Jack immediately accessed the class description. His goggled kamaitachi eyes were scanning the floating text that appeared before him.
[Class: Phantasmal Rogue. A master of elusive strikes and stolen talents. The Phantasmal Rogue thrives on deception and adaptability. This class grants the ability to temporarily acquire and utilize the skills and innate abilities of others, by creating phantasmal skill tattoos on the host's body. Through focused practice and karmic investment, these temporary acquisitions can be made permanent, though a Phantasmal Rogue is limited to a maximum of nine permanent skill tattoos at any given time. Skills stolen return to their original owner after some time, unless made permanent.]
Jack felt a jolt of understanding. Quickly followed by an unsettling predatory grin on his mischievous weasel's face. This wasn't just suitable. It was perfect.
Racer Jack was already a creature of extreme speed and precise strikes. A blurry phantom on the battlefield. This kamaitachi's natural agility would synergize flawlessly with the concept of a rogue.
But a rogue that stole abilities? That was unprecedented. It was a super annoying class designed for opportunistic, hit-and-run tactics. Exactly fitting Racer Jack's existing combat style. And it dramatically enhanced its versatility.
He pondered at the details. '...acquire and utilize the skills and innate abilities of others'. This was broad...
Could he steal a Primal Sorcerer's supernatural power? A Mystic Scholar's grimoire spell? A beast's enhanced senses?
The implications were staggering. It wasn't just copying. It was stealing. Seizing. A temporary usurpation of power. The act of 'stealing' implied that the original owner would be deprived, however briefly, of that ability.
This added a layer of tactical disruption to an already potent offense. He imagined taking an enemy's signature move, turning it against them, and leaving them bewildered and powerless.
The mechanism of 'phantasmal skill tattoos' was intriguing. He instinctively examined his limbs and bodies. No tattoo. At least nothing visible. He hadn't stolen any skill after all.
As for the limited, yet undetermined duration for temporary acquisition... It should be related to the skill types and the targets themselves. Even if it was just a minute, it should be generous enough for tactical use in combat or infiltration.
Imagine facing an opponent, stealing their strongest attack when they are about to use it, using it against them, and then speeding away before they could react. The psychological impact alone would be devastating. It would make Racer Jack an ultimate wildcard.
Then there was the 'nine permanent skill tattoos' limit. This implied careful selection. A strategic investment. Which nine abilities would be so vital, so powerful, that he would dedicate a permanent slot to them? He needed to consider that.
The correct choice would push Racer Jack's role from a pure speed-based damage dealer to an incredibly versatile tactical fighter. Capable of adapting to any threat by temporarily becoming what was needed.
This transcended the original limitations of a Mythical Creature Monster entirely. It meant Racer Jack could potentially incorporate aspects of every other Transcendent Power Class he encountered. Albeit selectively. He could become a speedster sorcerer, a swift warlock, an agile engineer... Depending on his permanent selections.
The [Djinn's Wish Manifestation] was incredible. But, the karmic cost had been quite substantial. He checked his panel again. A dim color of the word [Positive] in his karma showed that a significant portion of his positive karma had been used.
It wasn't neutral, nor negative, but the reserves should be diminished significantly. He would need to be mindful of his actions, to accumulate more positive karma before attempting another such direct manifestation for himself.
But the result was undeniable. Racer Jack was now something far more formidable. He felt a profound sense of satisfaction.
Satisfied, Jack allowed the Racer Jack form to dissolve. His spectral form, Jack Mystery, coalesced in its place. With the familiar spectral mask and outfit. Night was his domain, not Racer Jack's.
The wish had worked. The risk had paid off. Now, it was time for other duties. Other injustices to address. And... the promise. To help a fellow Fateless. Baroness Artheim.
He phased out of the Mirror Space. Reappearing silently in the master bedroom. Reina was still asleep. Undisturbed by his disappearance. He glanced at her. A moment of quiet affection. Before phasing through the wall and out into the Lonestone night.
The city was a sprawling sight of light and shadow. Of steam and industry. Even at this late hour, life pulsed.
The distant shriek of a steam whistle from the docks. The rumble of a late-night carriage. The faint strains of music from a tavern in the Trade District... All carried on the cool, damp night air.
As Jack Mystery, he was an unseen observer. An invisible spirit melded with the wind. His spectral form was moving with effortless grace. He drifted effortlessly above the cobblestone streets. Through alleyways thick with the smell of coal smoke. And over the grander boulevards where gas lamps cast pools of amber light.
His destination was the Academy District. A part of Lonestone that exuded an air of quiet erudition. Even at night.
Grand, imposing buildings of aged stone. Their windows were often adorned with intricate stained glass. Ones that spoke of centuries of learning and arcane study. Towering spires reached for the moonlit sky.
The Academy District was an oasis of quiet academic pursuit. Amidst the loud industrial noises of Lonestone City.
Jack drifted through the grounds of Artheim Manor. The building exuded an aura of refined scholarship and wealth. The trademark flaming horse statue in the front yard was imposing, artistic, and beautiful at the same time.
Jack was about to phase through the solid stone walls decorated with encroaching ivies. His spectral form was unaffected by physical barriers.
