Chapter 3
Status
"Sho how many levelsh did shu gain from 'ecoming ah 'ero?"
Apparently, Leuke has no qualms with making conversation with a full mouth, because he asks me this while he's still chewing on a mountain of rice he just shoved in there.
My own plate has a decent spread. I won't feel bad if I don't get around all of it, but I wanted to at least try a bit of everything. The temple had rolled out generous offerings of rice, fish, eggs, smoked meat, hot cereal of an unknown grain, a mixture of fresh fruits, only some I recognize, and a mild hot tea. They spread it out buffet style and we were encouraged to help ourselves.
... Leuke had done his level best to empty out every dish, to look at his plate.
I push a yellow grape around on my plate for a moment as I both translate his mushmouth and consider my response. Becoming a Hero was supposed to come with a power boost? How would I even know?
I decide to answer honestly. "Um, just one." It's technically the truth. I had no level, now I'm level one.
Tassim looks to me at that from the other side. Or maybe she's watching Leuke nearly choke on his rice. Thankfully, he manages not to spray it all over me, but he guzzles a whole cup of steaming hot tea to wash his throat clear.
He still has to cough a bit and he wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. "Really?!" he finally manages. "I gained ten! And a point gain boost!"
He doesn't sound mocking or bragging, more stunned that my own number isn't comparable, but it's enough to get Tassim scolding him again. She leans forward over her own plate to look past me.
"Were you pulled from a barn, Leuke?! It's rude to badger someone about their stats, you know! Almost as rude as it is to eat like a pig at a trough!"
The redhead swallows the new mouthful he'd only just crammed in, and I'm pretty sure he'd only just started chewing it, too. His neck is nearly the same color as his hair at her words.
"Besides," she continues, "as far as you know, she only gained one level because she was already higher than us!"
At that, I can feel my own face going red. But if I'm really going to be fighting alongside these people, they deserve to know. It's not something you want to find out in the middle of combat.
"Ah, no, pretty sure I wasn't," I say. "I didn't have a class at all."
Now Benarou and Seina stop eating, too. It's Mr. Valedictorian that speaks first.
"You were classless?" he asks, though he pushes his glasses up. "Well, I guess that makes sense with how young you are." Oh, right, I'm the youngest one here, probably. "Wealthier families get their children classes as young as twelve, I've heard, but that'd be the exception. As a positive, your family can reinvest what they were saving up for your ... coming of age present?"
It's plainly a guess, and I feel like he's trying to get a read on my social status as much as he is trying to explain my words away. Clearly, classes through the temple are some kind of investment on par with a higher education. Earlier acquisition, and presumably a head start in leveling, is a perk and indication of higher standing.
Tassim swats him across the back of his head. "That's rude, too! We're all Heroes here! That's higher than any noble brat, and all of us on equal footing!"
He flinches from the impact, but doesn't rile. "... Apologies," he says, directing it to me. "I meant nothing by it, I was only curious."
I give a nod of understanding, but have taken the opportunity to put that grape in my mouth. Chewing with my mouth shut is a good excuse not to answer. I have the sudden impression he would look down on me if I told him I'd never even known anyone else with a class before today.
"Still, being chosen by the heavens as a Hero even without a class doesn't happen often," Seina puts in with a touch of awe, "you must have been very impressive."
I give an awkward laugh and rub the back of my head. "I'm afraid I don't really have a frame of reference. But I have a good feeling about the class I did get, if I can find the gear for it."
"A class granted by ascension ..." Even Leuke has forgotten his tower of food, turning to face the circle of conversation. The look in his eyes is like he's barely resisting asking me for a spar. "It's gotta be really powerful, right?"
Tassim looks like she's trying to decide if that question qualifies as another rude one, but is weighing it against her own curiosity. Even Benarou and Seina can't keep similar expressions off of their faces.
"I think so," I nod after only a moment of hesitation. "I have no way of knowing if it's particularly rare, though. Have any of you ever heard of a Gunslinger?"
It's easy for me to picture what such a class might entail, of course. A desperado coming out of a dusty saloon with a quick draw technique to put a samurai to shame. A dual wielding martial artist and his gun katas predicting enemy locations in the dark. A cyberpunk runner in a black trenchcoat and wraparound shades reflecting the neon lights subtly slipping a hand to her hip when gang toughs surround her.
My culture had no lack of ideas on Gunslingers.
Nobody else can apparently say the same. They all get confused frowns and their eyes unfocus as they search their memories.
"That's the second time you've used a word that the Essence didn't translate," Seina finally mentions. "You must be from very far away. What is a gun?"
I find myself unable to answer her. My face is slack and my jaw won't listen to me. A sinking dread begins to fill me.
They don't know what a gun is. None of them do.
But if guns don't exist here, does that mean my class is useless?
When my voice finally comes out of my throat, all I can say is, "Oh, that's bad."
Despite the lack of explanation, the other Heroes seem to grasp quickly enough why that's bad, though none of them seem to know what to do or say about it.
Finally, Benarou stands. "Forgiveness, Remmi, but would you mind if I used Identify on you to view your status for myself? Perhaps we could offer more insight that way."
"Identify?" I ask. "Is that some sort of spell? Like what the priest used with the whatchamacallit ..." I snap my fingers before coming up with the words. "The soul orb?"
"It is the spell the soul orb reproduces," he confirms. "Though it uses it only at a basic level. It is not a complex spell, but neither is it taught. Normally, artifacts like the soul orb are the only way to use it. Except for Heroes. I purchased it this morning."
The other three are nodding at that. "We all probably should," Tassim mentions. "Even a single rank would be a boon."
