What.
The hell did devotee mean? And what cause? How had this kid pledged to it? Lasair had a plethora of questions, and not many answers. The little thief looked just as shocked, staring into what was probably his status screen.
She was apparently supposed to choose a class for him. Why? And what were all of these classes anyway?
[CORE'S PRIEST] just seemed wrong. Lasair was fairly certain she wasn't a god. And even if she was, fame wasn't exactly something she wanted with an angry noble after her. Having someone preaching her 'cause' was likely to end in both of their deaths.
[CORE'S PALADIN] was even worse. It still seemed oriented to serving a god, and the kid didn't seem like the 'holy crusade' type of person. And weren't paladins usually the 'good guys'? Laws were for chumps. Arson was far more conducive to happy living.
[CORE'S CULTIST], surprisingly, was seeming like the best option. Lasair was not planning on asking for sacrifices or rituals anytime soon, and those were pretty much the only obligations of a fantasy cultist. She could just have the kid do his own thing.
Thankfully, her pondering was interrupted by a small shower of pebbles. Followed by a rather angry lizard, the ledge he had been standing on having crumbled. Midas fell through the air with a furious squeak, grasping for something to catch his fall.
And he found it. His teeth caught on one of the fleeing threads of the [SPY] class, lodging it between his fangs like floss. It slowed him slightly, and changed his trajectory enough that he crashed into the screen.
He bit into it with all the force of a bear trap, sticking his teeth directly into [CORE'S PALADIN]. He swung for a moment, before dropping the rest of the way to the ground. And he left something new in his wake.
The strand of the [SPY] class swam within the structure of [CORE'S PALADIN], worming its way in. It was surrounded by small flashes of red light, distorting the structure wherever it touched. The three forces began to orbit each other, spinning faster and faster until they became one.
[[TOBIAS [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE'S PRIEST
CORE'S SPYMASTER
CORE'S CULTIST
The class seemed... jagged. It was rough around the edges, and seemed to just be stabbed into the system rather than seamlessly integrated. Pulses of red ran through the shadowy mana like veins, lending to its foreboding presence.
The class was similar to [SPY] at first glance. It was shadowy, silent and unseen. But beneath the general stealth theme, there was a web. A web of information. Thoughts and memories skittered across it like little spiders, forever weaving more and more.
It seemed to reach towards the little thief, mana flashing as if showing off. Pick me, it called. The class certainly seemed better than the other two, and the kid looked inclined to agree.
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Lasair, Mirage, and the kid all looked at the little lizard who had caused all this. He had already started a new nap. [INSPECT] came to bare as she scrutinized the little rascal.
[STATUS LOADING...
[STATUS]: MIDAS
[CLASS]: [MANAMANDER], [LIEUTENANT], [ALL THAT GLITTERS]
[LEVEL]: 10
[AFFINITY(S]): MerANroAr, CHAOS
[BONDED]: [DUNGEON CORE]{LASAIR}, [BLESSED]{eNYrrXor}, [SYSTEM]{GLITCH}
[ABILITIES]: MANA GLUTTONY , ADVANCED SENTIENCE
Midas what the fuck.
That was a whole problem that she would be solving... later. Too much was happening at once right now, glitch lizard could be dealt with later. The class called once more, and this time it was answered.
[CORE'S SPYMASTER] SELECTED. GRANTING CLASS...
The kid twitched as the class settled. His shadow grew a bit longer, and he faded into it just a bit. His stance shifted just a touch, and his next step made no sound. He walked back to the center of the mural, far faster than he should have been able to. His eyes gleamed with a sharpness that they hadn't possessed before, taking in everything in the Aviary like a dragon overseeing its hoard.
"Thank you."
The words were a whisper, barely audible over the breeze and crackling of sparks. The class clicked into place and the final changes finished, and his status screen was complete once more.
[STATUS LOADING...]
[STATUS]: TOBIAS [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]
[CLASS]: [ELVEN SPYMASTER]
[LEVEL]: 6
[AFFINITY(S]):
[BONDED]: [DEVOTEE]{CORE}
[ABILITIES]: FACT'S PERSISTENCE
All except for a few strands of structured mana. The system wasn't done yet.
CLASS GRANTED. SELECT CLASS ABILITY.
Seriously!?!
Lasair had spent hours trying to figure out abilities, and there was a fucking menu for them the whole time? What the hell?
Well, its not like she would be seeing it too often. This devotee stuff seemed a bit rare. Still though, why not just let her have the menu the whole time? It was rather comprehensive, with all of her current abilities downgraded to an acceptable level, along with a small area for custom abilities.
She had no idea what to pick. Or if she should pick anything. This kid had stolen the dagger, and Lasair had no idea what his plans were. Maybe she could give him something that wasn't too dangerous?
She opened the custom menu. Thankfully, it seemed that the system would cover the cost, as she was still completely out of energy. But there was a maximum to how strong she could make an ability, as it would grow in strength with the kid.
If it was going to evolve or grow, maybe she could just give him a filler ability for now? Just have it do nothing? Yeah, that would probably work. But it still needed something. Maybe she could literally give him filler? That would work.
[LOREM IPSUM]: DOLOR SIT AMET, CONSECTETUR ADIPISCING ELIT
Yeah, she would just give him sample text.
GRANTING ABILITY...
----------------------------------------
Deep with the lines and angles of a sea of mana, something new stirred. It had a purpose, and that was all it knew. To serve, to be a weapon to call upon. It would achieve this purpose, for it was all it had.
Or was it?
Below the purpose, below the call to action, was meaning. It's creator thought it gibberish, a random thought that amounted to nothing. And the majority of it was. But through luck, or chance, or fate, there lay two words. It's meaning. It's power.
It would achieve its purpose. For it had meaning.
Dolorem ipsum.
Pain itself.