The door closed behind them with a thud. A half-transparent blue wall appeared, hurtling through an unending black expanse. Ayn tensed as it hit, yet it continued and vanished without so much as a tickle. The black came alive. White, silver, and gold dust swirled, then settled, painting a marble floor and magic circle speck by speck. The dust flowed out and up, forming pure white walls decorated in gold and silver murals, and tall Romanesque pillars holding up a vaulted ceiling that looked like it could touch clouds.
The Selection Room. Ayn had seen it once before. Her awe of the place had only grown in the interim.
PLEASE STAND WITHIN A POINT OF THE MAGIC CIRCLE
ONE PERSON PER POINT
The high and tinny voice of Aisha, the vocal avatar of The System that ran the Rebirth servers, bounced around the marble room. It was a voice they were all intimately familiar with. Aisha announced any major change a Rebirth might not be aware of, although it wasn’t always predictable.
Bren, Sheyric, and Kayara moved to take their place on the west, east, and south points of the circle. Ayn hurried to catch up, her cloth boots barely making a sound on the stone. North. The point of the leader. Ayn swallowed the lump in her throat. This time, things would be different.
Four red rings appeared below each party member. Each started to spin, gaining speed as they floated up their bodies and back down again. The System was reading their stats, their abilities, some said even their memories, to best decide what class they should be.
Ayn closed her eyes and imagined herself the only class she wanted, the one she’d trained and studied for the past ten years. The ring passed over her face, turning the backs of her eyelids crimson, then all went dark.
CLASS SELECTION COMPLETED
PLEASE REVIEW SELECTIONS BEFORE LEAVING THE SELECTION ROOM
Ayn let out a slow breath and joined her new party at the center of the magic circle. Four blue rectangular screens stood open, lined up side by side for all to see. Each was identical to what would now appear in the “class” tab in their personal user interface, but having everyone see them now would let them decide if the party was worth continuing before they wasted time Crawling. Or at least, that’s what Ayn figured it was for. She was far more interested in hers, though.
Ayn
Swashbuckler Lv. 1
Health: 360 Mana: 10
Strength: 39 Essence: 4
Agility: 54 Focus: 4
Abilities
Sword Proficiency Tier 10
Allows the use of Tier 10 sword type weapons.
Medium Armor Proficiency
Allows the use of leather, light scale, and cloth armors.
Exotic Weapon Proficiency
Allows the use of exotic type weapons.
Dodge Proficiency
The heightened ability to dodge out of the way of attacks on instinct. Success chance is equal to (agility - enemy accuracy). Cooldown of 30 seconds after three consecutive dodges. Cooldown doesn’t negate intentional dodging or acrobatics.
Skills
Acrobatics Lv. 1
The skill to do jumps, flips, rolls, and balancing.
Sleight of Hand Lv. 1
The skill to obscure what you’re doing with your hands.
Ayn grinned. It seemed hard work really did pay off. She glanced to her right, where Kayara stood muttering. Kayara’s screen flickered, distorting the words on it before it snapped back into focus.
Kayara turned away from the screen, blocking it from view, and groaned. “Ranger? Really?” She glared at the vaulted ceiling. “Think you’re funny, huh?”
Bren and Sheyric stared.
“What’s wrong with Ranger?” Ayn asked.
“Seriously?” Kayara motioned up and down her body. “Does this look like Ranger’s garb? Roughing it out in the middle of nowhere, fighting over scraps with…creatures. Nu-uh.”
“Rangers get an animal companion, though,” Ayn said. She could imagine Kayara getting a sleek leopard, or maybe a brightly colored parrot. Maybe she’d get to pet it.
“Oh no. They do, don’t they? Do you think I have to get one?”
Ayn frowned. Was that fear she saw in Kayara’s eyes?
“I know how you feel,” Bren said from the last screen in the line. “Mage. Can you believe it? All of my singing talent, all of that time spent learning instruments, and I get Mage.” He shook his head. “I feel like The System is having an off day.”
Kayara stepped around Sheyric to glare at Bren. “You not getting to sing is hardly the same thing. I hate animals.”
“Tell the admins,” Sheyric said.
All eyes turned to him as he walked toward the door leading back into the Crawler’s Guild.
“Tell the…?” Kayara scoffed and stomped off after him.
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“Wouldn’t that be nice if you could just barge in to the admin office and demand a re-roll,” Bren said. “I can’t even remember the last time you could talk to an admin without a miracle from The System. Ah, well. I’ll figure out this Mage act. At least Sheyric stayed a healer. Let’s hope he’s a decent one, yes?”
“Right,” Ayn said.
She followed him out the door, a pit opening up in her stomach. If Kayara hated animals, she was in for a nasty surprise.
