Chapter 5: Spotted
By the time Dal had finished his shift at the upscale restaurant, he knew he'd end up having to leave Bradford even if he wasn't trying to put as much distance as possible between the Summerglades and himself. He'd simply gained far too much attention. And although the town was large, he couldn't risk the chance that someone who'd seen his dishwashing performance tonight might end up seeing him singing in a musical or, well, basically doing pretty much anything other than cleaning plates. Put simply, he now had a reputation as the best dishwasher anyone in this restaurant had ever seen, and that wouldn't just go away overnight.
So…yes. It was time to go elsewhere.
"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay on?" the manager asked, hope in his eyes. It actually made Dal feel badly for having to turn him down. But the simple fact of the matter was that, in just about an hour from now, it was almost certain that he would lose the skills that had made him so desirable in the first place.
"I'm sorry, but for personal reasons, I can't do it."
The man exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I getch'a. Well, here you go, son. A little something extra."
The man handed him 70g in coin, and with that, Dal bowed his head graciously and then left. Upon exiting, he emerged to see a lively street where a traveling troupe of musicians was performing an orchestral piece for tips in front of a water fountain carved from Wyrm Mountain stone. Dal could tell the origin of its materials from the mysterious blue sheen that the stone continued to give off even at night.
This really is such a nice town, he thought. Maybe I should make my next stop one of the other two towns that have electricity.
The idea tempted him, but he had to be careful. If he wanted to head towards Ocanna, he'd have to go back through the Summerglades, and he wasn't keen on heading down that way just yet. Nallum, on the other hand, was in western Ostros and would probably be a much better candidate for him. Of course, getting there could take him several weeks, but it would also give him a chance to pass through a number of other towns and villages on the way. He smiled at the thought.
As he strolled casually through one of the main streets in this vibrant town, he allowed himself to relax a bit. After all, he had more than fifty minutes until his next shift. Though, after what had happened to him in the Summerglades, he vowed never to let things run that close again, because even extremely unlikely events could pop up at the last minute, such as a sudden marauder attack in the middle of a pub.
"Sir, do you have any change?" a beggar asked of a well-dressed man in front of Dal.
"Sorry, no," the man replied.
The beggar then turned to Dal. "Sir, do you have any—oh," he said, abruptly cutting himself off as his eyes flashed red. "You're a dishwasher. Never mind."
"Hmph. I'm the best dishwasher," Dal responded, flipping him a 5g coin, which the beggar caught midair. He looked down on it as though shocked.
"Wow, thanks."
Dal grinned at him then continued on his way. Given the need to be out of the public eye, he decided to head towards somewhere dark, secluded, and unlikely to be observed. And though the town was well-lit thanks to the magic of electricity, there were still a few alleyways here or there that Dal could head towards in order to find a bit of privacy, such as one right up ahead sandwiched between a two-story tavern and a butcher's market.
This spot is perfect.
Despite walking at a leisurely pace, Dal still had over a half-hour by the time he arrived, so he sat down on the pavement and rested his head on the wall of the building behind him. Amid the backdrop of light everywhere else, he was practically invisible here—and he liked that. With a sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment and entered into a light doze. He even had a short dream of his mother and father, along with his brother and two sisters. In this brief dream, all of them were washing dishes together. It made him smile.
I think it's almost time, he thought to himself, reopening his eyes and standing back up. But first, he very carefully set the 65g he'd earned on the floor in front of him, as he didn't want to lose it when he shifted. Then he double-checked to ensure he didn't have anything else on his person that he feared losing, as anything in his pockets or tucked into his white service uniform would be lost forever.
Satisfied that anything of value was now on the pavement in front of him, there was nothing left to do but wait the last few minutes for his class to shift.
And, as usual, it did.
Time Remaining:0:00
CLASS SHIFT! NEW CLASS ASSIGNED
I wonder what I'll get this time, he thought. Whatever came next, he was ready for it. And as he waited for the information to flash before his eyes, he realized he was less concerned about his class than he usually was just before shifting, though in this case, it was probably because of how relaxed and safe he felt in this electric-powered town.
Whatever I get, I'll make the best of it. That's all I can ever really—
The information appeared both before him and in his mind, and in the same instant, his eyes widened, his heart began to beat furiously in his chest, and his entire body tensed up. Denial struck him so hard it was like a physical blow. Time seemed to come to a standstill, and for a moment, there was only him and the extremely unwelcome class that now awaited him.
No! Not again! Not again, dammit!
He gasped. It was happening again. God, no. Not tonight. Not here.
He struggled to keep his cool. He was unseen. He was hidden. Maybe he could ride this out. It wouldn't be with him for very long. He'd been through this a few times before, hadn't he? Yes, he had. But God above, why had he been given this curse? Why did he once again have to be delivered such a stark, harsh reminder that he was never going to be able to live a normal life anywhere in this world?
