Everest Uvytemonturris was not a patient man. He’d gotten the alert that his trainee would be arriving from a dimension the denizens of Terraegnus had lovingly nicknamed ‘Backwash’. No magic, no monsters and no glory to be found there; the people there merely scrambled to accumulate useless amenities like money and what meager power their world held. Even before hearing the name of the kid he’d be teaching, Everest knew he wouldn’t like them. Odds are, they chose an idiotic race like dragonkin or lycanthrope. Gods, how Everest despised lycanthropes.

He had to hold his abnormally long, silver hair out of his face like one might push the fur down on a cat’s head as he ran. His legs held all the balance and speed of a lion, and the compass on his overlay ensured he was more or less barreling in the proper direction. Despite being constantly excitable, he didn’t overly enjoy rushing journeys like this. If he had a choice, he’d take his time and take in Nature in all her beauty. Unfortunately, the damned system message he’d received was alerting him to the novice’s location, and it was deep in an unforgiving territory of goblins, wolves and Hybrids. He shook his head, taking a gentle breath despite his insane speed and convincing his instincts to not go faster yet.

Everest scratched his fuzz-laden chin with a sickly aquamarine, clawed finger, salt-and-pepper beard beneath it threatening to spread across his face like salt on asphalt. His sturdy, bright, indigo eyes continuously analyzed his surroundings with an intensity few could match. He even recalled some individuals who made bets on how long others could look him dead in the eyes without getting uncomfortable. The memory made him smirk.

He checked his compass out of the corner of his eye. Just 57.90 miles left to go. After doing some mental math, Everest estimated he’d be able to get there in about two and a half hours, if he kept up the pace. He snorted, both posing and accepting the challenge mentally.

“One hour or less it is, then.” He muttered before rocketing forward on blurry legs, earth fracturing beneath his feet as a shock wave erupted through the surrounding plains.

_______________________________________________

Ross’s mind was a warzone, and he was forced to experience a level of mental strain he hadn’t come close to experiencing before. His logical brain told him to stand up, go back to his cave and sleep - that this conflict wasn’t worth the trouble. The emotional half of his brain, however, screeched and thrashed, trying desperately to release emotions that had no means to be released. His instinctual mind locked him in place, forcing his senses to heighten in case another predatory beast arrived in his midst which succeeded in nothing but aggravating the emotional side more. His white-knuckled grip on the shields would have tightened if he’d had energy left to do so; his tear-stained face was buried in his arms, which were folded in front of him. He was nearly in the fetal position with his head facing down instead of to the side.

He hadn’t gotten up from the pool of blood. The beast’s fluids were a congealed mess, clinging and scabbing onto Ross’s skin. He howled, shifting and causing the scabbing chunks to flake or flow off, a new ripple in the pooled liquid forming with every heaving breath or coughing wail. He didn’t want to do anything right now but vomit - the him in the warzone was well out of his depth. Until the other day, his biggest concern was getting mugged on the street or low blood sugar. Now, he had to worry about something like that… monstrosity lumbering over and ripping him a new asshole. The reality and gravity of the situation was taking hold, and holding fast. He screamed into the sky once again, nighttime drifting ever closer.

It was an hour or so longer before Ross looked up to the sound of footsteps. He didn’t have the energy to fight anything else off right now. Fortunately, it didn’t seem as though it were a beast. A humanoid shape was approaching from a distance, and Ross’s breath caught in his throat. Was that his trainer? He could only hope as he shifted to a proper sitting position with some difficulty. He quickly scrubbed the tear stains from his face the best he could, wiping his nose on his pants sleeve in an unusually uncomfortable position. The figure seemed to be walking directly towards him, so he waited. He’d have stood and ran towards the individual, if he had the mental faculties to do so right now. His body was perturbingly shaky from the hours of heaving sobs.

