Following her teacher out of the Adventurer's Guild, Flamelle finds herself in a daze for the second time in as many days, if for a vastly different reason this time.
She has not known Kette for long at all. Barely even a full day, really. But that was enough time to build an impression of the diminutive woman.
The first, and most obvious thing. Mistress Kette is powerful. Incredibly so. At least Orichalcum, probably Titled.
Her attitude however, didn't seem to line up with what Flamelle would have imagined of such a powerful, and apparently old, Mage.
For one, Kette is really small. She looks even younger than Flamelle, maybe about the same age. Kette doesn't have the imposing figure that Flamelle would picture when she would think of powerful Mages. Not like Kierra Kalashnikova, the greatest Mage ever. Tall, imposing, majestic.
Kette in comparison, just seemed like a simple, if rather mysterious, Witch passing through. Especially when her hat covered her face. Flamelle hasn't worked up the courage to ask why it has shrunk.
Her attitude is a little bit condescending, but she mostly just sounded bored in every conversation she has been in. She didn't show the kind of arrogance that Flamelle would have expected. Though, the super expensive looking robes are pretty fitting.
So despite being incredibly happy with lucking into the tutelage of such a powerful Mage, Flamelle didn't have much of an opinion of her beyond her strength. She felt a little bit racist thinking it, but she was kind of just assuming that for a long-lived species like an Elf, that Kette was simply looking at the world as if it was something insignificant that would all fade away in a moment.
She thought that Kette had only picked her up as a passing whim. A way to pass some time.
You are more talented than Aerion. I will take you to heights no other Human has ever touched upon.
Flamelle feels butterflies rising in her stomach as the memory replays.
It was only for a moment. Just for as long as it took to speak those words before she returned to normal.
But in that moment, Flamelle felt like she was speaking with a King of olde, or some Legendary Hero.
The fire within Kette's eyes as she spoke those words. The conviction, the charisma. It felt as if it was Kierra Kalashnikova herself speaking to her. Encouraging her. Inspiring her as the Hero once inspired entire armies to fight against the Cataclysms.
Because despite everything. Despite having only just met this woman.
Flamelle believed her.
Believed that Kette truly does think so highly of her. Of her.
It was...
She has never had someone express such unwavering faith in her before. It makes her want to do her best. To live up to Kette's expectations of her, even if she still doesn't fully believe them.
But even if her talent can't match Archmage Aerion, Flamelle will surpass him anyway!
She can't do anything else. There are no other options. Not when the alternative would be to turn Mistress Kette into a liar.
"E-excuse me!" A sudden, vaguely familiar voice calls out, pulling Flamelle from her thoughts.
She turns with Mistress Kette and finds herself surprised to see Markus—the young Cleric from the other day rushing their way, waving.
"Markus!?" She exclaims, greeting him with a smile. "I'm glad to see you doing well!"
"Thank you!" He smiles her way before turning his attention to the silent Kette. "And thank you as well! I never got the chance to say it back then, but you saved my life as well as the lives of my friends, so thank you very much!"
In the face of Markus' joyous thanks, Kette's expression doesn't so much as twitch.
"Hm. If that's all?" Kette asks, gesturing to the fact that he is blocking them.
Markus either misses or chooses to ignore the hint.
"Actually, when I told Father Peterson about everything that happened and how I was intending to seek you out in order to offer my thanks, he insisted that I invite you to visit the Church so that he may thank you himself."
If not for the fact that Flamelle had just seen Kette speak so dismissively with not only the local Guildmaster but also the Lord of Laptilla, then she would have probably been stunned by the offer.
The Church naturally isn't so exclusive as Nobility, but meeting with the Reverend Father of a Church as large as Laptilla's is not something that happens every day. Certainly not a private meeting anyway.
However, Flamelle is getting an idea of Kette's personality, so she doesn't find herself too surprised by the response Markus receives.
"I refuse."
"May I ask why?" Markus presses on, frowning slightly at the clearly unexpected refusal.