With apprehension and alarm flaring inside of him, he forced himself to accept his situation, as there was nothing that he could do to change it, but there was much he could do to manage it. He needed to calm down and accept that this was truly the class he'd been given.
A class that wasn't even real.
Name: Dal Rineloch
Class: Magic Archer
Level: 15
Abilities: Fast Volley (Tier 2), Enchant Arrow (fire, lightning, ice, dark, light) (Tier 2), Quick-shot (Tier 2), Penetrating Shot (Tier 2), Storm of Arrows (Tier 2), Summon Wolf (Tier 2)
Time Remaining: 5 Hours, 45 Minutes
A ring formed around his feet, and a pillar of light rose up, surrounding him and ridding him of all that he wore, but not without replacing it. Amid the darkness, he had just enough time to see his new outfit before the light vanished; now, he stood wearing a dark green tunic under a black leather vest with dark green matching trousers, a brown cloak, and a triangular, folded-brim archer's hat, also made of leather. Feeling a pressure on his back, he reached behind himself to realize he had a quiver strapped to his shoulder, and it was filled with arrows. Then he looked down, and he felt his heart skip several beats.
Oh, shit!
He tried not to panic as he realized he was holding an admittedly splendid bow in his right hand. It was an ornately carved, wooden bow with curved ends and leather grips—but it was glowing. The entirety of it wasactually glowing with a dull, pulsing, and reddish color, which was indicative of the thing being a God-forsaken magical weapon, something so rare, expensive, and forbidden that even being seen with it could alter Dal's life forever. And somehow, this wasn't even his biggest problem.
No, putting the magical weapon aside, the real problem Dal had was that there was no such thing as a "Magic Archer!" An archer was just a Soldier or a Knight that used a bow. There were no dedicated "archer" classes, let alone one that used magic! And yet, here he was, with his class clearly stating that he was a Magic Archer, something he—and probably no one else—had ever heard of before. And he bet if he used Class—the second of the three basic abilities all people had access to—it would confirm to him that he was, in fact, in a fake progression tree.
Class!
Tier 1----->Tier 2 ----->Tier 3
Archer|Ranger|Sniper
Tier 1----->Tier 2 ----->Tier 3
Archer|Magic Archer|Arcane Marksman
Just great, he thought. It's showing me not one, but two possible class progressions for a base class that doesn't even exist!
Dal had to think quickly but carefully about how to proceed. Although this wasn't the first time that he'd been given a Battle Class that didn't exist—or at least shouldn't exist—this was among the worst places he could be while having one.
Should I move from this darkness or wait it out? I won't be stuck here for long.
Dal wasn't sure what to do, having never been in this situation before. Over the course of his forty-seven years of life, he'd only had a strange battle class like this on exactly three occasions: well, four if also counting this one. During each of those occasions, he'd set his class information to private and had subsequently laid low until the class shifted into something that wouldn't cause a nation to kidnap and experiment on him.
But that would be very difficult to do here in Bradford. The guards were constantly inspecting anyone who crossed their path. This meant the best thing Dal could likely do for himself would be to either leave this town immediately or wait here in this alley and pray that nobody came along for the next six hours. Butregardless of what decision he chose, he needed to hide his information right away.
And so, acting as quickly as he could, Dal activated the third of the three basic abilities.
Status Change!
CLASS AND NAME SET TO PRIVATE
Okay, he thought to himself. I need to either figure out a way to leave this town unnoticed or try my luck here. But if I stay here…
He looked down at the bow, which was giving off actual light.
Yeah, I need to get rid of this weapon if I'm going to hide. Otherwise, someone might—
"Hey!" a voice shouted at him, causing a wave of alarm to rush and slam into Dal as he looked across the alley and saw a guard staring back at him. The guard, who was holding a fiery torch in one hand and a sword in the other, shouted, "What are you doing skulking around in an alleyway? Hey! You there! Come out now!"
Dal froze. Yet even as he did so, an impulse exploded in the back of his mind, one that told him he could solve this problem by simply raising his bow and firing it. Actually, it suddenly dawned on him that he knew how to shoot an arrow with such incredible accuracy he could probably shoot it through the window of the pub across the street and still manage to hit that tiny glass cup on the counter near the barmaid.
It was just a sense that he had: a feeling. He could feel how accurately he could now shoot.
"Hey, are you listening to me?" the guard demanded. "Come out from the shadows now! And what is that glowing thing in your hands?"
The guard, clearly losing patience, raised his whistle to his lips, and this caused the level of urgency to explode in Dal's brain. If the guard called for help, things would become so much worse than they were right now. And so, acting purely on impulse, he reached into his quiver, nocked an arrow, drew back the bowstring, and loosed it at the guard—and all before he could even draw the breath needed to blow into his whistle.
Now, Dal watched as, with perfect, superhuman accuracy, his arrow hit the whistle at an angle, causing it to fly out of the guardsman's mouth without causing him any harm or bodily injury.
