There are so many classes. You have your standard warriors and mages, and you have your super unique classes. We otherworlders are given a choice of what class we want, but it seems that whatever we choose defines us and our descendants. I still don’t know what I want.

I’m level 23 now. Still classless. Turns out I can delay as much as I want. Even at level 100 I can choose my class, and I’ll just get all the skills for it I should of gotten along the way. Mariah scolds me for this. I can’t really contribute to the party classless.

But, how awesome would it be if I fought the demon lord without a class?

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Markus ran towards the cottage, cresting the hill with his pickaxe over his back. How could he be so stupid? How could he have let his pride get the better of him? He slammed into the door thin hard leather skinned door, pushing it open with the force of his charge.

He was in the common area. And there, lying on the floor, was Fel. Bruises ran up and down her exposed arms and legs. Her face was swollen purple where a cane had hit her, blood staining her white hair red. She quivered in fear, shooting a look of terror as Markus readied his weapon.

All around, every Master watched on amused. Some were already drinking, metal canes by their sides, ready to strike him down. It was what they wanted. A way to entertain themselves in this dreary landscape. They were going to beat Markus to death.

Thomas and Roy stepped in behind him. He was surrounded.

“Think you can steal from us huh?” Master Krell said, face firm. He sat just behind where Fel was, his cane already bloodied. The hard Master stared at Markus, irritation welling up behind his eyes.

“You’re damn right.” Markus bragged, swinging his weapon forward. “You take and you take, and you take. I won’t let you take anything anymore.”

“A lot of fight in him for being a miner it seems.” Master Thomas giggled behind him. “Usually these are the drearier ones.”

“You’ll die here boy. Your good stock, but we won’t hesitate to kill you for stealing our coal. Surrender, and your sister lives.” Master Krell said, taping his cane by Fel’s head. She curled up into herself, covering her face.

“As you’re plaything.”

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

Krell shrugged.

“You don’t seem to understand. This is what you Commons are. Just workers. The Deep Winter is a harsh mistress. It takes from us everything. If we’re not hard in turn, then humanity will die out. It’s a basic tenet the Supreme One dictates. It’s what separates us Blessed from you Commons. We are given the burden of responsibility for humanity.”

Markus charged forward, leaping high into the air, swinging his axe downward onto Krell’s head.

[Evasion]

With great speed, Krell tilted his head aside, the axe crashing against the table behind him with crack.

Krell swung, his metal cane digging into Markus’s ribs with a crack. He hissed in pain, thrown slightly backwards by the blow. Markus saw the next swing coming, blocking with the handle of his axe. Metal hit metal, sparks flying as the sheer force of Krell’s strength bucked Markus to his knees. The next swing shattered his left arm, causing the bone to jut from his skin.

The axe hit the ground as Markus grabbed his fractured appendage. The blow was not a light blow. This was the full power of a Master ready to kill.

Fel cowered, covering her ears as she whimpered on the floor. Markus saw her, a weak pathetic thing, calling out his name under her breath. And so he rose, holding a shaky weapon with one hand. 

“He’s got A lot of fight in ‘im Krell.” Master Thomas roared, clapping his hands in delight.

Krell spun his cane, causally ducking out of the way of Markus’s swing awkward swing. The next three strikes were to Markus’s thigh, rib, and collar bone. Each shattered with a nasty crunch, Markus collapsed onto the ground.

The Masters roared in laughter, many downing their drinks to the spectacle before him.

“Shame boy. If you were stronger, you may have bested me. But you are below us.” Krell said, looming over the boy.

He began to crawl, “Someone help me… please...” He whimpered, dragging himself along the floor, weapon in tow. “Help…” He gripped a leg.

“Are you gonna help him Roy?” Master Ned laughed. “He’s asking you for help.”

Krell stepped closer and closer to him, ready to deliver the killing blow. Master Roy swallowed, averting his eyes as Krell readied his weapon.

Markus shot up, boosting himself with one leg, driving the pick deep into Roy’s heart. The room went quiet, blood seeping from the wound.

Krell yanked the boy back, flinging him across the floor. Roy fell backwards, his head hitting the table’s edge, a streak of blood marking where it hit.

“He’s dead.” Master Thomas said, cradling the younger Master in his arms. “That Common killed him. He’s dead!” Thomas shot up, a fireball forming in his hands.

“Stop.” Krell raised his hand. “He doesn’t deserve death by Blessing. We have these canes for a reason.”

Markus had done it. He had hurt and killed one of the Masters. He knew he was dead the moment he entered this room. And yet, this was all he could do. He crawled along the ground, dragging blood against the stone floor as he reached for Fel’s hand.

The young girl’s eyes meet his as he approached. She inched her hand closer to his as he reached out.

Krell’s metal plated boot shattered Markus’s fingers as it came down. He kicked the boy in the side, flipping him over, ready to slam the cane down on his face.

“What is this?” A voice called out.