The Strongest Spellblade

Justin Burnstock 722~359

2. Windshell Gossimer 715~355

3. Harren Axefall 644~321

4. Stormy Aether 640~318

5. Godfrey Windsome 616~305

6. Terroc 615~305

7. April Withers 595~298

8. Frank Vonberg 592~296

9. Teresa Mayflower 581~292

10. Sam Whitesmith 569~285

My lead had pulled ahead by another 4 skill levels, putting me at 7 skill levels ahead of Windshell. I glanced over at her, since we had both shown up when the results were posted along with everyone else from our year. It was a small group, and we all knew each other from the ranking posts.

”Still in second place, you are doing a great job,” I told Windshell with a grin. She glared at me and stomped off.

”Really, Justin?” Harren asked me, and I shrugged.

”Her impotent anger is amusing after all the nonsense she said early on. She would never be my friend, regardless.”

”Fair. Well, good luck keeping the top spot,” he said and stomped off.

”Amusing as always,” Stormy said with a slight smile and twitch of her long Elven ears before leaving as well.

Godfrey and Terroc were glaring at each other. I knew little about them, but I didn’t care about getting involved. They had been fighting over the fifth and sixth spots for years, always one or two skill levels apart from each other.

One might think that only by counting tier 3 skills that the skill levels should be divisible by three, but tier 4 skills were counted as well. Everyone had slowed down; it wasn’t just me. But there were rumors that her family had given Windshell another soul fruit. It was probably red or orange.

And it might have helped her, but I was confident that I would remain ahead of her and take first place for all seven years.

It allowed for some come from behind individuals who surged upwards in their skill level gain in the last year. As for the final ten, we were all drug tested as well for Pic. The school didn’t waste time doing that in the earlier years, but with the competition so fierce, the College didn’t want its top graduates killing themselves to win. It would defeat the purpose of the College and be terrible publicity.

While I liked to think no one was that stupid, Pic was an insidious drug. Almost as tempting as using my free stat points. I felt my soul straining from all my skills. Sensory skills didn’t have a good path of consolidation, unfortunately. Sensory Aura was a possibility, but it was important to get as many sensory skills as possible before consolidating them into that skill according to the Dean.

For now, there was no rush. Once I was sure there were no more sensory skills I needed to maximize, then I would look at consolidating them. But for now, it was a simple matter to constantly cycle through them. It was almost second nature at this point and improved my Skill Control.

It was time to get ready for the meet and greet that was held once every three months with the top students and the highest-ranking members of the faculty here at the Tower Club, a restricted area in the main tower that hosted events and was invitation only.

While these meet and greets weren’t my favorite, I hoped I would learn about some tracking skills from the legends present. Some had hinted at such skills, but they were legacy skills. No one would easily share such skills. There were other categories of skills like this — divination, curse, and soul skills.

While my mother could get away with being a lone wolf because of her immense power, it was better to be seen and friendly with other legends. I had enough trouble from the Dark Cabal, and my father’s invasion of the continent was creating waves. None of those waves had hit me yet, but it was a concern I had.

I didn’t need to make friends, but I couldn’t afford enemies. Taking the top spot at the College of Advancement would put an even bigger target on my back. I wasn’t just a legendary child anymore, but an adventurer who was almost guaranteed to become a legend and possibly go further.

While becoming a supreme legend wasn’t an inheritance, the possibility that I had gotten my mother’s legacy was quite high. I answered such questions that she didn’t give me anything to learn from before she went on her final descent except to learn runes and resistance skills.

The questions were rude, but for the chance at my mother’s legacy, these vultures wouldn’t hesitate. I wouldn’t lie since such things could be detected with the right skills, but I would deflect. My mother had given me permission to look at her legacy only if I placed first. While I could have cheated and looked at it ahead of time, I had refrained. The circling vultures were useful in keeping me firm in this decision.

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Healer Melon didn’t attend the party. He had come to a couple in the past, but now that I was of age, he didn’t bother. His future was already locked in stone with a comfortable retirement once I graduated to the Five Star Institute of Healing.

I wore my armor and equipment to the party. Wearing my best equipment was acceptable at a high-end social event since other legends and adventurers would be present.

Heading up in the elevator to the tower club, I didn’t fidget or adjust anything. I was used to my armor after training with it for the last half a year. Heavy armor took some getting used to, but it offered much greater protection than medium armor, specifically from glancing blows and area attacks.

