A splash of inky darkness appeared, pulsing and stretching outwards as it devoured the world around it. Sunlight was quickly consumed, the trilling birds and swaying trees fading away. The rustling of wild creatures and scampering of the local rodents disappeared, as they too were covered by the growing veil of darkest night. Even the cries and wails of anguish that permeated the air faded away into silence.
A wall of text morphed into existence, unfurling character by character into a collection of words.
A consciousness stirred, slowly coming to awareness, as if awakening from a long hibernation. Its thoughts were scattered and chaotic, the awareness almost sluggish in how it reacted. This was not unfamiliar territory, and yet it took a moment to even recall who and what it was.
Katai read the text that had appeared in front of him. He blinked, and slowly read it again, not quite believing what he was reading. A pause, followed by a mental kick seemed to help, as Katai read the text for a third time, this time actually understanding what he was reading and what it meant for him.
You have met the criteria for the following class: Blood Mage.
Do you wish to select this as your second class?
Unbelievable, he thought, shaking his head bitterly. This was salt in a very angry, raw wound. A once in a lifetime opportunity, being able to choose a Mage class, and it had to be one of the forbidden ones... the Gods must surely be laughing at his misfortune.
Obtaining a Mage-type class had been the dream of every adolescent in Tiaston Village since it was founded. The idea of controlling one of the elements, throwing fireballs or effortlessly manipulating water, was a fantasy few got to experience. He personally didn’t know of anyone that had figured out how to unlock one, the village Elders being unusually reticent when it came to the subject of magic.
Not through lack of trying of course. Silas had almost drowned when he’d tried to breathe water while they were swimming in the lake. Katai had also spotted burn marks on a group of boys that had probably been experimenting in the woods, away from the watchful eyes of the Elders. These signs of experimentation amongst the youth were everywhere, something that was subtly encouraged by the adults of the village.
The less common a class was, the more useful it would be, in general. For example, the illustrious Mage-type classes were all at least Uncommon and they were highly sought after by the nobility. Gaining one of these classes meant a lifetime of service to a noble family, which meant a reliable and high-paying wage, and a small bag of silver pieces for the person’s family. The only downside to this arrangement was the person who gained the class was essentially an indentured servant and they were whisked away from the village as soon as their class was discovered.
Perhaps this is why the Elders don’t like to talk about magic? Katai thought to himself, with a flash of insight. Maybe there were magic-users hidden in Tiaston, hiding from the Imperial Questors? There were a lot of rumours, but most of them agreed that Questors could find out your classes. A remote village like theirs however only warranted a visit once a year from the mysterious investigators.
Bringing himself back to the present, Katai looked around the empty space of the void. The Class Selection experience was familiar to him, having gone through it many times over the last few years. Every time he completed an action that unlocked a new class, he would be presented with this strange landscape. The village Elders theorized that it was simply a mental construct, that you weren't actually being transported anywhere. This theory was backed by the fact that time didn't seem to pass in the outside world for as long as you were in the void. A useful trait that allowed for a literal eternity of time to consider and weigh up a new class. Useful, since you only have two class slots and once a class was chosen, there was no going back. The only way to remove or change a class was to reach level fifty, something that generally took years of hard work to achieve.
The tradition in their village was to wait until the coming-of-age ceremony, during their sixteenth year, before they chose their first class. In the years prior to this, the village youth were encouraged to try out all of the common jobs around the district. Spending a day helping a farmer harvest his crops, preparing communal meals, weaving baskets and shaping clay pots, currying the horses, all of these were jobs that benefited from an extra helping hand. This way, the youth learnt about all of the different kinds of people and tasks that were needed to keep the village running, educating them on why each job was important and what was involved. The other benefit of course was the new classes that opened up, ready for that first all-important class selection.
Classes that dealt with the mundane, such as weaving, carpentry, pottery, and other such skills, were just as important to the village as ones that dealt with combat. Without trade and a myriad of everyday, useful skills, they would not survive.
Tradition dictated that this first class was dedicated to the village, so that each person contributed to the small community. The Elders liked to put an emphasis on areas that needed more people, often engaging in discussions with the younger generation to see if any would be willing to accept their recommendations. Of course, not everyone chose to discuss their choices. Those people were few and far between however, as they were a small, tight-knit community. Anyone who didn't toe the line was sure to face some serious backlash.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The second class on the other hand was generally left up to the individual. Once married for example, the second class could be chosen to supplement one of their partners classes. Or if the Elders believed there were lucrative trade deals to be made, they might suggest some classes that could be taken up by the free agents in the village. The least common option, for obvious reasons, was someone selecting a second class for purely personal reasons. The only time this really occurred was when an Uncommon class was unlocked – everyone understood that even if it didn’t benefit the village, this was a rare opportunity, one that should be taken up.
