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Storms Of Ataraxy - [Progression, LitRPG]
Chapter: 2 Day 0 - Class Selection

Chapter: 2 Day 0 - Class Selection

As he said “class” and gestured his hand to me, a new prompt flashed in front of me. It was like I had a virtual reality headset inside my head or something, but far more advanced. In front of me were the 5 class options; Warrior, Rogue, Ranger, Mage, and Healer.

“Why is healer not a subclass of Mage?”

I figured they fell into the same ballpark, I mean healing had to be magic based in some way or another. Who the hells doing med-evac and field surgery, when presumably there’s magic? We can heal like that, no?

“There’s a lot of ways one can heal. The basic, most fundamental being through simple mana transfer which, yes, is indeed magic. However, healing goes far beyond one’s ability to cast a fireball, or create icy structures. Many classes can heal without need of mana pools, as their pools for energy in those classes vary from the average classes stats set, much like many specialized classes do. Some creatures simply use their vitality to perform healing. Others, endurance. It’s simply too nuanced to summarize as “magic”.

Well, fuck me I guess.

It made sense, I just sort’ve hoped I had these things better pinned from jump, as any advantage would lead to success. Call it pride, I just want to be at least as happy as I began, before no-face brought me here.

My selection process began by immediately writing off all options I figured were unrealistic, healer being the first. Frankly, I’ve never been the support role type, and while I don’t mind helping, I prefer to do so through affirmative means rather than supplementing the solution providers. Again, call it pride, but I simply enjoyed the fray far more than supporting someone who probably didn’t, sue me.

I also took Mage off the table. Not because I hated the idea, my stats did. It would be unwise to start out leaning heavily into my weakness as a foundation, especially if this will be a build that I derive my fighting style from in this new…reality? I don’t know, I half-hoped maybe I got a bad batch when I bought more pods for my weed pen, and this would all end soon enough.

Refocusing in fear I’m not high as balls right now, I got back to removing the least contentious classes. Ranger was a no-go too, another one where I harbored no resentment but simply didn’t have the experience to jump into it whole-heartedly. In truth, my combat experience was up close and personal, and while I fired guns at ranges and got my certifications, I doubted we were going to be given guns with unlimited ammo if classes like “Rogue” and “Warrior” exist, because how the fuck would they if those were readily available from jump?

This brought me to my half difficult decision; Rogue, or Warrior.

I didn’t like the glass cannon idea that much, but I knew I had been inherently making one before this anyways. My training was simple, my spirit I found aligned heavily with water based concepts, or at least used water as a point of reference, and my fighting style reflected that. Finding cracks, countering, even my movements were to replicate that of waves, always in motion, always crashing. It was a part of me, and in doing so I conditioned well enough, but conditioning itself meant delayed weight gain.

Sure, slap on muscle, some extra bone density, but bottom line is you’re burning calories at a high rate, and you need to heal bones. I wondered how much that was to factor now, with stats and all, but for some reason found it vain to ask.

High strength usually meant warrior, but so did toughness and vitality. Both of these I wanted to excel in, and only one was to my liking to start. Still, leaning into two weaknesses, being strength and vitality, to compensate for natural boons in stats felt wasteful. Torn, I consulted with no-face.

“Hey buddy, are Rogues always weak bodies but high damage? Is there no middling?”

It stopped for a moment, but it didn’t look like pondering. It was more a freeze, like he was…processing.

It, it was processing, Tom.

“Rogues are special, in that their spectrum of subclasses are in close contention with mage classes in range of diversity, and greatly outweighs all but Warriors in total awakened species preference. Your path, of course, can evolve to something almost completely unrelated to your traditional abilities, but will always have the foundations you set today at its roots.”

Holy shit, a concise answer out of it.

Alright, that settled it, Rogue it was.

I figured if I can bend a class to what I was supposed to be anyways, might as well go with the most malleable, and No-Face merely reaffirmed my suspicions. I focused my intent on the Rogue selection, and to my satisfaction, it flashed a new prompt:

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU’VE ACHIEVED CLASS: {Rogue - level 1}

I checked my status sheet, and sure enough, I had a little class about myself now.

