They’d been walking for a good while now, and Max wasn’t sure what he should have been expecting. The corridor they had entered was made of dark, gray cobblestone, with torch sconces every ten feet or so. The air was cool, and as the pair moved along, they passed additional doors, each one different from the last.

He thought he heard voices, footsteps, echoing movements beyond the doors, leading to rooms or corridors he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt uneasy, and he needed to keep his senses open.

Luckily, things had taken a turn for the better, as Althorus seemed quite receptive to questions. Max rifled through his satchel as the old man continued speaking,

“However, I must emphasize the importance of getting to know the classes before you leave this tower and make your choice. This is only a… liminal space, if you will, a passage between one world and the next.”

Max was feverishly flipping through the book Multiclassing and You, trying to get a general gist of the classes as Althorus explained things at his own pace. The old man kept spewing,

“If you truly appreciate tactical, combative prowess, then the fighter is-“

Max suddenly waved his hands to silence the sorcerer,

“Okay! First, slow down. I need to actually retain all this stuff you’re vomiting at me.”

Althorus scrunched his brow disapprovingly, but continued listening. Max spoke again,

“And second, I know you supposedly get this a lot but… Why am I here?”

The young mans shoulders sagged, the weight of his predicament finally setting in. He’d been upended, and not in the most comforting of ways.

“I’m just… lost, okay?”

The old man slowed his stride, and turned to face Max as they came to a stop in the corridor. He gave the young man a kind, weary smile, and placed a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

He sighed, and spoke,

“I know, my boy. These events are unsettling at best, and traumatizing at their worst.” The sorcerer raised a finger to make a point, “But you are here for a reason, child, one beyond my understanding. All that come through these halls have a greater destination, and you are no exception.”

Althorus’ face seemed to sag in an almost pleading manner, taking on a weary expression. He spoke urgently, hurriedly,

“I have seen countless faces come through here, some have heeded my guidance, many have not.” He swept his hand in a circular motion, indicating the keep around them,

“Each of these rooms is for a traveler, wherever and whenever they may arrive. You are a traveler, my boy, destined to come to this realm. I know not your fate, Maximillian, but I will do what I can to keep it from being a terrible one.”

The sorcerer spun on his heel and turned, continuing down the hall and waving for the young man to follow.

“Come along, and quickly boy! You cannot afford to dally!”

Max wasn’t sure if he liked the sorcerer dodging his questions, but playing along seemed to be his only chance at clarity.

He followed closely, listening as Althorus waved his hands, accentuating his verbose explanations.

“There are twelve classes to choose from in total, each of them with their own unique strengths and weaknesses. You, as a traveler, will choose one of these as your first class level. This will affect your starting hp and abilities, as well as the kinds of gear you may use. Be wary though, child. If you wish to gain the starting skills from classes that were not your first, you will need to achieve ten levels in those classes to do so. The same can be said for your hit points.”

Max wrote extremely short, disjointed notes as the old man went on, making sure to gather the important bits and hopefully figure out the complexities later.

The young man lifted his head,

“So if I started as a… fighter, I would get all the starting skills and hp for that class right away. But if I also wanted some from… I don’t know, rogue, I would have to take ten levels in rogue, on top of my first level.”

Althorus gave a near imperceptible nod as he continued his hurried stride, his robes making it look as if he were floating.

“Correct, the maximum level for any traveler is two hundred, and the starting milestones for all classes, excepting your first, is ten. Your starting class is a very important choice, child, it can make…”

The old man’s voice hitched, and he cleared his throat before continuing, his voice sounding heavier,

“… or break you.”

Max got the sense that Althorus had witnessed more than his share of breakings.

The sorcerer continued,

“The skills associated with your class will be either gear or ability related. Once again, with the fighter class, you gain the skills necessary to use almost any melee or ranged weapon, and any armor that you acquire, you can effectively wear. Fighters can gain acuity with skills such as athletics, intimidation, or survival.”

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Max furrowed his brow,

“Acuity?”

Althorus flicked his hand dismissively,

“Your acuity bonus is a passive boon that increases in relation to your total character level, a measure of your overall power. It can affect skills you have acuity with, or even gear that you have a particular devotion to. This will be more relevant later.”

The sorcerer spun to the right and continued down an adjacent corridor, never ceasing his tirade.

“At your lowest level, combat will be swift and brutal. Many of the physically inclined classes, such as barbarians, fighters, and paladins, will be forces to be reckoned with at low levels. They’re physically tough, well equipped, and can strike with deadly force.” He sighed,

“Many travelers have been felled with one blow, when encountering these...”

Max made a face again,

“Wait why? Are they ki-“ His face fell, and he felt a twinge in his stomach, “Are the travelers killing each other?”

Althorus didn’t answer, but continued instructing.

“Some physical classes are less resistant, but are quite mobile, and rely on their cunning and accuracy to perform well. Rogues and monks fall into this category. Many of these classes rely on their skills to help them approach challenges, as they don’t normally receive spellcasting, and can gain acuity in more skills than the other physical classes.”

Max was finding it difficult to scribble notes, listen, and hold the multiclassing book open. His fingers were getting stiff and his forearms were tired. He raised his head to ask a question,

“So…” He began, breathlessly. “Why wouldn’t I just start as one of the warriors? I get the health and toughness, and then just go into something else later?”

