Mark opened his eyes, his vision blurry. He had been fighting with this high fever for a few days now and every time he woke up, he heard this voice.
"10%" it said after the first day, "45%" after the second day, "85%" after the third and now, he heard a soft, clicking sound, "100% system initialised" his high fever was gone from one second to another. He blinked the blurry right out of his eyes and a transparent scroll unfurled in front of him.
Mark
Hp: 10
Mp: 10
Level: 0 (0%)
Classes:
Stats:
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 1
Constitution: 1
Intelligence: 1
Will: 1
Skills:
Spells:
He could read it… how could he read it? He had never learned how to read. He knew his numbers but reading? That wasn't something a town guard like him could do and yet these letters made perfect sense, as if the meaning slid straight into his head.
Mark lifted a trembling hand. The scroll didn't ripple like cloth or parchment. It wasn't there in the way that solid things were. His fingers passed through empty air, yet the words stayed, patient and bright.
The septa who had been taking care of him came into the room. She was an old woman, with long, gentle hands and patience to rival a saint. Above her head floated a number 15, "oh my, you are up", she came rushing over, completely ignoring the scroll in front of him, resting her hand on his forehead, "no fever, that's good… how are you feeling child?"
"Not a child" he corrected her, he didn't like being called a child. Sure, he was a bit young but he was a man grown!
"To me, most are children", she said kindly,her voice smooth, "are you hungry?"
He wanted to say that of course, he was hungry, he hadn't been able to keep food down since this fever started. All things considered, he should be starving but he felt no hunger at all, like he had recently eaten a full meal, "maybe just something light", he said after seeing the septa looking so worried for him. He didn't know what was going on… this was not normal, nothing about this was normal.
The septa nodded, satisfied with his answer and shuffled over to the door, "I'll bring you some broth. Rest your eyes"
When she left, the room felt quieter than it should have. Mark exhaled slowly and looked back towards the floating scroll.
It waited.
He stared at the numbers again. Hp… mp… level…
None of those words meant anything on their own, except somehow they did. The meanings sat in his skull fully formed, like memories he'd always had but had forgotten long ago, only to resurface now that he needed them.
Hp meant how much damage you could take before you died… the thought wasn't frightening, just factual.
"Ten", Mark muttered. That sounded low, very low.
He knew -don't ask him how- that he had to level up if he wanted to survive but how? How does one increase their level? The septa had a level of fifteen… at least he assumed that that was the number floating above her head. Next to the bed, sat his sword. Something told him to grasp it. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the worn leather handle, which had seen better days, a new scroll popped up:
Basic Job class: warrior detected. Do you wish to unlock this class?
"Yes", he didn't hesitate. Warmth washed over his body like a wave of warm air. He felt stronger, more resilient. Glancing back at the scroll, his strength and constitution reached four(also raising his hp to 40), his dexterity reached two and his level, once 0, now read 1. What was most interesting though was a new skill: heavy strike. It increased the force of a blow by 10% in exchange for five mp.
Didn't seem like much right now but in dire situations, it could mean the difference between life and death. The heavy sword rested like a promise in his hands. He flexed his fingers, they didn't tremble anymore.
40 hp, four times what it had been a few moments ago. He was nearly dead, probably still was, considering that he was only level 1.
The door creaked open. Mark looked up just in time to see the septa returning, a bowl in hand. Steam curled lazily upward, carrying the scent of herbs, nothing fancy, just those plants which many thought to be weeds but were actually palatable. Above her head, the number 15 hovered, steady and unchanged.
She smiled was she watched him eat, "color's back in your face… that's good, very good. You recover fast, it's a blessing by the seven"
A blessing by the seven eh? That made sense, in some messed up way. He had been given this chance. He wouldn't remain mediocre! Back in his childhood, he had dreamed of becoming a knight and eventually a lord. It always seemed so far away but maybe- maybe with the system, he had an actual chance.
Mark finished the broth slowly, more out of habit than need. Each swallow sent a faint pulse of warmth through his body, subtle but noticeable. When his bowl was finished, a tiny line of text flickered in the edge of his vision.
5 hp restored
So eating healed him?
When the septa left again, Mark swung his legs off the bed. The floor was cold stone, familiar and grounding. He stood slowly, testing his balance. His body felt aligned, not powerful, far from it but sturdy, like he could outrun a horse. Ridiculous, I know but that was what it felt like.
He swung his sword at an invisible enemy, overhead, from the right, sweep the leg. After a few minutes, he looked at his status scroll again Level: 1 (62%)... great, so practice helped level up, good to know. A fire was lit under him. He would become a legend. He just knew it!
A/N: I still haven't decided on a ship, write down suggestions in the comments. The timeliness one year after the Greyjoy rebellion! Thank you for reading :)