She turns to Benarou. "But then you might as well just ask her to show us her status directly, so why even bring it up?"
"Stealth bragging," I immediately guess with a smirk, and he reddens as if caught. "Well, I don't mind sharing, but somebody's going to have to tell me how to do that."
"Oh, right, no class," Leuke puts in. "You'd never have done it before. It's really easy, you just will it open. A lot of people like to make a motion as they do it, like this."
He makes an arcing swipe with his fingertips in the air in front of him, but nothing happens. His eyes focus like he's looking at something in front of him, but the air there is empty.
"After that, another push of will to show it, again often with a gesture to help you focus."
He makes a motion like he's flipping something around with his fingers, and suddenly the blue box is back.
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NAME: Leuke Flamvel
RACE: Human
AGE: 18
LEVEL: 30
CLASS: Swordmaster
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
HP: 540/540
MP: 25/25
ST: 160/160
STRENGTH: 150
TOUGHNESS: 120
INTELLECT: 25
AGILITY: 80
POINTS: 1,256
TRAITS:
Hero
Knight-Errant
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Behind me, Tassim lets out a long whistle. "Shiny muscles there, beefcake."
And behind her, I only just catch Benarou mutter, "Brains are about right ..."
I'm sure Leuke heard that, too, but it washes off of him like everything else. "And there you have it, Rem! That's how you work a status screen!"
I glance back in time to see Tassim's eye twitch at the nickname, but it doesn't bother me. I take a step so they're all in front of me. "Alright, let's give it a try."
I swipe like I'm waking up a tablet and forcefully think, Status.
I'm actually surprised when it pops up immediately. I thought I'd have to make several attempts. In fact, it kind of feels like I pushed harder than I even needed.
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NAME: Remmi Lee
RACE: Human (Outsider)
AGE: 15 (24)
LEVEL: 1
CLASS: Gunslinger
HP: 60/60
MP: 120/120
ST: 120/120
STRENGTH: 10
TOUGHNESS: 20
INTELLECT: 120
AGILITY: 60
POINTS: 0
TRAITS:
Hero
Gun Nut
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When I flip it around, Benarou immediately spit-takes his tea.
"You okay, there, Benny?" Leuke asks in concern.
The dark-haired man coughs for a moment before he can answer. "What's with that ridiculous Intellect?! No level one has a stat in the triple digits! I'm level 27, and it's nearly as high as mine!"
Tassim's rubbing her chin, though. "Those definitely look like mage stats, to be sure. Gutter physical stats, high Intellect."
"Except for that Agility," Leuke puts in, surprisingly helpful. But then, I can absolutely see him as a swole gym bro, which would put physical evaluation in his wheelhouse. "She's gonna be fast on her feet if she keeps that kind of spread."
"Far faster than a level one should be," Tassim agrees. "In fact, it's only her Strength and Toughness that are remotely appropriate for her level."
"Maybe I'm getting a boost for being a Hero?" I suggest.
But Tassim shakes her head. "Levels are a composite score, not something static. Our levels went up when we were summoned because we got a stat boost. Your level shouldn't still be a one. Those are stats a level ten mage would be proud of. Fifteen, maybe."
Leuke bends down so he is level with me. "... Are you sure you can't cast sunbolts?"
"Positive," I confirm. "I know what a Gunslinger is, unless this thing's using some insanely different definition. Even if it does, nobody where I come from uses magic in the first place, so there's no way I could have learned it before now."
Whoops, maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to say that. They're all giving me weird looks again.
"Nobody uses magic?" Seina is the first to ask. "How do you ... survive?"
I blink as I try to process that question and the implications behind that. Before I can find words to answer her with, though, Benarou jumps in.
"I suspect it has to do with her race," he suggests, and everyone's eyes go back to it.
Unlike when Genstai checked it with the soul orb, here, it doesn't just say I'm a Human.
"What kind of subrace is Outsider?" Tassim muses. "I've never even heard of humans having subraces."
"I don't think it's a subrace, exactly," Benarou replies. "It's an origin point. I think she was summoned from outside the Essence System. That would explain the odd words that can't be translated. She possesses knowledge of concepts we simply do not because they don't exist here, so there's nothing to translate them to. It would also explain the impossibility of having zero points. That would mean that she's never experienced anything noteworthy in all of her life ... unless the Essence never witnessed any of it before yesterday."
"Oh!" Tassim pops her fist into her palm as it clicks for her. "That would explain her level, too! If these are normal stats for her people, then she'd still be level one even with them! Especially if that monstrous Intellect stat isn't counting as highly for a martial class."
"I admit I'm disturbed by the idea that could be normal for anyone," Benarou agrees, "but it could just mean they have a widespread institutionalized education. Intellect isn't just raw intelligence, after all. The same could go for her age. It's possible that her people live longer or age slower, so 24 for them is still equivalent to a 15 year old here."
... Yeah, I'm not touching that one.
"We do have that education," I focus on instead. "For about a dozen years before we're considered adults. More if we're going into a specialized field. I couldn't tell you how it compares to what you guys get, though."
"I didn't learn to read until I was fifteen!" Leuke sounds far more like he's proud of that than as if it were some mark against him. "Learned my letters when I joined up with the city guard!"
"That's ... a little later than the standard," Benarou provides, "but common enough for the poor or very rural. Most will learn to read by twelve, nobles by eight."
I blink. "We're learning to read by four."
"Numbers?"
"Same time."
"... What do you spend the rest of all that time learning?" Seina asks in that quiet voice of hers.
And I blink again, realizing the kind of gulf I'm dealing with. "Everything else."