It turned out the people of this world were stupid. Very stupid. It was true that the book provided some basic spells as examples, but the magical system was more like coding. As long as you knew how, you could tweak all kinds of variables, creating your own custom spells, and even branching out into new fields of magic just through the combination of simple scripts the book provided as part of the training. Contrary to this incredible freedom, the religion of this world had banned the practice of spell customization; holding the spells provided by their god as perfect, and any alteration to those spells to be an abomination. To be fair though, there was also an implication that at some point, the god of this world had heavily restricted the ability of its citizens to perform such customization, but he wasn’t sure how much since the history was mostly told in the form of allegory.
Darryl had now hunted three more rats that had come for his oatmeal using basic attack spells, and used the ensuing XP to buy more knowledge; thus becoming more familiar with the culture and history of this world. Of course, he was now reaching the level of hunger where the slop of oatmeal looked like a more appealing option. Before he could work up the courage to eat it though, the sound of footsteps rang through the hall, and Darryl instinctively shrank back into the corner of his cell.
The footsteps soon arrived in front of him in the form of two guards.
"The saintess has called for you. Come stand in front of the bars." One of the guards commanded. Darryl obeyed, wincing at the uncomfortable squelch of oatmeal beneath his shoes as the guard forced him to stand directly inside the oatmeal patch. They reached through the bars to manacle his hands, then let him out of the cell. After ten minutes of walking through a maze of stone corridors, they shoved him into a small room. It seemed like a room meant for informal meetings, with a window, plus table and chairs, but little else. The guards forced him into one of the seats, and a moment later, the woman who had examined him during the summoning emerged. Her face was set into a mask of impassivity.
“Do you understand why you have been brought here?” She asked him.
Darryl nodded, as one of his books had touched on the subject. “It’s because I’m classless. That’s a sin in your religion.”
The saintess frowned. “It is not OUR religion, it is THE religion. God has commanded that those who lack a class are sinners, sentenced to a thousand years of endless reincarnation and execution. It is our duty to carry out this sentence.”
Darryl shook his head. “Have you considered that I’m just an anomaly? There are no classes on my world to begin with, so why would I have one? It’s not fair to judge me by the standards of your world.”
The saintess shook her head. “It is not my place to make such distinctions. God calls upon me, and thus I obey. There is no room for interpretation. I follow, and that is all. For what it’s worth, if you are right, then you have my sympathy. I did not call you here for a theological debate though.”
“Then why?” Darryl asked.
The saintess sighed. “Well, I’m trying to understand something about the hero, and his explanation just makes no sense. I thought perhaps you could enlighten me.”
After an expectant pause, Darryl shrugged. “It depends on the question.”
“Are you aware that your brother Meryl was secretly a woman?” She asked.
Darryl blinked in surprise as his brain scrambled to calibrate in response to the unexpected question.
“Uhm, yes? Wait, no that’s not how it works in my world.” Darryl sputtered.
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The saintess sighed. “Then how does it work? This is important. We cannot have a woman be the hero, it would contradict the teachings.”
“Er, well, on earth, at least in my country, people are allowed to choose what gender they identify the most with, and live however they want.”
The saintess gave a puzzled frown. “Fascinating. Then the summoning spell must have chosen her based on her self-perception, rather than the reality of her biology. I suppose this is workable as an explanation. Your sister kept going on about something called hormones, so we didn’t really understand.”
“How is Meryl doing anyway?” Darryl asked hopefully.
The saintess gave him a pointed look. “That’s none of your business. Honestly, the both of you are such a disappointment. Did you know the hero had barely killed anything before? Only fifteen XP to her name, and apparently that was from swatting insects! It’s going to take so long to make her viable as anything more than a political pawn, and with this nonsense hanging over her head, even her value in that arena is dubious.” The saintess sighed. “Well, I suppose god does love to give his servants trials. Speaking of which, I promise to make your execution as painless as possible.”
Darryl blinked in shock as her words hit home. Of course he had read of his eventual fate in his history book, but hearing her speak it out loud sparked genuine terror for the first time. As it became more real in his heart, Darryl’s brain kicked into overdrive. The only thing that stopped him from bolting then and there, was the memory of her effortlessly holding down meryl with one hand. She continued talking to him for another half hour, seeking more details about earth, but Darryl was barely paying attention as he rapidly formulated plans and spells, seeking something that might save him. As an idea stood out in his mind, Darryl grimaced slightly in the middle of explaining the concept of cars.
“I believe that is enough.” The saintess announced, as if sensing his distraction. “While this is certainly fascinating, I believe I know all I need to of your world. To think there was an entire planet of the unloved. And for them to engage in such blasphemous inventions! Someone will have to rectify that when our current crises are resolved.”
Darryl groaned inwardly at the thought that he might have just doomed earth to some kind of multiversal invasion.
“The guards will escort you back to your cell. You shall be executed a week from today. I pray that god has mercy on your soul.” The saintess turned to stare out the window with a haunted expression on her face as Darryl was dragged back to his cell.
As soon as the expressionless guards left, taking the manacles with them, Darryl set to work. Scooping a handful of oatmeal into his mouth, he forced the food into his stomach while working on his newest spell. Taking the scripts for kinetic motion from other spells, he added control mechanisms that allowed him to make continuous manual adjustments on the fly. Then he multiplied the formula, shaping it in three dimensions to allow multiple such control points placed in the correct locations to meet his needs. Finally, he was done. Grabbing the least damaged rat corpse from the pile in the corner of his cell, Darryl cast his new spell on it. The spell cost nearly the entirety of his meager mana pool, but in exchange, it had a duration of slightly over an hour.
As he experimented with the control mechanisms that were meant to operate its limbs, watching the dead rat waddle awkwardly, a notification appeared.
______________________________
You have earned the title: “Novice Necromancer”
The relevant store entries have become available for purchase.
______________________________
Checking the store, he found there was a new entry for “Basic Necromancy” at a cost of twenty XP in the knowledge section, and several related skills that had been added. Darryl frowned at the cost, but knew he needed the knowledge to make more efficient puppets. It took several hours until they appeared, but he managed to snipe two more rats that were passing by in a small cluster. After collecting the carcasses with his reanimated puppet, Darryl unlocked the knowledge of basic necromancy.
It taught him two important things. First, was how to create autonomous undead. These wouldn’t require his direct control, and would operate according to the scripts he implanted. Second, was summoning magic. While the book was focused around summoning undead, there was no such limitation inherent to the scripts. It took him some tinkering, but Darryl finally worked out a particularly devious plan for how to defeat the high-leveled guards in the prison. Twenty seven hours after his meeting with the saintess, Darryl let out a malicious snicker, and placed his undead rat outside the bars.
“Go pwn a guard.” He commanded it. The rat obliged.