I freeze, staring at the corpse. It doesn’t look real, somehow. Like a prop in a Halloween store. I can’t really be standing in front of a body. That wouldn’t make any sense. Why would she be dead? How did this happen?

[Check,] Echo says, taking my questions as an invitation. [The corpse of Lord Kelwa Greenhand. It expired approximately eight hours ago via cardiac arrest.]

A heart attack? She doesn’t look that old. It’s so weird.

But reality is finally sinking in. This is a real live—well, real dead—body, and I’m just standing here staring at it. I take a step back, my boot catching on the blanket and nearly tugging Kelwa out of the bed. I jump as a mug falls from the blankets, clattering across the floor and rolling up to my boot.

“You okay?” I hear Iski distantly call from downstairs.

“Um—!” My voice catches in my throat. Am I? What do I even say? I instinctively snatch up the mug and set it down on the bedside table.

[Status Effect sustained: Poisoned,] Echo says.

My heart jolts. “What?”

[Poisoned status effect expired.]

I stand there, frozen in shock, my heart beating a mile a minute. I Check my HP: 81/90. What was that? I look down at my hand, where a few drops of wine had spilled over my fingers. Then I look at the mug.

“No way,” I mutter, Checking the cup.

[Empty mug,] Echo reports. [Contains trace elements of wine and carnivorous orchid sap.]

Holy shit. She didn’t just randomly die of a heart attack—she was poisoned.

And I have a very strong suspicion who did it.

“Sal?”

I whip around to find Iski standing in the doorframe.

“Is everything alright?” she asks.

“Uh.” I stumble back, suddenly finding myself quivering with adrenaline. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

Her eyes go from me to the unmoving noble. Her eyes widen.

“She’s dead. Poisoned,” I say, finally wrangling my thoughts in order.

“What?” Iski hurried over to check Kelwa’s body. “I—I don’t understand. Who would do this? How do you know?”

I don’t suppose explaining Echo right now would come off as believable, would it? “I don’t know. Instincts.”

Her look darkens into suspicion. She glances between the body, the mug, and me.

It’s like a punch to the gut. “You—you don’t think I did it!”

But it doesn’t look great, does it? I was the one who found the body. I’m the one claiming it’s poison, even though I can’t explain how I know. I’ve only been here a week; Iski doesn’t even know me.

“I think,” she says slowly, “we need to go speak with Gugora. Come. Let’s get out of here.”

I trail her out of the room and she locks the door behind us, not meeting my eye as she leads me down the stairs. The floorboards thump with ominous finality.

----------------------------------------

I’m in the kitchen, glumly stirring the pot of stew I’ve been assigned to attend, but I can hear Iski and Gugora speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the wall. I might have disobeyed if I didn’t have to do this to meet my daily Role Requirement anyway. So much for getting out of here to spend the day leveling up and practicing magic.

The bubbling pot hisses, obscuring Iski’s and Gugora’s words. I shift the cauldron over toward the edge of the fire, then using my Soft Step skill, I tiptoe over to the wall.

“...don’t believe that,” Gugora is saying. “Doesn’t make any sense. She has no motive.”

“I’m not saying she does,” Iski says. “Just that it’s weird. I mean, how’d she know about the poison?”

If Gugora answers, it’s not with words.

“I warned you this was a bad idea,” she says.

“We don’t know she’s involved,” Gugora says. “That’s for the City Guard to determine. There were plenty of other patrons here last night. Check the books—make sure they’re in order. That might help the investigation. I’ll send a wyvern and handle the rest.”

I hurry back over to my stool by the fire and attempt to look innocent as Gugora ducks into the storeroom.

“You were listening?” he asked.

Welp. “Yeah,” I admit, seeing no point in trying to lie to his face.

“Good. Then I don’t have to repeat myself.” He sits down on a nearby barrel, which might as well be a stepstool to him. “The guards will probably arrive this evening to investigate. Tell them everything you know. Be honest. Do that, and you’ll likely be fine.” He gives me a calculated look. “Unless you’re planning to run away.”

It might have crossed my mind. I’m not tied here, after all, and being on the run sure beats getting tossed in a cell. I’m not guilty but I’ll sure look guilty, and that might as well be the same thing. “You really think I’ll be fine?”

He shrugs. “Did you do it?”

