Ivy Doom stared at the status screen displayed across the opening pages of the Doom Spell Tome and felt the entire situation was absurd.
When he had first arrived in this world, he used the character directly imported from his game save.
Back then, the cheat system hadn’t appeared.
When he fought Ranrok’s dragon form, the cheat system still hadn’t appeared.
But after being sealed inside crystal by out-of-control Ancient Magic for over a hundred years…
Now it finally showed up?
It made absolutely no sense.
If he absolutely had to come up with an explanation, Ivy could only think of one possibility:
Harry Potter.
On the very same day Ivy received his Hogwarts acceptance letter, Harry had also stepped into his own destiny inside that lonely hut by the sea.
The story had officially begun moving forward.
And because destiny itself had started turning—
The cheat system had finally arrived beside Ivy.
If some invisible force of fate truly existed in this world, Ivy wanted nothing more than to raise a middle finger directly at it.
Still, complaining accomplished nothing.
He hadn’t even met the famous Boy Who Lived yet—the destined opponent of Lord Voldemort.
But Ivy knew one thing with absolute certainty:
No matter how powerful Voldemort might be, he was definitely not stronger than him.
After all, even Ranrok’s dragon form—a monster capable of casually reshaping the battlefield itself—had fallen at Ivy’s hands.
So how could some noseless bald man waving a stick and firing green lasers possibly compete against the world’s greatest dark wizard?
Of course, Ivy’s current body had not yet fully matured.
And Hogwarts still contained countless secrets waiting to be explored.
That was why he refused to recklessly expose himself beneath Dumbledore’s watchful gaze and deliberately destroyed the wand he relied upon for casting Dark Magic.
But now that he possessed the Doom Spell Tome, Ivy understood something clearly.
He had discovered a brand-new mystery worth investigating.
And everything would begin with the tome itself.
His eyes drifted back toward his attributes.
Strength: 6 (Minor penalty: -2)
Dexterity: 8 (Minor penalty: -2)
Constitution: 10 (Minor penalty: -2)
Intelligence: 15 (Racial Bonus +1)
Perception: 14 (Racial Bonus +1)
Charisma: 17 (Racial Bonus +2)
Ignoring the racial bonuses and underage penalties, the base numbers were:
15, 14, 13, 12, 10, and 8.
Ivy was extremely familiar with those numbers.
It was the classic standard attribute spread from Dungeons & Dragons.
DND—short for Dungeons & Dragons—was a tabletop role-playing game with an enormous fantasy setting that attracted countless players in all sorts of ways.
And the first step in starting a DND campaign was always gathering a few unfortunate souls—
No, wait.
You personally crafted their appearance, race, background, and life story.
Then came their class and attributes.
There were generally three methods for determining attributes:
Dice rolling.
Standard array distribution.
And the 27-point buy system.
Each method had its own advantages.
Dice rolling relied the most heavily on luck and was by far the funniest.
Often, simply generating character stats was enough to leave an entire group laughing uncontrollably.
Why laugh?
Obviously because someone always rolled horribly.
What else could it possibly be?
The method itself involved rolling four six-sided dice and adding together the highest three numbers.
That meant the absolute best possible result was 18.
The worst possible result was 3.
Usually, anything above 12 already counted as a win.
Back on Earth, Ivy had loved using dice rolls to determine character stats because once—just once—he had rolled an absolutely monstrous character sheet.
Three 18s.
One 15.
One 14.
And one 12.
It was practically a perfect all-rounder build.
The kind of character capable of doing nearly anything.
During that campaign, Ivy’s overpowered jack-of-all-trades character rampaged through enemies like a war god.
Gods fell before him.
Demons fell before him.
Everything fell before him.
And then, in the most humiliating twist imaginable, the legendary all-rounder hero died to an utterly insignificant trap.
Just like that, his not-quite-legendary journey came to an abrupt end.
Still, that was part of the unique charm of tabletop campaigns.
At the very least, Ivy had enjoyed absolutely slaughtering enemies while it lasted.
And honestly, that was enough.
The second method—the standard array—was much simpler.
You distributed the fixed numbers 15, 14, 13, 12, 10, and 8 across your six attributes however you liked.
Balanced.
Reliable.
And utterly ordinary.
Exactly like Ivy’s current setup.
As for the final method—the 27-point buy system—it allowed players to create characters with strengths and weaknesses pushed to extreme levels.
This system became especially common in video games because it allowed teams to complement each other through specialized builds. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Although Ivy hadn’t obtained the absurd luck-based god-roll setup he truly wanted, his current attributes were still perfectly acceptable.
Most importantly, his primary stat was high enough.
Charisma.
In DND systems, Charisma often determined a spellcaster’s magical abilities.
Unlike Hogwarts wizards, DND spellcasters couldn’t endlessly throw spells around whenever they wanted.
Nor did they function like mana-bar mages from video games.
Instead, they were restricted by spell slots—a limited number of spells per day.
Although Ivy still existed within the Harry Potter universe, the status screen provided by the Doom Spell Tome represented an entirely new path.
Perhaps one day he could become like the legendary archmages of DND lore:
Immortal.
Or even godlike.
And most importantly—
The final section of the status screen still read:
Feats: Pending Selection
Some feats in DND even granted direct attribute bonuses.
Combined with Ivy’s unique trait—Perfect Multiclassing—it theoretically meant he could acquire an almost limitless number of feats over time.
As long as he lived long enough, he would eventually become the ultimate maxed-out all-rounder.
Ivy cautiously reached out and tapped the Feats section with his finger.
Exactly as expected, a massive list of selectable options instantly unfolded before him.
Without hesitation, he confidently selected his first feat:
Eschew Materials.
Many DND spells required physical material components in order to function.
For example, the first-level spell Color Spray required a handful of colored sand or powder containing the three primary colors.
Higher-level spells demanded even more ridiculous materials.
Although this feat could not eliminate monetary costs required by certain spells, it significantly reduced the annoyance of constantly preparing ingredients.
But more importantly—
Back when Ivy used to read DND-themed transmigration novels on Chinese web forums, almost every spellcaster protagonist picked this feat early.
At some point, it had practically become tradition.
Just as Ivy prepared to select his second feat, however, he suddenly froze.
Wait a second.
He didn’t actually possess a true DND class yet.
His existing Level 15 Wizard and Level 10 Ancient Magic Wizard classes had merely been forcefully integrated into the status system framework.
But strictly speaking, he himself still wasn’t a genuine DND spellcaster.
Which meant the feats he selected probably wouldn’t function properly at all.
Even the attribute bonuses might not truly apply.
So there was absolutely no reason for him to rush into selecting feats yet.
At the very least—
He should first obtain an actual level in a real DND spellcasting class.
(End of Chapter)