DMS Chapter 118

Flinx reviewed the information provided by his Transmigration System regarding dual-classing. The limitation was clear: a second class could only be advanced to level five. This restriction meant that his primary class—Wizard—would cap at level twenty if he chose to dual-class, with the remaining five levels allocated to the secondary class.

In contrast, a single-class individual could reach level twenty-five. This differed from the most famous fantasy tabletop role-playing game, whose system interface was based on, where the standard cap was level twenty. The discrepancy raised questions, but the system offered no explanation.

There was also no indication of any penalty or downside for not reaching level twenty-five. What it did clarify was how levels were counted. Requirements tied to level would consider the combined total of both classes. A level ten Wizard paired with a level five secondary class would be treated as level fifteen overall. That would allow access to abilities or locations requiring level fifteen, such as dimensional traversal.

Still, the benefits of higher levels remained unclear. Flinx had already acquired every Wizard spell listed in the system’s interface. Beyond an increase in raw power, he saw little immediate advantage. The mechanics of higher-level spell slots, however, warranted closer study.

At some point, the system quietly removed a previous restriction. Before, spells could only be slotted within two levels of their original tier. Now, that limitation no longer applied. Even a cantrip could be placed into a tenth-level spell slot.

This change opened possibilities, but also demanded caution. The only spells Flinx had studied in depth for high-slot casting were Conjure Elemental and Planar Binding, both originally fifth-level spells. Their interaction at higher tiers appeared significant.

The realization prompted immediate action. Recasting his elementals using tenth-level slots would take time. Each casting required a ten-minute recovery before the slot could be used again.

The following day, Flinx informed the others that he would suspend dungeon exploration. He needed time to research his magic and replace his summons. He warned them that there would be a temporary lapse in elemental support.

To ensure their safety, he summoned an Earth Elemental using the tenth-level spell slot so Olivia and the others would still have a guard with them. Using a tenth-level slot, he cast Conjure Elemental, summoning an Earth Elemental. The creature retained its stone golem form, but its scale had changed dramatically. It stood eight feet tall, its presence imposing and solid.

He followed with Planar Binding, also cast using the tenth-level spell slot. The result was extreme: the binding would last for two years.

Once the elemental was secured, the household resumed their routines. Olivia and the children left for the shop, Christopher for the restaurant, and Ambrose for the martial school.

Flinx remained behind.

He continued the process of resummoning all of the elementals methodically. Pondy was next. When resummoned, the Water Elemental expanded far beyond its previous limits. In its pond form, it became vast and deep—large enough that an entire group could swim within it without appearing cramped or absurd.

With three Earth Elementals, Pondy, and four Wind Elementals already under his control, Flinx still had capacity for two more summons. He chose to bring back Pip.

The transformation was immediate.

When summoned through a tenth-level slot, the owl familiar displayed a marked increase in intelligence. It could now communicate with clarity. More than that, it could cast spells independently.

Pip’s capabilities were substantial. It could cast three third-level spells, five second-level spells, seven first-level spells, or eight cantrips per day—or any combination within those limits. More importantly, it had access to any spell Flinx had acquired.

The implications were significant.

Flinx also no longer needed to micromanage his familiar. Pip could assess situations and select spells accordingly. This autonomy led Flinx to a decision: he would no longer dismiss the familiar unnecessarily. Pip would remain unless destroyed—and even then, resummoning would restore it.

Recognizing this, Flinx entrusted Pip with the Floating Orb of Spells. The familiar was now capable of managing it, including selecting which spells to store. There was some risk in doing so, but Flinx judged it minimal.

What unsettled him was not the risk, but the response.

Pip was… happy.

Flinx felt it clearly. The emotion was unmistakable.

That realization forced a shift in perspective. Pip was no longer a mere construct. It was a being capable of thought—and feeling.

He tested a concern immediately. If Pip were destroyed and resummoned, would it remain the same entity?

Pip confirmed that it would.

The answer brought Flinx an intense sense of relief. As long as he lived, Pip would persist. In effect, the familiar had achieved a form of immortality as long as Flinx was alive.

He pressed further, asking whether Pip could communicate with others. The answer was less encouraging. The familiar lacked any spell that would allow direct speech. However, it could use the Mage Hand spell to write messages. The telepathic link remained exclusive between them.

With that matter settled, Flinx turned to his next decision.

The choice of a second class.

The system limited his options to Cleric, Druid, Warlock, Sorcerer, Artificer, Fighter, Ranger, and Rogue.

He spent hours examining each one. He reviewed their abilities, spell lists, and potential synergy with his Wizard class. He also consulted online forums dedicated to the most famous fantasy tabletop role-playing game, on which his transmigration system was based. While the mechanics were not identical, the discussions offered useful perspectives.

Eventually, he created a post of his own:

“Which class would you multi-class into if you were already a wizard in a real magical world, not a game?”

The responses came quickly—and they were far more varied than he expected.

Even though most of the responses were not directly applicable to his situation, they were useful in shaping his understanding. Still, Flinx chose to delay his decision. Selecting a second class was not something he could afford to approach lightly.

Two options stood out to him above the rest: Rogue and Cleric.

The Rogue appealed to his immediate objective. If he intended to locate and rescue other Earthlings, stealth and mobility would be invaluable. The ability to move unseen, gather information, and strike with precision could mean the difference between success and failure.

And yet, his attention repeatedly returned to the Cleric.

Its spell list offered reliability—healing, protection, and support. While healing was not a pressing concern due to the magic item he already possessed, the broader utility of the class was difficult to ignore. Still, there was one reason he had hesitated.

His ninth-level Wish spell.

In theory, Wish could replicate any Cleric spell, even resurrection. That alone made the Cleric class seem redundant. But the same logic applied to every other class. If he relied solely on Wish, then no secondary class would ever be necessary.

That line of reasoning exposed the real issue.

Flinx did not trust Wish.

The spell was powerful—too powerful. It carried risks he did not fully understand, and relying on it as a substitute for an entire class felt reckless. It was, in every sense, a double-edged weapon.

Hours passed as he weighed his options.

In the end, he made his decision.

He chose the Cleric.

The deciding factor was not its spell list, nor its synergy with his existing abilities. It was something simpler. According to his Transmigration System, the Cleric class did not require devotion to any god or divine entity.

That detail raised new questions.

If his power as a Cleric did not come from a deity, then what sustained it? Traditional Clerics drew their strength from divine sources. In his case, would the spells be fueled by mana alone? Or was the system itself the source?

Was the system… a god?

The thought lingered, but Flinx did not pursue it.

He was not inclined to dwell on questions without immediate answers. What mattered was utility. If the power were available to him, he would use it. His goal remained unchanged: rescue the other Earthlings.

Everything else could wait.

After that—once he had the strength—he would decide where his life would continue.

In this world, or back on Earth.