The World Shrine was surprisingly comfy.

Thin branches curled around the backrest to enwrap me as I settled onto the throne. The warm trunk hummed with residual energy which shot pleasurable sensations up my spine.

I closed my eyes with a sigh and allowed Nana to pull the headgear over my head. It stopped just short of my eyebrows, prickling my scalp. The silvery aura intensified around the tree. Magic suffused the air.

Connection confirmed.

Please, input your password.

I frowned at the notification box which had also appeared as a giant screen above my head.

Hanno coughed into his fist. “Deathmage41.”

“Death mage what?” I stuttered.

Password confirmed.

Would you like to see your status? Y/N?

“Yes,” Hanno said.

Loading . . .

The contents of my status sheet populated my vision and the blue screen above me.

Everyone gathered to stare at it, Nilen included.

Damien Njoku

Race: Dark Elf

Level: 10

Affinity: Fear

Class: Ranker [Potential]

VP: 28/28

MP: 30/30

Attributes:

STR 7, PER 5, END 10, DEX 10

INT 5, WIL 9, V.F 2, MGK 3

Free Stat Points: 6

Traits:

[Born of Fear], [Against the Odds], [Migrant Soul]*

Skills:

[Map], [Identify]

Abilities:

[Scaredy-cat], [Fear Aura]

“Hmph,” Hanno said, sticking a finger into his ear. “I’m sure you're nothing special . . .” The words died in his throat. “You have an affinity to Fear?!”

Nana chuckled. “I told you to prepare for a surprise . . .” Her lower jaw fell. “You have three traits?!”

“Is that [Identify] I see?” Mavari said in a fearful tone.

Nilen hopped eagerly on her feet. “What the heck is [Map]?”

I weathered their questions, at a loss for it all myself.

“This is impressive,” Hanno said, ditching his earlier aggression. He scanned the rest of the list, and then he rubbed his eyes just to be sure. “Most people reach the threshold without unlocking a single technique. You’ve gained four already, courtesy of your traits. Who exactly are you?”

“He is my guest,” Nana said, a touch of pride in her voice. She looked like she wanted to say more but held her tongue.

“Aye, that he is,” Hanno conceded, “and also your problem. But, three traits? If anyone had told me it was possible, I would have smacked them over the head. One is uncommon enough. Two is rare. Three . . .?” He shook his head.

“Grandpa,” Nilen asked, “why is the class section occupied? I thought regulars were classless by default.”

“That’s because of his trait,” Hanno said, “the infamous born series. Sadly, he’s been pre-attuned to [Fear]. You know what that means, don’t you, Nana? He won’t outrun his fate.”

“He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it,” Nana replied with an even tone. “For now, let’s get the ritual underway. We’re discomfiting the lad.”

I couldn’t be happier to begin.

“First things first,” Nana said, jumping into lecture mode. “What do you know about specialization?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Mavari had explained some of it to me, so I regurgitated what I remembered. “Um, it’s something you do once you reach the threshold, without which you cannot gain a class.”

“Something you do . . .” Nana said, snorting at my choice of words. “If only specialization was that mundane! It is the most pivotal moment in anyone's existence, child. Get your choices wrong and suffer the consequences for the rest of your life.”

That sobered me up.

“Specialization offers two sets of choices,” Hanno said, still looking at my status sheet. “The first is a choice between specialist and ranker. For the price of one charge, you may pick from a comprehensive list of jobs. The best masons, doctors, and artificers are all specialists.”

“For the price of three charges,” Nana interrupted smoothly, “you may become a ranker. This is the bloodier path and also the road to ascension. The [System] offers thirteen ranked classes, all with different strengths and weaknesses.”

“How would I know what to pick?” I stammered.

Nana laughed. “That's for you to figure out on your own. Everyone has a calling; a gut feeling they can't ignore. Don’t feel pressured to go with ranker just because of your affinity. If you believe being a specialist is more up your alley, your affinity would simply disappear.”

“Including my techniques?”

“Including that, yes. A terrible life awaits anyone who decides to be a ranker. Many are better off without seeing that much bloodshed.”

“Many also pay,” Hanno grumbled, “for the privilege of expending three charges at once. You lose nothing by becoming a specialist. Nothing at all. I have never once regretted choosing to level up by doing the things I love as opposed to striving on a battlefield.”

Nana shot him a glance. “The specialist classes might not be in his best interests, seeing as he is laden with considerable doom.”

