Dante’s Immortality - Chapter 1
He was itching to select his Classifications from the several in the list in front of him. It was hard to believe some of the selections. There were numerous Classifications he had never even heard of.
Barbarian, Bard, Druid, Mage, Monk, Wizard, Thief, Warlock… even Warlock?
Based on what he knew, Warlock was one of the rarest Classifications, even in the centermost regions of Aleria. They stood far apart from any other magic Classifications. Unlike a Mage, who focuses on manipulating the world in general through the help of their mana, Warlocks mainly focused on battle magic. They were one of the most feared and respected Classifications in Aleria, and for good reason too. Some of the most powerful Warlocks could destroy armies singlehandedly.
Dante’s breathing quickened as he thought about his future possibilities.
A Warlock may not mean much here in the Outer Edge region but in the inner regions of Aleria…
The continent of Aleria was roughly circular in shape and broken up into 6 regions. The Outer Edge region that he was currently in had the lowest density of world essence. Because of this, the creatures within it were actually some of the weakest.
Despite that, he still couldn’t safely leave Alazel.
As you traveled inward, towards the center of Aleria, the world essence density would increase. It would make the dangers greater, but the rewards that could be earned would be increased as well. It was why the most influential households and factions fought for dominance there.
Aleria, despite the peaceful teachings of the Goddess, was a place where the strong eat the weak. Different houses and groups would outright eradicate each other if they saw even the slightest weakness.
It wouldn’t be wrong to say that all the residents of the Outer Edge region were only there because of their weakness. Even Lord Tibbott, the current ruler of Alazel, was only in the Outer Edge region because he fled from the Outer region after a rival almost completely destroyed his family.
Greggory’s father was barely able to escape with his son and his life. But luckily for him, he had already specialized his Classification, making him easily strong enough to rule over a small town like Alazel.
That was why he was so excited at the thought of classifying as a Warlock. Even if he were hated due to his demonic appearance, he would at least be respected and desired for his power… at least he hoped he would be.
His hands involuntarily went to rub his eyes, the thing that caused people to despise him the most.
I suppose it doesn’t matter that much anymore.
Dante broke out of his wistful thoughts and focused world essence on the Warlock classification.
Classification: Warlock
Warlocks harness the power of destruction to smite their enemies, all magic of chaotic nature is open to the Warlock for specialization.
Warlock Classification grants:
+1 Intelligence per level
+1 Wisdom per level
Assign Warlock Classification?
Yes/No
Dante hesitated.
Maybe I shouldn’t rush into choosing my Classification, there’s no way to predict how people would react to a Warlock symbol on my wrist.
Many houses would rush to force a new and vulnerable Warlock into their service, either through offering them benefits or through brute force. For the time being, it would be best to act with prudence, he didn’t want the knowledge of the classes he chose to get around and cause problems. What he needed was a combatant’s glove.
Dante frowned. Finding a combatant’s glove wouldn’t be a problem, but finding someone who was willing to sell one to him would be a problem.
It would be far easier to tie a piece of cloth around his wrist for a makeshift glove, but doing so would only arouse the suspicion of others.
A combatant’s glove was exactly what it sounded like. A glove worn by those with combat Classifications on their right hand that came up far enough to hide the symbol of the Goddess as well as the symbols of their Classifications on their wrist.
Not only is a Combatant’s glove useful for hiding your combat Classification, but it is also seen as a symbol of status, members of noble houses often would wear one with their sigil even if they didn’t have a combat Classification. Greggory, for example, had worn a glove since he was ten to flaunt his status as a noble.
Generally, it was looked down upon to wear a glove before receiving your Status from the Goddess, but propriety didn’t matter much in the Outer Edge of Aleria where noble houses were few and far in between.
Dante selected ‘No’ and then ceased feeding the world essence into his Status, causing the blue panel to disappear. There would be time to figure out what Classifications he would pick later.
The first thing he needed was money, without that, getting a glove would be close to impossible.
It was actually somewhat fortunate that no one was willing to sell to him. The one time he had bought food from a vendor when he first came to Alazel, there was so much outrage from the priests that the resulting boycott had cost the vendor a weeks’ worth of business.
Needless to say, even those who would be willing to sell to him were deterred after that incident. But due to the lack of opportunities to spend the money he had scavenged, he had amassed quite the collection of copper coins in the few years he had been in Alazel.
Dante stood up and walked out of the alley. Thanks to the festivities, the streets this far away from the town square were practically empty with only the occasional passerby.