At the humanoid’s approach, Ross recognized a few unusual details about them. First of all, their arms were down to their knees in length. They were lithe, yet well-toned. His mouth bore small tusks at either side. They weren’t small enough to be a tooth alignment issue, but not large enough to be called real ‘tusks’, either. The entity’s skinny and vaguely potbellied body was encased in what looked to be a medieval equivalent of yoga pants and a tank top. The fuschia pants - closer to magenta, actually - were skin-tight, but held no designs on them whatsoever. Leather cuffs encased the bottom of them, almost like ankle braces built in. His tank top had several tears in it, revealing patches of a hairy barrel chest underneath. What he found odd was how no stains or the like were on a single spot of the top the strange man was wearing. The pelvis-length silver hair was thin but plentiful atop the man’s head, and his beard provided a quite odd contrast - it was a salt-and-pepper deal, something that didn’t seem to fit with the full head of model-level locks on the individual approaching. It was so out of place, in fact, that Ross had mistaken it for a shawl or hood until the wind blew it into waving strands.

By far the most intriguing feature, however, was the man’s eyes. They were a vivacious indigo color, nearly glowing in the light underneath the forest canopy. They betrayed nothing but authority, determination and a mild hint of an analytical gaze. When they met Ross’s own, the man froze. He zoned out for a moment before refocusing on Ross, then zoning out again.

“Nope.” He growled, before turning and walking away.

“Wh-” Ross began, voice cracking and wheezing from the strain moments before. His voice was dripping with lingering turmoil, while the newcomer’s was gravelly and sarcastic. He quickly checked the alert that popped up almost as soon as the stranger had shown himself.

[Your Trainer, {Everest_Uvytemonturris}, has arrived! You can now begin your training properly!]

“Y-you’re my trainer, right..?” Ross croaked, and the stranger called over his shoulder.

“Like hell I am.”

“B-but… you’re Everest, right? E-everest You… vey… Ooby…” Ross had begun, peering at the name before him in confusion.

“Uvytemonturris, and not as far as you know.”

“If you aren’t him, y-you must know him! The system says he’s my trainer!”

“What makes you think I know him?” The stranger questioned. He stopped walking.

“H-how else would you know how to say his name?” Ross replied blankly. After a moment, he took a double breath and sniffled slightly.

“Well…” The stranger turned all the way around. “I might just be cultured. Could be that I know of him but I don’t know him. Could be that I know someone with the same last name.”

“Y-yeah, but you knew the last name as I spoke…”

The stranger blanched for a moment, then pulled a hand down his face as though wiping it clean.

“I did do that, didn’t I?”

Ross nodded, and the stranger sighed.

“Yeah, I’m Everest Uvytemonturris. And yeah, the system claims that I’m your trainer. Here’s the fun part, though: I won’t be.” This earned him a look of confusion from his alleged protege, and he groaned.

“You making me spell this out is just proving my point, er…” Yet again, Everest zoned out for a moment. “...Ross.” He blinked. “Ross? Kind of an... unusual name. Don't see it too often.”

Ross simply stared on in disbelief. “Wh… why can’t you train me?”

Everest pinched his temples, glaring down the outlander. All at once, he seemed to calm down and straighten his back, chest puffed out ever so slightly.

“Oh, I can train you. Easily.”

“So… you just won’t?”

“Bingo, bucko.”

“Well, why not?” The question was more of an accusation than anything, Ross standing without realizing it. His brain had shoved the processing emotions aside to make room for a level of frustration Ross hoped like all hell wouldn’t be recurring.

“Because you’re a moron with no common sense or understanding of the world.” Everest stated, as though it were the most obvious fact in the universe. Ross’s eye twitched slightly.

“I’m not a damned moron, but you’re right; I don’t have a clue about this place.” Ross poked an accusing finger into Everest’s chest, which felt hard as steel. Despite this, Ross kept up a determined, unflinching stance. “That’s why you’re here with me right now.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“You are a moron,” Everest explained, “Because you decided to go with one of the most despised species upon entering this world.” He reveled in Ross’s shocked expression. “Yeah, I know you’re from Backwash, kid. You had the choice of selecting any of the races in this world - any of the 63 available ones - and you had to choose firbolg during the damned Titan Flux.” After a blank look from Ross, Everest rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“Okay, so I don’t know a whole lot about Backwash - you call it Earth-”

“You call my home planet Backwash!?”

“Your home dimension, kid.”