Flamelle wasn't expecting much of a response. Just something about how Kette is busy or how she just can't be bothered.
It turns out, as if Mistress Kette heard her thoughts about starting to understand her character, Kette decides to exceed all expectations with her response and floor Flamelle once more.
"Because religion is a scam. Your Goddess isn't real and I find the notion of organised religion to be little different to a mercantile organisation except instead of selling products that are actually useful, you only sell words and bondage. The un-fun kind."
There is a long silence following her words that seems to even drown out the bustle of the city around them.
Flamelle has never been exceptionally religious, but she still believes in the Goddess. Everyone does. At least she thought so.
Markus' pinched expression would have probably made her laugh if not for the cause of it leaving her with an expression not too dissimilar.
Both of them notably choose to ignore that last bit of Kette's words.
"Well," Markus eventually responds, sounding incredibly awkward as he does so. "Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, I suppose. Though, I fail to see how you could doubt in the existence of the Goddess when Heaven's existence is a well documented and proven fact."
Flamelle feels the same. It's not like people worship the Goddess just because someone said she was real and everyone should just trust them to not be lying. The Goddess' existence is as close to an indisputable fact as anything else.
Kette rolls her eyes. She's actually starting to seem somewhat annoyed too, which Flamelle already can tell is a rare thing to be expressed by her.
"Your 'Goddess' was probably just some random Mage in the Mythical Era who created Heaven as a joke and then got stuck with having to constantly drain her mana in order to sustain its existence solely because she is being held morally hostage, rather than because she is some benevolent saint. It's not like she speaks to you, is it? Offers you praise?"
Flamelle doesn't think that she has ever heard someone make a theory like that.
For one, what Mage could possibly even sustain Heaven's existence? The mana that must be required for that would be insane. Divine, even. Is her teacher a conspiracy theorist? Like the crazy people who say that the Cataclysms never died and are just wearing the skins of the world's Kings? Or that the world is just some higher being's simulation?
"Then how would you explain the Miracles that I can cast in Her name?" Markus counters, seemingly really getting into what is apparently a debate now and forgetting why he came here. Flamelle kind of wants to leave. "Miracles like [Divine Blessing] or [Divine Light]?"
Kette waves the question away. "Flavour text. Anyone can name anything anything," Kette almost snaps back, also getting far too into this debate than Flamelle would have expected of the previously so aloof woman. "I could invent a Spell that specifically turns dry leaves into wet grass and name the Spell [Divine Transmutation]. That doesn't mean there's anything 'Divine' about it. Your 'Miracles' are just Spells with fancy names, and the only reason you can cast above your ability as a Mage is because you are drawing mana from Heaven instead of your own pool. Clerics are just Mages that can't be bothered to put the effort into learning the proper Spell formulae, just spending your time praying and begging and waiting for a better Mage to do all the hard work for you. Lazy."
...Mistress Kette feels pretty strongly about this, huh?
Flamelle wouldn't have expected it.
Oddly though, this unexpected interaction has made Kette seem more.. is it racist to say human? Flamelle just means that she seems more approachable. Like she is a normal person too. Well, maybe not normal, but whatever.
Markus stands there for a moment, his mouth opening and closing and failing to form words.
Flamelle decides that maybe it is for the best if things end here, before they can actually start shouting at each other about theism in the middle of the street.
"Well it was nice seeing you Markus!" She cuts between the two of them and grabs one of Kette's hands before she can second guess doing so. "But we have to go or we'll miss the rail!"
Her words spoken, Flamelle all but runs away from the awkward situation, dragging her teacher behind her as if Flamelle is the leader here.
Only once they are out of sight of Markus does she slow down and, realising what she'd done, she drops Kette's hand like it burned her.
"I am so sorry for pulling you like that Mistress Kette, I just-" She cuts herself off at Kette's raised palm, ready to be scolded.
Instead, Kette simply reaches up to pat her on the head.
