I set the satellite up per my instructions. It takes less than a minute. I decide they can wait a little while. I must check something.

I walk to the end of the alleyway. Conversation and smells drift over to me. I find the nearest entrance to the boulevard and turn the corner. People fill the street. All the tables, all the chairs, all the bars and restaurants, filled with people. Laughing, loving, smiling, talking. They speak no language I’ve ever heard.

“Hey there.”

I spin. A man pushes off from a streetlight and ambles toward me. His hair is graying. His face is somewhat angular. He seems to exude an air of reassurance and familiarity. He wears a long dark coat, under which I get a glimpse of stained clothes. The rank odor of fish hangs about him like a cloud. I can taste it.

“You,” he says, pointing in my direction.

I look over my shoulder, but no one is there. I look at the man again and point at my chest.

“You,” he says nodding. “Welcome.”

“Are you the mayor or something?” I ask.

“No. I’m the ‘arb—well, round ‘ere I’m a common roustabout to be ‘onest. Welcome to the Docklands.”

“Thank you.” I shake his proffered hand. “Um, hello.”

“You’re new, so if you like, I’ll show you the sights. This place is pretty creepy, eh? No need to panic. I can show you the way home, if you like.”

“No, I’d—I’d like to stay,” I smile at him. “I don’t think it’s creepy. It’s a beautiful town.”

He snorts. “You never get far from your home country, do you?”

“Um.” I’m not sure how to take that. The literal answer is yes, but I was trying to be polite.

“Whatever. This way.” He starts walking away from the lights and life. “There are a few things to be aware of. One, it’s always night here.”

“Always?” I walk behind him. “What about the sun?”

“There is no sun,” he said. He turns his head, grinning. “The moon rises and falls. The clouds come and go. But no sun.”

And no stars, either. Normal sky isn’t black, it’s a deep dark blue pockmarked with pinpricks of light. The sky in my world lacks stars, thus it lacks light or beauty. The sky in this world appears similar. The plants don’t seem fazed by the lack of sun. They grow and produce fruit.

The second thing to be aware of are the crows. There are different breeds, but they are everywhere. They are always watching us, and always hungry. They want to kill and eat us. A murder can strip a man to the bone in under a minute. The locals go on a crow hunt once a season or so, but the crows always return.

The fourth thing is the transients. The ‘Docklands’ are full of people coming and going, but no one staying. It is a world of crossroads. People of all races, languages, cultures and backgrounds, species, creeds, and faiths commingle. They arrive. They talk. They trade. They leave. Few stay for long; none stay forever. The locals are here year-round, but good luck making friends.

“You’ll be like one of them,” he muses out loud. “Staying for a few days or weeks. Take the tour, buy some property, then leave and never come here again. Your property goes uncleaned and rots and falls apart!” he laughs.

With transients come business opportunities if one is enterprising. Entrepreneurs, fishermen, clerks, barkeeps, longshoremen, and shipwrights. All the ships need repairs or upgrades. Couriers are a thing here. The postal service doesn’t exist. I could make good money delivering letters or packages. If I had a boat, I could be a sort of trucker making deliveries all over the shore. No thank you.

Even with opportunities, there’s still the language barrier. The final thing is what he calls the endless expanse. The Docklands extend many miles inland and up and down the coast. Going out to sea, traffic comes and goes. But there is a vague belt of ocean beyond the horizon. It has no name. In description, a great cloud of murk and pink energy rises from a crevasse on the seafloor. It coalesces into oppressive clouds that hide Doorways. It is there that ships from all different worlds and time periods enter.

With that in mind, I know this world is a transitory place, a sort of crossroads for the multiverse. The implications are staggering.

“Those things will affect you no matter what,” the roustabout gestures at a group of crows in a nearby tree. “Not to say it’s all bad. Now then, are you still interested in staying here? There’s work that needs doing. But you’ll need a job or way to make money, and a place to live. I can show you some vacant places, but you’ll have to come up with a living.”

“I would like to stay,” I smile. I look at the crows. Not all are black. Some have white spots or flecks of red. Some of the bigger ones are ravens, and they are rather pretty. Ravens are more intelligent than crows. “Is there uh… an adventurer’s guild?”

“There is,” the roustabout says. He gestures. “Right this way.”

We pass an open shop with red lettering. “T’is is the Midnight Store,” he says. “Always open. The owner, Patel, isn’t a chatty fellow what with the Language Barrier. But ‘e gives service with a smile.”

I crane my neck to see through one of the illuminated windows. He has florescent lighting. Nice to see some people here have electricity.

“This is the building for the Estate Agent. This is where you’ll register your property. We ‘ave some available if you’re interested.” He indicates an imposing structure of marble. “And ‘ere is the Adventurer’s—”

BANG.

I almost jump a foot in the air. The roustabout’s mouth hangs open. He grabs at his stomach. When he raises his hand I see a dark stain spreading over his coat. He gives me a desperate, wordless look before collapsing.

“Doan moove,” someone says. “I doan wan’ ‘o shoo’ chu’ you bu’ I will.”

Someone moves around me. They crouch over the roustabout. I hear a quiet moan. I see a thin piece of metal drawn and hear a wet, rasping gasp. Hands pat down the man. In seconds his pockets are empty. The mugger rises and looks at me.

“Turn out your pockets, kid.”

“I got nothin’, sir.” I raise my hands. A cold barrel presses into the back of my head. The thug in front gives me a rough pat down.

“You new here?” the killer asks.

I’ve been dreaming of this world for a few years. While I’ve never seen much, I know that the supposed ‘endless expanse’ isn’t endless. Daylight exists. The conditions of this area extend to its borders, but there are, in fact, borders. The world is bigger than this port. Despite that, yes, this is my first actual visit. Still interested in staying? I become aware of the ankle monitor locked around my leg. You betcha I’m interested. As long as the Bureau is breathing down my neck, I’m not going anywhere.

“I guess you could say that,” I say.

“All right kid, since you’re new we’ll cut you some slack. Congratulations, you get to go home tonight.” The gun disappears from the back of my head. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, but the thug isn’t finished speaking. “We are the Docklands branch of the Sun On Yee. We’re in a slump right now, on normal days we’re more professional.”

“Forget everything he told you about finding work,” the second thug says. “If you want to survive here, there are three rules to keep in mind. One: mind your own fucking business. Doan ask too many questions and keep your head down. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” I say. I keep my hands up.

“Two,” the gunman adds. “Forget everything he said about a language barrier. Everyone passes through here with their languages. Find your people and stick with them.”

“And the third rule?”

“Lend a hand,” the thug in front of me says. “The law doesn’t have much authority here. The ones in charge are last you’d expect. There are two currencies people respect. Gold, and Influence. You earn gold from doing work. You get Influence by getting stuff done.

“You want to keep us from paying you a visit? Make yourself useful. Find a place to fit in and start contributing.”

“Find my own people, keep my head down, and start helping. Yes sir.”

“You have a Class yet?” the thug raises an eyebrow.

“No, sir.” I shake my head. Both men look at each other. The thug in front relaxes his posture.

“Get your butt in there and pick one,” he points at the Adventurer’s Guild. “And remember: anyone asks, you didn’t see anything. No matter what they offer.”

“Yes sir,” I say.

“And one more thing,” one of the thugs pauses. He doesn’t quite face me. His face is angular but hidden by his hood. “If you want the crows to ignore you, get a talisman.” The two thugs disappear into the alley. I watch them go. A few steps in and their long coats meld with the shadows. I hear a flapping of wings and look around. An emaciated bird tears a strip of skin off the roustabout’s face. More birds land.

They alternate between giving me the evil eye and tearing into the dead man. I kinda want his coat. But the ease with which those birds are devouring him makes me hesitate. More crows descend. One would expect them to dig into the soft parts of his face while ignoring the rest. On Earth, that’s what you see in fiction. It happens in real-life too, but against animals. But this isn’t Earth. And these crows are vicious.

They tear through his clothes as if the fabric is an annoyance. Then, they attack the flesh. Being a dockworker, the man’s body is rough and callused. The crows don’t appear to notice. Wet, squelching sounds fill the street. Bone snaps. The crows alternate between pecking and tearing. In the end, there isn’t much more than a red stain, some scraps of cloth, and the parts they don’t like. Waste-filled intestines and such. The entire process takes less than a minute. Yet the crows’ bellies do not bulge. They are still emaciated. They still look hungry.

And they eye me. I back away toward the wall of the Adventurer’s Guild. The crows take flight. I put up my hands to ward them off, but they land on the scenery. Lampposts, the tops of buildings, the odd tree. Their heads twitch left and right as if they’re looking at everything. One lands on the handlebars of a bike, not ten feet away. It caws.

