Strength Based Wizard

Chapter 22

After Hours at Graveyard Castle, Part I (Solo)

I sit in my car, the driver’s seat reclined just enough that I can stare up through the windshield at the darkening sky. The neon glow of Milton’s Saloon flickers in my peripheral vision. I should go home. Sleep. Maybe eat something more substantial than beer (I’m really under my protein goal for the day).

But first, I need to see what I got. I’m actually surprised neither Clyde or Veronica brought up our rewards. In any case, I couldn’t wait any longer.

A soft, wet plop sounds from the passenger seat.

I turn.

Jelly Boy has wriggled out of my backpack, his little translucent body vibrating with curiosity. His surface ripples, reflecting the dim streetlights outside.

“Hold on,” I say. “I’ll let you know if it’s anything good.”

He jiggles in what I’m pretty sure is excitement.

I pull up my notifications.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATIONS…

[2 Stat Points Currently Unallocated. Assign Stat Points?]

I exhale, already expecting that one.

I open my Stats window.

[User Statistics]

Health Points (HP): 40 [Current: 40]

Mana Points (MP): 4 [Current: 4]

Stamina: 55 [Current: 55]

PHYSICAL STATISTICS:

Strength: 15

Dexterity: 4 (Equipment Modifier: +1)

Constitution: 3

MAGICAL STATISTICS:

Intelligence: 3

Willpower: 2

Spirit: 1

I smile. Finally!...

At first, every time I leveled up, my MP stayed at 3—just a flat number, never increasing. But now, suddenly, I have 4 MP. A whole ass increase of a single point.

I check the details. Looks like having an Intelligence of 3 is enough to start adding to my base MP every time I level. That could be useful. Not now, of course. Right now, I have exactly two cantrips and a wand that makes them free to use. But later? When I have real Spells? When I start needing at least some mana?

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel.

Strength still feels like the best bet, though.

Strength lets me fight. Strength lets me defend myself.

Until what?

Until I figure out how to enhance more of my Spells? Until I find a way to change the Source of my Spells from Intelligence to Strength?

I don’t even know if that’s possible. How rare was that spell enhancement potion I had received from the first Gate? Would I ever see a potion like that again? I don’t know that either.

But I do know that right now, I can’t afford to waste my levels waiting for something theoretical.

I assign both points to Strength. Immediately, I feel it.

It’s subtle, not like an instant Hulk transformation or anything, but it’s there—my muscles tighten, grow denser. There’s a familiar heat, like the burn after a solid workout, but deeper.

Jelly Boy jiggles, watching me.

I roll my shoulders, flex my hands. Yeah. Definitely stronger.

But as I shift in my seat, another thought creeps in.

If increasing my Strength is physically altering my muscles, making them stronger, then what about everything else?

My bones. My joints. My connective tissue.

Even with all my conditioning—the months of training, the careful workouts—how much can my body actually handle before something snaps?

I flex my fingers again, testing the movement. I flex my biceps, my pecs.

Maybe I need to start dropping points into Constitution soon. Just to be safe.

I move onto my second notification.

System Notification:

[Claim reward (1)?]

I mentally select yes.

A new notification pops up.

[Achievement Unlocked: Teamwork]

[Description: You have successfully worked as a team with other Participants in order to defeat a stronger monster.]

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Reward: Bronze Gate Ticket Enhancement: Combine (1 of 4), Spell Scroll: Magnify Gravity (x1).

I blink. That’s… more than I expected.

Jelly Boy vibrates beside me, his little jelly body shifting in a weird, flexing undulation—his version of curiosity.

“Hold on, let me check these out first.”

I open the first reward.

[Bronze Gate Ticket Enhancement: Combine (1 of 4)]

[Description: This is a Ticket Enhancement with the ‘Combine’ attribute. It must be activated in conjunction with a Bronze Gate Ticket. When used, this Enhancement is capable of combining Bronze Gate Tickets into a single Gate Ticket. Requires all component parts of the Enhancement to be used simultaneously. Using this item expends the Enhancement.]

Weird.

I turn the words over in my head.

So, if I get all four pieces, I can combine Bronze Gate Tickets? Into what, exactly? A Silver Ticket? Or something else?

I don’t know. And that bothers me.

Jelly Boy jostles against my arm. I absently pat his jiggly head and move onto the second item.

[Spell Scroll: Magnify Gravity]

[Description: This is a spell scroll. It has a one-use limitation. Note: This Spell Scroll may be transfigured into a permanent Spell with the correct application of Skills and Tools. This is a Level 1 Spell Scroll. This Scroll contains the Spell ‘Magnify Gravity.’]

I pause.

A spell. A real spell. Magnify Gravity. That sounds badass!

Magnify Gravity (Evocation Spell: Level 1)

Casting Time: Instantaneous

Mana Cost: 5 MP

Range: 60 Feet

Duration: 1 minute

Description: The spellcaster can create a sphere centered on a point that the spellcaster can see within range. The radius of the sphere is equal to the spellcaster’s Intelligence stat, up to a maximum radius of 10 feet. Within this sphere, the effects of gravity are magnified. Warning: this Spell requires concentration! A spellcaster cannot have this Spell active while having other Spells active that also require concentration.

Five Mana. That’s the cost of Magnify Gravity. Actually, it’s surprisingly low, being a Level 1 Spell. I thought the jump from Cantrip to Level 1 might have been bigger. Still, I frown at the number on my interface. Four MP total. Not enough. Which means, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t cast it right now.

Disheartening. But not unexpected. I wouldn’t burn my one-time use on something stupid anyway. No, the real value here is figuring out how to make it permanent. That part of the Spell Scroll’s description is the real promise, even with the Spell itself sounding awesome.