“No!” I cry.

“Then you’ll be fine.” Gugora stands up. “She was a rich noble. From the way she was talking into her drink last night, sounds like she’d made several enemies, too. It won’t be hard for the City Guards to put that together.” He pauses. “Just don’t go talking about the Maru stuff. Innocence won’t protect you if you speak too much blasphemy in front of the wrong folk. You understand?”

I have to bite back how I really feel about that advice. “Yeah, I get it. Can I go now?” On the off chance the guards do declare me a likely suspect, I need to level up now before I get handcuffed and my ability to gain experience is significantly hampered.

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Gugora raises an eyebrow. “Go where?”

“Gotta go stab some things.”

He stares at me.

“Stab some… trees?” I add.

“I know you think that makes it sound better,” Gugora says, “but it doesn’t.” Even so, he lets out a sigh and waves me on. “Make sure you’re back before supper. Also, don’t talk about stabbing things around the guards, either.”

“Thanks!” I stuff the spoon in Gugora’s hands then sprint for the back door.

Back in the forest, it feels like I can breathe again. Not stuck in any stuffy inns, doing chores, and having adults talk down to me like I’m a child. Out here, my destiny is in my own hands.

I check my EXP bar and note it’s almost full. Took long enough! I mean, I know I spent the week doing little more than chopping vegetables and getting poisoned, but you’d think almost dying twice would go a lot further. As it stands now, all I need to do is chop a few more creatures—or behead a couple more carnivorous orchids, carefully this time—and then I’ll get my first level up.

Tell me the base classes again, I say to Echo, even though I already combed through all the options every night while lying in bed.

[Warrior | Brawler | Ranger]

[Bruiser | Guardian | Rogue]

[Wizard | Healer | Artificer]

I don’t need Echo to remind me that the top row are fighting options, the middle row are defensive options, and the bottom row are magic options. Of course, I’ll be picking from the bottom row. The question is, which one? Wizard is pretty tempting, as it seems to mostly be focused on offensive damage-dealing magic. Meanwhile, Healer is of course more health and defense focused, and while that doesn’t particularly call to me, the number of times I’ve nearly died now means it would probably come in handy. And that leaves Artificer, which as far as I can tell is the more versatile of the three, allowing you to add magic to items, like creating a badass enchanted sword. That also seemed to be the pattern with the columns as well: Offense, defense, utility.

It’s a toss-up between wizard and artificer, personally. Both could be pretty sweet.

I take out my knife as I walk, which I had the foresight to stuff back into my sheath upon poisoning myself, but lacked the foresight to clean up after doing so. There’s a dried streak of green smeared across the blade. I lift a finger to poke it, then pause and instead get Echo to give it a Check. See? I can be careful. When I remember to.

[A dried patch of poisonous orchid sap,] Echo says. [It is inert in the powdered form, however may become lethal again if rehydrated.]

Is that so? Interesting info. I could do something with this. I nearly stop then and there to head back to the inn and grab an empty vial to scrape the dried sap into. Then I remember the noble was killed by the exact same substance, and maybe it wouldn’t look the best for me to be carrying around a container of the stuff. Reluctantly, I pause at the next giant leaf I find and use it to scrub the poison off my blade. I’ll need to clean out the sheath at some point, too.

“Alright,” I mumble, finally pausing once I find a suitable clearing. I’m nowhere near far enough into the woods to be near the carnivorous orchid patch—I’ve learned my lesson about getting too far from help—but I have another idea for trying to level up. Trying to fight or even catch up to animals is pretty much impossible with just a knife, but there’s more ways to use a blade than just by cutting. “Let’s see if this counts as some Knifework skills.”

Holding the blade out in front of my body, arm straight, I take aim at a knot in a tree. I chamber and throw the knife. It flips lazily end over end, and falls to the ground before it even hits the trunk.

Well that’s embarrassing.

I hurriedly pick it up and try again, this time putting a little more oomph into it. This time it actually manages to hit the tree, though it harmlessly bounces off the bark. I try again. And again.

My arm is starting to ache by the time Echo finally chimes in with a notification.

[Throwing Knives skill obtained.]

[EXP Threshold met. Level up! Class selection available.]

I wipe the sweat off my brow, grinning through the pain of my aching muscles. I’m going to have to work on upping my stamina, next.

