For continuing to function despite a level of mana deprivation that should have left you a drooling floor decoration for days, [Robust] advances to level 10.
And yes, you can have a couple of [Light] levels, too. I especially liked the fuchsia.
"Thank you very much," thought Mystery. She also thought several other ruder things, but felt that the thoughts she framed with words should be polite, given that she'd just gained two skills and three new levels.Increased Attributes (C)Faster. Stronger. Tougher. Brainier. Wittier. Better. Rise above the limitations of your puny flesh and become more than you are. Each level slightly increases your general abilities.Mana Storage (U)For mages, the depth of their mana pool is a direct measure of the amount of useful work they can do without rest. With this sub-skill, each level of [Increased Attributes] will provide you with additional mana.Or one new skill and an immediate sub-skill for it, as it turned out. Not the rarest of sub-skills, and one that any professional mage would own, but they would have gained it through weeks of carefully pushing themselves in numerous short sessions, preferably while sitting comfortably with a sick-bucket to hand. They wouldn't earn it within a few minutes on a whim. And so the accidentally named Mystery carried on casually breaking the balance of the world.The rapid ascent of the hero was an event of which, far away from Flinel, in the depths of the demonic forest, no-one was aware. That was entirely expected; no-one in Flinel knew, so how were any outsiders supposed to have found out? Heck, no human, jellax, zycrian or even grachen yet knew that there was a hero.There was a clearing in the forest, if 'forest' was the correct word for the sparse collection of dead, leafless trees that existed in its depths. The ground was grey ash, without a hint of green. Not that the ground colour was visible from above; it was completely covered by a carpet of monsters. Chitinous beasts with too many eyes and even more legs. Boneless forms of flesh, leaving trails of blood as they travelled. Great, featherless birds, gaunt skin stretched over bony wings, tipped with vicious claws. A swarm of spikes and fangs.The monstrous tide was deepest in the centre of the clearing, a bulge suggesting they were crawling over a small hill.Appearances could be deceptive; it was not a hill of any size. Rather, beneath the chitinous coating was a pitch-black egg, tens of metres tall, the base embedded slightly into the ground to keep it upright. Anyone with a skill to visualise mana could have seen it rushing towards the egg, but they wouldn't be able to see what it was feeding inside; the black shell was a barrier to more than just light.An observer might ask themselves what sort of creature could lay an egg that large, but that wasn't a useful question. Rather, they should ask what manner of creature was going to hatch.Inside the egg, the nascent demon lord stirred. Unlike the hero, no impatient goddess had granted it premature intelligence, and its thoughts were wordless and shallow. If they did need to be summed up, perhaps it would be best done as, "Hungry."The steady flow of mana into the egg stuttered and then accelerated as the embryonic king of monsters and demons drunk deep of its nectar. The creatures above skittered in excitement as they felt their master stir, and then froze up as the egg burped, launching a ring-shaped shock-wave of corrupted mana—miasma—into the forest.At the edge of the clearing, demons sat and waited for the birth of their lord. Far closer to humanoid than any of the monsters swarming the egg, but nevertheless alien. Some were coated in chitin. Some had ten eyes, or none at all. Extra limbs, warped dimensions, claws and fangs. Some had leathery, bat-like wings curled up behind them. None made a movement or a noise. They knew patience, and they would wait.A little further away, the wave hit a cloaked and hooded individual, leaning against a tree and, for some reason, being utterly ignored by the roving monsters. Her response was a happy smile of anticipation, looking forward to the monotonous world once again growing interesting for a few brief decades. A hand vanished into her hood, clutching an earring on its return as she began her preparations.At the forest edge, where monsters were weaker, the terrifying touch of the demon lord drove them into a blind frenzy. They fled from it on instinct, leaving the forest and rampaging through the lands beyond. On the northern border of the forest, that was the kingdom of Flinel.A horn blew from a watchtower in Karn's Vigil and a party of adventurers issued forth, flying over the walls; the monsters were weak, so the party was selected for mobility above all."Wonder what's got them all riled up?" muttered a guard as he watched a flying mage rain lightning bolts down upon a pack of wolves below."Who knows? Probably a bigger beast stole some territory further in, and they're being pushed out. Happens from time to time."It was a shame he had no idea how accurate his guess had been.The adventurers made short work of the fleeing monsters, with neither them nor civilians taking a single scratch. That didn't mean the farmer whose field had been trampled by a pack of wolves and then set on fire by a pack of flying mages was particularly happy about the situation, though.Some people might ask why anyone would set up a farm so close to a foreboding expanse of evil monsters, but the increased mana density rolling out of the forest permitted the growth of magical crops that weren't viable elsewhere in the kingdom. Ice berries grew in frozen fields of blue. Golden apples grew on trees with yellow leaves, although despite the name, only the pips were actually made from gold. A hundred varieties of the more literal sort of magic mushrooms were in massive demand by alchemists across the kingdom, vital ingredients for their high-end potions.Alas, none of that mattered when people kept setting fire to everything. A couple of years previously, when monster incursions had come once every few months, it was fine. In the past month, they'd been coming every few days.The [Frontier Farmer] was a hardy chap, more than willing to punch a few wolves in the snout when required, but having lost a field for the second time in the week, he decided enough was enough.As soon as dawn broke the next morning, he headed into town to sell up.