*****
Quest Board Dungeon Floor 1
*Collect 12 bones
*Collect 7 zombie flesh
*Kill 21 rats
Ayn tapped on the semi-transparent overlay hovering above the Crawler’s Guild Quest Board. When not in use, it looked like normal corkwood hanging on the wall with a handful of scattered, random flyers pinned to it demanding items, or deaths, for money.
The overlay activated at a party leader’s touch, lighting up the board to show system generated quests unique to each group. The quests were always basic, with nothing more than a small coin reward, but Ayn’s party was too new to expect requests from other Rebirths.
Her party. Ayn chewed her lip as she accepted all three tasks. It felt bizarre to say, yet filled her with an itchy sort of giddiness. Or maybe that was from the building dread. She glanced toward the guild’s entrance before heading to the table where the rest of the party discussed the best shops to get starter supplies.
“I’m quite well known in Cristak,” Bren said with a definite air of superiority. “I can call upon merchants who sell top-of-the-line equipment.”
Kayara rolled her eyes. “Did you forget the release clause already? The System locked all the money and items we had before signing the contract until it decides we can have them back. Nice equipment comes with a nice price tag we can’t afford, unless you can get them to sell it to us for a few rusty coins.”
Bren’s face fell. His eyes flicked toward Sheyric. “Perhaps as many health potions as we can buy, then.”
Ayn slid carefully into the seat next to Kayara. The source of her dread chose that very moment to materialize between them.
A plum-colored, hairless cat hovered about a foot above their heads, held aloft by dragon wings the color of ink. The light of the room reflected off the webbing of the wings in oscillating patches of deep purple.
Kayara shrieked. She leaped away, her chair skittering sideways into Ayn’s seat. “What the hell is that?”
The cat landed on the table and arched its neck, simultaneously showing off to the rest of the party and blocking Ayn’s view.
“Uh…this is Miit,” Ayn said. “He’s my familiar.”
Silence descended and grew thick. Ayn pushed against Miit’s flank, trying to get him to move so she could see the others’ expressions.
“You’re not a Summoner,” Sheyric said flatly.
“No, but my father was.” Ayn tapped Miit a little harder. He shot her a dirty look, then finally moved over so she could see.
“But. You’re. Not.” Kayara took a few more steps back until Bren and Sheyric were between her and the winged cat. “I saw your class sheet. Swashbuckler. All swords. Zero magic. What is that hanging around for?”
“I have to agree,” Bren said. “If for slightly different reasons. Your father died and Rebirthed years ago. His familiar should have vanished shortly after his death.”
“Yes. I know. But he didn’t. He’s been helping me and my mother. He’ll help us in the Dungeon, too.” Ayn tried to ignore the twitch in Miit’s tail as she said that. She had no idea if the familiar was willing to step foot in a dungeon, considering what happened during his last foray. Still, he’d stayed by her side all these years, so she couldn’t imagine he’d abandon her now.
“Nu-uh. Nope.” Kayara waved her hands frantically in front of her. “I don’t need that thing anywhere near me.”
Bren leaned over the table, his eyes studying Miit. “I’ve never seen a familiar last beyond a few days after the death of its summoner. Is it contracted to you, then?”
“Yes,” Ayn said.
“But that shouldn’t be possible. One contract per familiar, only available to Summoner classes.”
“That’s two goof-ups in this party in less than an hour,” Kayara said. “I think we should try contacting the admins.”
“No!” All attention returned to Ayn. “If it’s that big a deal, you can dissolve the contract.” Ayn’s eyes stung. She blinked rapidly and looked away. “Not like we’ve done anything, anyway.”
“No,” Bren said, his voice dropping lower. “If we dissolve the contract, we’ll have to wait a week to make a new one, then hope we can get a replacement for Kayara. I need to start Crawling. Now. Not in a week. Besides,” he turned to Kayara, “you got Ranger because of your stat build. It’s likely you’ll get it again if you join a different party.”
“So?”
“Rangers require an animal companion to work efficiently. Instead of thinking of Miit as a bad thing, think of him as exposure training. He’ll be around, but not attached to you. Unlike your companion.”
Kayara blanched. “I…uh…fine.” Her shoulders sagged as she stared at the ground. “I don’t want to wait for another party, either. Let’s just go.” Her head snapped up, eyes boring into Ayn’s skull. “Keep that thing away from me, all right?”
“Okay.”
“Great.”
Ayn smiled weakly. She’d convinced herself nothing could go wrong on the Dungeon’s first floor. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
*****
Ayn ran her hand across the little vial tied to her belt. Red liquid swirled within. In what Ayn assumed was The System trying to add realism without making Rebirths look like walking storefronts, only one of any consumable in her inventory would show up on her leather utility belt. In truth, she had three small health potions. As she stared at the dungeon entrance, it felt a lot like zero.
