[Book 1 Completed] Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World [Kingdom Building LitRPG]
B2 | Chapter 22 – Class Evolution [2]

Theodore looked over the list of classes as if each would determine the course of his life. To be fair, it was precisely what he needed to think about, so he let each lesson ring against his mind, attempting to figure out how a life would revolve around a single choice that, once made, could not be undone save by the gradual eroding of years spent making up for a poor mistake, if that was even possible.

[Battle Mage], [Elemental Mage], [Runic Mage], [Flame Weaver], and [Arcane Duelist]. These were the choices he'd been given.

[Battle Mage]. That was the obvious one. He supposed it came first because the system believed habits mattered more than intentions, and he conceded that every hour with a blade had stamped itself into his muscle memory too deep for easy erasure.

Almost alluring, if only because it required so little of him. He met the requirements. He used to enjoy the balance of holding a sword in one hand and a spell in the other. Once. No more. It seemed like a step backward all around.

Standing in melee range meant taking hits, and taking hits meant interrupted spellcasting. He would always be dividing his focus, even with [Mana Shield]. Attempting to cast spells while battling creatures that could rip through steel like wet paper? That sounded much like suicide with extra steps.

Close combat? In this world? Against things that didn't die cleanly or quickly? Thank you, but no. It was only appealing to those who were suicidal or arrogant.

He wasn't either.

It also appeared to be the most comfortable option. Comfort had always concealed the gradual decline into mediocrity, hadn't it? He briefly gave in to the temptation, but basic math caused the delusion to fall apart.

He attempted to visualize his future self in that class, but the image tasted stale before it had a chance to fully develop, so he dismissed it.

[Elemental Mage]. Simple, effective, and the least complicated route. It came straight from what he had previously invested himself in. He had a strong [Elemental Mastery] and was just becoming stronger.

It was tempting to consider honing those even more. He admitted that efficiency did entice him, and the option essentially advertised synergy with his [Elemental Mastery]. Nevertheless, it seemed... shallow. It wasn't a poor choice. He just felt constrained by focusing solely on the elemental aspect of things.

It built better walls, but it didn't open new doors. Elemental power was a known quantity, and he wasn't comfortable staying in one lane. Even if the lane was good.

[Runic Mage]. Now that one had caught his attention. He kept returning his gaze to it. It required what he had. They said that it was impossible to create runes. They said it couldn't be done. They were obviously wrong. He was aware of it. He had succeeded in creating runes, although clumsily and not at all good quality.

Not only a [Mage], but also a rune specialist. It would not only allow him to continue developing his existing fighting style and preferences, but it would also open up a very exciting direction, which is what stopped him cold.

Casting was not the same as making runes. Runes lasted; spells were expended. The entire game altered when he realized that he could inscribe runes into things—or people, for that matter—and use them to activate magic.

It wasn't about what you could cast in five seconds, but what you'd laid down five days ago. In his thoughts, the strategic applications blossomed. He could set up defensive perimeters. Trigger-based counterspells woven into his clothing. Explosive runes left as traps for pursuers. Bandages with emergency healing runes imprinted on them.

And, last but not least, scalability. The amount of mana you could channel at any given time determined how powerful a spell could be. The potency of a rune depended on the amount of time and accuracy you could devote in advance. A [Runic Mage] could punch much above their weight class if they were prepared.

With this class, he could already see himself accomplishing a lot.

[Flame Weaver] was next. He had no strong feelings about it. Fire was always entertaining. It was ependable, formidable, and when it was concentrated it was very vicious.

He had affinity, too. In addition, he enjoyed fire. Because it worked and terrified creatures that shouldn't be afraid. He used a lot of fire. In fact, it could be said that it was his favorite element by far. It just burned without asking any questions. It was, however, narrow. Thermal energy opened up more directions, but he hadn't advanced enough in that to make a choice so life-defining.

Which brought him to the last one.

[Arcane Duelist] was harder to dismiss. It brought back a memory he hadn't thought about for months: him in the boxing ring, feet planted, fists rising, pulse pounding. Quickness, accuracy, and the thrill of flawless motion. He missed it. There was poetry in the way everything unfolded in combat. Either you triumphed in a matter of seconds, or you were spared the opportunity to consider what went wrong.

