion. These pathways enhanced limbs, refined reflexes, and improved combat efficiency. Meanwhile, a Scholar’s path forged circuits through mental clarity, memory, and perception.

Without class development, mana had no anchor. It lacked refinement and direction. Past Tier 2, it wasn’t enough to just build up spiritual attributes and mana reserves, mana needed a vessel, a structure. That structure came from class skills. And on the cultivation side, Tier 3 wasn’t just another milestone, it was the stage where a complete mana pathway had to be formed. This pathway had to match the class’s demands, molded through lived experience and refined repetition.

The deeper I read, the more this pattern emerged: each major leap in class required a corresponding refinement in cultivation. For a Swordsman to reach the Adept stage, Tier 3 in class, they needed to have already achieved Tier 3 in mana cultivation. That meant not only forming mana pathways but shaping them to serve swordsmanship itself. The class trial didn’t just test technique, it tested how deeply mana and movement had become one.

At Tier 4, the bond became even more critical. Expert-level trials were rumored to involve duels with opponents who had already formed their mana cores, Tier 4 cultivation. Without a core of your own, scholars warned, your mana flow would collapse under pressure. You wouldn’t just fail, you could break.

In the end, Mana and class didn’t simply coexist, they evolved together. The trials weren’t gatekeepers, they were confirmations. That your body, your mana, and your identity had become one. That your class wasn’t just something you chose… it was something you had become.

This is where elemental affinity comes into play. To create a stable mana core, required for Tier 4 cultivation, you need at least 80% affinity with a single element. No one seems to know why, exactly. The books didn’t offer an explanation, only the repeated assertion: this is the law of the world. Unlike mana pathways, which anyone can theoretically form through training and experience, forming a core requires more than effort. It demands alignment, resonance, with the element itself. That’s why Tier 3 is where most people stop. They reach the edge, look down, and realize they can’t leap. They just… can’t go further.