Name: Tom Murphy

Race: [Human(H) - level 1]

Class: {Rogue - level 1}

Profession: None

Strength: 12

Agility: 16

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Endurance: 13

Perception: 10

Vitality: 8

Toughness: 12

Wisdom: 14

Willpower: 8

Skills: None

Titles: None

Upon review, I realized my folly of not asking about professions, and went to ask about them until the formation of vowels in my mouth was cut off.

“Excellent choice, Tom! Now, please select a skill to start.”

Before I can change the topic to the professions, a new prompt popped up, one far, far more jam packed with option after option. It was a plethora of skills, all with descriptions, some similar, but all slightly different. Back Slash, Back Stab, Splitting Stab, Flanking Strike, Shadow Strike, all examples. None of which I had much interest in, sneaking around so much was sort of ratty in my opinion. I reserved rat-like behavior for absolute necessity, as that’s the only way those rodents can properly function without human care.

I hate rats.

Anyways, my mind was already pounding in hunger, now it had come from mental exhaustion trying to meticulously read every single skill description. It was mind numbing, until one caught my eye.

Duel Swordsman (uncommon) - allows the user the knowledge and physical dexterity to contort two short swords with absolute grace without the physical drawbacks of an extra sword in hand. +2 agility, +3 endurance.

Holy shit, an uncommon passive skill? Most games didn’t allow this sort of thing, I must have broken some barrier of entry to this skill with my experience in fighting in general, and I began to understand how muscle freaks gravitated to Warrior classes. Some guys from my gym probably have like a 22 baseline strength too, fucking gear-heads.

I didn’t hate them, I hate how they treated themselves. They were worth more than cheating for petty gains, to me they meant nothing if not earned. Also 153 lbs, and conscious about it enough to mention the extra 3, so who am I?

Regardless, this was by far the most OP stat I had come across, and it was naturally my choice, as I had good experience in duel swords. I had to confirm my suspicions however, and asked my Guy-d.

“Why am I offered an uncommon skill? Isn’t it rather early for something like that?”

It looked confused almost, as it tilted its head rather unnaturally. After a pause, it snapped back straight and replied,” it would appear your stats qualify for said rarity, rejoice in your favorable circumstance, Tom!”

Perfect. I hadn’t seen any bo staff options yet, which was my preference but I guess I’ll have to find one of my own someday.

I’ll stow away my love for the simplest of stick for now, at least until I can make it practical.

Afterwards, I was to allocate my free skill point. Why I couldn’t save it, again, cause fuck me I guess.

With agility and endurance being so high now, I figured I wouldn’t want to be so lopsided, even if one point made a minor difference, and tossed it into wisdom.

What? I didn’t say I’d put it into a sheer weakness. Those I can beat out of myself in time. I was sure of it.

“Exceptional work, Tom! Now that you’ve selected your class and allocated your points, it’s time to select your weapons.”

Right now?…why?

Day 0: Special Treatment

I pondered the haste in weapon selection, because hey, I just got here. Let’s have a conversation before I’m sent into the damn wild or, wherever the fuck this wished-it-were-ugly thing sent me?

No-Face was beginning to irritate me, to say the least, but I knew deep down I was powerless to his bullshit. After all, he just apparently spawned this big ass glass-looking table, with hundreds of different melee weapons sprawled across it.

It was insane, katars, scythes, rapiers, clubs, maces, sickles, hammers, daggers, spears, I half expected to see a fucking shovel option it was so vast. I grazed over the selections carefully, knowing damn well what picking a weapon in a form you’re familiar with entailed.

I had to feel it, I had to know this was my extension, this will represent my hand, my intent, my will I suppose. Too bad it’s like your lowest stat. I swear, my inner monologue can be a real dick to even me.

As I meandered about, I saw a pair of very thick, shorter sized blades.

“What are these called?”

“Tanto, those are relics of your species’ Japanese cultural weaponry. Very intimidating looking choice indeed Mr. Murphy.”

Saying my last name somehow made things more real, even though I was holding very tangible weapons in a very real empty space after selecting very real skills t-…ahh, can’t spiral right now. These aren’t it. The hilts were far too…boxy. It was like a big letter cutter, it didn’t seem like I’d enjoy the feel of them much but, the blades themselves looked formidable. The 12 inch length however was a bit under what I was looking for.