Althorus pursed his lips,

“There are… requirements to take other class levels. Your first level can be chosen from any class, no matter your attributes, but after that… You must meet the prerequisites. Not only that, but acquiring abilities from a class takes a significant investment in levels. If you wanted the starting skills and hp of the fighter and the rogue, it would take eleven levels at minimum. You can gain class features without needing to achieve level ten, but multiclassing at all can bar you from your capstone ability.”

Max hastily wrote down ‘capstone’ as the sorcerer went on.

“If you happen to stay in your class until level 200, which very few travelers have ever reached, you will gain a capstone ability for that class. They are said to be… catastrophic, quite frankly.”

Max looked the old man over,

“What level are you?”

There was silence between them for a moment,

“One hundred and forty two.”

The young man’s eyes widened, his stomach dropping.

“How long have you been a traveler?”

Althorus chuckled.

“I was a traveler until I reached… oh, perhaps seventy years of age? I have watched these halls for much longer. In truth, I don’t remember the exact count of my years, though I know it exceeds a hundred.”

Max stared down at the books and notes in his hands, shuffling along,

“So… Level two hundred is a long way off.”

Althorus clasped his hands behind his back as they went,

“For some. I was not the most… prolific, traveler in my time. I was scared for my life more often than not, even with His guidance.” The sorcerer pointed upwards and continued speaking,

“But there are a few that a very near, and even fewer have reached it. I believe I could count on one hand the number of traveler’s that have reached the capstone throughout the Echoes existence.”

He looked back Max,

“Do you have your tome, child? The one that holds your name and statistics?”

Max’s blood ran cold as he mumbled in reply,

“No I… I picked it up, but it disappeared.”

Althorus nodded.

“Good. Summon it to your hand my boy. Exert your will over your tome, and it will come to you.”

The young man hastily shoved his notes and other books back into the satchel, and held out his hand. He frowned,

“Uh… Nothing’s happening.”

“Try a bit harder, Maximillian.”

The sorcerer sounded tired, as if he’d said this exact phrase numerous times before.

Max focused, remembering the tome. The black, smooth, leather, the patterns embossed in the spine.

With the same puff of mist, the book reappeared in his hand.

No girlish squeal this time.

Althorus nodded, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

“Well done boy. That tome, in its entirety, is your lifeblood. There, you will record your class levels, skills, and abilities. If you happen to gain spellcasting, this book will be used to manage that as well.”

Max nodded,

“Like a character sheet.”

The old man furrowed his brow,

“I have heard that term from several other travelers regarding the tome. It means little to me, but I would be apt to agree with their sentiment.”

The young man let the tome disappear again, and he followed closely as Althorus continued his stride. They’d been walking for some time now, and Max’s anticipation was beginning to build.

“So if this is your keep between worlds… How or- why did you leave the Echo?”

The sorcerer exhaled slowly, a sigh that felt weary and somber.

“The travelers needed guidance, a fighting chance before they were thrust into a new world. When I first arrived, we were not so lucky. I had several close friends that were brought with me, but… They were lost to our first conflict. We had never heard of such things, classes, levels. We were so baffled by the Echo’s system we couldn’t prepare, and my friends lost their lives for it.”

Althorus cleared his throat.

“As I grew older, stronger in my magic, I decided that there was nothing left for me in the previous world, no connections to foster. I did, however, find purpose in my struggle. I could assist those who entered the Echo, to teach those who might otherwise perish without my guidance.”

The doors had been slowly dwindling in frequency as they went along, and there came a point where Max hadn’t seen any doors for several minutes. He had, however, still heard the faint sounds of activity as they went along.

But from where?

Althorus continued, his wrinkles deepening,

“I sent a young woman through the gate minutes ago, and she had a much harder time grasping the concepts of the system. Physically, she was extremely competent, but the system seemed so… Alien, to her. You however, seem to have quite the knack for it.”

Max scratched the back of his head.

“I uh, play a lot of board games.”

“Ah! I know those! I don’t quite see the correlation between chess and the Echo, but never mind that.”

Althorus chuckled, and finally came to a halt. In front of them sat a door carved from stone, with square runes and molding trailing over the edges. The sorcerer waved a hand, muttering something under his breath as the symbols glowed faintly, and the stonework seemed to shift and warp.

“This is your destination.”

Max’s eyes flicked from the door to Althorus, feeling suddenly queasy.

“Th-this is it?”

The sorcerer cocked his head in an unsure nod,

“Not in finality, no. In this room, you will alter your tome, choose your first class, and you will be sent into the Echo. It is however…”

Althorus placed his hands on Max’s shoulders, his eyes shining.

“…Where we say goodbye. So long, young Max, do take care of yourself.”

The young man swallowed his mixed emotions. He didn’t know Althorus, not well enough to trust him in any capacity.

However, he’d begun to like the old man.

“Thank you, Althorus. I uh…” He sighed, unsure of what to say. “You think I’ll ever see you again?”

The old man didn’t reply, and patted the young man on the back,

“Go now, quickly child.”

The door opened, and he pushed Max into the next room. The young man looked back through the now closing door, the wall melding into the stone and sealing the hole that had once been.

Max watched as Althorus smiled at him one last time, his face the only thing visible as the door closed.

“Listen when He speaks, Max.”

The wall became one piece again, and silence enveloped the young man.

Once again, he was alone.