"I shouldn't have started an argument," Kette says, her tone back to its usual aloofness. "The Church is just something of a sore spot for me. However, one part should stick. Consider this your third lesson. The system only records the world as it is, but names are entirely human creations. I wasn't lying earlier."
Kette doesn't wait to prove her point, crouching down to pluck a single leaf from a small plant that was definitely not growing out of the floor a second ago.
It all happens too fast for Flamelle to even say anything about it. She can only watch as a Magic circle appears over the dry leaf, flashes, and turns the leaf into wet grass.
A moment later, Kette reaches a hand up to the air in front of her, where Flamelle knows from experience is where her system interface would be. She watches her teacher pinch the empty air and then pull back, dragging a page of parchment out from the ether in front of her.
The small Elf then turns and hands the parchment to Flamelle. She doesn't need to look at it to guess what it will say, and yet she still finds herself surprised when she reads [Divine Transmutation] written above a Tier 0 Spell that turns dry leaves into wet grass.
"There is nothing that cannot be accomplished with Magic," Kette informs her as she is still reeling from having her worldview shaken again. Something happening far too frequently with Kette. "I can see why the ignorant would call Magic a Divine Miracle, but using the names written in the system as evidence is foolish to the extreme."
Even if Flamelle puts aside everything that she has just heard about the Goddess. Isn't it too extreme to just invent a new Spell just like that? Just to prove a point? Isn't the art of creating new, original Spells supposed to be a highly regarded, complex, thoughtful process?
Even a Tier 0 Spell shouldn't be this easy to invent, right? She didn't even write anything down? And since when could you even pull Spells out of the system like that!? Flamelle obviously knows that one can summon a [Grimoire] full of all the Spells they know, but she's never heard anything about only pulling out a single page!
Eventually however, Flamelle manages to process enough of the recent revelations to decide that she doesn't want to process them any more, and so she stops thinking about it.
Soon enough, they are back to walking in silence, headed for the rail out of the city.
Around them, the bustle only continues to grow. The centennial festival has already begun after all, even if most of the celebrations will be saved for the evenings.
She finds her eyes being pulled to a pair of women dressed up as Kierra Kalashnikova, standing with some other people dressed up as other members of the Hero Party. They are all loosely lined up in front of a stall that says 'Look-a-Like Contest' at the top.
Flamelle supresses the childish yearning within her at the sight.
She's never really been to a proper festival before. Just the small yearly one from her home village, but that basically just amounted to a big shared meal over a big fire in the middle of the village. Nothing exciting.
But this is the centennial Peace Day festival, there's going to be a bunch of activities and exhibitions and stuff.
It seems exciting.
But Mistress Kette must have noticed something, as when her eyes next fell on the smaller woman, Flamelle sees her looking at her from the corner of her eyes.
Flamelle doesn't even get the chance to say anything before Kette's hand is resting on her shoulder.
The world blinks and she is standing on a roof, one of the few flat ones.
Was that [Blink] again? How can she cast it so easily? Not even a circle or incantation.
"Flamelle." Kette says her name in that flat, demanding way that she is starting to realise will likely become familiar.
"Yes?"
"Do you know any illusion Spells?"
"Uh.. No?"
"Mh." Kette nods before reaching into the empty air a second time, pinching and pulling another piece of parchment out of thin air. "Here."
Flamelle accepts the offered parchment and looks down to see an impeccably detailed Spell circle drawn under two big bold words.
[Minor Illusion]
It's not like the Spell itself is really a big deal. It's only Tier 3. But she still finds herself stunned into silence looking at it.
It's like a work of art. I didn't know a Spell circle could even look so... perfect. Is this even still Tier 3?
Just who the hell is her teacher?
///
Kierra Kalashnikova
///
Seeing Flamelle so engrossed in [Minor Illusion], Kierra starts to wonder if the girl has even seen a Spell summary before. It's not like this specifically is an impressive Spell.
