Chapter 61

Rory held the line.

With shield in one arm and shortsword in the other, he stood shoulder to shoulder with his brothers-in-arms, and he held the line against the tide of zombies. The zombies were stronger than he was, higher leveled and without fear of pain or death. One on one they would crush him, tear him apart and devour his entrails.

But he was not alone.

He held the line, slashing out above and beneath the shieldwall as the opportunities presented themselves. The zombies pushed against the phalanx, but the phalanx held strong.

Rory and the other trainees of his squad held the line.

The zombies were stronger, individually, than the men and women of the guard. And the undead outnumbered the living significantly. But the zombies surged forward without strategy or intelligence, and they spent their undead lives against the shield wall fruitlessly as the pikemen and the archers that Rory and the other recruits were protecting launched their attacks over the heads of their guardians.

A body slammed against Rory’s shield, and he was pushed back. He pressed forward with all of his might, forcing his shield back into line with his brothers’.

Rory held the line.

He hadn’t thought that his first real combat would be a marathon. Clearing the upper floors of the dungeon had been easy. The trainees had been turned loose in groups of three and told to collect as many Burrower tales as they could. Rory’s group had returned with twelve. He had thought that he had a taste of battle then.

Now, he knew that he was wrong. Killing the burrowers was child’s play.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with men and women his equal, fending off the attacks of a stronger force while protecting the attackers who stood behind him, this was a true battle. He held his bladder, but he understood now why the standard kit of the guard didn’t include pants, but a skirt of iron and a kilt to go underneath it. He wasn’t worried about soiling himself out of fear, but he had been holding the line for over an hour, and he desperately needed a bathroom break.

He wouldn’t have considered any of his fellows cowards if they had soiled themselves out of fear. He was terrified.

But Rory held the line.

A zombie grabbed his shield and, rather than pushing, it pulled, and Rory was jerked forward. The zombie surged forward and raked Rory’s face with it’s gnarled fingernails. Rory stabbed it in the eye and reset his position, stepping back into line with the shieldwall. The clever zombie that had thought to pull it’s prey instead of pressing against it fell and felt the embrace of true death.

Rory held the line.

It felt like days. In the end he could hold his bladder no longer and he unceremoniously relieved himself. He was not the only one to have done so, and nobody shamed him for it. With the press of bodies against their formation, there was no time for bathroom breaks. Not until the enemy force was down to its last legs, and it was finally safe to break formation and put an end to the stragglers.

When the floor was cleared of zombies, his brothers and sisters clapped him on the shoulder, and he clapped them back. They had survived floor five.

Their sergeant sent a scout to floor six, who returned and announced that it was mostly empty. They scouted floors seven and eight before realizing that the three floors had all charged their position en masse. It was not until floor nine that they encountered another zombie, but the sergeant decided that it was time for the guardsmen to turn back. They returned to the surface, victorious after the deepest delve of the virgin dungeon so far.

Half of the recruits were jocular. The other half were silent. Half of them were reconsidering their choice in profession. The other half had cemented their conviction to remain in the guard.

The sergeant carefully watched the survivors of the battle – no losses to the dungeon so far, but they might have been overrun were it not for the tactics he’d employed. He tried to read their minds from their expressions. Which of the jokers were masking terror behind their bravado? Which of the silent ones were stoic because they had veins of ice? He had trained these young men and women for weeks, but he didn’t really know them yet.

Now, after their first true battle, he knew them a little better.

Unaware that he was under such scrutiny from his sergeant, Rory was one of the silent ones. After hours of combat, his body was aching. His Stamina was low. His face was burning from the scratches that one zombie had inflicted upon him.

He was one of the ones reconsidering his choice in profession, but he didn’t have many prospects to replace it with. His da was a useless drunk. His mother made by with waitressing. He wasn’t obligated to give her any of his wages as a guardsman, but he’d fully intended to do so, and she’d begun taking out loans with that income in mind. His younger siblings were eating better, and they’d purchased another bed, so the sleeping arrangements were less crampt.