His stash was located towards the outskirts of the city, in a location he had stumbled on when he was looking for a safe place to sleep. Although, the word ‘stash’ could only be loosely used to describe the belongings he had hidden there.
In reality, it was a collection of rags he had picked out of the trash to use as blankets during the winter as well as some spare clothes he found that didn’t have too many holes in them. The only thing of actual value was a small sack with fifty-seven copper coins in.
He was more than a little proud of his small fortune. Fifty-seven copper coins were almost two months’ worth of pay for a general laborer in the Outer Edge region. Scavenging all of those coins was one of the few accomplishments he had in the years he spent in Alazel.
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Coming up to the location of his stash, Dante looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Usually, he wouldn’t risk a journey to his hiding spot until the middle of the night. However, due to the festival, he deemed it safe enough. After making sure no one was watching him Dante made his way into the alleyway.
This alley was different from the others, the building on the right was a few feet taller than the one on the left, and the third building that caused the alley to come to a dead end was even taller.
The resulting overhangs from the rooftops left a four-foot gap between the second and third building, with plenty of space where his bundle fit snuggly in the shadows, completely out of sight from anyone unless they climbed up to the roof themselves.
Even though the location was an almost a perfect hiding space and a safe place to sleep, he didn’t make it a habit of visiting often. A lesson he learned when he was followed to his last hiding spot and lost all the things he had amassed there.
Dante swiftly scaled the wall of the third building, jumped up to the roof, and quickly rummaged through his belongings. Pulling out the small, rough flax sack he quickly opened it and counted the coins within. He smiled, fifty-seven copper coins should be more than enough. To the best of his knowledge a basic glove had a set price of around twenty copper coins. Hopefully, if he threw in a few more coins, he could get someone to sell one to him.
Dante climbed back down to the alleyway. Then stared out at the street from the shadows, looking around to make sure no one was watching. After confirming that the coast was clear, he stepped out into the bright street and made his way towards the shops near the square.
Nearing the square, he ducked his head and made his way into the crowd, trying to be as invisible as possible. Even at the age of fourteen, Dante was already as tall as most adults, ducking his head and making himself as small as possible had become a large part of keeping as much attention off himself as possible.
There were three different tailoring shops in Alazel, but that didn’t mean that he actually had a choice in which he was able to go to. The first store that he dismissed was the Golden Stitching. Its owner was the best tailor in town, and he only worked for the upper class. Merchants, nobles, or the best craftsmen would all go to him for clothing, and even though he would have liked a glove from there, with his fifty-seven copper coins there was no way he could afford one.
The second place he dismissed was The Perfect Cut. The person who ran the shop was Iso, and just thinking of the shopkeeper made him break out in a cold sweat. The man was a combat Classification who would go out of his way to attack Dante whenever he saw him.
Usually, the guards would at least treat him with some level of civility when they beat him because they were held by the city law.
Iso was different. Iso could practically do anything as long as he was left breathing with little to no repercussions. He also had plenty of time to do so, since he pretty much just loitered around his shop while his wife did all of the actual tailoring.
That line of thinking done, Dante found himself outside of a building that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. The building was accented by a faded sign that read “The Stitchery” and was utterly devoid of any customers. He had never actually been inside the shop, well any shop really, and didn’t know what to expect. Needless to say, his expectations were a little low.
Dante released a sigh. He just needed a glove that hid his Classifications, the quality didn’t really matter.
Hoping the prices would at least be a little lower to match the exterior, Dante pushed open the creaky door and went into the shop. He was completely startled by what he saw.
The shop was covered with different types of clothing items. The shelves were loaded with what seemed like every variety. Various styles and colors while almost none of them looked like they were new. He hadn’t actually shopped for clothing before, but he could tell that it couldn’t be normal. It was more like a thrift shop than a tailoring shop.
That wasn’t what had Dante stopped mid-step in shock though, behind the desk at the end of the shop there was a corpse sitting in a chair staring at him unblinkingly, yet it still seemed as though it was looking down on him?
What. The. Fuck.
It looked like an old prune, completely covered in wrinkles that distorted its figure. Its scalp had only a few wisps of white hair, and it was just staring at him unblinking.
He hesitated, then very slowly began to walk backward in an effort to leave the shop. As he began to move back, the corpse twitched. No, it moved. Its eyes narrowed at Dante as if noticing him trying to leave and being displeased with him.
“What do you want? Don’t tell me you came here just to loiter in my shop.”