If she's so flabbergasted by this, then Kierra is honestly worried that Flamelle would pass away if she gave her a better Spell, like [Original Spell - Advent of Theoretical Demise]. Maybe her brain would melt out of her ears?
That's kind of upsetting actually. Kierra truly hopes that Flamelle can reach her level someday. If only so that she can have someone that she can gush about how amazing her Magnum Opus is with.
Is there even anyone else in this world that would be able to read that Spell circle? Could Aerion? Maybe one of her NPCs? Only two of them were actually combat focused though.
Well, whatever.
Kierra shakes the thought away and casts a quick [Clean] on the roof before taking a seat, gaining her student's attention as she does so.
"Study it," she says. "Do not cast it. I am going to have a nap. I will wake in two to three hours. Study the Spell, make note of everything you are unsure of and we will go over it when I wake up. If you can learn the Spell fast enough, then we can enter the look-a-like contest together."
The girl's eyes widen at the offer, and Kierra doesn't fail to notice the childish joy, even as it is immediately overtaken by anxiety.
"But what about the rail?" She asks, hesitantly, almost as if she thinks Kierra will lash out at the question.
"They leave every two hours. We will get the next one. Oh, and if you manage to score higher than me in the look-a-like contest, I will give you a gift."
Child she is, Flamelle's eyes light up at the promise of a gift. Though, she seems pretty excited enough just to study [Minor Illusion].
Does she like the element?
Kierra shrugs the thought away as she moves to lie down and rest her eyes.
She had noticed Flamelle's obvious reluctance to skip out on the festival. Kids are rarely as good at concealing their feelings than they tend to assume. If one cares to look, anyway.
Kierra doesn't really want to have anything to do with this festival, but she knows that the brat wouldn't be able to enjoy herself if she thought she was burdening Kierra by making her wait. The only way to avoid that misunderstanding is to be an active participant. Let Flamelle know that it's fine to enjoy herself.
She's in a hurry to get home, but not that much of a hurry. Not so much that she can't spare a few hours to let a kid form a fun memory. These kinds of things are impactful for a kid. Kierra still remembers all of those happiest moments of her childhood, few and far between as they were.
Also, she really is tired. That's probably part of why she lashed out at that poor Cleric guy. It's not his fault that his stupid religion is dumb and stupid.
Frickin' stupid Devs always thinking they're funny. You never are. Idiots.
She sighs. Whatever, it doesn't matter.
She'll just enjoy her nap, maybe partake in a quick contest, which is bound to be amusing if nothing else, considering everything. Then they can finally board the damn rail and leave.
A twist of her mana pulls her hat forward, letting it rest over her face and block out the sun.
Kierra doesn't dream.
Her eyes open fluidly and she rises to a seated position without a hint of grogginess or anything. It's kind of weird honestly. Just.. waking up. And being awake. Immediately.
The joys of being a walking corpse, she muses to herself.
At least the headache is gone.
"Mistress Kette?" She hears from her side, and she pulls her hat back onto her head as she turns to face Flamelle.
The girl is sitting next to her, bending over the Spell summary. Kierra notes a number of papers surrounding it and covered in scrawled writings, as well as the new position of the sun. Evening is approaching.
Her handwriting is awful, Kierra finds herself noting absently. I'll add it to her lessons.
Since the girl is hardly going to be attending a proper school in the meantime, it only makes sense in her mind that she teach more than just how to be a Mage.
Math, language, science, history—this world's history, not her own. Also philosophy, handwriting—as noted earlier, probably how to cook too and general survival skills. Some psychology and political theory would do her well too, and economics and geography and a lot of biology.
Mentally, Kierra sighs at the workload. But her father always said, if you're gonna do something then do it right or not at all. Not really a healthy mindset if you think about it too hard, since it discourages failure way too much when failure can be good for you.
She shakes thoughts of her father out of her head and turns her attention to Flamelle.
"How is it?" At her question, Flamelle lights up with a blinding smile.
The reaction makes her smile a bit too, because that smile is one that she just understands, down to her soul.
Yeah, Magic is the best, isn't it?