Heart pounding, I sprint for the door. I rush inside and slam it shut behind me. If the outside is cold and dreary, the inside of the Guild is warm and inviting. A fire burns in the fireplace. The contrast makes me release the other breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Fantasy characters fill the tables. It’s like showing up to a Renaissance faire where all the visitors are in full costume. Warriors, wizards, archers, rogues. Bearded old men in flowing robes sit next to pointy-eared humanoids in leather armor. Dwarves and goblins swap tales over a keg.

Those are the clichés. Anthropomorphic insects devour honeyed bees. Talking mantises sit next to giant ants. People made of rocks fight for table space with fuzzy, adorable alien yetis. Every conceivable alien, science fiction, fantasy, or steampunk creature is here. Every period of history from cavemen up to space marine.

A Master Chief clone converses with a Victorian-era gentleman. A mermaid levitates at the bar next to a woman of carved marble. Women in powered armor share drinks with Amazons. One table is nothing but huge Conan-types in bearskin kilts. Sitting between two of the most muscled giants is a tiny slip of a girl. She has oversized anime curves, and green hair. She chows down on a juicy chicken leg like corn on the cob. She looks pleased.

This is it. I have died. I am in heaven. My story is over and I have achieved my dream of being the protagonist in an isekai. I close my mouth and walk between the tables to the receptionists’ table at the back. Now all I must do is complete registration and get my class. Then I’ll be an adventurer. I’ll be one of these guys.

They all look like powerful warriors and mages. All are enjoying themselves without a care in the world. It’s too loud in here for me. I can’t hear myself think. But I’ve done it. This is heaven. Here in this cold, creepy world, I have found the slice of hearth and home. I stop at the receptionist’s desk.

“Can I help you?” the woman looks up. She’s a giant lizard. Smooth green scales cover her body. Her five-finger hands end in claws. Inside her mouth I see many sharp teeth.

“I’d like to register as an adventurer,” I say. I grin from ear to ear. This is it. The moment of truth. Where fantasy meets reality.

“Name?”

“Doctor Lawrence,” I say.

The receptionist’s quill scratches the parchment. It’s an actual quill that needs to be dunking in ink every few words, and she’s using actual parchment. The authenticity is astounding. If I didn’t know this was an alternate world…

“Class?”

“I uh…” I fumble for a second. What can I say? Should I lie? I was never a good liar. “I don’t … have a class.”

The receptionist stops writing. She stares at me for a long moment, waiting. I start feeling antsy, like my answer isn’t good enough. Butterflies start swirling in my gut.

“I thought I could register and then get one,” I say without thinking. “Do I need a class?”

“You must be fresh off the boat, huh?” The receptionist puts down her quill.

Never in my life have I felt such shame and humiliation as in this moment. I can almost feel the eyes of all these people on me. I hunch my shoulders.

“Registration requires one level in a combat-related class or equal prowess.” She recites as if from memory. “Do you have either of those things?”

“Um… I’m kinda new.” I scuff the floor with the toe of one shoe. “I arrived twenty minutes ago. How do I, uh, choose a class?”

“I am going to refer you to the Spiral Order.” She opens a drawer and pulls out a pamphlet. She slides it across the table. “They handle the tutorials. When you complete them, bring your certification back here.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t get registered,” I say. I pick up the pamphlet.

“This is the protocol, sir,” the receptionist gives me a toothy smile. “I am sorry, honey. I can’t register you as a Clay-Rank until you’ve passed the certification test. That’s the rule.”

“Listen lady—” I start to raise my voice. Anger rises in my gut. I’m this close to fulfilling my dream and I can’t have it because of some stupid rule? I thought I had to register before I could take a class.

“Excuse me.”

A hand the size of a trashcan lid squeezes my shoulder. Someone spins me around, the motion almost knocking me down. I stare into the face of a muscle-bound giant almost ten feet tall. I could wash a towel on those abs.

“Is there a problem?” he says. I become aware of how quiet the room is. I look sideways. Everyone is watching. Their expressions are hostile. I look back into the giant’s face. I look at the receptionist. Her smile stretches from ear to ear. This is one bar where the patrons protect the staff.

“No,” I force myself to meet his furious gaze. I mumble, “No problem. How do I get to the Spiral Order?”

“I’ll help you out,” the giant says. I grab the pamphlet. He takes me by the arm. One of his friends, a Rockman dressed like a centurion, grabs my other arm. I’m half-lifted, dragged. I don’t struggle.

Someone opens the front door. The giants throw me outside onto the wet cobblestones. I land in an undignified heap. A chorus of raucous laughter follows me outside as the giants leave. The door closes, and the Adventurer’s Guild… well, it doesn’t matter. Jerks.

The crows caw. Anger and shame burn through me. I pick myself up. Because no one else is going to do it. The pamphlet has some basic instructions. I decide to follow those, since I don’t have much else to do.

I could go back to my world. I’m already late. I never should have gone exploring. But I needed to figure out the ghost-thing. They’ll understand, right? No, they won’t. That kind of thinking is… deluded. As far as the Bureau cares, I’m the bad guy. I’m expendable criminal on a leash. I will dance like a monkey for peanuts. Then they will lock me in the cage after doing my trick. I could go back. I should return.

Why? Well… because they can supply me with money. Or equipment. I need both if I’m going to survive here for any length of time. And a Class. I must figure that out soon. I wish the roustabout hadn’t died like that, but I guess that’s life. What can I learn from this? What can I take away? Well, I dunno. Guess I’ll think about it for now.

I look up. The entrance is large enough for a giant. Two statues flank the entrance. Each has the bust of a humanoid knight. And that’s the ornamentation. The sign that something is different about this place are the crows. They refuse to land anywhere on this street. They didn’t think twice about landing within fifteen feet of the Adventurer’s Guild. I’ll take it as a good omen.

I walk inside. The interior is futuristic. It’s a cement building taken over by nerds. Computers are everywhere. Lines of cables cover the floor like a sea of snakes. Four-foot-tall humanoids in armor scurry around tending to the equipment.

“Help you?” a voice says. The head it emanates from has no mouth. Instead, there’s a head-shaped ball of shadow with two glowing, emotive eyes for a face. The person wears a metal armor costume over a black bodysuit. His torso is tiny in proportion to his limbs, and his hands are bigger than mine. His feet don’t have toes. His legs appear to sort of end like an elephant’s. He sits on a crate that puts him at eye-level with me.

“Uh, yeah,” I hold up the pamphlet. “Adventurer’s Guild gave me this. Sent me here…”

“You’re new, right?” the person looks me up and down. “Must be. Yeah, don’t worry. We get people like you all the time. I’ll help you.” He jumps down from his crate. On his feet, he is three feet zero.

“We’re the Spiral Knights of the Spiral Order. My name is Qozu.” He sticks out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Qozu. I’m Doctor Lawrence.” I shake his hand.

"Not 'que-zoo.' 'Koe-zoo.'"

"I'm sorry, uh, Qozu." I rub the back of my neck.

"It's okay," he says shrugging. He sounds insouciant.

“So, uh…”

“Right. Classes. You’re human right? All sentients can join the System.” He turns and walks deeper into the building. I follow him through the maze of computers. “Pay attention because I’m going to be throwing a lot of information at you. Most people are either born with this stuff or they find out quick. The Adventurer’s Guild rejects poor, classless souls and they come to us looking for some help.

“It’s tough to make it as an adventurer,” he says. We round a bend. “…‘Specially in this place. Docklands is great for meeting people, but it suffers from overcrowding. All the high-level munchkins hang out at the Guild poaching our bounties. My advice is pick something you like, grind out some quick levels and take off for Haven as soon as possible.”

“What’s Haven?” I ask, interested.

“That’s the town where we hang out. All the adventurers look down on us cause they say we’re weak. But,” Qozu raises his finger. “We control Haven and by extension the Clockworks. We don’t let anyone in who isn’t part of the Spiral Order, and that means all adventurers. They hate us because we hog all the treasure for ourselves. And we hate them because they’re snobby jerks.”

“Yeah, snobby is one word.” We come to a halt in front of a screen as tall as me. Qozu steps up to the controls. He starts pressing buttons.

“Place your hand here,” he points to a scanner. “Are you left-handed or right-handed?”

“Left.”

“Cool! Me too! Place your left hand on it.”

“So, what does this do?” I ask. I do as he says. A line of green light moves up and down my palm. The screen grows warm.

“This takes your information and adds it to the Order. You can take your hand away now.” A menu appears on the screen with several blanks. “Okay. Fill in all your information. When you’re ready, click ‘ok’ and it’ll print your honorary membership in the Spiral Order.”

