SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 95: Level 20 (1)

Lucen didn’t make it half a block.

Just silence and the quiet drag of his boots over slick city tile. Steam leaked from a vent shaft to his left, smelled like old coolant and rain heat. His coat still carried dust from the ring. Shoulder sore. Mana steady. Mind calm.

He was already thinking of food. Something fried. Maybe double portioned.

Then—

"I thought you said you weren’t interested in recruiters."

Lucen froze.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t need to.

That voice wasn’t loud. Wasn’t sharp.

Just steady.

Varik.

He stepped out from an alley gap like he’d been standing there since the last war ended. Coat folded. Hands bare. No weapon visible. The air didn’t shift with him, it adjusted.

Lucen turned slowly.

"Not interested," he said. "Just polite."

Varik stepped closer. No expression. His boots didn’t make sound. They just existed on the ground like they belonged more than the concrete did.

"You made him chase you down. That’s different."

Lucen exhaled. "He caught the tail end of the match. He didn’t see much."

Varik’s eyes flicked down the walkway. "He saw enough to know your vanish isn’t a cloaking spell."

Lucen shrugged. "So what?"

"So you’ve got attention," Varik said. "And attention means pressure. And pressure means opportunity. And risk."

Lucen tilted his head. "Didn’t ask for a lecture."

"You didn’t," Varik said. "But you asked for power."

Lucen raised an eyebrow. "You offering more?"

Varik’s tone sharpened.

"I’m offering rounds."

Lucen frowned.

"You mean now?"

Varik nodded once. "You fight me. Again. Repeatedly. Until your level reaches the threshold."

Lucen’s voice dropped. "You’re not my trainer."

Varik stepped closer. His eyes didn’t blink.

"I’m the only person alive who can push you without dying in the first minute."

Lucen didn’t respond.

Varik continued. "You’re what, Level Eighteen now?"

"Nineteen," Lucen muttered.

"Then we keep going," Varik said. "Until Twenty. At least. I want your next spell to be born under stress, not theory."

Lucen muttered, "Thought I was past the schoolyard stage."

"You’re not past anything," Varik said. "You’re just good at looking like you are."

Lucen stared at him for a long second.

Then said, "You really don’t believe in days off."

Varik cracked half a smile.

"I believe in pressure. And your enemies won’t ask if you’re rested."

Lucen looked away.

Looked down the walkway.

No crowds. No recruiters. No food.

Just him.

And the man who saw what was coming long before Lucen did.

Lucen said, "You paying for dinner?"

Varik didn’t answer.

Lucen sighed.

"Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you."

Varik turned without comment.

Lucen followed.

Quietly.

Because deep down?

He wanted to see if he could finally land a real hit.

—

The walk wasn’t long.

But the silence made it feel like it was.

Lucen followed Varik down a back-level corridor near the city’s southern transit grid, no signs, no interface, just exposed conduit overhead and rusted plating underfoot. The kind of place built before guilds had PR departments.

They reached a narrow stairwell.

Varik didn’t speak.

He just started down.

Lucen followed, one hand brushing against the cool rail as he moved, boots thudding once every second step.

The air got heavier as they descended. Not dirty. Just old. Like magic had burned here a long time ago and never fully cooled. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel-com

They hit bottom.

Varik opened a heavy door, manual lock. No system latch. Just turning steel and pressure release.

The room beyond was huge.

Empty.

Raw concrete underfoot, cracked but solid. Walls scored with past damage. One far side half-collapsed, exposing rebar like skeletal fingers frozen mid-clutch.

A faint green light buzzed overhead from a broken mana fixture. It made the room look sick.

Lucen stepped inside slowly.

He spoke first.

"So... you bring all your apprentices here?"

Varik didn’t laugh. Just answered, "No one else made it this far."

Lucen’s gaze drifted over the far wall. It had burn marks. Not fresh. Wide arc. Probably spell fire.

The kind that bounced.

Varik stepped to the center of the room. Didn’t ready a weapon. Just turned, coat still settled around his frame like he hadn’t moved at all.

Lucen asked, "So this is where I die?"

Varik’s voice was calm. "This is where you get ready for Level Twenty."

Lucen raised an eyebrow. "What’s so special about Twenty?"

Varik walked a slow circle, eyes scanning the edges of the room. "Most people never reach it. Most drift too far, too fast, or flame out around Eighteen. That’s the average ceiling for mid-tier classes."

Lucen crossed his arms. "And I’m not mid-tier."

Varik looked at him.

"You’re not anything anyone’s seen before."

Lucen’s lips twitched. "Flattering."

"Not meant to be."

Then, quieter: "At Level Twenty, your system triggers its first Perk Allocation. It’s different from spell slots. It’s deeper."

Lucen tilted his head. "Define ’deeper.’"

"Your class defines your combat philosophy. But perks bend that definition. Strengthen it. Twist it. It’s a permanent modifier. And it only happens every twenty levels."

Lucen whistled once, low. "So... mini-evolution."

Varik nodded. "Exactly. And the higher your class rank, the more tailored the perk."

Lucen thought for a moment. "That’s not public knowledge."

"It’s not meant to be," Varik said. "Most guilders wouldn’t handle knowing they’re locked out of top-tier evolution."

Lucen’s voice dropped. "And what do I get at Twenty?"

Varik stared at him.

"I don’t know."

Lucen blinked.

Varik continued, "SSS-class is off-book. Your system won’t announce it until it happens. No prep. No preview."

Lucen exhaled through his nose. ’Of course.’

"Any ideas?" he asked.

"Something drastic," Varik said. "Every system I’ve seen tailors its perk to the user. Your interface is already adaptive. Which means it’s watching how you fight. What you avoid. What you want."

Lucen looked around the room again.

Wide space.

Enough damage patterns to suggest previous test matches hadn’t ended clean.

"So you want to fight me again," he said, "just to push me one step further."

"I want to see what happens when your class tries to keep up with you."

Lucen cracked his knuckles.

"Fine. But no lectures mid-fight this time."

Varik smirked, barely.

"No promises."

He raised one hand.

Didn’t cast.

Just pointed to the center.

Lucen stepped forward.

Then muttered, low:

"Let’s see what Twenty feels like."

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