Sins of the Forefathers: A LitRPG Fantasy Isekai

“And, well, my entire Profession pane has changed. Again.” I said to Grey.

It had. Again. For like the third time or something.

Where before it had been a series of seven concentric circles with an eight in the middle, those were all gone. None of the symbols for the seven Professions I had chosen were even there anymore. Now it was just the open palm in the center, larger than before and no longer bound by a circle. It was still radiating out a blue light, though. I guess that this open hand was the symbol for my ‘Aetherial Melding’, whatever that meant.

I explained all of this Grey.

“Fascinating…” He breathed. “Beyond even the existence of an eighth Profession, I cannot recall a single historical example of such a thing. The alignment of a Status window so radically changing shape is unheard of, and curious indeed.”

Honestly, to me, it seemed more like a webpage that was constantly being updated. The developer, in this case, the System, just kept adding or changing things to a ‘page’ and deciding they didn’t like the layout. I decided not to try and explain the oftentimes byzantine process of webpage design to Grey.

“Sure,” I told him. “Whatever you say. But, uh, why don’t we try and see what it does? So, how do you use a Profession? Do you just, like, activate it like a skill?”

Grey snapped out of his scholarly fascination in order to shoot me an amused look. “'Use a Profession?’ Nathan, Professions aren’t skills. You merely create things that fall within their category.”

I was startled. “Wait. Wait a second. Are you telling me that when someone says they’re, say, a Medicinal Alchemist and they want to make a Healing potion. They have to just…follow some kind of… recipe… in order to get one?” I said, starting to feel foolish as I spoke.

By the grin on Grey’s face, he thought I was as well. “Yes Nathan, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I can see where you’ve gotten the idea that even Professions are skill intensive, much like most of the System, considering your relative newness to it. But no, one merely learns how to create items that exist within their specialization in order to contribute to their Profession’s Impact. This is also the only way that you’re going to be receiving any Status Aether from the System for your creations. There are no levels to the Profession system, no skills beyond the skill you possess. Which is why your eighth Profession is so curious, really. Neither Azarus or I have any idea what field of crafting is not covered by the seven already existing Professions.”

Something about that explanation didn’t sit right with me. After a moment, I realized what it was. “But…that doesn’t make sense,” I said to Grey, leaning forward. “You’re telling me that most people learn two highly specialized, differing methods of crafting entirely on their own? Even most peasants devote their life to two, maybe contradictory, ways to make a living? That doesn’t make sense, man.”

Grey gave me a puzzled look. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Nathan. That’s exactly what I’m saying, as I have already explained to you before why most people take two Professions.”

“But…” I started, waving a hand in a frustrated manner. “It doesn’t make sense, man! Learning a trade, one trade, is a lifelong process! How are people supposed to have any time to themselves if they’re always learning and experimenting and devoting themselves to two differing paths! Most things they make should be middling at best if they always have to think about their second Profession!”

“It doesn’t work like that at all, Nathan,” Grey said confusedly. “Even your average peasant is fully capable of acquiring the necessary skill in order to be considered a master in their chosen Professions. Well, if they put a modicum of effort into it.” He paused, taking in my own confusion. “Are you perhaps saying that’s how it works back on your home planet?”

“Yes!” I said, pointing at him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying! People, normal people, don’t typically have the mental capacity to devote themselves to two differing paths at once! Absolutely not the degree they’re even going to become a master at it before they’re an old man. I’m telling you; the System has got to be helping your learning rate if your regular Joe-Bob peasant is able to learn how to build perfect houses and how to butcher perfectly at the same time!”

“Hmm.” Grey pondered. “It’s an interesting theory, Nathan. I can’t say I’ve ever heard this specific idea about the Profession system. Certainly, it’s been postulated that there must be some kind of active component to it beyond generating Impact. However, the theories I’ve read and heard have rather focused on the output itself. The old belief was that merely possessing a certain Profession instilled a certain intrinsic mystical quality to the items you create. However,” He said, raising a hand with a smile. “For once, you’re the one who’s run off on an academic tangent. We were discussing your new Profession, remember?”