“Okay, Echo,” I say, excitedly bringing up the stat screen. “Let’s pick a class.”

The display populates over my vision.

[Warrior | Brawler | Ranger]

[Bruiser | Guardian | Rogue]

I frown. “Uh, Echo? Where’s the last row? The one with all the magic options.”

[The prerequisites for the arcana classes have not been met. The user’s natural aptitude for the arcane and innate mana capacity are too low for such a specialization.]

“What?!” I cry. “Are you kidding me?” What kind of bullshit is this? I’m not allowed to pick a magic class because I don’t have some inherent talent for it? Anger courses through me at the thought. Even in this world I don’t have control over my own body. Even here, I’m betrayed by genetics. It’s not fair.

It never has been.

“No,” I snarl, shaking my head. “I don’t accept it. There has to be a way around this. If I practice with my Poison magic enough, will that unlock the classes?”

[Negative,] Echo says. [The available classes at this moment cannot change. However, class evolutions will be available in the future depending on your stats at the time of level up.]

“And when will I get my first class evolution?” I ask.

[Level 20.]

I wrinkle my nose. The fact that my top picks are locked away still rankles me. In nine levels I’ll still have a chance to force my path back in the magic direction. But my base class is going to be locked in now: It’ll be my foundation that everything else builds from. I’ll need to think this decision through carefully.

Taking in a breath, I try to sigh out all my frustration. These are the cards I’ve been dealt. I can’t change them; all I can do now is figure out how best to play them. I sit down, twisting the knife in the ground as I think.

According to my nightly interrogations with Echo, Warrior is a straight offense/damage type class. I’d need a better weapon, like a sword, to make use of that. Guardian is the opposite, meanwhile, a pure tank build. I don’t fancy myself much of a meathead, so I doubt that class would be ideal for my build and body type. Brawler and Bruiser are similar, balancing offense and defense, though Brawler leans more into attack and Bruiser leans more into defense. They can be good for attack styles that favor a sword and shield, hand to hand combat, and such—none of which I’m particularly well positioned to take advantage of. Which leaves Ranger and Rogue. Both types fall into the flexible/utility category. Ranger is more offensive, but from a distance: A whip or bow and arrow would be a good weapon choice for that class. Rogue is defensive, but only in a roundabout way: it’s more about not getting hit than being able to take a lot of punches.

I tap the knife on the ground, digging its tip into the dirt. A knife wouldn’t be bad for Rogue. Not terrible for Ranger, either, if I could get better at throwing them. Bruiser and Brawler are more balanced builds, but I’m worried I’m too small to engage in fights head-on. My ideal fighting style would be to avoid getting hit altogether. Deal damage from a distance, or leave traps behind as I put space between me and the enemy.

The real question, though, is what will help me kill a god?

“Hey Echo,” I say. “This Poison affinity. Does it mesh well with any of these classes? Also, are any of these more or less ideal for a human?”

[A Poison affinity would naturally be more difficult to synergize with a defensive type, such as Brawler or Guardian, as Poison is an inherently offensive type of magic,] Echo says.

That doesn’t come as much of a surprise to me. Sticking poison magic on your sword sounds a lot more intuitive than sticking it on your shield.

[However, the field can be utilized in more broad ways than purely damage-dealing magics,] Echo continues. [Poison magic includes debuffs and some buffs as well. Status effects might include paralysis, sleeping potions, obscured optics, and so on.]

Hey, this poison affinity isn’t sounding so bad after all. Potion-making is at least a little magical. And actually, that suits my needs just fine. If I’m going to kill a demigod, I don’t stand a chance at taking them head-on. Which brings me back to my top two options: Ranger or Rogue.

I unstick my knife from the soil and wipe the blade off on my pants. Given this Chef role I’m stuck with, I wonder if I’ll be able to leverage my Poison affinity by leveling up through potion-making. And if I can combine poison work with Knifework, maybe I can cobble all these mismatched cards together into a winning hand.

A mundane role. A weak affinity. Little to no innate magical talent. Limited class options. And yet, I think I can start to see a path forward. It’s not the path I wanted, but I’m going to make it work.

“Alright, Echo. I choose the Rogue class.” I grin. “I’m going to be a freaking ninja.”