A heavenly chorus sounded out, like a choir of angels on high. I scrambled upright, throwing off my bed covers and fumbling for the off button on my alarm clock. I hadn’t really been sleeping anyway; I was much too excited for sleep. Also, I was a notorious night owl. The day just sucks, you know? Anyway. It was my sixteenth birthday. My Class Day, for those of you not familiar. Out of habit, and an irrational sense of hope, I brought up my status sheet with a thought.

Allister Rose

Classless

Age 16

Level 0

Race: Human

Strength: 10

Intelligence: 10

Agility: 10

Will: 10

Endurance: 10

Dexterity: 10

Skills: Inspect (Racial Skill)

I sighed melodramatically. Same stats, same name. I mean, Gods, I sounded like some sort of fantasy protagonist. I didn’t really know what I’d been expecting; my status hadn’t changed for as long as I could remember. My stats were the same, at least numerically, as any other human my age. Of course, in practicality they would be different, but the scale was so small as to be inconsequential. But, today, it would change. Drastically. Today I would get my Class, along with everyone else on the planet that turned 16 today. Well, human at least. I think I heard something once about others aging differently. Don't quote me on that though.

I strode over to the mirror, taking a good last look at myself before my life was changed forever. I stood slightly taller than the average in this area, at a respectable not-quite-six-feet. My hair was black and straight, about shoulder length. I parted it, removing the messy mass from my field of vision. That’d be a pain to comb. I spotted at least three tangled knots.

My eyes, hazel, with tiny, easily missed flecks of gold. An interesting relic of a sorcerous origin. Though, unfortunately the line had been too diluted by my generation for me to receive its non-cosmetic benefits. My build was lean, not overly fit, but not unhealthy, highlighted by snugly fitting, comfortable nightclothes. Pale skinned, but not exceptionally, and just shy of gaunt in the face. I smiled, in a way that might have been interpreted as excitement. Possibly. Probably not quite though. More smug. Smirkish. More… anticipation? Yes, I decided. That was a better word. I anticipated what was soon to come.

------

Five minutes later -an exaggeration entirely, even I had the decency to put in a bit of effort for such a day- I sat at the kitchen table, a bowl of plain wheat cereal untouched in front of me. My mother, sitting across the table, glared judgmentally and continued her tirade.

“Eat. I know you’re nervous, but you’re going to need the energy. Trust me.” Inspect.

Brenda Rose

Witch

Culinary

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Age 34

Level 27

I stared at the same screen for probably the thousandth time, lost in thought. What would happen if I got a class like her? Would I end up mediocre for the rest of my life? Doing hedge magic and charms for a relatively tiny paycheck? Not to be rude, I mean, I see how that sounds. She was certainly successful and rather well off. But the reality simply was that a Class like a Witch didn't have far to climb.

My mother was of an average level for someone of her age and general Class. Certain Classes tended to level faster than others. Obviously, slaying a giant would give more XP than baking a cake. Unless the cake was really good, I suppose.

She was slightly shorter than me, with long, blond hair and a figure which was slightly more on the curvaceous side. After all, as she said regularly, and had even committed to a little wooden decorative piece, 'never trust a cook who won’t taste their own food.' I'm unsure where she stole the phrase from, but I certainly trusted her, at least in cooking.

Catching me staring at off into the distance, she sighed. “Well, if you’re not going to eat, at least hurry up so you’re not late. No point wasting time.” She pulled me out of my seat roughly by the arm, hurrying me over towards a dimly white-glowing circle carved on a single patch of stone flooring in the corner. I wondered idly and not for the first time why it glowed. She'd activated it a few minutes prior, giving it time to 'adjust' before it was used. Probably some function of the enchantment required a warm up period. Who knew, maybe I'd be a Ritualist and become an expert in the formation's inner workings.

“Ok, I’m going.” I exclaimed, my voice exasperated, as I shook of her loose grip. Standing in the circle, I touched a similarly glowing carved symbol on the wall and thought hard at it. The world went white.

------

As the world came back into focus, nervousness raced suddenly through me. Again, not for the first time. I was standing at one end of a large, heavily decorated room. It was about twenty stride long and ten wide, with the ceiling at least thirty up. The whole thing was decked out excessively in gold and chandeliers. Who hangs multiple chandeliers? Why? Feels tacky. At the other end of the room was a large and visibly plush bed surrounded by intensely glowing circles of complex purple runes on the floor. It wasn’t very fancy, just a bed, though the whole setting was looking somewhat cultish.

Between me and the other end of the room were rows of pews, filled with members of my extended family (most of whose names I didn’t even remember, truthfully). I hurriedly stepped off the arrival circle. Seconds later, my mother appeared behind me in a flash of white light.

“Go on,” she said, gesturing me down the central walkway. All eyes were on me. Which was normally something I longed for, ironically.

As I neared the raised dais on which sat the oh-so-inviting blankets and cushions, a man stepped out of a door I hadn’t seen, flush with the wall as it was. His matte purple eyes had a warm look in them, somehow, and there was a kind smile on his round face. He was bald, and wore a black robe threaded with gold. His skin was a tanned brown.

“Would you be Allister Rose, or am I in the wrong place?” His voice was also, somehow, warm. I do mean that. The temperature rose slightly when he spoke. It somewhat distracted from the attempt at humor.

“That would be me.” My voice shook slightly. Only slightly.

“Good, that could have been a hassle.” I finally took the time to use my only -for now- Skill. Inspect.

Name unknown

Ritualist

Age???

Level??

That was helpful. I couldn’t wait until I was able to level up that Skill in particular.

The man, no doubt sensing my skill, exclaimed, “Oh don’t bother, my name is George.” At this point, the Inspect screen updated to show said name, George.

“If you could just lie down here, we can get started!” Nodding, I started toward the bed when George -the name seemed rather stuck in my thoughts- grabbed my arm, stopping me.

“Careful not to step on those," He said, pointing down at the circles. "Very high energy. It would be such a shame to be vaporized on such a day.” Now, much more carefully, I climbed onto the bed and lay down on top of the covers.

“Perfect, now, we may begin.” Turning around, he began talking to the assembled family members as I lay there. I didn’t quite hear what he said though, I was too busy thinking. What Class would I get? Perhaps a warrior, a mage? Some obscure, esoteric thing no-one had ever heard of? That last one was unlikely, given simply how many people had likely gone through the process.

After a minute, perhaps a bit more, he turned back around. George whispered to me.

"This may feel a bit strange.” George told me as he raised his hands and began chanting in some unpronounceable language. The words slipped from my mind, leaving a strange present emptiness. Purple energy, like streamers of liquid light, flowed from his hands, dripping down like honey into the inscribed symbols around me. A tingle started in my chest, working its way through me.

Wherever it touched, soothing warmth flowed through me, and I relaxed. Soon, my vision began to grow dark, and I fell into nothingness.