But it was a beautiful lie. That's what he told himself. Beautiful because it promised something he used to be. [Arcane Duelist] belonged to the Ethan he once was, not the Theodore he needed to become.

It wasn't exactly wise in his situation to focus on a single target when he was surrounded by swarms. He wasn't Roland. When twenty more were coming in, one flawless kill was meaningless. What would happen if he encountered an obstacle that he couldn't overcome?

Which brought him, inevitably, to [Runic Mage].

It wasn't the strongest in the short term, probably. But he wanted to build. That settled it.

Congratulations! You have selected Class Evolution: [Runic Mage]!

Theodore didn't feel any different, but he did get a more notifications.

Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Mana Control]!

Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Rune Inscription]!

[Mana Control]? Fascinating... What impact would that have on his mana control? He was already rather adept at controlling mana. Although it was unfortunate that his class did not give any more skills, it was okay. The future benefits of this path were more important to him than the present benefits. For now, [Rune Inscription] was more than sufficient. It would occupy him for months to come, most likely.

This would also provide him with a reason to improve both his [Basic Rune Creation] and [Basic Magic Script]. They could even level up more quickly as a result!

On another note…

Hey, slime, come out.

He didn't know what he'd expected when he told it to come out. Perhaps he had thought it would emerge from his shadow, burst from his chest in a translucent form like Opie did, or show up next to him like a trained dog responding to a familiar order. However, it began with his hand rather than the surrounding air or the area next to him. His actual, physical hand.

It was painless. There was no world where bone and sinew melting like wax shouldn't have at least itched, throbbed, or screamed in pain, so it probably should have. However, it didn't.

A long rope of him slithered off his arm, pooling like a melted limb. Yes, him—that was the disturbing part. It wasn't a spell; it wasn't some summoned entity either. It was his own goddamn body.

It was blue. And the word "blue" didn't quite do it justice. It was the kind of blue that made you think of mana, and mana was fascinating.

As he had anticipated, there was no face as it turned to face him. Slime was all that was present. It had no eyes, but Theodore could tell it was observing him, somehow. He could tell it through their bond.

Naturally, the moment he thought—it doesn't have eyes—the slime's surface wiggled and then began to morph. It tried to form eyes. The keyword being "tried" because it sure as hell didn't succeed.

Instead of eyes, there were only two deep and hollow pits.

They actually weren't eyes, although they made a great effort to appear so. They looked cursed. That was the only word for it. Just plain cursed.

Okay, no, the moment he recoiled mentally, the eyes collapsed, sucked inward like the slime was embarrassed.

It heard him. Or no, not heard. That wasn't the word. Felt? Or sensed? Read? No, not read either, but it had responded, that much was clear.

Could it read his mind?

That thought alone made his scalp itch. That made him uneasy since it was dangerous, intimate, and extremely unpleasant. But then again, maybe it wasn't reading is mind. Perhaps it was just intention. That was different and came with some implications.

Intention was not so much a word as it was a desire. It wasn't "I want this" in speech, but the pure act of wanting without sound. And it had answered.

So what else could it do?

He held up his other hand and thought about it. Not about the slime. Just that he wanted it to be slime. A loose, idle wish. And—

Once more, there it was. It appeared as though his skin had turned into blue transparent slime with glowing algae inside, rippling and sloughing off like water too thick to fall. It wasn't exactly painful. But he felt strange. His nerves seemed to have stopped deciding what feeling to transmit him. Cold? Warm? Wet? Was he even touching air? What even was he?

He attempted to flex his "hand," or at least he tried to do it. What happened instead was that the slime rippled and waved.

Could he do more than just hands? He could, and he did. What about legs? Yes. Torso? Yes, and then, with the slippery inevitability of curiosity chasing its own tail, he went full.

He collapsed into a puddle of slime.

What was a puddle?

He was a puddle, and he was still him.

All of a sudden, he had no skin, muscles, or bones. But what he did have was something like awareness of his environment. He had the same ability to see as his eyes, but not in the conventional way, given that he had no eyes in this form.

He could feel everything, everywhere.

