As the faceless humanoid said "class" and gestured his colorless hand over, a new prompt flashed into view. It was like a virtual reality headset got installed inside my head or something, only with a way less familiar UI. In the air hovered the 5 class options No-Face mentioned earlier; Warrior, Rogue, Ranger, Mage, and Healer.
"Why isn't healer just a subclass of Mage?" I asked curiously, figuring it was a bit niche for its own category. I mean, healing had to be magic based in some way or another. Who the hell's doing med-evac and field surgery, when presumably there's magic to fill that space?
"There's a lot of ways one can heal. The basic, most fundamental form being through simple mana transfer which, yes, is a common practice among Mages. However, utilizing mana for healing purposes goes far beyond one's ability to cast a fireball, or create icy structures. Many classes can heal without the need for mana pools, as their resources vary from the average classes demands. Many who receive these specialized classes don't often stumble upon them either, marking them quite formidable. Meanwhile, other differently evolved creatures simply use their vitality to perform healing naturally. Others, endurance. It's simply too nuanced to summarize as 'magic'."
Well, fuck me I guess.
It made more sense after I took a few seconds to process its explanation. Though it was admittedly discouraging being so incredibly off based, as I'm really hoping to adapt well enough to whatever the fuck's going on. To be honest, I just want to be at least as happy as I was, before this faceless entitity kidnapped me. Realizing there was a very real chance I'd cracked my skull on the kitchen counter and am suffering a coma-induced hallucination, I shrugged and scanned my options thoroughly.
My selection process began by immediately writing off all choices that I felt were unrealistic, healer being the first and foremost. Frankly, I've never been the 'support role' type of guy playing games with my friends, and while I don't mind helping, I much prefer doing so through affirmative means rather than supplementing the solution providers. To put it bluntly, I simply enjoy the fray far more than supporting someone who probably didn't, but got tossed into the role out of necessity or arrogance. Is that so bad?
I also took Mage off the table. Not because I hated the idea, but my stats did. The intelligence stat was one of my lowest, unfortunately, and it felt unwise to lean heavily into my weakness as a foundation. Especially if this will be a build that I derive my fighting style from in this new…reality? Coma-dream? I don't know, it's beginning to become harder to tell which I'd prefer.
Refocusing in case this wasn't a dream, I got back to removing the least fitting class choices. Ranger was a no-go too, another one where I harbored no resentment toward but simply didn't have the experience to jump into it whole-heartedly. In truth, all of my combat experience was up close and personal, and while I fired guns at ranges and got my certifications, I doubted we were going to be given any of those with unlimited ammo if classes like "Rogue" and "Warrior" exist. Otherwise how the fuck could they if Rangers were always packing from the jump?
This brought me to the first semi-difficult decision; Rogue, or Warrior.
I didn't like the glass cannon idea a Rogue class implied that much, but I knew I'd been inherently making myself one already before this shit happened anyways. My training was simple, utilizing watery concepts I found my spirit most aligned with, some even using physical water as a point of reference, and my fighting style reflected that. Finding cracks, countering, every motion intended to replicate waves rolling along the ocean. Always rising, and always crashing. It had become a part of me to train this way, and in doing so I conditioned myself well enough. Unfortunately, all that cardio also spelled for delayed weight gain.
Sure, slapping on some muscle between fights and building extra bone density sounds like a relatively simple addition to the violent cycle of self-growth. But, the bottom line is you're burning calories at a high rate during those spars, and you need to heal those microfractures in your bones. Though I'm curious how much those things would factor now, with stats and all, but my mind was too preoccupied weighing out the Warrior class to ask.
A high strength stat usually screamed 'Warrior' in most contexts, with the same to be said about toughness and vitality. All things I wanted to excel in, and each usually determined how well your character did in close-combat in most the games I played. Yet only one of my reflective stats were up to par. Plus, leaning my training into two weaknesses like strength and vitality felt wasteful, regardless of how fun the class sounded. Torn, I consulted with No-Face.
"Hey buddy, are Rogues always weak bodies in combat but sneaky, high burst damage types? Is there no middle option between them and Warriors?" I asked, wondering if there were any secret options this thing pretending to be a person was holding out on me. It stopped for a moment, but it didn't look like it was pondering. It just froze, like he was…processing.
It, it was processing, Tom.
"Rogues are special, in that their spectrum of subclasses are in close contention with mage classes when it comes to their range of diversity, and greatly outweighs all but Warriors in total awakened species preference. Your path, of course, can evolve to something almost completely unrelated to your original class and all of its traditional abilities. But you will always have the foundations you set today at the root of your path." No-Face finally blurted out after its uncomfortable pause.
Holy shit, a concise answer out of it.
My heart fluttered at the idea of transforming my entire class one punch and kick at a time, causing the hairs on my arms to raise.
All you needed to say, dear body of mine. Rogue it is.