“It can’t be that…” Ross trailed off before gaining a grim expression, recalling the very first thing he had to watch on loop in the strange room. Another double breath escaped him. “You know what, nevermind. It can and is that bad.” He added, under his breath, "Still not as bad as this place..."

Everest indignantly huffed. “Digressions aside, on your planet humans fight amongst themselves, right? Well, here in Terraegnus, we have racial disputes too, but it’s between whole different species. The Titan Flux is a time once every two centuries that slumbering giants wake up and feed, then go back to sleep. They tend to do it one at a time, and there’s about fifteen or so left. And no, I do not mean various kinds of giant beasts. Literal giants. A sort of pseudo-race here, but not one selectable by people from the outside like you.”

“How does that 'Titan' thing relate to my racial choice?”

“Kid… you chose firbolg and didn’t even read the description before locking it in?”

Ross felt another snap. He stood stark-straight as his face burst into an angry red. His response came in a screaming voice.

“You do not get an option to read a description. I had no damned clue what a firbolg was, nor what one is, and it just auto-confirmed my selection. I tried to select a description, but the dropdown menu didn’t have one and I couldn’t see diddly shit about firbolgs after selecting it as my race. I couldn’t even see my damned racial traits or whatever until I got to my menu! It automatically locked in everything, Everest!” Ross spat the man’s name with a mocking venom that would make any immature tween proud. He panted, blood in his face slowly going back to normal upon seeing the aghast face of Everest.

“It auto-locked everything.” he muttered. He let out a hysterical laugh before looking like his hands wanted to choke something invisible in front of him, laughing again, and sighing.

“Kid, firbolgs are the literal cousins of giants and related to an ancient species called ‘the Settlers’. They’re usually scorned like Orcs or Goblins, but during the Titan Flux they’re capable of luring giants to them. If they’re in a populated town, and the giant is waking up after two centuries, nobody in that town would survive. Nobody.” He knelt down to meet Ross eye to eye. While Ross stood six feet tall or so now, Everest towered over him at nearly eight feet tall, in no small part due to lanky limbs. They made eye contact, and Ross could tell Everest was being deadly serious. “You basically chose to be a rat during a plague.”

“So I’m banished to the woods now because I chose a shitty species at a shitty time, and the shitty system made me automatically accept the shitty decision. I just wanted a damn description first - I was curious!” Ross’s voice raised as he spoke, but Everest held up a hand to stop him.

“Okay, kid, look. The system doesn’t automatically select shit like that. I’ll see if you’re even worth my time in a bit, but first, what’s your class? I can’t analyze it without your permission, and that’s a surefire way to see if you’re telling the truth.”

Ross tilted his head. “You can see my stats, but not my class..?”

Everest nodded, his voice taking on an almost open, mentorly tone. “I can see your basic stats, to a degree. I have to get your permission or join your Party to effectively see everything, but until you agree to let me see everything, all I get is your current name, any title you might have and an averaged level of all the classes you have.”

As if on queue, Ross’s vision was mildly obscured by a small window.

[{Everest_Uvytemonturris} has requested to see your Character Sheet. Your inventory will be hidden automatically. You can change these within the Settings tab while {Everest_Uvytemonturris} is observing your Character Sheet.

Will you allow {Everest_Uvytemonturris} to see your Character Sheet?]

Ross gave his ascent, and took a step back as a flood of windows flooded in front of Everest. He reached towards them tentatively, but Everest cast him a sidelong glance and he stopped. The aquamarine tutor sighed.

“Usually, you can’t see others’ screens, only your own. If you let others view your own screens, you can see when they pull up your information, though you’d need to look over their shoulder to see exactly what they’re looking-” Everest explained, then froze mid-sentence. His eyebrows shot up, mouth floundering for words.

“Your subclass has an ‘Error’ in it.” He stated after far too long.

“Yeah, I noticed that. I think it had something to do with my Trait?” Ross said.

He saw Everest practically rip a window into his main view, and the man nearly coughed up a lung. “A custom trait!?” The trainer bellowed. “I never… I mean, I’ve heard stories of it happening, but the system typically can’t-” He put a hand to the top of his head, long fingers holding his hair down as though the flowing silver locks would blow away if he didn’t hold it in place. He turned to look Ross up and down.

