Chapter 7

I kept my eyes wide open as I crept up the spiral stairway, moving toward the next level. Sure, because of all the noise there’s no way they hadn’t heard me coming, but they wouldn’t know exactly when. Maybe if I moved quietly enough, I could get the lay of the land and move to a more advantageous position before I-

I stepped on a small piece of vine, part of a loose carpet of them covering the stairs. I felt it twitch in response, it and several others retracting quickly enough to almost send me stumbling back down the stairs. The sound of rustling and grinding metal was an easy tell that I’d been spotted, and I barely had to look up to see that one of the vine-wreathed corpses was standing over me, both arms raised over its’ head, and an immense square-headed mace suspended in the grasp of vines like the sword of Damocles about to come knocking.

I retreated a couple of quick steps, the summoning of firebolts nearly instinctual, now; one filled each cupped hand, and when the mace slammed down, cracking the stairs, I hurled both of the flickering orbs at it. A moment later, I could see the trace of flames eating up the vines, and the mace stayed firmly set where it had struck. I vaulted up past it, briefly leaning on the handle as I pushed my way past, suddenly struck by another reminder of how much I had changed.

While I could feel how much the mace weighed, it was hefty, but not unwieldy to my enhanced strength. I grinned as I shifted, gripping the haft in both hands, and heaved. The weight of the two-handed sledge nearly unbalanced me as I pushed up the stairs past the crater, hauling the mace around behind my back and to the side in a slow circular motion. As I neared the top of the stairs, I could see one of the shield-bearing Guardsmen standing at the top, his rusted and pitted longsword prepared to strike downward, the shield beside it in an equal state.

I stopped up short, allowing my momentum to slowly transfer into the mace I was half-dragging behind me, turning my stop into a pivot. The apocalyptic clang of the mace striking shield nearly threw me off my feet, jarring my shoulders in their sockets with an impact that I felt all the way to my toes; my hands released reflexively, fingerbones aching from the impact. The effect on the Guardsman, however, was much more noticeable: The shield, and the breastplate behind it, went flying across the room, leaving a pair of greaves with frantically-flailing vines growing out of them like aggressive potted plants. The helmet rolled away, ivy trying to stabilize it and stop its’ movement. Of the chest, nothing remained but a loose and shredded collection of plants, almost looking like alfalfa blowing in a violent, unseen breeze. I laughed victoriously; one disarmed, one destroyed! This floor was easy.

The harsh bite of a dull axe slamming into my upper back dispelled that notion immediately, throwing me into the wall with a breathless gasp of pain. I stumbled forward a couple of steps, hurling another firebolt almost negligently over my shoulder, where it illuminated a third writhing soldier, this one wearing the rotted remains of leather, scraps bound by rivets, and wielding in its’ two overgrown gauntlets a bearded axe taller than I was. Cracked ribs groaned in protest, the pain flaring bright enough to keep me off balance. I learned hard against the wall with my uninjured right arm, my left hanging loosely at my side, every movement enough to set it swinging in jarring pain. I pressed my back against the wall and crept away from it as it pulled its’ axe back in, the head shooting up sparks as it scraped along the floor, the uneven edge rasping until it came back up from the floor, heaving upward into a massive downward strike. This time I was ready, and I stepped aside as it came whistling down; while I avoided the axe, the impact threw up razor-sharp chips of stone that cut across my legs, the pain causing me a moment’s hesitation as I pulled up a pair of firebolts.

As it turns out, a moment was enough. The body twisted, and at its’ full extension, the haft of the axe swept across my ankles, throwing me onto my back with enough force to drive the air from my lungs, and set my injured shoulder entirely ablaze.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” I screamed, writhing on the ground, the pain turning my muscles into a spasming mess, stuck on my back like a turtle. The wall was to my right, so in order to get to my feet, I either had to put my arms behind me and push, or roll onto my left side to roll onto my stomach; given the state of my shoulder, I didn’t think that either course of action would quite work for me. I looked to my left, and saw the axe-wielding soldier winding up for an enormous cut that would probably tear me in half, with the disarmed footsoldier having made its’ shambling way around, both arms replaced with long whiplike masses of tendrils. I sucked in a breath as deep as I could against the pain in my ribs, and threw myself onto my left side, right hand slapping the wall to impart a little extra momentum. The axehead slammed into the floor where I had been laying an instant before, the haft close enough to dully thump against my stomach. I grabbed onto the old, rotted wood, and conjured a firebolt into my palm.

