I took a quick look at my companions. They'd do the same to me, to be sure. Well, two of them, at least. I can't imagine not having such a basic Skill as Inspect. Though they surely had something equally essential, infuriatingly loath as the myriad races were to sharing such information. I mean, honestly, whats the problem with disseminating knowledge? Anyway.
James
Warlock
Age 16
Level 1
Inspect Level Up! Level 1.
Oh, would you look at that.
Zarah
Orc
Warlock
Age 16
Level 1
Asta
Human?
Warlock
Age 16
Level 1
Some very interesting information there. My first Level increase, for one. Even if just a Skill. What a momentous occasion. Though it didn't seem to add anything that wasn't blindingly obvious. Now that I think about it, why didn't it include that in the first place? Especially if just to be added at the first improvement! And Level 1? Does that mean it was zero before? Are the rest of my Skills at zero? This feels like a cheap fix someone slapped on their mistake. I'm probably overreacting. I should check it on an object or something, though.
Also, there's the matter of that rather suspicious question mark. I chanced a glance at the offending individual, only to find their masked gaze boring a hole into my own, eyes peering out of a featureless void of eexpression. I turned my head and looked into the distance in an entirely innocent way. Someone spoke, seemingly utterly oblivious of the tension.
"Great! Everyone's introduced." The silence grew, a great awakward pause as nobody moved to continue speaking. I further questioned the viability of this group. Ah, presumably I'd only need interact for this class and the occasional exercise. Other than that I could go it alone. "How about we try to break the ice?" Savhyt suggested, continuing to carry the conversation totally. I imagine he probably found the other three on his own too. I applaud his courage. "Please?" Ooh, the first crack in the incessant cheer, a slight wince and a twitch of the eye. Coupled with a pinning-back of the ears that reminded me of a cat, vaguely.
There was a brief pause, though it seemed to stretch forever. James spoke, saving me from the verbal suicide I'd likely been about to commit.
"So." He cleared his throat. "Favorite colors?" I couldn't help it. And I really tried. I struggled, stained and failed to repress a snort of laughter. The kind of short expellation of air one might produce upon seeing something so exceptionally stupid that all else was a masterpiece in comparison, and yet that was still, unexplainably, uproariously hilarious.
The elf snickered. He visibly strained to hold in his laughter. He was mostly unsuccessful. The dubious-human let out a small sound that may have been a giggle. The orc chuckled audibly, not even attempting to hide it. Soon all the four of us were laughing, James looking entirely confused. It went on for a bit, before I managed to choke out a response.
"A bit basic, but I like gold. It's just a nice color all around." Yes yes, I know, I'm boring and cliché. Moving on.
The conversation flowed slightly more easily after that. It was still rather awkward, but less enough that I didn't die on the spot. I learned a few minor details, such as their favorite colors being orange, purple, blue and the overly specific shade of vermilion. Favorite foods were steak, cheesecake, undefined, and a repulsive sounding onion-garlic stew that I neglected to voice an opinion on. I'll allow you the honor of guessing who's who. In case you're wondering, I like chicken nuggets. Judge me, if you dare.
Only slightly more important, their Patrons were known as the 'Blood-Red Waters,' 'Falling Mountain,' 'something else which Asta declined to share,' and an unnamed void creature for James. (Because they actually don't have any, apparently, not that he didn't share.) Those being shortened names, of course. How spooky. I'm quaking in my boots. Mine was spookier though, I'd say. Not to brag. Well, a but of bragging. Though I don't know why. Speaking of which, I discreetly tapped the eye, though without opening communication. It stared hungrily. As it historically had.
Anyway, you get the idea. The only other thing of particular interest was that apparently the masked one had a skin condition. They offered no further explanation. I don't know if I believed that, but I honestly don't really want to get involved in someone else's origin story. Especially when said person is honestly more interesting than me. I really need to think about changing my style. Maybe a hood? No, too boring.
