Kaiden’s rapid footsteps echoed through the ancient stone passageways, his breaths coming in gasps as he navigated the corridors. He quickly, turned left, sprinting down until he came to a section of the wall that had been damaged long ago. With practice ease, Kaiden ascended the wall, his fingers and toes finding purchases in the cracks and crevices left by times relentless passage. Near the top, he came across a small alcove, carefully, he maneuvered into the cramped space, making sure the sword strapped to his hip didn’t clatter against the stone.

In the shadowy embrace of the alcove, Kaiden became a statue, his breathing measured and faint. From this vantage point, he was all but invisible to any who might pass below.

Merely moments after Kaiden settled into his precarious hideaway, the ominous echo of heavy footsteps resonated though the corridor. He held his breath, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple as the sound drew nearer.

He felt a surge of relief as the footsteps continued on, gradually diminishing into the distance. In the silence that followed, Kaiden remained a statue, not daring to move, even long after the danger seemed to have passed. For the millionth time, he cursed the day that had brought him to this unfamiliar and hostile place.

Kaiden’s new life was as bewildering as it was unforgiving. This world, so starkly different from Earth, operated under the principles of a System, complete with experience, levels and classes – A concept that would have thrilled him back on Earth. Yet, like some cosmic joke, that fantasy was twisted into this nightmare. The cause – his starting point. Kaiden hadn’t been reborn into the forests of the Elven Federation, nor had he found himself among the stoic Dwarven clans nestled within their mountains. It certainly wasn’t in the sprawling plains of the Human Empire.

Instead, fate had cast him with the Dragonborn in the unforgiving wastelands. This barren expanse was more than just a desert; it was a crucible of survival, home to a formidable race known for their raw power and aggressive nature. Their society was a stark reflection of the environment in which they thrived – harsh, relentless and unforgiving, built upon the unyielding principles of domination. Here, might was the only right, and fear and cruelty were the pillars upon which order was maintained.

As Kaiden subtly shifted to relieve his increasingly numb foot, the minor disturbance against the stone broke the heavy silence, a soft scuffing that seemed thunderous in the stillness of his hiding spot. He froze again, as he strained his ears for any signs of his pursuers doubling back.

He felt a surge of relief when nothing returned, but he remained vigilant. His last encounter had taught him a harsh lesson; after his pursuers had feigned leaving only to capture him the moment he emerged. That mistake had cost him dearly, not just a secure hiding place but hours of torment under their cruel hands. The memory of their twisted smiles, revelling in his pain, would be forever etched into his memory.

After an agonizing wait that stretched his nerves to the limit, Kaiden made his cautious descent from the alcove, each movement deliberate and soundless. Once back on the ground, he continued his journey though the dimly lit corridors of the castle until he arrived at a large iron door. From his satchel, Kaiden retrieved a jar of oil, that he had acquired earlier. He anointed the hinges, pausing to allow the liquid to penetrate the rusted joints before gently nudging the door open, just enough to allow his slender form to slip through.

The corridor beyond was almost pitch black. Yet, Kaiden’s enhanced vision pierced though the darkness, the only difference to daylight was a slight green tinge to his surroundings.

He descended the lengthy spiral staircase, its ancient stones worn by time. On reaching the bottom, rats and insects scurried away from him. A lengthy corridor stretched before him, with cells running along each side.

Unperturbed by their presence, Kaiden moved with purpose towards the third cell, where a pungent aroma assaulted his nose. This noxious odour would have made him vomit back on Earth, now, he barely wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Aridan.” He softly whispered.

A shape in the corner began to stir. What initially seemed to be a bundle of rags gradually unfurled into a hunched, dishevelled figure. It moved closer to the bars that held it captive. A face materialized, from the rags, it’s features obscured by strands of unkempt, oily hair that hung like willow branches.

“Kaiden is that you?” came a voice, frayed and horse.

“Yeah, Aridan, it’s me.” Kaiden replied, his voice a mix of relief and apology. “Sorry it took so long; ran into some trouble.”

“Your brothers again?” Aridan inquired with a hint of concern.

“They’re no brother’s of mine.” Kaiden spat, the words tinged with venom.

Aridan held his hands a gesture of peace. “I was merely speaking of the king’s other offspring.”

Kaiden exhaled a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I just hate them. I hate this whole damned place.”

Aridan just nodded in understanding.

“I’ve got some more oil for your lamp.” Kaiden announced, extracting a jar of lamp oil, from his satchel. With careful hands, he reached through the cell bars, passing the jar to his friend.

A smile broke across Aridan’s face, revealing three notable absences where teeth once stood.

“Thank you, the last batch ran out a little while ago.” He said gratefully.

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He deftly uncorked the jar and refuelled his lamp. The brief scrape of flint and steel momentarily pierced the silence, and then a small yet comforting glow bathed the cell, casting shadows against the cold stone.

The lamp’s flickering light illuminated Aridans face, which bore the hard lines and scars of endured hardship. It looked more the face of a common street thug than that of an elf.

“You’ve gotten good at doing things in the dark.” Kaiden observed.

“I’ve been here 3 years. Bound to learn something in that time” Aridan replied with a raspy chuckle.