I settled down, a little sheepish. “Ah, yeah. Right.” I paused. “So…if Professions don’t use skills…and every kind of crafting you know of is covered already…and we don’t know what ‘Aetherial Melding’ does…what now?”

Grey tapped his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair in thought. “Well, I suppose all we have is speculation. As I said, I truly doubt that it is activated as a skill, but that’s no reason to discount the possibility. I’ve prepared a small collection of herbs right here,” He turned around and motioned to a small tray on the desk behind him. “That can be used to create a weak Healing potion. Merely some Moonwort, Ae’la Vine, and Bronzeleaf, nothing special. Give it a try.”

At his urging, I stood up from where I was sitting on his bed and walked over to the desk. Exchanging one last glance with Grey, I held my hands out over the tray of herbs laying next to a bottle half full of water. I gave it a shot and tried to activate it out loud. “Aetherial Melding,” I said, concentrating.

Nothing happened.

“Not unexpected,” Grey said, unphased.

I dropped my hands from over the tray and crossed my arms in thought. I looked back over at Grey. “What next? You’re the expert here.”

Grey snorted. “An expert in a previously unknown Profession, am I? Truly, your confidence is inspiring.” He said, only mildly sarcastic. “Well, I do have at least one idea. The wording ‘Aetherial Melding’ is curious to me. Despite being the cornerstone of all mystic arts, Aether is rarely so directly mentioned. Perhaps the Profession has something to do with Aether itself?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “So…how do we get some raw Aether then?”

“I will provide what we need,” Grey said. “The production and manipulation of raw mystical energy is a fairly advanced technique in the arsenal of a Magi. It has little actual practical applications that we’ve been able to find, merely being a training tool. Thankfully, I still have some minor capabilities available to me despite this damnable collar and can provide it. One moment.”

Grey cupped his hands in front of him and furrowed his brow in concentration. Nothing happened for a few seconds before something began to coalesce above his open palms. Slowly swirling into existence, spinning like a planet on its axis, an orb of cool silver light formed. In its depths, I could see the occasional flash of an obsidian aurora.

I was impressed, despite myself. I still hadn’t gotten completely used to magic, and this was pretty damn magical.

Grey breathed out heavily once he had finished forming the orb. He looked up at me expectedly.

I stared back at him, nonplussed. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Ah,” Grey said, embarrassed. “Perhaps first try and sense it?”

“And how do I do that?” I said impatiently. “It’s not like I know what I’m doing here.”

“Just…try, Nathan,” Grey said frustratedly. “This is one of those aspects of being a Magi that comes naturally to everyone. An Aetherial sense can be refined, but all Magi can sense the presence of mystical energies. You cannot quite be called Magi as of yet, but you should still possess some ability due to your Virtues.”

Whatever, worth a shot.

I approached Grey and held my hands over the ball of light. I didn’t feel anything, to be honest. The ball didn’t give off any heat, and its slow-spinning wasn’t affecting the air around it. I looked up at Grey. “Can I…touch it? It’s not going burn me or anything, will it?”

“It will not burn you, no,” Grey said to me.

Stretching out my index finger to the Aether, I lightly lay it upon the orb. He was right, it didn’t burn me, but it did do something. The moment I laid a finger on it, it was as if a shot of cool lightning ran down my spine. I felt energized in a way I’d never felt, while at the same time, it felt like all the small hairs on my body stood straight up at once. Honestly, it was pretty pleasant.

But in the background, over the invigorating feeling, I swear I could feel something. I closed my eyes and furrowed my brow, trying to chase it. I stood there over Grey, almost unconsciously fully laying both of my hands on top of the ball of Aether for several minutes chasing the feeling. Slowly, I managed to track it down.