"It's so intricate! I feel like I could improve every single one of my circles just from what I've been able to learn from this! Your Magic is so advanced! And it's nothing like the instructors at the Institute! The Magic they teach is all new formulae, and you can sorta tell that it's new, in that way that everyone's circles has like a feel to them that's entirely personal, and your formulae feel ancient, it's like I'm reading history and the most advanced Magic I have ever seen in my life all at the same time!"
Ancient? Well, I guess am the second eldest living being in this world. Err- unliving being?
Flamelle only stops talking when she runs out of breath, and her face turns a hilarious shade of red once she has air in her lungs again. Kierra can't help but smile and want to tease her.
"Having fun?" Kierra asks her, though she doesn't quite hit the tone she was going for.
Flamelle slumps slightly, her shoulders tensing just so.
"Sorry, I should have been taking it more seriously-" She begins, but Kierra cuts her off.
"Stop. You don't have anything to apologise for. What do you think you have done wrong?"
Flamelle looks about as reluctant to answer as any kid tends to be when it comes to admitting their own faults, even if she hasn't actually done anything wrong.
"Magic isn't a toy," she responds, dully. Sounding like she is reciting the words not for the first time. "Magic is a dangerous tool and should be treated with caution and respect. I should have been taking it more seriously."
Kierra hums thoughtfully at her words, wondering what kind of idiots are teaching at this Institute. It's not like she can't see where they're coming from. Magic can be deadly if not controlled properly. Doesn't mean she will agree with such an ethos.
"But it is fun though, right?" Kierra asks her softly, smiling nostalgically as she thinks of her time in the alpha. "Magic is fun."
Flamelle doesn't react for a second, but then her entire body untenses, relaxing and turning to face her with a small, excited smile, full of wonder. "Yeah," she whispers, her eyes falling down to the circle in front of her. "Magic is so much fun."
A moment of comfortable silence passes on this random rooftop.
"Is it really okay?" Flamelle asks after a moment, her tone hesitant. Looking at Flamelle, Kierra can't help but feel like this is the first time that Flamelle has truly looked at her as a child seeking advice. "Everyone at the Institute always said how you had to treat Magic like a loaded canon."
They have canons now? The hell? Trains are one thing, I can accept that, but firearms? Use Magic! Throw fireballs! Who needs stupid guns!
"I, um. I actually got kicked out of the Institute," Flamelle admits, sounding annoyingly ashamed. "I'm barely even half a Red Robe. I got kicked out because I kept playing with my Magic. They said that I was a danger to everyone around me and that they wouldn't teach me if I wouldn't learn."
Kierra immediately scoffs. It's not even performative in the slightest.
"What kind of idiot wastes their life studying Magic if they do not even enjoy it? Have you ever heard of a painter or a sculptor who pursued their careers out of any reason other than personal passion? Magic is dangerous, but so is fear the mind-killer. Besides, Magic is half dedication and half passion— actually, yeah, pay attention."
Kierra straightens herself, turning to face Flamelle with a somewhat more serious expression. Flamelle immediately straightens her spine, and it does feel good to have such an attentive listener.
"Your fourth lesson. Magic is the act of bringing Order to Chaos. It is the opposite of Martial Arts, which is the act of bringing Chaos to Order. There are three variables at play when I say this. Order is civilisation. Chaos is mana. That is one part. The last is the result of these practices. Battle. Combat. War. Civilisation is Order. War is Chaos. Martial Arts is a bridge between the two. Adding the Chaos of war to the Order of civilisation. The inverse is also true. Magic is the act of adding the Order of civilisation to the Chaos of mana. As a result of this, a true Warrior should find themselves more aligned spiritually with Order, while Mages like us should feel more aligned with Chaos. Do you understand?"
Flamelle nods her head, though she does so slowly and hesitantly. "Uhh, I um. I think so?"