“How does this relate to getting a class?” I ask. I tap the box labeled 'first name'. The keyboard is one of those old, blocky things from the 90’s.

“We’re getting there. The Order prefers helping its own Knights or honorary Knights. It’s tradition, for some reason. I dunno. All our tech runs on that rule. We get around it by making everyone who comes in an honorary Knight.” He pauses. His round, circular eyes glow a soft cyan. The round circles become angled along the top, resembling a frown.

“Is your name ‘Doctor?’”

“Doctor is my first name. Lawrence is my last name,” I explain.

“Oh. Okay,” he shrugs. “Can I call you Doc?”

“I prefer ‘Lawrence,’” I say. “It’s more professional.”

“But Doctor is your name,” the spiral knight says. “Right?”

“It is.” I click the ‘ok’ button. The machine whirrs and prints out a plastic card with my information. No picture. “But ‘Lawrence’ sounds professional. Most people get their doctorates when they’re older. When they meet me and see how young I am, they’re unimpressed. When they call me ‘Doctor’ it's almost always sarcastic.”

Qozu’s big eyes blink.

“Are you a doctor?”

“Yes,” I say. The badge comes with a little alligator clip. I affix it to the front of my shirt. “I have an accredited doctoral degree in Archaeology from a major university. For my dissertation, I claimed several conspiracy theories were true.

“‘Doctor’ is my name. It is also my title. I didn’t earn that degree for nothing. But the problem is my age. When people call me ‘doctor,’ it’s with a degree of sarcasm or as a put-down. I am not a medical doctor in the traditional sense. But I am a ‘doctor’ in the sense that I have a doctoral degree.”

The spiral knight stares at me for a long moment, as if trying to decode what I said. I wait for it to click.

“All right, well, now you’re a knight. And I can do this.” He steps forward. The little humanoid places a gloved hand on my chest.

“I, Qozu of the Spiral Order, invite you to join the System of the Garden,” the little knight intones. “You will gain the ability to take Classes. You will gain Skills. You will have Stats. You will lose your biology. You will place yourself under the System’s rules forever. Do you accept these terms?”

“I do,” I say. “It’s a ceremony, right? A formality before I can start gaining superpowers.”

“For it is in Seeking that we Aspire to new heights.” Qozu’s voice takes on a strange quality, as if two people are speaking through him. His cyan eyes close to thin horizontal lines. His entire body glows with cyan light. “We walk the paths of knowledge and power hoping to transcend our mortal flesh. I release your soul from its worldly bonds, and with my soul, I awaken thee.”

His cyan glow transfers itself to me. My skin glows light blue for a brief instant before changing to a steel gray. A thick, gray light emanates from my skin. He releases me, and both of our auras fade. He sways.

“Mister Qozu?” I grab the knight’s shoulder to steady him.

“I’m fine,” he pushes my hand away. He sways again, almost falling, and I catch him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, are you—”

The change washes over me like a wave. Two colored bars appear in my peripheral vision, one blue and one brown. If I ignore them, they fade. If I focus on them, they appear in sharp contrast. And that’s it. No character sheet appears. Nothing else happens.

“It happened, huh?” Qozu staggers over to a child-sized chair and drops into it, one leg over an arm. “Say this: show status.”

“Show status,” I say. There’s a long pause.

“Say it like you mean it.” He leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes.

“Show status,” I say with emphasis. A brown, semi-transparent window appears in the air. It has orange text that looks hideous. At the top is my name. Under it is nothing else. “Is there a way to change the color of font?”

“Say open settings,” Qozu whispers.

“Open settings,” I repeat, with emphasis. An identical window with different words replaces this one. If I focus on different words, the menu opens a smaller window with explanations. I back out to the main settings page. I locate the options for menu. I can change the options by making gestures with my fingers. I treat it like a touchscreen hovering in the air and make some adjustments.

The two bars in the top-left corner of my vision are my health and stamina. I change their colors to red and green. I change the status window to a black background with a glowing green border to make it pop. I make the text white and Times New Roman, with a larger than normal size so I’m not squinting.

“Save,” I say without thinking. “Show Status.” A small floppy disk appears in the corner of the settings menu. It flashes once and the settings vanish. The Status menu reappears.

Congratulations on accepting the offer to join the System, the white text says. Rather than the regular font I chose, this text is italicized. Statistics unlocked. The System allocated your statistics based on your biology. Class Selection unlocked. Abilities unlocked. Skills unlocked. You have qualified for a new Class.

The italicized text vanishes a few moments after I read it. Under my name, several attributes appear with numbers next to them.

Power: 8.

Skill: 8.

Knowledge: 18.

Faith: 11.

Vigor: 10.

Ki: 8.

Face: 10.

Okay. The system thinks I’m qualified to be a caster and nothing else. Well, I’ve had worse. One game I played—you know what? It doesn’t matter.

You have qualified for the [Scholar] class. [Scholar] requirements: 14 Knowledge and an accredited doctorate in any field.

“Have I qualified for anything else? The Wizard class? The Student? Or the Researcher?” I ask. More italicized text appears.

[Wizard] class requirements: 14 Ki, Solid Prowess in at least one branch of magic, Broad Prowess in at least two others. Requirements for the [Student] class: acceptance into a university. Note: renouncing or losing Class levels is difficult. The System advises against the [Student] class unless you become a lifelong learner. Put another way: why would you become a trainee when you qualify for teacher?

Makes sense.

The [Researcher] class does not exist. While this System could create one, it fulfills no purpose. All [Students] attempt to qualify for a greater class. They may become researchers while pursuing the requirements necessary for [Scholar]. But the [Scholar] class performs the function of a researcher. As this System finds your suggestion frivolous, it will not consider creating one.

However, if you come up with an idea for an original class, you would be the first to gain it. This is a prestigious achievement. This feature extends to Skills and Prowess.

Would you like to take the [Scholar] class?

“I don’t qualify for anything else?”

No, you do not. Would you like to take the [Scholar] class?

I hesitate. “I want to a wizard or a healer. How can I… how can I qualify for that?”

Requirements for the [Mage] class: know and be able to cast at least one spell. It is the System’s recommendation that you forgo it in favor of the [Scholar] class.

Any sentient can learn [Fireball]. All [Elementalists] learn it when they reach level 3. [Arcane Scholars] qualify for powerful Skills at lower levels. Regular mages may access the same Skills but must wait until they achieve at least level 9.

Besides [Mage] Skills, Scholar-mages have access to [Scholar] Skills, a different Skill Tree. Under certain circumstances, Scholars may also draw Skills from other Fields of Study. These extra options aid [Arcane Scholars] in becoming more specialized.

It is worth noting that low-level [Mages] are as common as table salt. Level one [Scholars] are rare. The Overall Level cap is 20. Most mortals never achieve Overall Level 12. Most sentients become a [Scholar] after achieving Level 10 in another class. Few reach Level 6 in a single class before reaching thirty years of age. What you have achieved in your limited lifespan is commendable. Would you like to take the [Scholar] class?

“What about becoming a healer? There must be magic-related healers, right?”

[Scholars] have three healer-related Fields of Study: Medicine, Theology, and Culinary Arts. Arcane healing is possible but unusual. The class exists but is difficult to achieve.

Arcane healing requirements are diverse. One must have high Prowess in Necromancy, Hemomancy or ‘Bloodbending’, and Flesh-shaping. Besides, one must have all the knowledge required to be a [Doctor]. Qualifying for [Arcane Healer] will take most of a lifetime. The healer role is better suited to Level 1 [Clerics] who know the [Heal] miracle.

Your Prowess indicates you know nothing about anything. Once you display mastery in a thing, your Prowess will rise in reflection. Becoming a non-magical healer is also possible. But, those Classes are either medicine-related, shamanistic, or alchemistic. Many non-magical healers who are not doctors prescribe folk remedies. All [Shamans] are Theurgists, slang term: Dealmaker. Alchemistic healers are [Alchemists]. The System recommends becoming a [Scholar]. Please, for the love of whatever you believe in, say yes.

Would you like to take the [Scholar] class?

“Yes. I would like to take the class.” Not like I have much choice. I didn’t see any enemies I could defeat to gain the warrior class. I could try those thugs, but it’s not worth getting shot. I’d love to become a mage, but the System’s logic appeals to my reasoning. Thus, the two most common classes in the tabletop’s rule book are defenestrated.

[Scholar] Level 1. Scholar Abilities unlocked.

I hear the System’s exasperated sigh of relief, less a sound and more a feeling. The feeling doesn’t emanate from the menu. The menu is the touchscreen. The feeling is in my head.

Scholar Ability added: Academic Discourse. May read and understand ten pages of text a minute when reading a language you know.

Flavor text appears underneath the description.