“No thanks, I’m still browsing but, thank you.”

“Very well.”

I continued my search , and came across a weapon I recognized. The Wakizashi. They too, were of Japanese lineage, it was a backup blade for the Samurai in feudal Japan. It was shorter than a katana, but much longer than your typical knife, these being around 20-24 inches off the eye test.

They also maintained the thin bladed characteristics, while fostering a slight curve, like its katana counterpart. I always wanted to get my hands on them, as in my opinion they’re a great size for the kind’ve style I’d wished to have with swords and, yes, I did in fact consider this often. I had a weird 12 months if you asked many, but to me they were a well of knowledge that invoked much, much joy.

“This, I’ll take 2 of this.”

“Ahh, you misunderstand, human. This is part of a set with that katana there.” He gestured to the long sword version, and I dismissed his hand with a wave.

“No no, you misunderstand. I’m aware what set it comes in, I wish to have two of these.”

He appeared puzzled, as if my request hadn’t been made to him before, and as he stared once more into nothingness, I began feeling unnerved.

Had I pissed it off? Was I about to just die right now? Not even fight, just cease to exist? This thing’s clearly strong, and my goddamn pride refuses to treat it with any form of respect. I should just chill out, or maybe grab one of these things and lunge.

Before I could overreact, it spoke as if it hadn’t broken stride from our conversation.

“Certainly! An odd request, but not one the system deems unreasonable!”

And with that, a second Wakizashi appeared on the table, and as my hand met its hilt, a sense of glorious victory for my hubris washed away any looming regrets.

One of the few I’d get to relish in for quite some time.

The armor section was far more bland, filled with differing sizes of armor in weird pelts. Naturally, I went for light armor, as I intended on maintaining my quickness advantage as much as possible. Besides, my fighting style meant hitting hard and way before you can get hit with anything properly anyways, so why bother with the extra weight? In truth, it was so light I almost regretted my decision immediately, but it was already talking again.

“Now that you have your weapons and stats in order, we’ll now be placing you through a trial tournament with humans similar in stats as yourself. This is a semi-exclusive circumstance, as only a portion among your population will take part in this tournament, while the rest are sent to their respective Collective Lodge, where they’ll await their group members return before the tutorial can begin. Do note, you cannot truly die in this tournament. This is entirely for the myriad of potential patrons to peruse through your planet's talent, in search of suitable prospects.”

Once again, I took a moment to digest all that was said before composing internally and responding far calmer than I initially intended to.

“Okay, so I’m essentially headed to…tryouts?” The thought that I’m already some performance monkey for a greater power was beginning to dig deep into my chest out of sheer resentment to the idea.

Who the fuck were they? Gods, who held no power over me and didn’t ever bother to make themselves apparent?

Why should I care?

Sure they’re probably strong, real, real strong, but why wouldn’t I be given enough time? They just had time against me I assumed, and I couldn’t wait to make up the difference. A real and true God able to walk among us willingly would’ve done us some good before this…thing, and I’d rather it me than some asshole achieve it first from earth. Don’t feel like bending any knee to some overpowered doofus with an ego issue.

“In a way, yes, I suppose it is ‘tryouts’ as you so crudely put. More than this, it’s an opportunity to impress the multiverse’s finest, most powerful entities, as any integration breeds opportunity for all in the multiverse. Who knows? You may gain quite the mentor, maybe even master out of this. Shoot, if you’re really lucky, you’ll be selected as a Chosen, the top disciple and assumed progeny of their patron. With that, comes plenty of power”

Now this fucking empty printer paper was speaking my language.

With that gem of knowledge, I resolved myself to put the utmost effort into this tournament, as the sooner I’m able to handle things there and feign loyalty to some self righteous old geezer, the better off I’ll be when I get home. Maybe I can link with Korbin, or shit, my family. I hadn’t even considered them, the vast majority are probably running about like a chicken with its head chopped off right now. I can only pray to whatever patron I can impress they’ll make it out alright, or better yet, make our ways together before the tutorial even starts. Either way, I have to start off strong.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

“See you soon, Tom.”