"Wh-what the fuck was that?" the guard shouted, looking around as if to find the whistle. "Did I just get shot? I need backup! I'm under attack!" He began screaming. "I'm under attack! I'm under attack!"
"Gil?" another guard cried.
"Yeah! Over here! Someone just shot the whistle out of my mouth."
"They fucking what?"
This is turning so bad so fast, Dal thought.
Adrenaline now coursing through him, he quickly bent down, snatched up his meager 65g, stuffed it into his tunic, and then spun around, racing deeper into the alley. His reflexes enhanced, he hopped over a waist-high fence and then continued to run down the next street over—and into public view. Three nearby guards at the foot of the next street turned to look at him, and as though surprised, they had a somewhat delayed reaction as he sprinted beyond them.
"Who are you?" one of them called to him. "And why are you running like that? H-hey. Hey, stop. Seriously. Stop!" the man demanded. Dal ignored him and continued to run, and for his treachery, he was rewarded with the sound of a whistle being blown. This whistle was followed by two more, then five whistles. And now, Dal's adrenaline kicked into overdrive as the town's alarm bells began to go off.
"DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING!"
What have I done?
*******
Alain rubbed his chin. "Garrick, I don't think we're going to find anything in this part of town. We should rejoin Rethi and Denin by the stables."
The man made a barely coherent grumble of agreement. Presently, the two were standing side by side near the center of the town, where common houses lined the street on both sides. A guard had reported seeing a man behaving strangely in this area, but unsurprisingly, it had turned out to be nothing more than a simple case of having too much liquor.
"This is fucking stupid," Garrick complained. "Why are we running around like idiots? We're not going to find the summoner ahead of time. We should get the town's guard ready for combat like we originally planned."
Alain frowned. "Too many people will die if we fail to prevent the manifestation. We can't let it happen."
Garrick shrugged, his massive form briefly causing his cloak to shift to the side and reveal the equally massive sword on his back. "People die sometimes, my prince. Shit happens."
Alain made a disgusted grunt then turned around, giving this area one final look. He was agitated, sleep deprived, and running out of time. Having been born with the incredibly rare gift of Othersight, his visions had never deceived him. Yes, there had been times when he'd misinterpreted them, but rarely, if ever, were they pure fabrications.
No, he knew he was properly interpreting what he'd been shown in the three visions that had come to him suddenly last week. When put into context, they had given a very strong implication that a summoning would soon occur in Bradford. And when it did, the death toll would be astronomical: unless they stopped it. But more importantly, Alain's primary goal was to prevent the possible chain of events that might follow: one that could lead to the end of humanity itself.
Although his father, the king, insisted he was mistaken, Alain knew that if even a single demon managed to breach the seal of the lower-dimensional plane and manifest itself anywhere on Galiad, it could serve as a trigger to awaken the Beast of the End.
And he could not allow that.
"We haven't given the cathedral a close enough look," he said to Garrick, desperate to find their summoner. "Let's find Rethi and Denin, and together, we'll—"
"DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING!"
At the sound of the alarm bells, Alain gasped, and Garrick tore off his hooded robe, revealing his body covered in plate armor as well as the sword on his back, which he drew, gripping it tightly with both hands. "Has it already started?" he asked. "My prince, I thought you said the summoning would be tomorrow."
"Around tomorrow," Alain said, tearing off his own hooded robe. He drew his Sword of Sealing, which emitted the golden glow of holy magic as he clasped it with his right wrist. "Garrick, we have to hurry. People could already be dying!"
******
Dal looked over his shoulder. There were ten, no…no, now it was twenty guards sprinting after him. If not for his incredible speed, he would have already been caught. Leaping nearly two dozen feet into the air, he landed in a crouch atop the roof of a pub in the market square. Then he darted forward, jumped, and landed on the roof of a brothel adjacent to it.
Something's coming!
He threw himself forward and onto his belly as multiple arrows sailed over his head right where he'd been standing, each one narrowly missing him. Then he resisted the temptation to return fire with the bow in his hand.
"Come down from there now!" demanded multiple voices.
Dal stood back up, and as soon as he did, a whoosh in the air preceded several more arrows. Dal, benefitting from his class-gained reflexes, twisted his body to the left then right, causing each one to fly across empty space instead of ripping through him.
This is the worst situation I've ever been in, he thought, doing his all to stave off panic.
Desperate to escape, he jumped from the brothel onto the thatch roof of a nearby structure, and then he slid forward off the top of that roof, dropping about ten feet onto the pavement; immediately upon landing, he resumed running southward as what sounded like fifty pairs of feet were slamming down onto the street in pursuit of him.
"I didn't do anything wrong!" he shouted to them.
"Then stop running!"
Whistles continued to blow, alarm bells continued to ring, and arrows were repeatedly fired. And now, as Dal ran for his very life, he realized that he'd have to cancel his plans to travel to Nallum. No…on second thought, he'd probably have to leave Ostros entirely after this.
Hell, maybe even the continent.