"Have you ever seen how a Warrior trains?" Kierra asks, hoping to help her student understand. If she can shift her mentality now, it'll probably be good for her growth. Though, admittedly, Kierra is kind of just guessing on what feels right.
Flamelle shakes her head. Kierra isn't really surprised.
"They swing a sword. Over and over again. Thousands and thousands of swings. The same thing, over and over and over again. Building up the right muscles, the right muscle memory, the right mindset. Unwavering. It is all so Orderly. Methodical. What about Magic? How often do you find yourself repeating the same action when learning Magic?"
Flamelle starts nodding her head rapidly, seeming to finally understand what Kierra was getting at.
"So, basically.. Just have fun?" Her tone is some mix of casually playful and anxious hesitancy.
Kierra can more or less guess why. The girl feels like she's taking a shot in the dark. She understands the point Kierra was making, but is still nervous about initiating it for the first time.
But she does understand the lesson Kierra was trying to teach. It really is that simple.
So Kierra simply nods her head and smiles. "Do what you want, and make no apologies. That is what it means to be a Mage."
Flamelle relaxes further, seeming relieved, and Kierra notices how the girl's smile seems more genuine now that she really understands Kierra's view. She shouldn't be compartmentalising herself, trying to fit into boxes that other people tell her are proper.
Magic is freedom. You can't be free if your every action is made under the lens of how you are told you should act.
"Other questions?"
"Uh, yeah." Kierra smiles encouragingly, and Flamelle reaffirms herself, confident now that Kierra is actually supporting her in asking whatever questions she might have. "How did you pull this out?" She asks, holding up her Spell summary and shaking it a bit. "I mean, I obviously know how to summon my [Grimoire], but I didn't know you could pull out individual Spells?"
That actually has Kierra tilting her head. "[Grimoire]? What's that?"
Now Flamelle looks as confused as she feels. Is this the first time she's encountered anything related to Magic that she hasn't understood immediately since arriving?
Granted, it's only been a couple of days, but still. This isn't like with the [Magic Cart] Spell where she could just figure it out immediately. She genuinely has no idea what this [Grimoire] is, though she can obviously make some guesses from context clues.
"It's a manifestation of all of the Spells a Mage knows. It's part of the system, you just have to hold you hand over your [Skill List] and say '[Grimoire]'." Flamelle does as she says to show her, and Kierra watches a small book poof into existence once she says the magic word. Though, it kind of seems more like a pamphlet. "Do you really not know?"
Flamelle tenses slightly after asking that, but is quick to untense this time. She's getting more used to speaking freely.
With the explanation given, Kierra can more or less figure out the rest. At first, she was wondering what possible use there could be for doing this, but the answer came pretty quickly.
Legacy.
Using this [Grimoire], one can pass down everything they know. One can create a legacy.
Which is exactly why she had never heard of it, because why the hell would a Player ever care about any of that? There's just no reason any of them would have needed this. Except just for bragging rights, probably.
Curious, Kierra opens her [Status] and holds her hand over her [Skill List].
"[Grimoire]."
A big poof of smoke follows the incantation, immediately followed by a weighty thud.
Silence reigns as both of them turn to stare at the truly excessively large book sitting in front of her.
Kierra mostly just feels amused. Feeling that this is about what she should have expected.
Flamelle however, is staring wide-eyed with her jaw hanging low. Looking forward as if she can't believe what she is seeing.
The book is rather large. Even the pages have a greater surface area than Flamelle's.
If Kierra had to estimate, her [Grimoire] is roughly half as tall as she is standing. Since she's still seated right now, it is actually taller than her.
She can't see what the cover looks like from here.
Kierra feels a deep sense of pride looking at it.
This is, after all, the result of all the effort she put in to earn her equipped Title, [Living Grimoire].
"H-h-how many Spell do you know!?!" Flamelle exclaims, making Kierra's lips twitch.
"I do not know," Kierra answers honestly. She lost count a while ago. "Over ten thousand."
She waves a hand and the book disappears in another poof of air.