It's alive? And that voice… that thing is a woman?
He was more than a little taken off-guard. The old woman had said it was her shop, but to the best of his knowledge, the shop was run by an old man.
He quickly dismissed his astonishment and focused on the old woman in front of him. This shop was the only place he could get a combatant’s glove, and she didn’t seem that hostile, so he assumed that he was off to a good start.
Time to put those four points of Charisma to use.
“I’m looking for a combatant’s glove, I don’t suppose you have any for sale?” Dante gave his best smile to the old woman.
The old woman’s eyes narrowed even further, looking him up and down, noticing his tattered clothing. “Of course I have a few for sale. However, you cannot afford it.” She looked at his wrist and the lack of Classification symbol. “Don’t think I will take pity on you and treat you as though you are special just because of your unfortunate situation.”
Four points of Charisma... what a joke.
Dante maintained his smile. “Actually, I have been saving for quite some time and have more than enough for a combatant’s glove.”
“Oh?” The prune looked Dante over a second time, noticing the small sack he was carrying at his side and then smiled kindly. For some reason, he found it disconcerting. “Of course, I have the perfect glove for you. One moment please.”
She actually stood up and walked to the door in the back of her shop unaided, disappearing from view. Seeing the prune move at all was a shock in and of itself. Watching her move like she was in her prime was just unsettling.
She walked back in, still with a smile on her face. “Ah, here we are.” She placed a frail-looking wooden box onto the counter and swiped her hand over the lid. Dust flew everywhere, clouding up in front of him. “You’re in luck, I’ve been meaning to get rid of this for quite some time now.”
She opened the box, and the glove within it could only be described by one word; ancient.
Almost the entire glove was pitch black. The only thing that wasn’t black was the symbol the wrapped around the wrist of the glove, a scarlet red dragon eating its own tail.
What an awful color.
Truthfully Dante thought the glove was rather stylish, even though it seemed somewhat threadbare, it would be the nicest piece of clothing he had ever owned in his life. Actually, it would be the first without a single hole in it. He might have liked it if not for the color…
“Nice, isn’t it? Don’t worry about the price I will give it to you for a fraction of what it’s worth.” She began to cackle as if what she said was hilarious, then held out her hand. “That will be fifty-seven copper coins.”
Dante held back his groan, but just barely.
How did she…?
“Um, do you happen to have a cheaper glove that I could purchase, possibly in a different color?”
The old prune’s smile didn’t waver in the slightest. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that this is the only glove that would suit you.”
He looked pointedly at the other combatant’s gloves on display that were clearly of lower quality albeit in better condition.
She nodded. “I’m afraid that this is the only glove that would suit you in my shop.”
Dante frowned at the last comment, and the old prune saw his expression. “You can take it or leave it, I’m sure other tailoring shops would appreciate your business if it’s not to your liking.” Instead of waiting for a reply, she stuck out her hand. Motioning for him to pay.
The old hag was clearly malicious. “I’ll take it.” Dante practically threw his coin-filled sack at the creature, he just wanted to get out of the shop as quickly as possible at this point.
“Excellent, go ahead and try it on so we can see if it fits.” The witch said the words rather kindly, and if he didn’t know better, he might have thought that she actually cared.
Dante picked up the glove and tried it on.
Seeing him wear the glove, the old woman looked quite pleased with herself as she gestured toward the mirror next to her. “See? It matches your eyes perfectly.”
He looked into the mirror, and his reflection stared back at him. He had to admit that she was right, the scarlet dragon did nothing but emphasize his same colored eyes. The glove only served to make him appear even more demonic.
Those red eyes were framed by his angular face, which even at the age fourteen would have been considered as handsome or charismatic on anyone else.
Topping it off was his stark, bright silver hair and gaunt frame that he had earned after years of living on the streets. Altogether, Dante found it hard to blame anyone for listening to the priests when they called him a devil spawn.
The glove itself was a little loose, but he didn’t think much of it, he would likely grow into it eventually. It did look out of place though. The rest of his outfit was a combination of clothing ruined by holes held together by rags that he had roughly sewn in, while the glove itself looked almost like an ancient artifact.
“Hmm it’s a little loose, but I dare say it’s up to your standards.” The way she said the words made the insult come across quite clearly.
Dante, still maintaining his smile just thanked the hag nicely and left her shop.
He was walking back to one of his usual alleys, fist clenched. Not only was the old woman toying with him, but she was likely ripping him off as well…
It was time to choose his Classifications and leave this place.