I figured if I can bend a class to what I was supposed to be anyways, might as well go with the most malleable, and No-Face gave me all the confirmation I needed. I focused my intent on the Rogue option, and to my satisfaction, it flashed a new prompt:
*CONGRATULATIONS!*
YOU'VE ACHIEVED CLASS: {Rogue - level 1}
I checked my status sheet, and sure enough, I had a little class about myself now.
Name: Tom Murphy
Race: [Human(H) - level 1]
Class: {Rogue - level 1}
Profession: None
Strength: 12
Agility: 16
Endurance: 13
Perception: 10
Vitality: 8
Toughness: 12
Wisdom: 14
Willpower: 8
Skills: None
Titles: None
Upon review, I realized I forgot to mention professions, and began asking about them when No-Face's excited voice cut me off.
"Excellent choice, Tom! Now, please select your starting skill."
A new prompt popped up before my mouth formulated a vowel. Only this one was far, far more jam packed with several small-printed lists containing endless options. It was an utter plethora of skills, all with their own respective descriptions. Some were similar to others in wording, but all of them at least slightly differed. 'Back Slash', 'Back Stab', 'Splitting Stab', 'Flanking Strike', 'Shadow Strike', all examples listed together. None of which I had much interest in, since sneaking around was sort of ratty in my opinion. I reserved rat-like behavior for absolute necessity, as that's the only way those rodents can properly function without human care.
Fuckin' hate rats.
Anyways, my mind was already pounding from hunger before this guy started yapping in my ear in this blinding white void. Now mental exhaustion was quickly accruing from trying to meticulously read every single skill description. It was totally mind numbing, up until one caught my eye.
Dual Swordsman (uncommon) - allows the user the knowledge and physical dexterity to contort two short swords with absolute grace without the physical drawbacks of an extra sword in hand. +2 agility, +3 endurance.
Holy shit, an uncommon passive skill? Most games didn't allow this sort of thing at level one. Maybe I broke some 'barrier of entry' for this skill with my experience in fighting? If that's the case, I could understand how hot headed muscle freaks would gravitate toward Warrior classes. Some guys from my gym probably have like a 22 baseline strength right now too, fucking gear-heads.
For the record, I don't hate them, I hate how they treated themselves. They were worth more than cheating for very petty and cosmetic gains, that to me meant nothing if not earned. I'm also 153 pounds, and conscious about it enough to mention that extra 3, so who am I to judge?
Regardless, this was by far the most OP skill I had come across. It was naturally my choice, as I also had good and very recent experience in training with duel swords. I had to confirm my suspicions however, and asked my faceless 'Guy-d'.
"Hey, is it normal that I'm offered an uncommon skill? Isn't it rather early for something like that?" I asked, feeling regret pooling in my belly for tattling on myself. I mean, what if it wasn't suppose to happen? It expressionlessly stared back, tilting its head to the side. After a pause, it snapped its head up straight and finally replied," it would appear your stats qualify for said rarity, rejoice in your favorable circumstance, Tom!"
Perfect. I hadn't seen any bo staff options yet, which was my general weapon of preference, but I guess I'll have to find one of my own someday. For now, I'll stow away my love for the simplest of stick, at least until I can find a way to make it practical to use.
Afterwards, I was to allocate my free skill point. Why I couldn't save it for later, again, cause fuck me I guess.
With agility and endurance being so high to start, I figured I wouldn't want to be too lopsided. Even if one point made a minor difference, I wanted be careful with my choices. So, I tossed it into wisdom.
What? I didn't say I'd put it into a weakness. Those I can beat out of myself in time. I was sure of it.
"Exceptional work, Tom! Now that you've selected your class and allocated your points, it's time to select your weapons."
Wait, right now?…why?
Day 0: Special Treatment
I pondered our haste in immediately moving from class and skill choices to weapon selection, because hey, I just got here. Let's have a conversation or two before I'm sent into the damn wild or, wherever the fuck this wished-it-were-ugly thing is going to send me?
No-Face was beginning to irritate me, to say the least, but I knew deep down I was powerless to do anything except cooperate. After all, he spawned this big ass, dark glass table, covered in hundreds of different melee weapons sprawled across it.
It was an insane display, katars, scythes, rapiers, clubs, maces, sickles, hammers, daggers, spears, I half expected to see a fucking shovel option it was so vast. I grazed over the selections carefully, knowing damn well the importance of picking a weapon you could integrate your own form into.
I had to feel it, to know this was my own extension that will represent my hand, my very will.
Too bad it's like your lowest stat.
I swear, my inner monologue can be a real dick to even me. As I meandered about, I saw a pair of very thick, shorter sized blades.
"What are these called?" I asked, grabbing one by its tightly wrapped grip.
"This weapon is most commonly referenced on planet #147 as 'Tanto'. Relics of your species' Japanese cultural weaponry. Very intimidating looking choice indeed, Mr. Murphy." No-Face answered after a pause. Saying my last name somehow made things more real, even though I was holding very tangible weapons in a very real empty space after selecting very real skills t-…ahh, can't spiral right now. These aren't it. The hilts are far too…boxy. It was like a big letter cutter, it didn't seem like I'd enjoy the feel of them much but, the blades themselves looked formidable. The 12 inch length however was a bit short of what I was looking for.