The class ended quickly. Valen didn't show up again, which was hopefully a good preview of her teaching style. I should consider getting a watch or something, with how bad my sense of times' been recently. Where would I get one of those? Actually, where was I supposed to get anything, here? Namely, I don't know, food? Sustenance? Clothes other than the uniform? Furniture for the extremely bland dorms? Why did I not think of this earlier? Certainly an issue, but not one I can deal with now. Off then to not-dying-horribly-due-to-your-own-incompetence 101. Farewell for now, associates.
------
The trend of unique classrooms continued with this one. Though, room might be a bit inaccurate. The blurs and streaks of indistinct color slowly lightened as I walked. Above me, they grew deep and blue, an indistinguishable expanse without end. Beneath my feet they yellowed and bleached. The texture of the ground became soft and shifting. Finally, the travel came to an end. And I stood outside, beneath the blessed sky. More specifically, in a courtyard between the three walls of the triangular castle. The borders of which looked larger than life, looming implausibly far off in the distance. Spacial magic sure is convenient. Cuts down on that pesky physical space requirement. Thankfully, the bright suns were shielded from my eyes by the previously noted large crystal orb, similarly enlarged. The translucent surface let through just enough light to cast a dappled pattern on the sand. Ingenious, though quite impractical if that was its only purpose. The suns behind it shone like a bright red spark in the center of the sphere.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
And that was it. I couldn't help but notice the lack of seating. Was I expected to stand for the entire period? Or sit upon the sand in this no doubt rather expensive coat? The audacity. Why, I-
Attention Attendents of COMBAT 101. The following is a pre-recorded message.
Welcome to Combat 101. This course is mandatory, seeing as, both during and after your education, you will often be required to defend yourself or others from all manner of beasts, monsters, and those less understanding, unfortunate as it is. As it has been deemed impractical for one Instructor to handle the education of so many diverse individuals, the responsibility has been offloaded to the System. Tests, Objectives, Grading and Rewards will be handled by the System on an individual basis. Should it be required, faculty may intervene in the event of an emergency or similar unpredictable circumstances. Materials or items needed, such as equipment and weapons, will be provided.
End of recorded message.
Oh, a distraction. And an interesting one too. You're saying I don't have to interact with a teacher at all? Sign me up! Bit short of a message, though. And still no seating provided. Ah, whatever, down I go. Right on the ground. Someone else did it, anyway. Not that I'm copying. I await patiently for whatevers' next. Which thankfully wasn't a long wait.
The sand shook. It was displaced, shifting and parting as objects rose from beneath in a slowly rotating ring around the grouping of students, a few layers deep. Weapons and armor, all of what looked like basic iron or leather, though I'm not an expert. There was a massive variety, from small, needle like daggers to long, sweeping staves. Thin, light chainmail to heavy half-plate. Maybe a bit overkill, but I'm sure someone has used each option at least once.
Not only that, but walls too. Small, square enclosures that ascended from below. Perhaps big enough for two people to stand arm-to-arm. Their purpose being quite evident, even before the words appeared above them. 'Privacy,' in neutral System text, hovering in the air. How kind.
Ten Empire Standard units of time will be provided to select equipment, after which the first evaluation will be initiated. It is recommended to select equipment you intend to use long-term, as frequent changing may result in lower proficiency and Skill levels.
How insightful, too. Who would've thought that being less committed would make you worse at the thing? Anyway. I began to browse the armory. Do we get to keep these? Where would I put them? Eh. Future problem. Quite a lot of those it seems. I honestly feel bad for my later self. I'll make a mental note to look back at this moment when I regret my decisions.
The other students, of course, also moved toward the arsenal. Conveniently, an object would rise from the sand to replace any that were claimed. I scanned the options, feeling a bit out of my depth. While I had some minor experience with a few basic melee weapons, I wasn't particularly Skilled. Get it? I'm hilarious. Arms-wise, I opted for something simple, likely to go mostly unused unless I seriously messed up. What I ended up selecting was a metal rod perhaps the length of my forearm from elbow to fingertip, with a small sphere on the end about two fists in size. A bit heavy, but suspiciously lacking, though it produced a satisfying thump when I slammed it into the ground. I also took a straight and simple shortsword, narrow with two edges, about as long as my arm. Just in case. Ideally, I'd never use either. Though, historically, my plans don't have good track records.