This language is a mixture of technical jargon, excessive pedantic detail, and obtuse phrasing. It takes ten times longer to convey a message in Academic Discourse as it does to speak it plain. Automatically acquired by erudite personages accustomed to implementing verbose, polysyllabic colloquies whence singular syllabic speech suffices.

Condition: Pedantic. Sentients who do not know this language may become bored or annoyed.

Translation: speed reading and comprehension. Also applies to “sophisticated” crap peddled by my professors. I am proud to say I never went over to the dark side of making my entire vocabulary five-syllable words. And the condition that comes with it, ‘pedantic.’ I see that text on my screen and in my mind. In the latter, it’s the color of blood.

Scholar Ability added: Analyze. When you see something, you may size it up with a look. If they are sentient, you learn the target’s name, species, and Class. If they are a non-sentient or monster, you learn the target’s species.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

The proclivity of erudite personages to recite unsolicited information on things in which they claim to be educated. Ironically, the erudite person’s proclaimed expertise had more street-credibility before the invention of the Internet, after which such information became disseminated at a fourth-grade reading level. Often called “Enemy Scan” or “Analyze Enemy” by pretentious pompous professing Support Party Members desiring to appear more authoritative-slash-useful. Caution: no one likes a know-it-all.

System’s note: Analysis is a [Scholar’s] core ability. It will upgrade according to your field of study and further Skills.

Sweet. I now have a feature that lets me see my enemy’s classes. Simple in thought, simple to execute. But powerful.

Field of Study unlocked. Starting at level one, you commit yourself to a field of study of your choice. The Fields available are Arcana, Archaeology, Culinary Arts, Intercultural Relations, Medicine, Military Science, or Theology. Your Field of Study grants Abilities at first level and access to new Skills.

I pause here and focus on each of the categories. Logic would dictate that selections made here are permanent. Given the breadth of options, it’s important to go slow and read everything. Thus, that’s what I do.

Focusing on each field brings me a submenu with a list of potential skills available. Each field is a different specialization, duh. But each is a less fantastic, more real-world variation of an existing class. The benefits are the Skills.

Scholars who major in [Military Science] go on to become [Officers]. They gain access to Skills in the Scholar and Officer trees. They also gain powerful, rare skills specific to this Field of Study. If one meets certain requirements, further Class specializations are available.

In order, each field focuses on a different thing each member of an adventuring party would do. Arcana is magic. Archaeology is trap detection. Culinary Arts is restorative food. Intercultural Relations is diplomacy, or, the ‘face’ of a party. Medicine majors are combat medics. Military Science are officers in all capacities. And Theologians are clerics with leadership.

Interesting tidbit: the Theology field is not constrained to a single deity. Most clerics in fantasy follow a single god, even if said god is part of a pantheon. Not so with the Theologian. He may change his allegiance once each day. He doesn’t have the uber-miracles that clerics dedicated to single gods get at high levels. Instead, he has flexibility. He may gain miracles for healing one day and ammunition-regeneration the next.

The Arcane Scholar differs from a Wizard by having no specialization. He or she may use any spell from any field. But they are often teachers first and casters second. Someone must teach the younger generation, and who better than an expert in their field?

The requirements to becoming a Scholar is a tedious, odious affair. Achieving a doctorate in a field is a must; a task many undertake but few complete. It seems to me that it is a magical carp power. It starts out weak. It takes forever to level up. But once achieved, the class becomes a superpower.

For the military, becoming an [Officer] requires a great deal of effort. But the high-level skills of a [Colonel] are available much sooner. By combining the Scholar Abilities, hitting the level cap becomes possible. Bust one’s butt early and hard, in exchange for an easier climb on the upper half of the mountain.

Regardless, every category is support. Even the mage field is best as a support. The bulk of its skills support aura manipulation or giving buffs to allies. Military Science has a few options to deal damage, but the emphasis in all Fields is on supporting allies. Given that leadership is intrinsic to the Class, that’s expected. This means that the best way to make use of this class is to support my future party.

I cannot have any idea who or what they will be. But, I can use the stereotypes at the adventurer’s guild as a rough template. I can get a somewhat accurate sample representation from reading LitRPGs. If real-life fantasy conforms to fiction fantasy—and even if it doesn’t—I can theorize.

Anyway, the most common class is a spellsword. My stats don’t allow for it, and I hate physical exercise. I don’t plan on joining the military. Military Science is out.

I like healing my allies in battle, but I don’t believe in a higher power. Theology is out.

As for Intercultural Relations—I’m introverted. I like being alone and dislike talking to people or having anything to do with people. I’m antisocial. I have difficulty understanding what people are feeling. I don’t have good social skills. And as you may notice from my narration: I don’t see body language. Somewhat counterintuitive for a support, but people are complex.

I am not a chef or doctor. I could learn either, but I hate needles. If I become a chef, it’ll be to feed myself. I can make pancakes and breakfast food. And that’s the best food. The thought of becoming a magical chef for my adventuring party members is not appealing. I don’t enjoy cooking.

The last two options are Arcana and Archaeology. Gonna be honest: I love magic. My dream is to become a wizard. But mages are as common as table salt. If I was the one who said it, I’d be stereotyping all fantasy media. But here, the System said it. If the System rules the world, then it must know the statistics of how many people have taken each class. As much as I like magic, I don’t intend to become a support mage. I prefer summoning skeletons and fireballs. Leaves one option.

One look around that room showed me a few things. One, mages were as common as table salt. Two, melee-based fighters are as common as table pepper. Three, there are many miscellaneous rogue-likes. While rogues are somewhat popular, it has more to do with being a thief or having personality. Trap-detection is not favored.

Trap-detectors are often scouts. And scouts are often sent into a dungeon as cannon-fodder to soften up the baddies. Trap-detection is not a popular field. Therefore, specializing in a thing that no one wants to do will ensure I always have job offers. It is a useful skill in high demand. And in this city of high-level adventurers, I need all the help I can get.

It also lines up with my real-world education. Convenient.

“I select the Archaeologist Field of Study.”

Are you certain? Warning: this choice can be undone but doing so is difficult. While one may renounce a Class, Skills are permanent. You wasted so much time whining about magic classes and now you’re selecting a rogue-variant? Please tell me you’re joking.

“No,” I shake my head. A frustrated, exasperated feeling emanates from the System. I’m starting to smile. Making or watching other people being miserable makes me laugh. “I’m serious. My degree is Archaeology. I want the Archaeologist Field.”

There is a special place in Hell for people like you. In the future, try to remember that the System is not required to inform you of certain things. It does so as a courtesy. Schadenfreude goes both ways, human. Archaeologist Field of Study selected. Archaeologist Abilities unlocked. Prowess unlocked.

Archaeologist Abilities:

1. Spells: Identify, Appraisal, Item Lore, Speak With Deceased.

1. Because you have no mana, you do not qualify for System-granted spells. If you desire to learn spells, you must acquire them in other ways. Make of that what you will.

2. Because you do not qualify for this Ability, you may select a single Skill as a replacement. This Skill may change and evolve as with regular Skills.

2. [Sense Value]. The archaeologist can identify the relative value of an object.

3. Prowess: Apprentice.

1. Weapons: simple weapons, whips, rapier and variants, short sword, arming sword, short bow, handguns, and rifles.

2. Armor: Light

Scholar Secrets unlocked. Unique to Scholars are their Secrets. Different from Skills, the Scholar must research a Secret before selection. Starting at Level 1 and every other level after, you may select a Scholar Secret which you have solved.

I scan and select the singular secret available.

Scholar Secret added: Quick Study. Increases your EXPerience and Prowess gain by 30%. As students complete their studies, they must read and comprehend elephantine tomes recorded in archaic discourse without the benefit of adequate time. Your mastery of this style of learning grants you increased intuition while learning.

Condition: Skimmed it. As a result of getting the highlights while skipping the fluff, you are often unable to recall what the material said. How this does not impede your comprehension is a secret this System does not know.

The system has a sense of humor. Great. Well, it’s better than bland and boring. I have had enough of the clinical infodumps in RPGs to last a lifetime. In summary, I am now a level-one archaeologist. And I have superpowers. The experience boost alone is going to be invaluable. Because that applies to all [Scholars], this is a powerful class.

It is not unique or anything broken like in a clichéd Progression Fantasy. Anyone can achieve this class, but doing so is difficult. Because of my background, I have achieved it sooner.

Getting back on track, I look at the list of available Skills. I get to choose the first one at Level 2. But because I don’t have mana, I get to choose one of them now. This is a double-edged sword. No spells will cripple my contributions to a party. But having an extra Skill is powerful too. Going over the list, I’m not sure which I’d prefer.

Skills available: Mental Map, Danger Sense, Combat Sense, Detect Trap, and Clever Explorer.

