Virgil and Will walked out into a central courtyard, which was wildly overgrown with ornamental and edible plants.

“This is my family’s estate,” said Virgil. “Our little outfit is using it as a base of operations.”

“I’m not in the mood for personal details, no offense,” Will said tersely. He paused, looking down at an outgrowing bush.

“Why does this place have hydrangeas? And those are pea plants, right? Those are old world vegetables. How do you have these if we’re not on earth?”

Virgil shrugged. “We have to have a lot in common, cosmically, to talk and breathe the same air and so on. There’s a reason the spell didn’t try to grab a sentient shade of magenta.”

“Right,” said Will. He found the explanation inadequate, but wasn’t sure how to ask for a better one.

“It might help to think of these as concepts on a deeper level of reality than you and I can see,” said Virgil with no prompting. “The soul of a pea plant is not a complex thing, but it still exists and still has needs, and may still adapt to its environment.

“It grows here and on your earth more or less identically, but in less familiar universes it may glow or grow only on a certain color or not be a plant at all.”

Will pulled a flower off of a shrub and examined it. “So, the plants have souls as well? It’s not just people?”

“Everything has a soul in the most basic term. Most are even simpler than the pea plant’s; they simply appear, manifest as an object, and exist until they can’t.”

Will hummed, storing that away for later. “The taint. Tell me about it. Does it affect plants? Bacteria? Do you know about bacteria?”

“The food is safe, if that’s what you’re asking.” Virgil said, “As far as we can tell, only intelligent creatures can carry or spread the taint.”

Virgil paused. “I also do know what bacteria are. I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t.”

Will dropped the flower and gestured to nothing in particular. “This place seems pretty medieval fantasy to me. Dungeons and Dragons type of motley. That big guy was wearing a loincloth. We’re going to see a blacksmith. I’m a satyr.”

“Good, that saves a step of explanation at least.” Virgil said, ignoring the bite of Will’s tone. “Whatever this place looks like to you, we’re a real world, not a game. Science advances, the balance of power shifts, heroes rise and fall, the world turns. Life goes on, apocalypse or no.” He reached into empty space, like Glory had, and pulled out a fuzzy dandelion.

“You can do Glory’s little wormhole trick, too?” Will asked.

“Only when he’s inside me,” Virgil said. He handed the dandelion to Will, who was too surprised to refuse. “Hold onto that, please.”

“Explain the satyr part, please.” Will said impatiently. “It’s like the pea plant, I guess?”

“Sort of, but not really. When a soul moves naturally, it’s more or less washed clean of all but its most basal characteristics; you wouldn’t remember ever being someone else somewhere else. Using magic bypasses that process, so you retain your personality, but it’s still not perfect. Your body is a reconstruction based on what the spell could piece together.”

“Fascinating and existentially terrifying, thanks. But why a satyr, specifically.”

“No clue,” Virgil said, shrugging. “That’s just how magic is sometimes. I think it suits you.”

There was the sound of a hammer striking an anvil, and what sounded like the chime of a large bell.

“Back to the topic of blacksmiths,” Virgil said excitedly, “I think you’ll enjoy this.”

The forge was open-air, facing a pine forest. The blacksmith was a stout man, in a thick leather apron and very little else, with lavender skin and small horns peeking out from his short, thick hair.

He was sitting in one corner, sweating profusely and pouring a jug of water over himself. The forge was as hot as Will had expected, but he hadn’t realized how dry the air would feel.

“What is that?” Will asked, looking at what the blacksmith had been hammering; a glowing, white sphere about the size of a basketball.

“Unrealized potential,” Virgil said. “Very fresh, very high quality.”

“As in, the abstract quality?”

“Yes,” Virgil said. “Well, not abstract anymore, as you can see.”

“Alright,” Will said. He decided he didn’t want to ask how right now. “What does it do?”

“It’s sort of hard to explain in words,” Virgil said. “But it’s very easy to use. Anyone can fire a bow. With enough practice, anyone can forge weapons. Potential provides a shortcut, and increases the maximum efficacy of that activity to beyond what a normal human could do-”

“So like picking a class in an RPG?” Will interrupted.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Yes,” Virgil said flatly. “If you want to put it like that.”

“Alright. What’s the party composition like?”

“Pardon?” Virgil asked.

“You and your little… outfit here. What’s everyone doing?”

“I’m a summoner,” Virgil said. “Dio is a druid. Rex is the blacksmith, which is a frontline, martial class. Glorious Purpose isn’t much of a damage-dealer, but he’s much tougher than he looks.”

“So, it looks like you’re low on range,” Will said thoughtfully. “Would you rather have more magic, or something like an archer?”

“I’d want you to pick whatever class you’re most comfortable with,” Virgil supplied. “We can figure out our strategy later.”

“It’s only the fate of the world,” Will chided. “No pressure.”