"Now, your question," Kierra continues, though she gives Flamelle a moment to get over the sight of her [Grimoire] enough to pay attention. "Your fifth lesson. Magic is the forceful manipulation of Reality. You do not manipulate the world with Magic, you manipulate mana, which then manipulates the world according to your desires. More relevantly, the system interface exists within Reality, so why would Magic be unable to interact with it?"
Kierra is reminded of a particular time when two of her friends spent about twenty minutes arguing about how to run through a trapped corridor, only for one of her other friends to point out the blatant path around it. That kind of expression people make when their perception of the world gets tilted just so, enough for them to realise something that seems so obvious only now that they know it.
"It's high level Magic for the most part," Kierra continues, "So I won't bother going into details. Pulling out Spell summaries is the easiest Spell in that branch of Magic, but even that you won't be able to learn as you are. Maybe once you've passed level 500 you'll be able to figure it out."
It depends on how she advances really. 500 is the first Race advancement after all. Now, despite the Race and Class advancements being called as such, one doesn't necessarily 'advance' every time.
Her encounter with those bandits comes back to mind. Specifically, her analysis of the mage.
Level 643. Second Tier Class, basic Race.
It's a measure of his mediocre talent.
When one hits an advancement, one of three things will happen. Either you will move up to a higher Tier, or you will just get a plus symbol added. Lastly, it is also possible for a side-grade to happen if you're respeccing.
An easy example being that the [Archmage] Class can become available to a Mage when they pass level 1,200. Kierra held that Class for a while. Then, when she surpassed level 1,500, she got [Archmage+]. She got the Title too, because at a certain point, a Class does become Title worthy.
She was honestly kind of expecting to just get [Archmage++] at 1,800, but she ended up with [The Mage] instead. She doesn't see how that can advance further, so she's assuming every advancement she manages to eke out from now on will just be adding more pluses.
Now, getting a plus doesn't mean there's no boost. Every advancement comes with a significant boost to one's abilities. A plus just isn't as good.
That Mage, at level 643, should have gone through two Class advancements and one for Race. That means that if he was in any way talented, he should have had a Third Tier Class and a Second Tier Race.
Instead, he was probably just [Human+] and some basic Class+. There are too many to really say which one. [Mage Adept+] seems most likely, but who knows.
The point however, is that interacting with the system interface requires a certain degree of... weight, in Reality.
Wow, now that she's thinking about it, this is actually really difficult to explain.
In simple terms, one could imagine a living being's soul as a pool of water. A basic Race is just a cup of water, but the higher Tier your Race, the bigger the pool. Kierra's would be the size of an ocean by comparison.
So while there might not be too much of an outward change, rising in the hierarchy of life makes one exist more than anyone below you. There is more metaphysical mass to a person. With that comes a closer connection to existence itself, thus making it easier to make a bridge between oneself and Reality.
Basic Races are too small to interface with something so ingrained with their Reality as the system. One would need to be Second Tier at the lowest.
For Flamelle, that would mean [High Human].
Kierra doesn't plan to let Flamelle encounter any pluses. She wants her student to get the best out of her Race advancements.
[Human], [High Human], [Saint], [Einherjar] and then [Valkyrie]. That is the path that she is preparing for her student. Though, there is room for change. It's not like she knows all the evolution options of Humanity beyond [Saint]. She's just basing this off of her friends.
Of the three Humans in her party, this path seems the best for Flamelle. But this sort of thing really isn't something to be forced, so if the girl finds her own path, then Kierra won't force it. With one exception.
There is technically a path for [Human] evolution into [Seraph], but Kierra will do her best to dissuade that.
After all, it doesn't matter how far one advances, if they choose to be an Angel, then they will always be beneath Kierra. She wants Flamelle to grow into an equal. Maybe even surpass her.
Really, Kierra just wants there to be a Mage capable of killing her in a fair fight.
Is that so much to ask for?
She shakes the thought away and returns her attention to Flamelle and the notes surrounding her.
"Enough about that. Show me what you have learned."