“Better that than keeping his affinity,” Hanno drawled. “The [Lord of Terror]—”

Mavari dropped her bow.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, picking it up with shaky fingers. She turned a small smile my way, even though the name had clearly upset her. “If you’re going to be a ranker, Damien, it might help you to know that some classes are better suited to some races than others due to differences in base stats. Elves in general work best in Caster or Rogue.”

“Bah!” Nana said. “That’s what the min-maxers preach. I’ve seen a dwarf Trickster who was nimble like no other. And, let me not get started on my ancestors who were predominantly warriors.”

“Do you know any elven Shamans?” Nilen asked excitedly. “Do you think I can pull it off?”

I groaned low in my throat. “Guys, I'm getting a bit overwhelmed here. I don't suppose I could borrow some kind of guide?”

“A guide?” Hanno said, grabbing his sides in laughter. “As in a handbook? Those would only make you more indecisive. Unless you’re a halfwit, you should be able to excel in any category. Just use your gut!”

A lot of questions burned at the tip of my tongue regarding his penultimate sentence, but Nana plowed through the exchange with the firmness of her title. “The [System] isn’t stupid, Damien. You would get a chance to ruminate. We’re just ensuring you understand the basics.”

Her words allayed some of my fears, pushing me back into the embrace of the World Shrine. The majority of my scruples remained, but I could afford to give Nana the benefit of doubt. She truly believed in my ability to make the right choice.

Did I?

“Right,” Hanno said, pulling a wine flask out of his inventory. “We’ve only covered the first set of choices. The second occurs if you choose to be a ranker.”

“No ranker is complete without an affinity,” Nana explained. “But, unlike with the first set of options, you are limited in this round. Twenty-two affinities exist in total—”

“Twenty-four,” Hanno corrected.

Nana nodded her thanks. “Twenty-four. From that number, the [System] selects a list of compatible affinities for the ranker to choose from. This is usually no more than three or four, determined by your experiences.”

“However,” Hanno cut in sharply, “your trait precludes this round. It traded the chance for you to pick a better option during specialization for a power boost in your regular phase.” He drank from his flask. “This power boost cannot be ignored, of course. But, it is up to you to determine whether [Born of Fear] is worth the trouble. The only way to lose that curse is by becoming a specialist.”

He mumbled something under his breath. Thanks to my advanced hearing, I heard him clear as day:

“You should.”

Hanno was probably right. I didn’t want to admit it, but a chance to abandon all of this and enjoy an easy-going life was too tempting to ignore. The problem lay in the quests. Would the [System] still require their completion if I no longer held the power to do so?

My attunement to Fear had helped me survive the goblins. But, did I need to continue with a burden I’d earned at the Pyramid of Rebirth?

“What are the other affinities?” I asked, more to sate my curiosity than out of any real use of the knowledge.

Nana shrugged. “I can hand you a written list after we are done here. The only principle to remember is that affinities are based on the duality of emotions. One virtue to every vice. So, Joy to Sorrow. Pain to Pleasure. Hatred to Love. Wrath to Contrition . . .”

“Courage to Fear,” I whispered.

“Aye. That’s how it usually goes. Each one can be devastating in battle, especially when paired with a complementary class. You need to remember this, Damien. If you intend to be a ranker, you should ensure to pick a class that works well with your affinity.”

“You don’t need,” Hanno slurred through a mouthful of wine, “to be devastating in battle. A specialist can earn as much fame and coin outside the battlefield. A good Blacksmith is worth more in wartime and peace than ten Rangers—”

“But, you don’t gain any stat points,” Nilen said, enjoying the impromptu lesson. “You told me so, Grandpa!”

“I do gain stat points. Just not at the rate of rankers.” He wiped his lips on his sleeve and belched without restraint. “Bah! I’m wasting breath on you plebs. Pick whatever you fancy.”

“May we begin?” Nana asked.

A notification box appeared over my status screen.

The following candidate, [Damien Njoku, LVL 10], has been selected for specialization.

A suitable cost must be determined.

“Variable,” Hanno said.

Cost has been set to vary between 1 and 3 charges.

Proceed with specialization? Y/N?

“Wait!” I yelped. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. Now that we've gotten here, I'll need more time to—”

“Proceed,” Hanno gruffed.

The wooden headgear tightened around my head. Miniature thorns sprang out of it and burrowed into my scalp.

The interior of the hall fell away, leaving nothing but pitch blackness. It was just me against the void. No Nana. No Nilen. No Mavari.

And, definitely no second chances.