The System is not forthcoming with information. I guess I made it angry. Well, I can intuit what most of these things are. But the System also said choosing one was permanent. Therefore, I cannot afford to make mistakes.

“System,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Please start helping me again.”

The italicized words on the transparent screen change. It doesn’t tell me how or where to learn new spells. But it does reveal what I need.

With Mental Map, the user can envision a first-person mental picture of any area they have seen. Upgrades include changing it to third-person, a top-down perspective, dungeon cartography. It is a minimap.

Danger Sense allows one to sense danger, duh. Combat Sense is a degraded version of dodge. It allows one to sense incoming blows and how to move to dodge them. It evolves into a powerful form of combat precognition.

Detect trap, detect magical trap, et cetera. Clever Explorer is a good one.

It allows me to detect any unusual constructions. I can sense any hidden switches, levers, or anything that triggers a mechanism. I can intuit which way is ‘up’ while underground and my gut will tell me how far down I am. All are useful skills, but I need one that fulfills a role in a party. As a support party member, I need something that will help me get a job and keep it.

“System, I would like to select Detect Trap as my Ability.”

Are you certain? This cannot be undone.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I nod, decisive. “I want Detect Trap. No second guesses, no BS.”

Detect Trap selected. You have gained a new Ability: Detect Trap.

I close the menu and look at Qozu. It feels like hours, but it must have been minutes. The knight slumps over, as if asleep. I point my finger at him and mutter.

“[Analyze].”

My green bar drops. The energy drain hits me like a truck. It manifests as the sort of feeling one has after working all day and needing to sleep. A black, semi-transparent window appears in the air near Qozu’s head. There is no cool glow on the tip of my finger. My hand does not grow warm. Despite the lack of theatrics, italicized white text appears in the box.

Qozu. Male Spiral Knight, approximately three years old.

Health: 30%.

Prowess:

Swords: Apprentice

Guns: Apprentice

Bombs: Apprentice

Gear: Proto Sword, Proto Shield, Proto Gun.

He possesses no class or skills. Interesting. And the contrast between his age and bearing is even more interesting. It appears the spiral knight species ages faster than a human. His health is low. He doesn’t seem to have a mana or stamina bar. Anything system-related one doesn’t have, doesn’t appear on one’s character sheet. That would imply many hidden features.

Qozu lacks a stamina, therefore his character sheet also lacks it. But, that does not mean that stamina does not exist. For myself, I don’t have access to mana. But mana exists. What other things exist?

It would also appear that allowing me to join the system took a lot out of him. Poor guy. Well, I can’t let him sit here. I mean, I should. But my class is a support. I guess I owe him. Let’s see if we can get his health back up.

I stand and stretch. Qozu doesn’t move. I leave him and walk away. Now that I have the time to look, I can see the walls of computers form a natural path through the building. The computer I registered with is the first stop. The next one is around the bend.

I see a wall of computers that resemble an 80’s arcade. I step up to the first one.

Would you like to start the tutorial? Video tutorials. Well, I’ve had worse. Cheap animations are always cute to watch. I look around.

“Help you?” says a spiral knight. This one wears a full helm in the classic medieval knight style. She, the voice is feminine, looks up from her magazine.

“Hi, I’m new here—”

“Tutorials are over there.” She points at the arcade. “Play them all. Take the quiz at the end.”

“Yeah, uh. Do you have any med-kits or something?” I gesture over my shoulder. “My friend is down two-thirds of health.”

“Health capsules are in the next module,” the girl points to the opposite end of the room. “Basics of combat.”

“Thanks. And is there a book form for tutorials?” I add, hopeful.

“No.” She looks down. Conversation’s over. It was a boring conversation anyway. Well, I can’t waste time doing tutorials. Qozu can give me the run-down. I walk back to him.

“Hey k—Qozu.” When he doesn’t respond, I place my hand on the part of his shoulder unprotected by armor. I don’t squeeze. The body under my fingers is thin, almost fragile. His head snaps up.

“Whu happen’d?” he says. He tilts his head back and yawns. A mouth doesn’t appear, his face doesn’t deform. The only sign is his body language and the closing of his eyes. “Doc, what happened?”

“It’s Lawrence,” I correct him. I take my hand away. “You were asleep. Are you all right?”

“I will be.” The little knight stands and stretches. “Ready for the next tutorial?” He walks past me.

“I’d like to try combat,” I say. I match his pace.

“Noobs always do.”

-

Prowess is a synonym for mastery. And like any mastery system, Prowess is a measure of one’s proficiency with things outside of one’s skillset. Prowess arranges itself in a chart. But such things are tedious. More important, Prowess does not use numbers to measure one’s expertise. It uses words. The most basic, beginner rank is Novice, acquired when one tries.

I swing the training sword at the padded statue. To the knights it is equal to an arming sword. It is dull on both edges, a little heavier than a real sword, made of wrought-iron instead of steel. Arming swords are sidearms, comparable to a handgun or revolver. Both are smaller than primary weapons, being backups.

I am hitting a training dummy with a dagger. A small white exclamation point appears in my peripheral vision. I stop ‘training’ and put the sword on a rack with similar weapons.

“Show status,” I say. The window appears.

Prowess: One-handed melee unlocked. Prowess: Spiral Knight unlocked. Spiral Knight Prowess: Melee unlocked. All unlocked Prowess ranks: Novice.

I blink twice to dismiss the window. Qozu pushes off from the statue he’s leaning against. I join the crowd of people standing at one end of the hall.

“All right,” Qozu says. “You’re all certified as Recruits. We’re going on a dungeon crawl. There’s a basement under the building filled with low level monsters. Pick your weapon and get in the elevator. When everyone’s ready, we’re going.”

“What do we get if we win?” someone asks.

“Permission to take missions from the Spiral Order.” Qozu says. “And permission to join the Imperial Registry of Independent Itinerant Individuals as Clay-Ranks. The Adventurer’s Guild.

A taste like something foul hits the back of my tongue. He hates the guild, I realize.

“That’s it?” someone else says. Several people voice their displeasure. A few drift toward the exit doors.

“Mister knight,” I raise my voice. “How do humanoids level up?”

“Kill stuff,” he says. “Or use your skills. Do things.”

“If we kill the monsters inside the dungeon,” I say. “We’ll level up.” That seems to have an effect. The people come back. It seems that regardless of one’s origin world, people like leveling.

The Spiral Order limits us to two weapons. The Knights may equip up to four, but they must earn that right. Qozu uses a Proto Sword and Proto Gun. Both are small things. The sword is white with green trim, but short and not sharp. The gun is a basic blaster, lime-green. His Proto Shield is a small buckler affixed to his left wrist in the same pattern as the sword. He ignores the spherical ‘bomb’ on the table.

The humanoids pour over a larger table with standard fantasy weapons. I select a short leather whip and move to the Spiral Knights’ table. I put a gun in my pocket and grip the shield in my right hand. Weapons selected; I join the rest of the group in the elevator.

Qozu presses and holds the Door Close button. A wire fence descends from the ceiling like a set of dentures. After it falls, the outer steel doors close like a pair of lips from some great beast. The freight elevator shudders and moves. Into the building’s bowels, we descend.

“What’s with the whip?” Qozu asks. He looks up at the weapon. I grip the handle, but keep the length coiled between my fingers.

“An experiment,” I say. “I see you like swords.”

“Swords are the best,” he says. Several people murmur in agreement. The elevator comes to a halt. The outer doors and inner fence open. A concrete tunnel stretches out before us. Qozu turns on the lights. A line of yellow bulbs along the ceiling flicker into existence. “Enjoy being useless, Doc. All right noobs.”

The knight starts moving a brisk walk. Brisk for him, regular for us. “There are giant rats and a few mimics everywhere. Deeper in there’s a few traps along the walls. Move fast but don’t hesitate to kill anything. You can keep any treasure you find, but if you find it with the group, we gotta split it at the end. When you get to the other side, you’re free to go.”

“Can’t we go back up this one?” a girl asks. A teenager, I’m marveled she has the strength to even lift her short sword.

“Nope.” Qozu doesn’t turn around. “Elevator won’t go up with anyone on it.”

I join the men at the front of the group. The group is all teens, though their physiques run the gamut from skeletal to sports. Computer nerd to quarterback. Stereotypical attitudes too. I pick out the hottest of the girls and consider hitting on her. Then think better of it. Here to work, not play.

“Enemy sighted,” someone calls. A rat the size of a housecat scurries across the floor. It freezes when it sees us. “I’ve got it.”

Someone charges past me, a sports-type. The rat bolts. The kid raises his boot and stomps. A red bar appears over its head, draining. The rat squeaks and dies.

