Each time Parry went through the Steps of Awakening, it felt distant, shrouded, as if he were performing the ritual with a small part of his mind but the rest of him was clinical. He could see himself in the circle, slate and chalk in hand. He saw his father reciting the spells, pouring essences and materials on to the floor to be soaked up by the diagram. The sound was blunted, like background music. Domo, handing his father ingredients one after another, seemed almost a shadow.

  The sensation was familiar. He couldn't remember a single human life when he hadn't gone through one of these rituals, and even in his lifetimes as an animal or mystic creature there had been equivalents. It wasn't always an Awakening, sometimes it depended on the magic class or the source, but always it left him in this state: leveling up, no matter what triggered it, afforded him this peace and the chance to apply improvements to his stats and skills.

  Peace, he thought, but not necessarily solitude.

  Nineteen! How long had Pharryl been holding him back? That was quite the backlog. Better get to work:

  It was a relief to confirm he was almost completely over his ochre fever. Health might need more time, but the new maximum of "98" worried him.

  Must be the night blindness. It's capping my maximum, but only a bit. That's a problem for later. Fatigue should work its way back to one hundred in a few more days.

  Parry fought the urge to put every point into magic. His spells were so limited already, they wouldn't be as useful as, say, Dexterity. With care, he slotted in the new numbers:

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  Health was non-negotiable: it had to rise above the human maximum of one hundred. Too many times Parry had died for having no margin against the expected human limits. That single point wasn't much, but it could mean the difference between life and death. No taking chances there.

  Parry felt himself drawing a complex sigil on his slate in strokes of chalk both broad and fine. They had no obvious connections to the changes he was making to his stats, but he knew they corresponded precisely.

  Probably no one else in this world experiences leveling up like I do. It's like looking behind the magic. Too bad it doesn't work this way outside my own mind.

  Parry brought up the class page:

  So many levels! This could be a real bonanza, but he'd have to assign them carefully:

  He was tempted to pour them all into turnaround to become faster at realizing his shapings, but that might be a mistake. What good completing something in an hour if it failed, or worse, produced dangerous results?

  My levels are unbalanced, stunted from an overprotective father. That must be fixed:

  There would be ample opportunity to maximize levels later. Don't forget just how powerful some spells and items are. The key is to avoid glaring weaknesses now.

  Or you could be strong now. Very strong. The strongest of them all.

  The voice purred, coming from just behind his shoulder.

  That's when Parry realized he wasn't alone.