"No thanks, I'm actually still browsing." I corrected with a grin, hoping I didn't just lock in my choice by picking them up.
"Very well." No-Face replied with a nod.
Sighing with relief, I continued my search until coming across a weapon I actually recognized. The 'Wakizashi'. They too, were of Japanese lineage, commonly used as a backup blade for the Samurai in feudal Japan. It was shorter than a katana, but much longer than your typical knife, extending to around 20-24 inches off the initial eye test.
They also maintained the thin, slightly curved bladed characteristics of its Katana counterpart. I always wanted to get my hands on them, as in my opinion they're a great size for the kind of style I'd wished to have with swords and, yes, I did in fact consider this often. I had a weird 12 months if you asked most, but to me they were a well of knowledge that invoked a lot of joy.
"This, I'll take 2 Wakizashi's." I said excitedly, pointing down at the blade like a child at the store.
"Ahh, you misunderstand, human. This is part of a set with that katana there." He replied gesturing to the much longer blade beside it. I immediately dismissed his hand with a wave.
"No no, you misunderstand. I'm aware what set it comes in, I wish to have two of these." I clarified, yet again letting some of my anger leak into my speech.
He appeared puzzled, standing with his pale hand on his chin as if this request hadn't been made to him before, staring yet again into nothingness. This time our silent pause was considerably longer, and I began feeling unnerved.
Had I pissed it off? Was I about to just die right now? Without the chance to fight, just cease to exist? This thing's clearly strong, and my goddamn pride refuses to treat it with any form of respect. I should just chill out...or maybe grab one of these weapons and lunge.
Before I could overreact, it spoke as if it hadn't broken stride from our conversation.
"Certainly! An odd request, but not one the system deems unreasonable!"
And with that, a second Wakizashi appeared on the table. As my hand met its hilt, a sense of satisfaction at this small victory for my hubris washed away any looming regrets.
One of the few times I'd get to relish in something like that for quite some time.
The armor section was far more bland, filled with differing sizes of armor in weird pelts made from blah-blah-blah. Naturally I was always going to select light armor, as I intended on maintaining my quickness advantage as much as possible to keep my style comfortable. One that meant hitting hard and way before you can get hit with anything properly anyways, so why bother lugging around the extra, weight? In truth, it was actually so weightless that I almost regretted my decision immediately, but No-Face was already talking again.
"Now that you have your weapons and stats in order, we'll be placing you through a trial tournament with humans similar in stats as yourself. This is a semi-exclusive circumstance, as only a portion among your population will take part in this Placement Tournament, while the rest of Planet #147 are sent to their respective Collective Lodge's, where they'll await their group members return before the tutorial can begin. Do note, you cannot truly die in this tournament. This is entirely intended for the myriad of potential patrons perusing through your planet's talent, in search of potential prospects."
Once again, I took a moment to digest all that was said before composing myself internally, managing a response far calmer than one I initially thought up.
"Okay, so I'm essentially headed to…tryouts?" The thought that I'm already some performance monkey for a greater power was beginning to dig deep into my chest out of sheer resentment to the idea.
Who the fuck were they? Gods, who held no power over me and didn't ever bother to make themselves apparent, even now?
Why should Icare?
Sure they're probably strong or whatever, but why wouldn't I be someday too, given enough time? Or anybody given the right circumstances? All they had was more time, and I couldn't wait to make up the difference. A real and true God able to walk among us willingly would've done us some good before this…thing, and I'd rather it be me than some crazed-asshole be the first from Earth to achieve it. Don't feel like bending any knee to some overpowered doofus with an ego issue anytime soon.
"In a way, yes, I suppose it is 'tryouts' as you so crudely put. More than this, it's an opportunity to impress the multiverse's finest, most powerful entities, as any integration breeds opportunity for all in the multiverse. Who knows? You may gain quite the mentor, maybe even master out of this. Shoot, if you're really lucky, you'll be selected as a Chosen, the top disciple and assumed progeny of their patron. With that, comes plenty of power." No-Face replied, sounding as if it was smiling while it spoke.
Now this freshly-dressed printer paper was speaking my language.
With that gem of knowledge, I resolved myself to put the utmost effort into this 'tournament', as the sooner I'm able to handle things there and feign loyalty to some self righteous old geezer with power, the better off I'll be when I get home. Maybe I can link up with Korbin, or shit, my own family. I hadn't even considered them, the vast majority are probably running about like a chicken with its head chopped off right now if they're separated. I can only pray to whatever patron I can impress they'll make it out alright, or better yet, make our ways together before the tutorial even starts. Either way, I have to start off strong.
"Alright, I'm ready." I said, tightening my clutches on the Wakizashi grips in both hands. No-Face nodded, raising its hand and casually waving.
"See you soon, Tom."