“Okay, so maybe you aren’t full of shit.” Everest muttered and turned a window to face Ross. It simply had his Trait and its description in front of him.

“See that, firbolg? That right there is a trait you helped make. The system put you in the driver’s seat for some unknown amount of time. I’ve heard of a few other trainers running across this, but those moments are rare as all hell.” Everest closed out all of the other screens, enlarging the Trait window he was showing to Ross.

“The reason I’m flipping my shit right now is that you somehow managed to give the whole damn system a stroke, kid. It had to have granted you Admin for a bit. Do you remember what the screen was saying before you entered any Trait information?”

Ross paused a moment. He rubbed his forehead, getting a mild headache as he desperately tried to remember. Finally, a sliver was given back to him - a single image of the error messages.

“It gave me an error, yeah. I think it was Error #13.21.12.20.9?”

“Never heard of it. Anything else, by chance?”

Ross shook his head, disheartened. “It was a kind of wooziness. Like the first moments after you wake up, but during the entire time I was there instead of a minute or two.”

Everest scratched his beard. “Then how did you die? The system usually grants you something to keep that from happening again.” At this, Ross let out an eerie cackle that made Everest falter for just a moment.

“I don’t know if it was the 10-foot fall, the electrocution, the impact from a massive vehicle, or the internal bleeding and organ damage from each individual scene. Pretty sure I was fully dead when I exploded in the grill of a semi, though.” Ross looked up to see the confusion of Everest. “A semi is a huge vehicle made for shipping literal tons of goods around.”

“And you somehow got electrocuted, hit the ground after a fall and got hit by a… semi… all within a small enough time frame that you don’t know what was your end?”

“Don’t forget the internal bleeding and organ failure.” Ross pointed out.

Everest looked as though he had smelled a corpse flower.

“What?” Ross asked, confused.

“I’m pretty sure I have to train you now.”

“Then why are you reacting to the news like you just bit into a dog turd?”

Everest looked down, closing the last window in his overlay as he eyed Ross warily.

“Because I really don’t want to, because you’re an emotional wreck and because I have to train people with Error classes or subclasses.” Somehow, the teacher’s expression soured even further. “And people with those classes don’t turn out well at high levels. Usually explode or something.” His expression shifted more towards pensiveness than absolute disgust, eyes looking to the sky. “One girl actually gave herself dysentery every time she tried to cast a spell. Even her Cure Diseases spell cleared out her dysentery before giving it right back.” Everest shuddered at the memory before looking back at Ross. “I’m stuck with every single person until they either die or max out at least one Class Trait and one Subclass Trait.” He sighed, straightening out, his tone becoming far too casual. “Fully expect you to die by the time any of your Traits hit three.”

Ross stood, aghast. “So… people die from breaking the system? Why is it even a thing, then!?”

Everest just shrugged. “It’s like you said before. People sometimes just don’t get a choice.” He looked at Ross, and the latter could swear he saw a small glint in his trainer’s eye. “Though, most of them don’t have their Error traits mingle with other Traits or Stats, let alone having that interaction become a whole-ass Subclass. You might actually be able to live, if the system can stabilize your abilities.” Everest scratched the back of his head. “I’m not entirely sure how I’ll be able to help you, though, for the same reason.”

“What do you mean by that..?” Ross questioned tentatively.

Everest sighed. “If your Error Trait mingled with your Class, then the resulting Class or Subclass doesn’t exist. I could try teaching you Defender Class things, but your Full Counter bullshit doesn’t seem to align with any of the known subclasses. About as far from defending as you can get while still technically being a Defender, system-wise at least.”

Ross pulled a hand down his face. “So I’m just fricked?”

Everest just stared at him, deadpan.

“What?” Ross spat.

“Fricked.”

“Yeah, fricked! I’m fricked! What about it?”

“You unironically used the term ‘fricked’.”

Ross glared at Everest. “If I start cussing now, I won’t stop.”

Everest smirked. “Fair enough.” He turned around, gesturing for Ross to follow him.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to the nearby town of Mohligna.”

“And how long will that take?”

Everest chuckled, not turning to face Ross. “At your pace? A month.”