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Katai's thoughts, scattered as they were, flittered from subject to subject. The chaos that ran through his mind seemed to be acting as a barrier from the very real, underlying problems that he was trying to avoid. Every time his thoughts strayed from happier memories, the real world would come crashing back down, battering away at his fragile emotions when he realised once again that Salah really was gone.
Picturing her loving smile, a fresh wave of guilt and heartache washed over him. Memories of their childhood echoed through his mind, pulling at his heartstrings. Her quiet appreciation of his playful antics, the smirk that followed while he endured the tongue-lashing from various village Elders. Her glowing smile as she accepted his vows at their joining ceremony.
Anger crashed through the happy memories, reminding him of his absence from the village when she needed him most. He would never forgive himself for that. Denial reared its comforting head, nudging his thoughts back to memories of happier times.
Time passed in the void.
His emotions had swung again. Sadness and self-blame permeated his being. A deep melancholy weighed heavily on his every thought. How could he find joy or happiness in anything, now that his love was gone?
More time passed, the darkness giving no hints as to how long he had been immersed in the Class Selection void.
Memories of Salah ran through his head endlessly. The pain of knowing she was gone gradually eased into a deeper, dull ache as time passed. The fresh images of her body, spattered with blood, lost some of their cutting edge.
Slowly he learnt to accept that she was gone.
Accepting this fact, that she was truly gone, hurt more than anything else. He was afraid that accepting it meant he was letting go, that he was moving on without her. Curled into a ball in the never-ending dark, he sobbed into his incorporeal arms, wishing it all was a bad dream, a nightmare he’d soon wake from. He clutched ever tighter at memories of Salah, unwilling to surrender any more than he already had.
Time passed, marching inexorably onwards. Katai circled the empty space, restlessly pacing. At times he would collapse and lay on the invisible floor, weeping quietly. At others, he would scream and rage, jumping around the space, trying to fight against a non-existent opponent.
It was a slow process, and a risky one, trying to stay sane while spending such a long time on his own. Many times, he almost exited the Class Selection zone, needing to hear someone’s voice, or to actually feel something physical once more. The lack of any physical features in the void was a surprisingly off-putting experience. He imagined this must be how it felt to be imprisoned.
Katai had experienced many hardships in his relatively short life. He'd learned to cope with everything that was thrown at him. From the wasting sickness and his parents’ deaths, to learning to survive on his own at a young age. He was a survivor. He would make it through this.
After what felt like weeks of meditation and self-reflection, Katai finally realised what he needed to do. One day he might make Salah proud, and return to the man he was before her death. But first, he needed something. He thirsted for something that couldn’t be satisfied by a simple and quiet life. He needed death and destruction. He needed the bloody hearts of the people who had done this to his wife and to his village. He needed revenge.
It wouldn’t be easy however. He knew that if the bandits had managed to overwhelm the Guard posts then they must have struck with overwhelming force. Even if they had attacked using deception or stealth, the other guard posts were within eyesight of each other and would have been alerted. This meant either a significant number of bandits, or there were some very powerful individuals in the group. Either scenario posed a risk for the remaining Guard. He didn’t want to risk other lives in his vengeance, but he’d happily put his own at risk if it meant the cowards would suffer. Would he be strong enough to take out any of the bandits though? Was he just going to be throwing his life away? It was meaningless if they didn’t suffer, like he had suffered.
Turning his attention back to the class name that perpetually hovered in front of him, he pondered his luck. Blood Mage...one of the forbidden classes. In the same category as necromancy, death magic, sacrificial magic and a handful of other nefarious classes. One of the small set of classes all children were taught to avoid. The classes were evil, and had been banned by Royal Edict, on pain of death.
It was a literal death sentence to accept one of these classes.
Curiosity filling him, Katai mentally selected the description of the class, watching as the initial announcement faded away, before more text popped into view.
Blood Mage [Rare].
Born through pain and sacrifice, the Blood Mage is an adept physical manipulator. Gaining strength by sacrificing vitality, or taking it from others, the Mage who pursues this path will gain skills related to improving their physical resilience and consuming the vitality of others.
Requirements: Possess a natural affinity for blood magic. Absorb a portion of lifeblood.
Bonuses: Constitution + 4, Wisdom + 1.
Traits: Internal Blood Savant, Bleeding Edge.
Katai stared in disbelief. A Rare class!?