His family was far better off with him serving in the guards.

But his mother and his siblings weren’t the ones standing shoulder to shoulder in a shield wall against an unending tide of zombies. They didn’t understand the terror involved with combat. Or the exhilaration.

At the entrance room to the dungeon, the sergeant lined them up for a speech. The weathered old man regarded them for a moment in silence, then began.

“For some of you, today was just another day,” he said, nodding towards the veterans of the group who had been culling the zombie dungeon nearby as training for years now. “This new dungeon is, if anything, more conveniently located than the one we’ve been using for training previously. Some of you might even be looking forward to delving deeper, perhaps even secondguessing my decision to turn back when we did.”

“Nay, it’s time for a pint!” one of the veterans called out. “Bloody nice that we don’t have to march for a day after the fighting for that privilege, isn’t it lads?”

He received a series of cheers from the other veterans. Rory blinked, as he realized that he wasn’t the only one looking forward to finding a nearby tavern. He looked around at his companions and realized that they all had similar plans for the evening.

“As I was saying,” the sergeant continued once the cheering died down, “Whether or not you wished to delve deeper, you should anticipate the challenge of the deeper floors to grow as we pass through them. Additionally, we have to take into consideration the possibility of enemies spawning behind us. As such, I stand behind my decision to call the guard back when I did.

“For some of you, this was your first taste of real combat. Combat … it changes a person. You are not the same lad or lass that you were twelve hours ago. In the coming days, before the next expedition, you have a decision to make on whether or not you want to return to being the lad or lass that you were before, or if you truly wish to become a man or woman of the guard.

“I advise you to take your time, have a few drinks, but not too many, with the veterans. There’s no shame in washing out at this point in your training. We won’t be taking back the pay that you’ve earned so far if you turn in your grieves and your weapons. You’ve earned it for your performance today. Not a single one of you disgraced yourself in combat, and your elders will tell you just how rare of an accomplishment that is for an entire class!

“Some of you have wounds to be tended to. Make certain that you see a healer if you need one. Healing is free to the city guard, as you all know, so if you’re injured and haven’t seen a healer by tomorrow I’ll damn well want to know why. More soldiers die from fevers after a battle than from the teeth and claws of monsters, and that’s a proven fact. If the thought of spending your final hours soiling yourself and hallucinating isn’t enough to convince you to take care of your bodies, knowing how far I’ll shove my boot up your posteriors if you neglect yourselves ought to make up the difference.

“Now then, I’m certain you’re all sick of hearing my voice. You’ve served your city honorably today. You are dismissed.”

The sergeant turned, and walked out of the dungeon.

He froze the moment he stepped through the threshold. His mouth agape, he simply stood there, staring at nothing.

Not nothing, Rory realized. He had the expression of someone reading a system prompt.

Others stepped through the threshold, and the reactions they had were various. Some shouted for joy, others were as silent and stupified as the sergeant. But everyone had a reaction to the prompt they received.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Congratulations! You have unlocked a new Class!

Please visit the nearest Core Stone in order to process your system upgrade!