It was…like a wave, but not? No, that’s not right. It was like a pulse. Not like a heartbeat, but more like a drum. What was strange though, is that it didn’t feel like it was originating from the orb of Aether. Rather, it felt like I could feel a continuous pulse, originating from all directions, breaking over the ball of energy in front of me and outlining it in my mind's eye. I furrowed my brow in confusion, feeling out what I could. Where was the pulse coming from? From what Grey had told me before, Aether was all around us and was a fundamental component of all mystical energies. If something was breaking over the surface of this ball as if it was incompatible…

I opened my eyes and frowned at Grey in confusion. “That isn’t Aether, is it?”

Grey smiled at me widely. “Well done, Nathan. Indeed, this is not Aether at all. This is pure Mana, the refined component of Aether that Magi utilize.”

“But I thought you said you were going to supply some raw Aether?” I said confusedly.

“Did I? Or did I merely say I would provide what we need?” Grey said mysteriously. “In truth, Nathan, nobody can produce and manipulate raw Aether. The entire System would collapse if we could. If one could simply learn how to process and manipulate Aether at a whim, what would stop them from funneling that Aether into their Status and growing in strength infinitely?”

“Ah,” I said. “That makes sense, I guess. So…what was I feeling?”

“The impression of the worlds Aether is what you felt,” Grey answered. “We cannot sense Aether by ourselves, but we can sense its wake as it interacts with another energy. In this case, Mana. This kind of rudimentary Aetherial sense is something that all Magi and Cultivators are capable of. There are, of course, more advanced forms of mystical sensing, but that is beyond the scope of your ability at present.”

“Huh,” I said thoughtfully.

“Indeed,” Grey said wryly. “Being a Magi often means working around such restrictions in creative ways. Why, in fact-”

I held up a hand to stop him. “Gimme a second,” I muttered his way, laying my hands around the orb of Mana again. I’d had an idea. I concentrated, barely aware of the fact that Grey had stopped speaking. Shortly, I found the pulse again and concentrated on it, this time listening more intently. I know that Grey had said that people couldn’t directly sense Aether by itself, but…

It didn’t feel that way to me.

Now that I was paying more attention, and knew what I was looking at, I could sense…or hear…or even sort of see in my mind’s eye something else. Every time that the pulse, which emanated at a steady rate, struck an object it was like the object itself sort of pulsed back. It wasn’t one-to-one, and it wasn’t at the same strength. But there was undoubtedly a response, and it was different. When an object responded, it was like I could feel some kind of pool of energy residing in it.

Slowly, I moved my hands off of the orb, concentrating all the while to make sure that I could keep track of the pulse. It was difficult, and the pulse became steadily harder to feel the more I moved away from the orb of Mana. I stood still for a moment to make sure I could keep a hold of it. Once I was sure that I had a grasp on the Aetherial pulse in my mind’s eye, I slowly moved in the direction of the desk, and towards the tray that held the potion herbs from earlier. Laying my hands on them, I concentrated harder.

There. I could sense it. Every time the greater pulse struck the herbs, I could feel a resonance from them, emanating from a pool of energy within them. Carefully, barely aware of what I was doing and guided by an instinct I didn’t understand, I reached out with my hand and touched the herb on top of the pile.

I touched the pool of power within the herb, as well. Somehow.

It responded.

The reservoir of energy inside the herb strengthened somehow, resonating with me now. I could feel it more closely. I could feel the potential inside of it. In a daze, I gathered all of the herbs on the tray into my hands and held them. One by one, all of them began to resonate with me. Within my cupped hands, the boundaries that separated each pool of power began to break down. Before long, I could feel only one font of energy in my clutched hands, swirling together to form a greater whole. Dazed, eyes still tightly closed, I held my hands over the small glass bottle of water on the tray and let the power drizzle out of my cupped hands and down into the mouth and neck of it. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

On the tray, sitting inside the bottle was a bright, cherry red liquid.

“Nathan…” I heard Grey breathe. Sluggishly, I turned my head to see him. Grey was sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes bulging out of their sockets in astonishment. I’d never seen him so stunned. “What did you do?”

“I…” I tried to answer. I didn’t manage it.

I passed out instead.