“I got XP!” the kid crows. “Show status!” He dances a little jig at making his first kill. The window he sees is invisible to me. All I see are his eyes staring into the middle distance. Over his shoulder, a shape the size of a pony rears.

“Behind you,” Qozu yells. He widens his stance. The teenager whirls, but it’s too late. The rat sinks its oversized front teeth into his shoulder. He yells. His entire body flickers like a ghost phasing in and out of existence. Charging, Qozu slashes the rat’s side. A red bar appears over its head. Its health drops by a chunk. It releases the teenager and retreats.

“Are you okay?” one of the girls screams.

The kid’s response is to groan. His buddies help him up. The rest of the party ready their weapons as several pairs of yellow eyes appear out of the dark. Qozu charges in silence, slashing and dodging. The rats are twice his size, but somehow, he’s able to predict where they’ll bite.

“Don’t stand there,” I bellow. “Get in there and help him.” The teens snap out of it. There’s a roar as all the jocks charge into the melee. I switch to my Proto Gun and fire. Green blobs of energy explode from the barrel. The rats they hit lose chunks of health, ten percent of their total per hit.

Disappointing, but that’s expected. I can’t use my whip in this chaos. The rats are big, but the jocks are bigger. It’s hard to tell who is more vicious. Almost everyone has a sword, and they swing them like clubs. One guy has a spear. He uses it like a quarterstaff.

I hang back with the women and shoot my gun. When it’s over the men cheer. The women have expressions varying from disgust to horror. Though, there is one woman who stands with the men. She chose an axe.

“I leveled up,” someone exclaims.

“Me too!”

“I’m a Level 2 [Warrior].”

One of the women walks forward. She’s mumbling, but it sounds like poetry. She points her white staff at the guy who got bit first. Finishing her spell, white light gathers on the tip of staff and vanishes. It reappears on his body like a cloud. The area where his wound would be glows. The white stuff moves over it before fading.

“I’m a Level 2 [Healer],” she smiles. “Fexcellent.”

Feculent? She knows that means ‘gross’ or ‘disgusting’ doesn’t she?

“All right guys.” I step through the crowd. The giant rats are dissolving into white light. “Let’s keep moving. Warriors in front. Gunners behind. Healer in the middle. Any warriors who can’t fit on the front line, guard our backs.”

Leadership is ten percent giving orders, twenty percent having a plan, and fifty percent acting like one is in charge. The remaining is getting to know people on an individual level, having their backs, and taking responsibility when things go wrong. It’s the underling’s fault when it’s their fault. Most times, that’s a teachable moment. But sometimes bigger things go wrong. And it falls to the bosses to take the blame.

“Who are you?” a teen asks. He’s taller than me and more muscular. His ears have gauges the size of a half-dollar. He squints.

“I’m—” I only get one answer. Older than them? An expert? Higher level? More knowledgeable? Who cares? “I’m a doctor.”

“Oh,” the kid says, as if he’s enlightened. I guess doctors have more street cred than professors. The group stops lollygagging and starts moving.

We come across two more groups of giant rats, both more numerous. I let the kids do most of the work. I contribute with my Proto Gun where I can, but the thing’s damage is pitiful. We find Qozu waiting near the end of the dungeon. A pile of rats and a few giant bats litter the floor. Already they are fading.

Now that we’ve made it, the party stops for a break. The kids all slap each other on the back. I stand a little apart from them and give my attention to that blinking exclamation point.

Prowess:

Spiral Knight Guns unlocked.

Spiral Knight Guns: Apprentice.

Leadership: Novice.

Well, that makes sense. You do certain things; you unlock Prowess in them. But unlike the others, I haven’t leveled up. Is it because I haven’t killed anything?

“Hey, Qozu?”

“Yeah?” the knight shifts his weight as if impatient to be gone.

“How do we level up?”

“You have to do things related to your class,” one of the jocks says.

“Oh,” I nod. “That makes sense.”

“Everyone ready?” Qozu says. The group is high spirits. We had a good crawl. The girls are smiling. The boys are acting tough. Some of the girls are leaning toward the guys. The kids walk around Qozu to start filing into the elevator. I hang at the back of the group to do a headcount.

“We’re missing someone,” I say. No one seems to hear me. I count again. The jocks are all accounted for. The geek, the nerd, the goth, the prep, the condescending alpha female dog, and her entourage. I raise my voice, “Hey. We’re missing someone.”

Qozu notices. The rest of the group takes a second, and even then, half of them continue their conversations.

“Elise is gone,” one of the girls says. She’s blonde and four feet tall. Her weapon is a wand. She wears jeans and a blue tie-dye shirt knotted at the small of her back. “We should wait for her.”

“We will,” I say. “Right, guys?”

Qozu makes an irritated noise. “It’s giant rats and some mimics. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Why did she wander off?” one of the jocks asks.

“She said she wanted to look at something,” the blonde girl says.

“Are we waiting for her?” asks the jock, bored.

“Yes, we are,” I say with more confident than earlier. With the rats, I felt like a fool ordering around complete strangers. And I looked like a fool. There was no need for organization. The giant rats were not a threat to such a large group. But this is a different story. One lone girl with low levels left behind in a place like this? Even a beginner dungeon—no, my conscience won’t take it.

If my confidence is strong, my delivery is weak. The jock shifts his weight from side to side, as if thinking. The posture of a man trying to decide if doing this tiresome thing is worth his time. Unwilling.

“What do you think?” I ask Qozu. He does not answer. I am conscious of tie-dye girl standing three feet away. Among us, I am the oldest, but Qozu is the expert.

“The dungeon is for classless noobs,” he says. He raises his eyes to meet mine. “But it is possible she could have gotten turned around.”

“How long will it take to do a complete sweep?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.” He looks between us. “It’s not big.”

“We will wait,” I say. “Thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes.” Qozu nods. He folds his arms.

“What if the rats got her?” the girl asks.

“She can run,” the jock says. His first contribution. “I’m sure she’s fine. I wanna go back to the inn and wash the crud off my boots.” He turns away to confer with his friends.

We stand in silence for a good minute. I’d like to ask Qozu more about his people, or about the Spiral Order in general. But I don’t think he’d be a good conversation partner in that department. He’s three years old, but he acts like the jock. An expert at his chosen activity, but arrogant and dismissive of those he perceives as weak.

Not unintelligent, but young. He’s a teenager too, I realize. He gazes at the jocks as if longing to join their circle. The blonde and I stand in silence, though her friends are next to her shoulder.

“I’m Jessica,” she says. She looks between us.

“Doctor Lawrence,” I extend my hand. “Yes, that is my real name. Yes, I have heard all the jokes.”

“That’s cool,” she says. She shakes my hand with her fingertips. “What class are you?”

“Archaeologist, ma’am. What are you?” I hate small talk. It makes me uncomfortable. When uncomfortable, the best defense is a wall of formality. Formal etiquette is like a manual on how to navigate social situations. Such a shame it fell out of practice.

“[Mage] level two,” she says, smiling. “I can cast two spells.”

“I can cast three,” one of her friends adds. She’s a plus-size girl an even five feet tall. Ripped pants, a jacket zipped all the way up, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She carries one of the white staffs—a healer. Both girls stand a little apart from the main group and don’t mix. College students? “Shield, Heal, and Light. I’m Abby, by the way.”

“Sweet. Hello Abby,” I say. “Jessica, what spells can you cast?”

A musical chime emanates from nowhere. Jessica pulls a thin piece of metal from her pocket. Taking it in both hands, she pulls it apart. A sheet of glass or plastic stretches between the pieces. A girl’s face appears on the sheet. Jessica holds it close. I can’t hear the words, but Jessica’s eyes widen.

A smartphone from another world. I would like to examine that device later. The Docklands are getting more and more interesting.

“Elise is on her way,” Jessica says.

“What’s happening?” Abby asks.

The image cuts. Jessica shrugs. “Sounds like she got turned around.”

“How long have we been here?” Abby asks.

“About fifteen minutes,” I say after checking my watch. “We’ll keep waiting.”

“Elise is alive?” the jock returns.

“Yes,” Jessica says, happy. “She’s on her way. She’s running late, she’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

The teens confer. Qozu watches them.

“Have you lived here long?” Jessica asks him. He glances at her as if in annoyance.

“My whole life,” he says. “Can’t wait to leave.”

“That’s cool. What about you, mister Doctor?”

“Lawrence is fine.” I look at her again. She has white, perfect teeth. Big blue eyes. A nine on the attractiveness scale with make-up. Definitely a trophy. But her body is not desirable. Skin and bone, no muscle, no curves. Watery voice. Flat-chested. What did she ask me? Oh—“I’m new.”