Virgil flattened. “Fine. More magic wouldn’t hurt, I think. When you’re ready, hold the stem of the flower with one hand, and gently squeeze the ball with the other.”

Will stepped forward and pressed his palm against the top of the orb.

He found himself floating in a white void, which dimmed to blue. He felt disconnected from his body, as if he were floating through nothingness. A menu popped up in front of him, listing what were presumably the classes. Will scrolled quickly through, hundreds flashing by, then paused. He was only halfway through the ‘B’s. How many were there?

He went back to the top and began giving each a deeper look. He really needed to be thorough.

“Hello,” said a voice from behind him, though behind barely meant anything. Glorious Purpose stepped into view and outstretched a hand. Without thinking, Will took it, and found himself again in his body. “I came to check on your progress.”

“I’m doing fine, thanks. I can pick for myself.”

“You haven’t for the past three hours,” said Glory. “Virgil is worried sick.”

“Hm,” said Will quietly. He didn’t want to admit to himself that that made him feel slightly guilty. “Fine, help me.”

“Very well,” said Glory. “Let’s play a card game.”

The scene shifted, and Will and Glory were sitting across from each other on a cloth-covered table. Glory was shuffling a deck of cards, and drew three of them.

“Virgil said you were thinking about high-damage mages, so we’ll start there.”

“Can’t you just help me pick from a list?” Will asked.

“The full list is thousands of classes long, as you’ve probably noticed.” Glory said, setting the cards face-up on the table. “We’re narrowing it down.”

“Pick a card, any card,” Glory said merrily.

Will pointed to one with a purple squiggle.

Glory nodded, shuffled the cards back in, and drew three new ones. This time, three different dragons in different colors. Will picked the silver one, and Glory nodded, shuffled the cards back in, and drew three new ones. This process continued for some time, until eventually, Glory drew three cards that all displayed the same icon; the grim reaper surrounded by a pack of dog-masked spirits.

“Hm,” Glory said flatly. “I can’t say ‘you don’t want this class’, because that will make you want it more.”

“It does,” Will agreed.

“This is the soulmaster. It has a mastery over life and death, using the souls of its friends and foes to inflict terrible damage. It requires a lot of trust and respect for the limits of their companions and themselves.”

“What’s the catch?” Will asked.

“It will kill you,” Glory said calmly. “Completely. No respawning. Cessation of existence, total and final.”

“When?” Will asked.

“The soulmaster’s most powerful abilities require entering an empowered state, which offers superhuman magical skill. This state is incredibly risky to enter, though, because if killed during it, you won’t come back. It is a niche class for a reason.”

Will considered this. “I think that’s a workable issue.”

“I don’t,” said Glory. “We have too much riding on you as-is. Plus, you’re right; it was unfair of us to pull you here to solve our problem. I can’t in good conscience let you die for it.”

“I’ll be honest; I don’t plan on spending a second longer here than I have to. If this is the fastest way to get my ticket home, I’m okay with that risk. Besides, I just won’t put myself at risk of actually dying if I don’t have to. I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” said Glory, sighing. “And I know there’s no way I’m going to change your mind. Fine.”

Glory snapped a finger, and the scene vanished.

“Right.” Will said. “Okay. What else do we have to decide on?”

“For now, not much. Perhaps your uniform?” Glory asked while he prepared another illusion, “I think you’d look nice in-”

“I don’t care, I’ve been here for hours. Give me the default.”

“I don’t think-”

“Just give it!” Will snapped, and yet again everything went white.

Will came to in the forge. His hand was still on the orb, which was now a dull chrome. The forge was cooler now, the furnace reduced to embers. It had gotten dark, and a bit breezy.

Virgil snapped awake, having fallen asleep waiting. “Oh thank the gods you’re alright,” he said. “I was worried sick.”

The blacksmith wolf-whistled. Will looked down, feeling the texture of his new clothes.

“Why am I wearing a harness?” he asked, partially to Glory but mostly to the indifferent and cruel universe at large.

Glory appeared from Virgil’s pin. “You wanted the default,” he said, very diplomatically.

“Great,” Will said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Follow-up question: why is the default soulmaster uniform a leather harness?”

“It’s a leather jacket as well,” said Glory helpfully. “It also includes a hat.”

Will reached up and pulled the hat off of his head. He felt two bony horns growing out of his head, but decided to be upset about that later. The Muir cap was also leather, with a horned skull insignia on the front.

Will frowned down at it, turning it over as if it might be radioactive.

“It’s the way of the genre,” Virgil said, both apologetically and as an excuse. “Just how things work around here.”

“What part of a medieval fantasy kitchen sink includes leather daddy necromancers?"

“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding,” said Glorious Purpose, who had been aware of and planning around the misunderstanding the entire time. “You’re not in a medieval fantasy kitchen sink. You’re in a gay porn parody of a medieval fantasy kitchen sink.”