That was the worst and most perplexing aspect. He hadn't become unconscious, numb, or disconnected. He was still conscious. His awareness had grown, if anything. Everything was palpable to him. The weight of the air, the stone and dirt underneath him, and the little change in warmth from one border of his skin to the other. Every point of contact was alive. He felt feedback vibrating through every inch of him. It was like his nervous system had been unrolled like a scroll and spread flat across the world.

That meant he also felt his clothes, to his eternal dismay, falling through him. Gravity took them, and he didn't even have a throat to sigh with, but the exasperation still rolled through him in a full-body wave of of course.

Fantastic.

He reformed, as best he could, with only the vaguest sense of bone and symmetry to guide him. As it turned out, he didn't need all that detail. His body reformed quite quickly. In fact, it took hardly a second at all.

The distant sounds of gasps, horrified whispers, and much more reached his ears, but Theodore barely registered them.

"What the fuck was that?" someone hissed, while another voice stammered something about "melting" and "blue slime." A few had stumbled backward, their faces pale with shock and other emotions, but Theodore's attention remained fixed on cataloging the sensations of his reformation—the way his nerves reconnected, how his awareness condensed back into a human-shaped vessel.

The gasps and panicked murmurs might as well have been wind through leaves for all the attention he paid them, because he was busy getting used to having a human body again.

However, there was one problem.

He was naked.

He groaned aloud and thought, very hard, that he would like some privacy. Unexpectedly, the ground obeyed, and walls sprung up around him with such careless efficiency that it nearly scared him more than the slime. He hadn't cast anything, or at least he hadn't done so intentionally. The desire for concealment had become an order, and [Elemental Mastery] had answered with absolute obedience.

Interesting. He filed that away to experiment with later.

Note to self: either learn how to manufacture clothes out of slime or inscribe runes into his clothing and make magical clothes. That was possible, right? A project for later.

It seemed strange to stand just after the change, so he let out a breath and sat down.

Time to test more. There was storage, yeah? Let's test that.

Spatial storage, to be precise. He hadn't expected to gain that from a Familiar, but maybe that was part of the package. He reached inward—not into himself, but into the version of "self" that this new form had expanded into. There was a space, he realized.

When he tried to store a rock, he was denied right away. Instead, he tried with a glob of slime, a fragment of himself that was chopped off like a thought. And it did, in fact, get sucked inside the storage. He scowled.

That had worked.

It nestled in the spatial storage. Odd. So he couldn't store other things, only slime mass. Only what belonged to this... body. Not an inventory, then. To be honest, that was a bummer. But maybe he could eventually turn this into an actual spatial storage?

It was still the same principle, after all; he just had to figure out how to do it.

He had the ability to eject, store, and reabsorb slime mass. He tested that, and then he summoned the slime back, felt it stretch into him, and felt his body grow slightly, awkwardly asymmetrical, like he'd just added one shoulder pad and nothing else. He adjusted. Let it settle. It seemed strange, but not alien. It felt new, though, weirdly new, and that would take some getting used to.

Which raised a question.

He didn't feel alone in there.

There was a presence inside him. He called it out. The slime spilled out of his body like it had waited too long and just couldn't hold itself back any longer. There was a red core settled in the center of the blue. He recognized that was where its consciousness was. Theodore bent down and extended his hand.

The slime jiggled slightly at the touch. It wasn't hostile but it wasn't affectionate either. It was just there, observing him as much as he observed it.

And even now, with it fully outside, with that core clearly separated from his body, he could still feel slime forming in his hand. He tested it, shifted his fingers, imagined his palm melting, and it did.

So that meant he could still convert while the Familiar was separated.

Which begged the question—

Was he still human? Was this Familiar truly external? Or had the distinction blurred completely? He wasn't just bonded to the slime, he was the slime. After all, it was a Body Familiar. He'd always assumed there'd be changes to his body, but this… this was going to take some getting used to.

This was weird. That was the only word for it, really. It was weird in the kind of way that only settled with time.

He frowned.

"So…" he muttered to himself, "...I'm basically a slime now."

There wasn't much room for rebuttal.

The former Slime King, obviously, did not answer.

This was going to be really weird.

***

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