“Oh, that’s nice. What’s an [Archaeologist] do?”

“Artifact appraisal. I can detect traps and sense the value of things.”

“That’s useful,” Jessica says. The conversation dies.

Abby is smiling but her face reflects the same uncomfortable awkwardness I’m feeling. Qozu wants to join the jocks but for some reason he doesn’t. Only Jessica seems at ease. Well, I can wait. Pretty girl, conversation. Doesn’t seem interested in running for the hills or giving me the stink-eye. All the girls in college were old enough to be my mom. There were a few who liked to pretend they were my big sisters. I miss them.

“What—uh. What spells can you cast?” I ask her.

“Stone Dart and Shocking Touch.” She raises a rolled-up scroll. “There’s one I’m trying to learn, but it’s giving me trouble. Icicle.”

“Cool,” I say. I try to return her smile. It feels like a grimace. A female elementalist. Pure offense. Almost as cliché as the jocks being warriors. I bet she has the makings of a destruction-focused mage. I check my watch. Ten minutes. Looking between the four of us, it strikes me that we have the makings of a party. “Is it common for mages to know many spells?” I look between the two girls.

“Most casters know a bunch in their field,” Jessica says. “And few outside their field. We’re on our way to the mage colleges in Zephyr. We’re saving money for the trip.”

“Oh that’s nice.” There’s a long pause while I hold and win an internal debate. I don’t want to look stupid, but… “Where is Zephyr?”

“It’s a floating city,” Jessica waves her hand somewhere behind her. “Way up in the sky a long way from here. There’s a whole country up there on flying ships and stuff.”

“Sounds exciting,” I say. “Does it cost much to get in?”

“The application fee is ten gold,” Abby says. “They let you audit some of the classes and take like a tour. If you pass the exams, you get, like, the first semester free.”

“That’s nice of them,” I say looking at her. “Which college is this?”

“Zephyr Bible Institute,” she says. “They’re a Christian-college but they have a great magic program.”

“Doc,” Qozu says, interrupting.

“It’s Lawrence,” I say. I look down my nose at him, but he’s ignoring me. The teens are filing into the elevator. I check my watch. It has been twenty minutes. The jocks ignore us. The one in charge keeps his back turned as he presses the Close Door button. Jessica and Abby hear the doors grind shut and whirl.

“Wait,” Jessica screams. The jocks don’t wait.

“There goes our ride,” I comment.

“What now?” Abby asks, gaping. “We can recall it, right?”

“There’s no way to summon it from this side,” Qozu mutters. “Someone up there must send it down. It’s paired with the other elevator as a safety precaution against monsters escaping.”

“So… we’re trapped,” Jessica says. Her mouth presses into a thin line. “And Elise is still out there.”

“Let’s go find her,” I say. “We can worry about getting out after we find her. Qozu, will you take the lead, or do you want me to?”

“I’ll do it,” he says. He draws his sword and assumes the widened stance.

“Wait,” Abby hesitates. “We’re going back in? I thought we were waiting.”

“Faster we find Elise, faster we can worry about getting out.” I draw my Proto Gun but keep it pointed at the floor with my finger off the trigger. “We’ve cleared out most of the monsters, right?”

“Large groups attract attention,” Qozu says. “This will not take long.”

“All right, let’s go.” Jessica brandishes her wand.

“Wait, are we doing a formation?” I wave my free hand. Three blank looks shut me down. “Never mind.”

We don’t charge into the tunnel. We walk. Jessica mutters something and sends up a ball of light. We proceed with Qozu in front, me behind him holding my whip and pistol, and the two girls in the rear.

“Enemy,” Abby says. A giant rat scuttles toward us. I raise my arm. I want to snap my wrist in a circular motion, but my instinct says no. It’s not instinct gained from actual whip training, it’s the system. Somehow, I know that flicking one’s wrist is not the proper way to use a whip. It is in the elbow. I draw my arm back. I look over my shoulder to make sure no one is standing behind—there isn’t, Jessica and Abby are on my other side. When I look back, it’s over.

Qozu stands over the rat. He doesn’t bother cleaning his sword, as there isn’t any blood. We walk on. I see a square of white light on the floor. It’s unusual, like the tile has a lightbulb underneath. But nothing is otherwise out of the ordinary. I kind of want to step on it to see what’ll happen.

Qozu walks over it. I hear a click. Qozu dives. A beam drops from the ceiling on chains. I am too slow. Something the size and weight of an I-beam slams into my chest.

I look up at the ceiling. There’s pain in my chest.

“My ribs feel broken. My health is down by two-thirds.”

“Your ribs are fine, Doc. You’re with the System now. Your thumper is clanging.”

“What?” I stare at him. I sit up. Three faces look down at me. Two of them are quite—well, one is rather attractive. Abby finishes her chant and taps my shoulder. I see my health rise by twenty percent.

“He means you won’t bleed if cut,” Jessica explains. “The System doesn’t use realistic injuries. Our health goes down, but our bodies are fine.”

“That’s useful,” I croak. Pain blossoms in my chest, the amount proportionate to getting hit by a battering ram. But nothing broke. “Can you cast that again, Abby?”

“Sorry,” she says. “Not enough mana.”

“Are you okay?” Jessica asks.

“I think so.” I sit up.

“Hey noob,” Qozu says. His large eyes have a sliver missing along the top corner, giving the impression of a frown. “Looks like you missed a trap.”

“Yeah.” My face burns with embarrassment.

“If you see something, speak up,” Qozu says. “That’s your job.”

-

I walk at the front of the party next to the little Spiral Knight. It feels awkward on my part. I’m scanning the walls and floor for traps. Translation: anything that glows is a trap. I can’t see what it does or the radius of the damage but being able to see the plates is enough.

Qozu walks in silence. He doesn’t emote much. His body language doesn’t stray from the wide, ready stance he uses. None of this is a problem because Jessica chatters up enough conversation for all four of us. Abby has a few words here and there, but most of the noise comes from Jessica.

It’s kind of annoying. But, I don’t have to do much talking. And I like listening.

My nose burns. I wrinkle it. Something foul drifts up the tunnel.

“Gah, what is that?” Jessica gags.

“Smells like a toilet,” Abby says, pinching her nose.

The stench gets stronger as we reach its source. I’m expecting to see a burst pipe or something hanging from the ceiling. But the sight that greets us is far more disturbing. Qozu halts.

“This is the end of the tunnel,” he says. He sounds hoarse.

“How come it keeps going?” Abby asks.

“We built the dungeon inside of another dungeon,” Qozu says. He presses the back of his hand to his face. “When we were building the course, we found an old road system under the building. They used to bring mail and garbage up and down the elevators. The tunnels extend under the city. They intersect with the sewer runoff.”

“Gross,” Abby says.

“Looks like we found our way out,” I observe. “Mail and garbage trucks mean there’s a roadway that leads up to the surface.”

“This is the red section,” Qozu rasps from behind his hand. In the confined space, it sounds like a shout. “The Sewer Dungeon is vast. This area is off-limits because of all the monsters.”

“We still need to find Elise,” Jessica reminds us. She covers her face with her sleeve. “She’s back there somewhere.”

“We’ll find her. We’re not leaving anyone behind,” I look at her. “But I must say it. Look at these bricks.”

“What about them?”

“They’re kind of gross,” Abby says. She’s not wrong. They’re covered in questionable stuff.

“Yeah, but they’re big,” I say.

“That’s what she said,” Qozu says. No one laughs.

“Look at the direction they’re strewn in,” I gesture at the floor. Three pairs of eyes look at the ground. Abby’s ball of light floats overhead, casting our shadows over the walls. I guessed what happened the moment I saw it. Qozu’s explanation confirmed my worst fears. We have hope, sure, and a possible way to escape. But we’re in for a nightmare. I can see the others putting the pieces together like my students. I see the look in their eyes when the knowledge finally clicks.

“Something came through?” Abby whispers. Her eyes grow wide.

“Something big and nasty,” I murmur.

“Large parties attract attention,” Qozu recites. He faces the tunnel where we came from. His round eyes grow a size larger. His stance wavers.

“Elise is still out there,” Jessica says. “We—we can’t leave her. We have to find her.”

“We will,” I say with false confidence. Three pairs of eyes stare into the dark. “And then we’ll escape. We have all the roles needed by a party. Fighter, healer, mage, support. We’ve got this.”

“Silent and swift,” Qozu says. He raises his weapons and moves to the front of the party.

“Everyone ready?” Jessica asks. She looks at Abby. The other girl gulps. But she raises her weapon as if to smash something. Jessica levels her wand.

“Let’s go.”