The Dungeon looked like an old, gothic cathedral, with dagger-topped arches stabbing the clouds as gargoyles dared anyone to enter. Since her father’s death, she’d stood in the Dungeon’s long shadow too many times to count, yearning to cross the threshold once more. So why was she hesitating?
Ayn nearly jumped out of her skin as Kayara slapped her across the back.
“Too late for cold feet now, leader. The actors are already in place.” Kayara waved toward the entrance with a flourish, then pushed.
Ayn froze up as the glowing doorway leading into the first floor yawned open to accept the ranger’s sacrifice. Dark purple fire filled the opening, concealing what lay beyond.
Sheyric walked steadily toward the portal.
“Not a good look for a leader,” Kayara whispered in Ayn’s ear.
Ayn gritted her teeth and lunged. She crossed the threshold a step before Sheyric. The flames hissed when she touched them, writhing and engulfing her in an icy-hot sensation until all turned purple. Then, silence. Of course, she knew the entry fire was harmless, an effect meant to awe as you passed from the relative safety of the outside world to the dangers of the Dungeon. It wasn’t the fire that scared her. It was the still clear memory of screams.
The darkness melted away, replaced by a claustrophobic room made of moldy stone bricks. Cobwebs hung in every available nook and cranny. Two doors, just large enough to squeeze through, stood to Ayn’s left and right.
The rest of the party materialized next to her.
Bren immediately covered his mouth and nose. “Ugh, I should have exchanged one of my potions for perfume.”
“I almost agree with you,” Kayara said. “It smells like rotten coffins down here.”
Ayn was about to ask exactly how Kayara knew what rotten coffins smelled like when Miit appeared, popping into existence draped around Ayn’s neck.
Kayara let out a strangled yelp, but didn’t move.
“See there?” Bren said. “It’s working all ready. You stood your ground this time.”
He moved to slap Kayara on the shoulder. She neatly sidestepped it without looking.
“Hands to yourself. Ayn, is that thing going to be your accessory the whole time? It’s distracting.”
Ayn reached up and scratched Miit’s head. He purred, wings relaxing until they hung down her front and back. “He has thief skills. Since we don’t have a thief class, he’ll be helping us out with any locks.”
Bren’s eyes lit up. “Locked doors hide the best treasures.”
“And monsters,” Sheyric said. He shifted from the spot he’d been brooding in and moved toward the left door.
Ayn stared after him, wishing she could see his expression under his hood. His flat tone gave her nothing to go on. “You remember that way leads to an optional battle, right?”
The Dungeon randomly generated every floor—except the first. The first never changed, no matter what Dungeon in what town you went to. That made it the only floor with detailed records, records anyone wanting to Crawl would study.
“Also gloves,” Sheyric said. He pointed at the door. “It’s stuck.”
Ayn’s mind stalled as she tried to piece together Sheyric’s clipped statements.
“Ah,” Bren said. “Our starter gear is nothing more than clothes. Some gloves for our lead party member would help our survivability.”
Ayn sighed. “Right.”
She walked up to the door. Old iron strips fortified thick planks, the whole thing sitting askew in its frame and wedged firmly against the brick wall. She’d forgotten about the gloves and hadn’t even considered their lack of defense. Her debut as a leader was getting worse and worse.
Ayn picked out the door’s weak spot. One hinge had rusted out. A well-placed hit of sufficient strength would knock the door free. She aimed and charged. Her shoulder collided with a metal strip, a bit off the mark. Pain reverberated through her arm.
HEALTH AT 355
She’d taken damage from hitting a door. Great start. On the third try, and the third time Aisha half-yelled her falling health into her mind, the door collapsed inward. It swung wide with a resounding crack, then crashed into the floor to reveal the room on the other side.
A dozen gleaming eyes looked her way. Rats. The mobs scattered from the skeleton they’d been chewing on, clattering and high squeaks bouncing around the room as they fled to cracks, corners and shadows. Ayn pulled her weapons free. Twin curved sabers, the hallmark of the swashbuckler.
The room lay quiet, the rats seemingly gone. Ayn knew better. Rats were weak mobs, but top-notch ambushers. Right on cue, a rat leaped from an innocuous shadow. Ayn twisted, arching her blade up. The rat separated in two. It hung in the air for a second, then burst into a puff of silver glitter.
Two more rats charged her from both sides. Ayn spun, dancing between them, a low strike with her saber making another puff away. She grinned, her fears and failures forgotten. This was what it meant to live. With her blades, she had wings, and nothing could stop her.
As if to test her belief, the walls came alive with rats.