The modern Fantasy fiction scene seems to be in a state of flux. While readers will ever and anon fall back into the loving arms of Tolkien, there comes a point when high elves, dark lords, and epic quests no longer occupy that same, active space in our reading hearts. It’s not that we’ve moved on from wanting stories about good triumphing over evil against all odds. Or a hero who must find their way from anonymity to acclaim. On the contrary, the cultural pendulum has swung back in that very direction—away from grimdark, morally-ambiguous worlds like that offered by Game of Thrones—and toward a vision of life in which noble protagonists can once again take up their swords and spellbooks in the cause of good.
Only—and here’s the crux—today’s readership (especially of the male variety) is scratching that escapist itch in a slightly different manner than our forebears did. The hero’s quest, while nice, is perhaps too grand and even vague for many today. They want a more granular, specific exploration of the hero’s growth. Something crunchier, with tiers and maybe even stats attached. Like in the videogames or tabletop RPG’s that they’re so used to playing. They want to see themselves reflected in a character with measured stat growth, who takes on the world one spell tier at a time. Yes, I’m talking about Progression Fantasy. As far as Non-Romantasy subgenres go, it’s all the rage right now, and I wanted to see if it lived up to the hype.
Enter J. M. Clarke’s Mark of the Fool. I first encountered this series while actively searching for titles in this category. I remember finding the first pages of Dungeon Crawler Carl on Royal Road and turning up my nose at it. (Maybe I’ll try it again in the future. Lord knows enough people have been singing its praises within my immediate social circles.) But Mark of the Fool, which also began life on Royal Road, was the title I ultimately settled on for my little experiment. I think this was due to the sheer quality of the prose, with the first chapter slowly sinking its hooks into my reading brain.
The setup is simple but deep. Every one hundred years in the country of Thameland, a dark entity known as the Ravener springs to life again, spawning an army of monsters and dungeons to destroy the populace of this quasi-medieval European country. In response, a distant deity called Uldar distributes its righteous power to five seemingly random new heroes each cycle to combat this menace. The Sage is given magical prowess. The Saint has access to divine miracles. The Champion becomes the repository of the combat prowess of all previous Champions. The Chosen has access to the abilities of the other three. And the Fool? Well, he has access to virtually none of these abilities. In fact, the jester-shaped mark branded on his shoulder actively prevents him from using any combat or divinity abilities, while also making the use of magic extremely difficult, if not impossible. The tradeoff is that the Fool of each generation can learn any other skill rapidly, whether it be baking, cartography, or even just getting really good at reading people’s body language. As such, the function of the Fool each cycle is presumed to be more a moral support and logistics type role. And the history books say that the Fool often dies prematurely during the often year’s-long struggle against the Ravener.
As you might imagine, the protagonist, a young man named Alex Roth, is understandably devastated to learn that he has been branded this generation’s Fool. All of his plans for escaping his small town and learning magic at a big-shot university on another continent are effectively ruined if he gets conscripted into the war with the Ravener’s forces. And that is why is he does the one thing that no one would expect. He leaves before anyone can identify him as the Fool! Yes, a big portion of Book One actually follows Alex and his friend and little sister as they flee their home and journey to the afore-mentioned magical university so that he can defy his mark and become a wizard, Harry.
Along the way, he naturally begins to test the parameters of the mark and all that it has to offer—both in the way of benefits and interference. I don’t think it’s much of a spoiler to say that he finds a few loopholes along the way, some of which are very interesting. And just because he left his home behind (at least in Book One) does not mean that danger does not find or even follow him from Thameland. As you might expect, Alex’s exploration of his seemingly lame ability mirrors most of those anime tropes along the lines of “He got the worst ability, but it’s secretly the ultimate godlike cheat code!” Yet Clarke writes this with such a skillful, nuanced approach that it doesn’t come across as cheap at all.
In fact, that inherent contradiction between tired trope and skillful execution is what really makes Mark of the Fool shine. You would be forgiven for thinking that a title like this that began life as a web series on Royal Road is basically the modern-day equivalent of pulp fiction. In fact, you’d be right. J.M. Clarke has churned out this series at a mind-numbing pace, and yet each collected volume is a chonky tome of goodness. Yes, there are plenty of obligatory training and ability-exploration sequences throughout the series, but those are a feature rather than a bug for readers of this sub-genre. As I alluded to earlier, Alex’s journey from one spell-casting tier to another always feels earned and necessary to his development as a character. I’m currently half-way through the series (just finished Book Five), so Alex isn’t a lower-case G god yet, but he’s definitely getting there. Yet it feels earned.
On the subject of gods, I do have to mention my one gripe with the series thus far. While the broader world of Mark is basically a multi-racial, polytheistic 5E DND clone, Thameland in particular is home to the Church of Uldar. This institution, for all its strengths and failures (I won’t spoil anything too much) feels like a thinly-veiled analogue for Christianity. And I must admit, the whole “The Church was actually corrupt the whole time!” trope amongst modern Fantasy and anime fiction has been done to death. Yet, as much as I chafe at the repeated hints to this effect in Mark of the Fool, Clarke largely treats this in a nuanced way. Most of the characters are not taking outright pot shots at a scarecrow of an institution, as is the case in most anime. And I still have yet to finish the series and draw my own conclusions once everything has been said and done.
At the end of the day, I would heartily recommend Mark of the Fool as an entry point for those hesitant souls looking for a way into Progression Fantasy. From the outside looking in, it can be daunting to start reading in a subgenre like this. And while Mark is by no means a light novel, I think it serves as a good gateway drug for those who may eventually wish to read a story in which the protagonist has an honest-to-goodness stat spread for things like durability, agility, or even eating. (My goodness.) Mark gets a little crunchy, but by no means reaches that particular level of obsession. Instead, it balances its POV’s growth with relationships, an intriguing story, devious enemies, and hurdles to overcome. And those will forever be the hallmarks of a good Fantasy story, no matter what trends may come and go. For all these reasons and more, make sure Mark of the Fool makes its way to your bookshelf at some point. Just be ready to commit yourself to a long journey.