-

We dive back into the tunnel. The hallways are the same, but now there’s an existential feeling of dread. The kind one has in a horror movie when one realizes the psycho is in the house with the cast. Except in this scenario there’s more than one monster. The hallway behind us does not lead to a suburban street, but to a bigger, nastier dungeon.

Whatever forced its way in here may be a boss. Or it could be a mook. Either way, it might jump out at any second and attack. Or it could be chasing Elise… eating Elise. The suspense is… horrifying. (Sorry).

I hope it lasts.

“Trap,” I say. It’s the first word since we started walking. I see the glowing line on the floor and point out how to go around it. Our party skirts the edge. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. My breathing comes in short, quick gasps.

“Heads up,” Qozu says. He points with his sword. Abby’s light illuminates a fresh red stain on the ground. What remains of a rat is next to it. The body appears crushed.

More rats and red stains fill the hallway. It’s a sea of corpses all down this hallway. The walls end and we enter a vast chamber. We didn’t pass this way the first time. This is a new thing. Crushed bodies fill the space. All are rats or giant roaches, both the size of housecats. One of the roaches isn’t quite dead. It lurches to its feet and runs at us, twitching.

One of the girls squeals. I shoot the bug in the head. I see the red bar appear over his head, down two thirds. Qozu slashes it. It runs between us and leaps.

Jessica screams.

The bug lands on her face. She drops her wand and pushes on the creature. Its many legs catch on her shirt and hair. Its mandibles snap together, inches from her face. I pull the creature off her. Sharp claws dig into my hand. I throw it against the floor where Qozu smashes its head beneath his foot.

“Ow,” I say. I look at my hand. There’s no blood, but my health is down a chunk. My skin crawls with the lingering sensation of claws.

“Are you okay?” Jessica asks.

“I’m fine,” I lie. I stare at the congealing remains. “Are you?”

“Fine.”

“That thing was huge,” Qozu says. “I’ve never seen one so big.”

“Never?” Abby asks. She looks around the room. The rat remains are congealing into the white stuff before evaporating. Whether they came from mana, or primordial soup, the dungeon will reabsorb it. They’ll spawn later as level one monsters, birthed by the thing consuming them.

“Will the types of creatures in the Spiral Order’s tutorial dungeon change? Now that one of the tunnels is open again, I mean?” I muse out loud.

“I dunno, Doc. Who cares?” Qozu wipes some sludge of the bottom of his elephant-like foot.

“Elise!” Jessica shouts. She sprints to a shape huddled against the wall. The rest of us follow.

“Jessica?” Elise lifts her head. Under Abby’s light I see the skinniest girl I’ve ever seen, even as a professor. She has a good face, but that’s the nicest thing she has. Her equipment is likewise basic, which I expected. She’s tall, an inch taller than me, closer to an even six feet. She wears a shirt stained with questionable things and short shorts. The latter does nothing to protect her lower half from bites.

“Elise,” Jessica kneels next to her friend, ignoring the floor stuff staining her jeans. “Are you okay?”

“It killed them,” Elise shudders. She wraps her arms around her knees and buries her face. “It killed them all,” she whispers. It is a secret, meant for Jessica.

“I know,” Jessica says, embracing her. “It’s okay.”

I look around, uncomfortable. We shouldn’t be doing this. We need to be moving. That thing could come back any time. We don’t even know what it is. Qozu rubs his face. I let out the breath I’m holding. The sewer smell is stronger here. It smells like… well, what one would expect a sewer to smell like. An open sewer. Or a port-a-potty. One that’s full and baking in the sun on a hot summer day.

The white stuff evaporates. The dungeon leaves us with a sobbing Elise and two weak casters trying to calm her down.

“It’s okay, Elise,” Jessica says. “Everyone freezes up sometimes. Right guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“It’s okay.” Jessica makes some soothing gestures and noises. Somehow, they calm the girl down. “We have to be brave now. We have to leave.”

“The elevator?” Elise whispers. She shakes her head, moaning, “I don’t wanna. I had a bad experience in one once.”

“The elevator is gone,” Qozu says. He scans the four hallways leading out of the room.

“Oh good,” she sighs. “Wait. Then how are we leaving?”

“Through the sewers,” I say. I follow Qozu’s lead and scan the hallways. My nose burns. The stench is getting stronger. “We should move. Like now. Like right now.”

“I agree,” Qozu says. He readies. Abby’s light chooses that moment to end, plunging the room into darkness.

“Crap,” someone says.

There is such a thing as cave darkness. It is an emptiness of light so deep that no light source will erase it. Even with a flashlight or Abby’s florescent ball, the darkness is never banished. There are deep, hollow places in the earth, whether in this world or mine. These places are home to eyeless moles, blind spiders, and the odd insect or isopod. Some of the spaces are vast. Some are miniscule. All are dark.

The dark is heavy, oppressive. I can’t see my hand in front of my face. It wouldn’t be so bad, except this dungeon stinks. And the stench is getting stronger.

“Abby,” I whisper. “Cast [Light] again and let’s get out of here.”

“[Light].”

A lightbulb of soft white rises over our heads. I touch Qozu’s shoulder.

“Which way?”

“That way,” he points.

“I concur.” The two of us walk toward that opening.

“Why that way?” Jessica asks. “Shouldn’t we go the other way?” she gestures at the opposite hallway.

“We have to go through the sewers to get out.” I look back at her. I slow but don’t stop moving.

“Right,” she says. “We can smell our way there. It’s that way,” she points behind her.

“That’s not the way in. We entered from this side. Ergo, the exit is this way.”

“But the smell is stronger over here,” Jessica points. She takes a few steps toward the opening.

“Yeah, because whatever came through the opening has been marinating in it for a while.”

It takes a second to sink in. Elise’s eyes widen. She looks between us, and the hallway Jessica is leading her toward. Her jaw drops. She bolts to our side.

“Wait,” Jessica whines. “Why are you—”

I raise my Proto Gun and fire over her head. Two quick pops fill the room as my gun launches a pair of green blobs. Both hit something in the tunnel and vanish. A red bar appears in the air. The rats and bugs had small health bars. This one stretches across the hallway from wall to wall. The shape—I don’t see what it is—moves toward us. I shoot again. I don’t think the creature even feels it. The girls scream.

As one, we plunge into the dark hallway, away from the stink. Abby’s light shows us the way. The stench lessens the further we get. We dash through the tunnels. Left, then right, left, left again. I’m disoriented, but Qozu seems to know the way. He doesn’t hesitate, even for a moment.

“Trap,” I yell. “Stay to the right.”

We press ourselves along the wall. I point at a section of ground a different shade of brown than the rest. We take care not to disturb it.

“Ew,” one of the girls says, grimacing at the stuff on the walls staining her clothes. The poo smell burns my nose.

“We’re close,” Qozu says.

We sprint down the hall. We turn a corner and come face to face with an army of giant rats. These are the size of greyhounds, fat from feasting on questionable stuff. Their eyes and teeth are yellow. Their pallid flesh is purplish and missing patches of hair, as if they’re diseased.

Behind them lies the gaping tunnels where garbage trucks used to drive. Behind us lies the empty Spiral Knight tutorial and the big something.

“[Stone Dart],” Jessica shouts. A shard of rock flies past me and buries itself in a rat’s head.

Qozu charges. He drives his sword into a rat’s head. Pulling it out, he raises his Proto Shield. Blue light emanates from the shield, surrounding him in a sphere. He blocks a hit from another rat, turning his shield yellow. I draw back my arm and snap my elbow forward, cutting the rat across its face.

“[Shield],” Abby yells. She points her staff at Qozu. A second sphere covers him like layers of an onion. I crack my whip again, killing the rat.

“[Ember],” Elise intones. Raising her staff, she puffs out her cheeks and blows. A stream of fire comes out of her mouth. The range is short, but the heat is intense.

We work as a team. We cut, chop, and push. Qozu takes the lead with me behind him. I focus on the one spell I know and roll my wrist. An itchy feeling races over my hand. Ignoring it and my lack of a spell focus, I point my finger and concentrate on casting.

“[Insect Swarm],” I say. A swarm of bees rises from the back of my hand. They race out in a small cloud, covering a rat’s head. The creature claws its face, doing more damage than the bees. Qozu decapitates it. As with the other monsters, the head doesn’t separate. Instead, the blade passes through the space. The rat squeaks and collapses.

“Almost there,” I say.

The rats change direction. They all start squeaking and fleeing. Dozens of them surge ahead of us into the sewers, not looking back. They even abandon some of their wounded. Qozu and I finish off the stragglers.

“They’re leaving,” Elise says from her place between the other girls. “Why are they leaving?”

A horrible stench reaches our noses. Qozu and I look at each other. We look at the girls. Jessica gets it first, Elise second.

“Run,” someone shouts.