The wood shattered as the rot boiled in an instant, bursting apart in a shower of fat, sticky embers. Suddenly lifting far less than the expected weight, the writhing soldier staggered backward, arms flailing over its’ head for a moment, before I shoved the wand in its’ direction and drowned it in flames, scorching away the scraps of leather armor in an instant before igniting the mass of branches inside. I swept the wand over, pouring the torrent of flames over the other one, not relenting even as the armor turned red as a coal and the mass inside began to smoke. The sound of the armor tumbling down the stairs, empty, sounded like the bell in a boxing ring, announcing the end of the fight.

I slumped to the ground, taking several seconds to just breathe, eyes shut against the slowly dulling pain in my side and shoulder. What surprised me, though, was how much the pain was actually going away, and I could even experimentally move my hand again, though only carefully.

Finally, I opened my notifications, my heart beating a touch faster as I saw one of them: A notification I’d been hoping for.

[Level up! You are now level 10. +5 free points gained from race. Class Selection available.]

It only took an instant of focus for me to open up the class selection screen, excitedly reading over the list – and the small foreword it presented at the top.

Congratulations! You have gained your tenth level, and the ability to select a class.

While every class has benefits and drawbacks, the selection is created based upon your actions since your previous selection (or, in this case, since your integration.) The rarity and effective power of a chosen class is highly dependent on your affinity for that path; behaving in ways divergent to the spirit of the class may bar advancement or allow alternative advancement for a chosen class.

Would you like to begin class selection now?

WARNING: Beginning this process will move you to an extradimensional space, and you will not be able to return until a class is chosen.

May the Scribe witness your choice.

While the warning at the end threw me off a little, I couldn’t keep down my excitement. The classes would be tailored to me, specifically? Based on actions I’d taken? I couldn’t wait. Wildfire Mage, I thought to myself, imagining commanding an immense firestorm. Perhaps I could turn into a living flame like that one superhero, flying around on a pillar of flame and-

I grinned, and laid back, closing my eyes. I couldn’t wait to see what the System would offer me.

Reality faded away, all sensation muffled by a blanket of darkness. I felt as if I no longer had a body, my soul hanging weightless in a void. There was a feeling like an immense open space, so enormous that it almost seemed to have a weight of its’ own, pressing in all around me.

Three images appeared before me, just like when I chose my Path: The leftmost was a simple one, of a man in heavy armor wielding a mace that glittered with flame, his armor’s surface shifting as if fire burned across it. The center was a gaunt-looking spellcaster clad in robes of blazing orange, with a staff in one hand and a wand in the other, a number of different fetishes and charms hanging from every point of his equipment; the wand launched a cone of flame, while lightning reached out from the tip of the staff.

The last image was far more plain, far less assuming, but it gave me the same sensation of oven-like heat my Path had: I saw myself wearing plain, battered-looking robes, their edges frayed and scorched, and the air around me rippling in a heat haze, the background distorted beyond recognition by the force of the fires around me, a fire so hot it seemed to fray the edges of reality itself.

[Flameweave Warrior (Uncommon)]

Walking a hybrid way between the Path of Arcane Power and the Path of Martial Might, you have woven your mastery of flames into your every action, igniting your weapons and bolstering your defenses with the relentless fire of the forge. The disadvantage to this path is that your increased versatility is offset by a loss of focus, and your command of magic may suffer in exchange.

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

[Attribute Points: 3 Str, 3 Fort, 3 Wisdom, 3 Free]

[Flame of Greed (Uncommon)]

Fire consumes all it touches, and your greed is the same; you have learned to channel the power of various magical items to expand your own powers, allowing you to cast spells outside of your normal aptitudes at the cost of relying upon these magical items. There are few items which can resist the force of your will, and few magics you cannot reach, given enough time and the correct tools. Borrowing power, however, may make you reliant upon it, and your own powers may suffer in exchange.