The nearest Core Stone to your vicinity is 0.1 kilometers east of your present location.

~~~~~~~

Name

Rory Johnson

Health

152/190

Age

18

Stamina

89/230

Race

Human

Strength

18

Class

Warrior

Dexterity

13

Level

1

Constitution

19

Subclass

Shieldbearer

Endurance

23

Rory stumbled out of the tavern, inebriated and in high spirits. He’d never had much to drink before, but he’d never had such cause to celebrate either. He was a true classholder now! A Warrior! His ma was going to be so proud of him when he told her!

All of the guardsmen who had emerged from the fight had their classes unlocked. Every. Single. One of them. Not all of them were Warriors, about one third of them had awoken as Rogues. One of them, to the surprise of everyone, was a mage. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise, as she was their medic. She had treated Rory’s facial scratches after the battle, although he still had to see a real healer now that the fighting was over and the celebration was … about halfway started by Rory’s estimation.

He would have still been drinking with his friends, but the sergeant had pulled him aside and threatened to make good on his threat about posteriors and boots if Rory didn’t see to the scratches on his face. So he continued the celebration in the streets, singing a little ditty as he followed the directions to the healers place.

He was surprised when he stumbled through the door to see a familiar face. Aisha, the beautiful doctor who had seen him starkers, was in conference with the local healer. They were discussing the various herbal remedies that the healer employed. The healer, being a Commoner Apothecary, lacked access to magical healing, but her knowledge on the mundane treatments was extensive, and Aisha intended to return the following morning to continue picking the wise woman’s brain.

“Oh, I have a patient,” the healer said when Rory stumbled in. “Although it looks like someone you might be able to help better than I, Medico.”

Aisha expressed little surprise at seeing Rory again and extended him a smile that made him blush. Well, just seeing her made him blush, and he had to think of his grams again.

“I suppose you’re right, Mildred. Although I’m very curious to know how you would treat these facial lacerations.”

“Ointment and bandages of course,” the healer replied. “Two parts Thumbroot, one part Earlsblossom, and three parts tallow.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to see you preparing such a concoction at some point,” Aisha said. “Is it okay if I use your examination room while I heal our patient?”

“Please, be my guest,” the healer said. “I’ve a contract with the guard to provide the best healing available to their soldiers, however, so I’m afraid I must insist that you provide your services for free to this young man.”

“I haven’t charged a dime … er, farthing, for healing since I’ve arrived in this world,” Aisha insisted. “Come this way. Rory, right? I’ll get you healed up. There won’t even be a scar left over. I understand that a young man like you might want to keep a scar well earned, but--”

“Not on me face I don’t,” Rory said.

“Right, well, you’re in luck then,” Aisha agreed, and she led him into the back room.

Rory blushed remember what had happened the last time he’d been alone in a room with the healer. He tried to put it out of his mind, there hadn’t been anything to it but intellectual inquiry on her part. But he was a young man and some of the things he thought of were beyond his control.

So he tried to take control of those thoughts, and he thought of his grams.

“Right, well, the wounds don’t look too deep. How did you come by them?” Aisha inquired.

“A zombie pulled me out of the line in the dungeon and almost had a snack of me,” Rory explained. “I was lucky to get by with just these scratches.”

“Yes, you were,” Aisha agreed. She frowned. “I don’t like that living in this world requires young men and women like yourselves to put themselves at risk to protect the masses, but I suppose that the world doesn’t care much for my opinion on the matter. I do admire the services you are providing to your community, Rory.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It does come with certain rewards. Not sure how or why, but everyone in the unit who delved today came out of it with a class to show for their troubles! Every single one of us is a classholder now!” Rory exclaimed.

Aisha froze. “Say again?”

“Can’t hardly believe it meself,” Rory agreed. “But I’m a Warrior now. A real one. Shieldbearer’s me subclass, which makes sence since that’s how I was trained. Ain’t it wonderful? My pay is going to be tripled it is! Me ma is going to be so proud of me, and the money I’ll be bringing home will be three times what we were expecting! We’ll be able to move into a larger flat, and—”

“Rory, would you mind terribly if I ask you and your friends to volunteer to participate in my study a second time?” Aisha asked.

Rory blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’m interested to see whether awakening your class has changed your lifelines, Rory,” Aisha explained. “I am very fortunate that you convinced me not to turn away the guardsmen and women in your unit. After I explained what the study was for, most of them volunteered to participate. I have a small sample of a ‘before class evolution’ data set to work with. I’m hoping to correlate that data set with a ‘post class evolution’ data set.”

Rory blinked as he realized what the doctor was asking of him. And he tried very hard to think of his grams. He barely noticed the cool rush of magic that flowed through him and fixed the scratches on his face.