Defense wise, I went for a basic lightly armored coat, typical of squishy magic users such as myself. It was nigh identical to the uniform coat, but stiffer and with thick leather plating on the torso and upper arms and the upper leg region of the flared bottom. It was fitted with slots on both sides of the waist, as well as the back, for any surely benevolent instruments one might carry. A simple clasp, such that you may simply slap the hilt of your weapon in and forget about it, or remove it just as easily. And I also took some boots, of course. Tall, simple things with no heel, obviously. Built for running, kicking and whatever else you use boots for.
Very near the ten-minute mark, I finally managed to get a box to myself. Because apparently it was too much to ask that there be enough to not wait in lines. Inside was nothing really, smooth grey stone walls and floor with a flat ceiling. I discovered that the provided apparel shifted and conformed to be the correct size when I put it on, which was convenient. I shrugged and dropped the uniform coat on the ground. Or rather, through it, as it fell seamlessly down and vanished. Probably fine.
And back to waiting. Waiting. Pop. Sigh. Ba-da-da. Where's that tune from? What is that song? It's right on the tip of my tongue. Ba-na-na, na, na-na na na na. Ah, I give up. Ooh, a thing is happening.
More things from the sand. Is stuff just buried there? Or is it conjured? Summoned? Faceless grey figures broke through the sand, ominously rising from below like statues from the deep. What was that analogy referring to? Eh. They were featureless, identical manikins, posed with their arms crossed over their chests like someone soon to be buried. Dozens of them. A one-to-one relation to the students, actually. Which I only realized when they began to move. Walking smoothly and gracefully to pair up with an individual. If not for the obvious, you'd never have known them from a person. When they reached their targets -all evenly spaced from each other, a good ten strides, when did that happen? Anyway, they stood with a small diantance before who I assumed would be their opponent, based on what the class was. Me included. Yay. I could see that mine at least was of a porous stone material.
The evaluation begins now. Your objective is to engage in combat to the best of your ability for as long as you are able. Your opponent will adapt to your displayed capabilities, increasing in difficulty. It will react to any effects in a way apropriate to its simulated Level. This will be the primary activity of this course. This evaluation is to gain a starting point from which to measure your progress.
My adversary pointed a hand at me. One holding a sword, of the same make as my own. The construct began to advance toward me. I took a quick check of my own status.
Allister Rose
Human
Warlock
Patron: The Whispering Dark
Age 16
Level 1
Experience: 0/100
Favor: 0/100
Strength: 10
Intelligence: 11
Mana: 28
Agility: 10
Will: 12
Endurance: 10
Dexterity: 10
Skills: Inspect (Racial skill), Commune (Class skill), Evocation (Class skill), Walk in the Shadows, Feast of Terror, Whisper of Insanity
As I remembered. But good to be sure. I checked the spell descriptions that I hadn't previously, unfortunately seeing mere transcripts of the words of that whispery pest. I drew my blunt weapon, circling the statue as it approached, carefull to keep an eye on the nearest bouts. Though I needn't have bothered, as they remained the same distance away no matter my movement.
Experimentally, I lobbed one of my yet unused curses at the thing. Feast of Terror sent a small dart of whispy purple mana -about five points worth- careening at its head, which it collided with and wormed its way into through where the eyes and ears would have been. There was no visible effect, but I felt that should I wish, I could mentally tug on it. I was notified of one instance being inflicted as the statue stumbled and began moving much more slowly. Cautiously. It was getting uncomfortably close though.
Try as I might to be sudden and without warning, the construct blocked with its blade as I swung my rod -perhaps a scepter?- towards its head. Though it visibly fliched as it did so. I took the opportunity, using my free hand to flick another dart at it from waist level. Its block faltered slightly. I slid my weapon along the edge of its blade until it was free, impacting the constructs shoulder with a hard sound, like metal on stone. Because that's what it was. While it was rocked by the hit, it wasn't enough to stop the sword blow from continuing on towards me.
That's not good.