The equipment boosted some of my stats. While I could have asked for more specific effects, it normally wasn’t worthwhile until one settled into their preferred combat style. If I had chosen more custom effects, then it would have been more frustrating to change equipment later.

Better to stick to high-end but generic tier 3 equipment for ease of use and replaceability. Even my Beginner’s Blade had been reforged. It was short now that I had grown to almost two meters. I was tall, but not the tallest. At least I wouldn’t be looked down upon by others.

My mother had been about this height. She was not a short woman, but one was more intimidated by her mere presence than her physical appearance.

I stepped into the Tower Club. A buffet and been set up, and several guests had already arrived.

I made my way towards the food. If I was going to have to suffer through this event, then I would make sure I got some good food at least.

”Long time, no see,” Harren joked. He had the same idea as I did by loading up on food and finding a quiet corner.

”There should be an eating skill; I would maximize it easily.”

”Only good thing about these events is the food,” he replied. Neither of us was interested in networking, but we couldn’t afford to offend people. We made our way to a table near a window. I enjoyed having a pleasant view.

”The College has been near the ground for a while.”

”Safety issues, I heard. But after that large burst of Mana at the tower, who knows what the real reason is.”

”You think they will land the College?” I asked as the female Dwarf April joined us. She was another member of my adventuring team once I graduated from the College.

”There is construction happening on an island. I could see it becoming a permanent home and repair facility for the College long term. Flying isn’t as stress-free as the College makes it out to be. There is a lot of wear and tear on the lift engines,” she explained.

”A shame. The views were amazing,” I replied.

”I have other news. The preliminary testing is completed. We are running a full-scale test this break if you want to attend to prepare for an immediate descent after graduation,” April said. Stormy and Sam joined as well as I perked up quite a bit.

April was working with the Dwarven Wither Corporation to construct and operate a living war mech that could level up.

”Took long enough,” Harren said.

”There were a lot of technical problems to sort out. But the first real activation will be three days from now along with a weapons test,” she said.

”Now you have my interest,” I said.

”Are you going with mechanical weapons or Mana-based weapons?” Stormy asked.

”Both. The war mech is compact, but highly versatile. The main issue is probably its mobility, but that is being worked on with a compact lift engine,” she explained.

”You could fit one in the war mech?” I asked, in surprise.

”It wasn’t easy, but we managed to offset the heaviness of the armor. The Mana consumption is high, unfortunately.” That didn’t sound good. ”But the hope is that as it levels up, it will produce its own Mana, offsetting the Mana cores needed to fuel it. I might have to request a larger amount at the start.”

”Get back to us with hard numbers and a proposal. Changing the loot distribution now could create issues. It would probably be best to just buy the Mana cores off people and repay them later,” Stormy suggested.

”I can’t wait to graduate and leave this place,” Sam said, changing the topic of conversation. Sam was a support mage, and he focused on illusion and trap skills. Not very useful for dungeon combat, but we would wait and see how he performed in our first year in the dungeon.

”I agree with that. This place can only teach so many combat skills,” Harren said. While his focus was his axe and other supporting axe skills, he was also specializing in monster processing. He wanted to make a lot of money to live a comfortable life and to pay for better equipment.

”Hmmm, perhaps. But I won’t deny that the skill levels have been quite useful,” Stormy said. She was an Elven battle mage. The titles of mage or caster were informal, denoting someone who focused on spell skills for their main profession. It was like spellblade, a general class name for someone using a group of skills specifically.

”Well, as long as the war mech gets to fight, I will have no complaints,” April said. She was an incredibly rare craftsperson who was going to descend into the dungeon and not just get power leveled. While she was going in with a superpowered war mech, I did not know how it would do compared to me. It was something unique that had never been seen before.

The ability to gain levels would be a huge game changer. If it could do that, then the plan for it to become a high-level inheritance would signal a shift in power towards the Dwarves over a long period of time. I still hadn’t seen or heard anything to make me suspect that the Dark Cabal was behind the project, but I wouldn’t let my guard down.

Ozy let out a soft hiss. He was the team mascot and a capable fighter and healer in his own right. Everyone had agreed that they didn’t want his healing unless it was an emergency with a person’s life on the line. There were too many risks of a healing mistake, that it was best to avoid such things unless absolutely necessary.