Kaiden’s thoughts wandered back to Aidan’s arrival, a once-proud Arcane Ranger, reduced to a mere trophy for his ‘father's collection. Kaiden had been more than curious when the elf had arrived those years ago. He was the first elf he’d ever seen since coming to this world. From overheard conversations Kaiden knew they existed, but he was excited at the opportunity to talk with someone from outside the wastelands.

Reflecting on their initial encounter, Kaiden couldn’t help but think himself an idiot for his naivety. Driven by his isolation, he’d stealthy approached Aidan’s cell one night, with the intention to talk, a decision he would soon regret. Without warning the elf’s hands had ensnared him, an iron grip tightening around his neck. In the frantic struggle for air that followed, Kaiden had managed to pry himself loose, leveraging the cell bars to break free from his grasp. Fortune had favoured him that night; if Aridan hadn’t still been weakened from his injuries and exhaustion, Kaiden would likely be dead.

Fortunately, Common seemed to be the predominate language in this world, and after numerous attempts he had managed to convince Aridan that he wasn’t like the rest of the residents here. His appearance, bearing closer resemblance to humans than the fearsome Dragonborn, likely helped in persuading the elf. Over the years, their relationship had deepened into a close bond, akin to brothers in arms, united by their shared captivity and mutual hatred towards Dragonborn.

Kaiden extended a portion of stale bread and a flask of water from his modest provisions to Aridan. The elf gratefully took a deep draught from the flask, the cool liquid bringing a momentary relief to his parched throat.

As Aridan nibbled at the modest meal, Kaiden had provided, Kaiden spoke. “I’ve unlocked my Evolved Status.”

The elf shot him a grin. “When, did that happen?”

“Just two days ago, when I turned 15.” Kaiden replied.

“Excellent, that means you can start earning experience to level. Have you chosen your class yet?”

Kaiden shook his head, “No, I wanted to discuss the options with you first.”

Aridan nodded, “Alright, tell me what you’re considering.” He encouraged.

Kaiden focused and brought up his Status Screen.

Status

Name

Kaiden Hunter

Age

15

Race

Dragonborn Human

Class

Level

15

Attributes

Strength

14

Dexterity

7

Perception

6

Endurance

14

Vitality

12

Magic

6

Spirit

12

In this world, the System governing personal growth and abilities was unlike any other System in games, that Kaiden had known. From birth, individuals started at level 0, typically with one to two points in each attribute. With each passing year, they gained a level and with it three additional attributes, automatically assigned by the System based on their racial heritage.

Upon reaching the milestone age of 15, this annual leveling ceased and individuals unlocked their Advanced Status, which gave them the opportunity to select a class. This pivotal choice would shape their future, enabling them to earn experience though activities relevant to their chosen class.

Kaiden had kept the secret of his origins from another world a closely guarded secret, uncertain how such a revelation might be received. To Aridan, Kaiden appeared as a half Dragonborn-Human, a misconception that he hadn’t corrected. His racial designation, Dragonborn Human, suggested a unique situation rather than the typical half-half composition. Further supported by the fact that he received not the usual three points per level but four. Which were generally allocated by the system to typical Dragonborn attributes – strength and vitality and Human attributes Endurance and Spirit.

Kaiden’s gaze fixed on the newly illuminated slot beside the class category within his Advanced Status. He mentally accessed the list, and read the options to Aridan, skipping over those like Pain-Taster that held no appeal to him. He found it extremely frustrating that the System didn’t give any more information on a class other than its name.

Aridan rubbed his chin in contemplation. “I gather you’re not leaning towards any stealth-based classes, such as the Rogue?” he confirmed.

“No, I’m tired of living in the shadows, scavenging for scraps. The constant fear of crossing paths with my ‘brothers,’ the inability to even enjoy the simple pleasures of a restful sleep or a full meal. I refuse to spend the rest of my life, running away and cowering in fear…. I want to be strong enough to face them head on.” Kaiden replied his words filled with determination.

Aridan remained silent at that.

“I was considering the Berserker class.” Kaiden mentioned.

Aidan’s reaction was immediate, a sharp “NO!” that caught Kaiden off guard. “Berserkers are a race-specific class; only Dragonborn have the ability to choose that class. You can practically pass for a human if you ever escape here, but your heritage would be unmistakable once others see your class,” he explained.

Kaiden, taking heed of Aridan’s warning, immediately discarded the idea of becoming a berserker.

“What about the Dragon Knight?” Aridan proposed, offering an alternative. “While I’m not familiar with it, even standard Knight classes hold significant power. Specialized variants are often considered among the elite classes.

Kaiden’s brow furrowed in confusion, “wouldn’t that be the same as taking the Berserker class?”

Aridan shook his head. “Not at all. Knight classes are exclusively human, much like how Rangers are Elven, Berserkers are Dragonborn. Opting for Dragon Knight could actually reinforce your human identity. Of course, it would be dangerous to have such a class while you’re still here, in the heart off wastelands; Dragonborn have a notorious disdain for Knights.”

A dark smile formed on Kaiden’s lips. “Perfect,” he said, and without hesitation selected his class.

You have Chosen the Dragon Knight Class