I mentally flag that as a priority. Maybe there’s a thread on the Discussion Channels about it? People have figured out dumber exploits before. If someone out there knows how to transfigure a scroll into a real, slotted Spell, I need to find them.

Before I can dig into it further, my phone vibrates.

I check the notification. A new group chat.

‘Teamwork Make the Dream Work’

It’s from Clyde.

>Clyde: You guys open your rewards yet?

I smirk. Clyde doesn’t seem like the type who’d wait long himself.

>Joseph: Couldn’t help myself.

>Veronica: First thing I did. LOL.

Clyde responds almost immediately.

>Clyde: You two get that weird Bronze Ticket Enhancement too?

I blink.

>Joseph: Yeah.

>Veronica: Same.

>Clyde: Interesting.

I tap my fingers against the wheel, watching the little “typing…” bubble flicker.

>Clyde: I think this means we might be able to enter a Bronze Gate TOGETHER, right?

That stops me cold. That thought hadn’t crossed my mind.

A Bronze Gate. With allies?

That would be a game changer.

Normally, Bronze Gates are solo affairs. You go in alone, you fight alone, and you get your Class alone.

But what if we don’t have to?

What if the Combine Enhancement lets us stack our tickets? If we can force our way into a single Bronze Gate as a group, it completely changes the odds.

>Veronica: Holy shit. That would be huge.

>Veronica: Mine said 1 of 4. We need to find a fourth Ticket Enhancement.

>Veronica: Maybe we’ll get it on our next Extraction job.

I chew the inside of my cheek, staring at the screen.

I could text them. Tell them about my next move. What I was planning on doing this evening. Ask them to join me.

But I don’t.

Something in me hesitates. I don’t know why.

No—I do know why.

I need to do this next part alone.

I exhale, lock my phone, and toss it into the center console’s cupholder. Jelly Boy lets out a soft, warbling hum as I turn the ignition. The engine growls to life.

I shift into drive.

The sky outside has darkened, more lights outside Milton’s Saloon flickering to life like embers in the gloom.

“Alright, buddy,” I murmur, gripping the wheel. “Let’s go see what we’re made of.”

And with that, I pull out onto the road, disappearing into the night.

The junkyard is quiet.

Not silent—there’s always sound in the city, even out here—but quiet enough. The occasional gust of wind rattles loose scraps of metal. Distant sirens wail, swallowed by the night. A rusted-out washing machine groans as it shifts under its own weight.

I pull up to the chain-link fence, my tires crunching over gravel. The headlights catch the warped letters on a battered old sign:

STEVE’S SCRAP & SALVAGE

NO TRESPASSING

(EXCEPT IF YOU’RE COOL—THEN KNOCK FIRST)

I smirk, throwing the car into park.

Steve, my favorite owner of Diesel Athletic Club, my favorite gym, also owns this place. It’s more of a pet project than a real business. A place to tinker, to tear apart engines and put them back together again. I would often help Steve on this pet project when I had time—and since coming back home, I’ve had time to spare. Sometimes it was helping him unload his pickup truck with whatever interesting scrap he found on the side of the road that day. Other times, I was a full-fledged mechanical assistant. I have to admit, I enjoyed the work. But god dammit, am I an idiot when it comes to mechanics and tinkering.

Just as I expected, the junkyard looks deserted. No one comes around unless it’s Steve, and he’s not a night owl.

Perfect.

I kill the engine and grab my backpack. Jelly Boy wriggles inside, vibrating with curiosity.

“Hold your horses,” I mutter, slinging the pack over my shoulder.

I step out and approach the gate. The lock on the gate is old but solid. No key. Just a four-digit combo. Steve showed it to me ages ago and, luckily, I still remember it.

Click.

The lock pops open.

I slip inside, shutting the gate behind me.

The yard sprawls out before me in a maze of rusted husks and twisted metal. Gutted cars, mountains of scrap, skeletal remains of machines long past their prime. It smells like old oil, hot metal, and rain-soaked concrete.

I make my way toward the back.

Near the far fence, there’s a covered patio, half-hidden behind a pile of scrap. Exactly how I remembered it! It’s tucked away, out of view from the main road. Even if someone happened to drive by, the light wouldn’t be obvious from the other side of the junkyard’s fence.

This is it.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders. Time to get to work.

I access my Inventory with a thought.

A Gate Ticket (Rank E Quality) materializes in my hand. A small, thin sliver of shimmering paper, barely bigger than an old-time train ticket. The letters on them shift, almost alive, written in a language that isn’t meant to be read.

I need the experience. Even if the Extraction jobs go the way we think, they won’t give me the real test I need. Or the time to experiment.

This, though? This will.

I take a deep breath.

For a second, I consider the risks, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since the day I turned down Midwest Capital. My mind was made up. I access my System interface and equip my equipment.

Flash.

The cape appears on my shoulders and the pointy blue wizard’s hat snap onto my head in a flicker of blue light. My equipment slots fill.

And then, using the last of my AP, I slot my new ability: Dismember (Beginner).

A shiver runs through me. The ability settles in like a knife sliding into its sheath. Something in my core clicks into place.

I clench my fist. You’re ready, I tell myself. Now, for the main event.

I hold up a Gate Ticket. With a quick mental command, I activate it.

The air trembles.

Then, with a snap of electricity—

Rip.

A jagged, swirling tear rends open reality before me. A vortex of light, swirling with raw, arcane force. The Ticket disintegrates, its particles sucked into the maw of the forming Gate.

The wind picks up. Fingers of electricity crackle around the edges of the portal.

Jelly Boy shivers in my backpack.

I step forward.

And then, without another thought, I enter the Gate.