[Attribute Points: 4 Dex, 4 Int, 4 Free]

I was almost disappointed by the selections; while the Warrior seemed inspired by me wielding a mace – once – it barely used any of the fire magic I’d already put so much time into. The second option looked interesting, but I didn’t like the thought of being reliant on something I couldn’t control. Sure, the idea of being able to use any kind of magic I wanted was appealing, but it felt… hollow. The third option, however, laid those concerns to rest.

[Flameheart Sorcerer (Rare)]

Even the world itself will burn around you, your presence taking on the heat and hunger of the flames themselves. Your mastery of the fire grows, and with such a path comes great power. However, such a path is also a dangerous one; many would see such a flame snuffed out, lest it consume them. Your focus on the flames eschews outer aid, instead consuming everything around it as fuel; magic items are short-lived within your grasp, and the chaos that follows in your wake will create many enemies.

[Attribute Points: 5 Will, 5 Wis, 5 Free]

That whole thing about ‘creating many enemies’ sounds concerning, as did the idea of magic items breaking for me, but the idea struck a chord nonetheless. The three extra points per level didn’t hurt either, and ‘rare’ was definitely better than ‘uncommon’. I didn’t want to be reliant on anyone or anything else; I didn’t want to have to use the wand to defend myself, but it gave me options I didn’t otherwise have, and the reduction in energy use that it gave me was worth its’ weight in gold.

A handful of seconds of thought was enough, and I reached out to the third image with my mind; it felt as if my thoughts were somehow being burned away, even as the flame grew closer, and I began to realize that even my adaptation wasn’t enough to stave off-

I sat upright with a gasp, eyes wide, warmth and the smell of smoke all around me; a near-perfect circle was burned onto the stone, the surface charred black and cracking brittlely where I leaned against it. I opened my character sheet, too excited to see the difference to push it off.

‎

Name: David Miller

Path: Arcane Power

Race: Human (F)

Class: Flameheart Sorcerer (5 Int, 5 Wis, 5 Free)

Level: 10 (+)

STRENGTH: 28

DEXTERITY: 27

FORTITUDE: 33

VITALITY: 30

CUNNING: 25

PRESENCE: 23

WISDOM: 34

INTELLIGENCE: 31

WILLPOWER: 47

Points to Distribute: 30

TITLES:

[Grand Fated] +10 to all attributes.

[First Blood] +5 to all attributes.

SKILLS:

Fire Manipulation (Initiate), Unarmored Defense (Basic), Heat Adaptation (Initiate), Heart of Flame (Initiate), Flameheart’s Hunger (Basic),

It looked like I only gained the bonus attributes from my class for the first level, and not the nine preceding it; that was fair, but it didn’t mean I didn’t want the extra points. I looked over my attribute list, pondering the thirty free points I had to allocate, and struggling for a moment on where to place them. Well, I was pretty tired of getting injured, for one, so I put ten of those points into Dexterity. I wasn’t sure which one helped with my whole regeneration thing, so I put five each into Fortitude and Vitality, recognizing that I was going to need them anyway , given my luck thus far. The last ten I couldn’t quite decide on, until I just pushed them into Willpower; Willpower, final answer.

I wasn’t sure when exactly I had reached Initiate in Heat Adaptation, but I assumed it had something to do with nearly napping through a wildfire. My sheet was starting to look a little more lopsided, but it didn’t really concern me, too much. After all, being strong enough to swing a hundred pound hammer, and mainly using magic, how much stronger did I really need to get? I figured at some point I should probably put points into Cunning or Presence or something, but didn’t see much of a use for them, just yet. The only people I’d met thus far, I’d ended up fighting with, and I had a feeling even a very charismatic guy wouldn’t have had much better luck. The new skill I’d gained was, however, far more interesting to me.

Flameheart’s Hunger (Basic): You possess the ability to siphon the energy from magical items in your possession, using their power to boost your own. While such benefits may be short-lived, they are more powerful than the item otherwise would be. The flames which burn brightest, also burn the fastest. Adds a minor bonus to the effectiveness of consumed items based on Willpower.

Awesome.