He felt it then. A vibe completely different from what this place used to be. A subtle clash of pressure against his spectral form. Like pushing through thick, invisible syrup.
The mansion radiated a protective aura. A shield against intrusion. Especially for beings of higher dimensional presence.
It was a strange sensation. Alien to his usual ghost-like fluidity. This was no ordinary ward. This was something forged with intent. Designed to repel the truly powerful ones.
Jack bypassed the thick stone walls. The barrier only made him uncomfortable. It couldn't really stop him.
The interior was opulent. Preserved with a meticulous care that hinted at a deep reluctance to let go of the past. Portraits of stern-faced ancestors lined the halls. They didn't look like the Baroness at all. They were her departed husband's ancestors, very likely.
He navigated the corridors with practiced ease. His spectral perception was cutting through the physical barriers.
He found Baroness Artheim in her study. The room was a sanctuary of leather-bound tomes and antique furnishings. The air was heavy with the scent of old paper and beeswax.
The Baroness was a beautiful woman with elegant composure. She hunched over a massive oak desk. Spread before her were two ancient artifacts... a worn, leather-bound book and a brittle, yellowed map.
Her brow was furrowed in concentration. Her fingers were tracing lines on the map with a weary determination.
Jack materialized beside her. The faint shimmer of his spectral form was the only indication of his arrival.
"Baroness Artheim!" He greeted. His voice was a low rumble. Imbued with the ethereal resonance. "You called. What can I do to help?"
She was startled. Not at his appearance. She had seen him several times before. But at the suddenness of his arrival.
A flicker of apprehension crossed her face. Quickly replaced by a steely resolve. "Jack Mystery. The Twilight Death case was over? Great! You come at the perfect moment."
She continued. "I've received word. It's a race against time. And a very dangerous one at that."
She gestured to the map. "My stepmother, the Purity Cult, and the Night Salvation organization. They are all converging on the Valley of Despair."
Jack's spectral eyebrows, if he had any, would have risen in surprise. The Valley of Despair. It was a place recently discussed a lot in transcendent communities.
"The Valley of Despair?" He echoed. "The Saint of Joy placed the Forbidden Chalice there, didn't he? To prevent it from the escalating conflicts between the churches, the royal faction, and the academy. Jack Night told me about it."
He remembered the scene he had seen before. Three factions with their Illuminated Transcendent individuals faced each other. Ready to clash on the streets of Lonestone. They, very likely, would destroy the whole town with the battle.
All was caused by the Forbidden Chalice. The artifact was said to possess the power to resurrect the dead. A potent lure for any faction seeking an advantage. Or a way to undo past losses.
The Saint of Joy appeared then. Seizing the artifact and telling them that he would place the Forbidden Chalice in the Valley of Despair. He said they could fight as they wished in that spatial realm to seize the chalice.
Yet, only a transcendent being at his level or above could enter the Valley. Others had to wait. The Valley was still sealed. It was sealed with an ancient ward that was only supposed to dissipate in several months. Opening its gates to the world at large.
"Precisely." the Baroness confirmed. Her gaze was hardening. "The Valley is still sealed. But they've found a way to bypass that seal. My father's key. It can open the hidden gate to the Valley of Despair. Bypassing the seal."
She continued. "I retrieved the key from that bastard who killed my brother. But, my stepmother and the Purity Cult have somehow acquired another key. Or rather, a duplicate of the one I'm holding."
She pointed to a small, intricately carved silver key. Lying on the desk. Separate from the book and map. "This is it. The Purity Cult killed my father and brother for this. And worse yet."
Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "I got an information that a member of the Night Salvation managed to steal another duplicate. This one was kept in the Lonestone Central Bank. They can now open the Valley ahead of schedule."
A sudden revelation came to Jack. "The Lonestone Central Bank? The robbery done by the Calamity Stars? That was Night Salvation's scheme?"
"Yeah. That one."
Jack phased his spectral hand over the key. He could sense a faint, residual energy clinging to it.
"So, they can open the Valley of Despair prematurely." He commented. "So, this is all for that Forbidden Chalice?"
"Yes." The Baroness replied. Her voice was laced with a grim urgency. "Anyone else can have the artifact. I don't really care. But it will be a big problem if those groups control of the Chalice."
"The Purity Cult will definitely use it to revive some dangerous people from their circle." She continued. "Probably, the incarnation of the Goddess of Purity. The Night Salvation, on the other hand, has its own hidden agenda. Very likely, terrible ones. Either way, the Elrush Kingdom, and potentially the entire continent, will suffer."
She sighed. A sound heavy with the weight of responsibility. "I had planned to use others to stop them. By discreetly informing the Trinity Churches, the Academy, or the Royal Faction. The artifact in any of their hands is preferable to the Purity Cult or Night Salvation."
"But you can't. Why? Wait... the pressure around this mansion?" Jack stated. Realizing the truth about the meticulous defenses of this manor.
"Precisely." She admitted. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "They watch me. This manor has powerful wards. They're designed to repel even Illuminated Transcedent beings. The ancestors of my late husband ensured it. So I'm pretty much safe here."
She sighed again. "But if I, or any of my trusted people, step outside these walls... We would immediately attack us. They would target us without hesitation. It's why I need you, Mr. Mystery..."