Book 3: Chapter 15

Book 3: Chapter 15

Brin opened his eyes to an unusually familiar sight. This was home, his home from before, the living room of the nice single-bedroom apartment. Everything was exactly as he remembered it. The carpet, the paint, everything was still like new because only he had ever lived here. The armchair matched the sofa and fit with the coffee table and the TV stand. He’d bought them all together with his first paycheck after college, still flush with the novelty of being able to afford things like new furniture. His gaming computer on a sleek, black desk with a trendy gaming chair–it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the commercials claimed. Regular office chairs were honestly better for sitting for long periods of time.

The dining table, too big for him eating alone, but perfect for the weekly game night with his friends. It didn’t hurt to remember them, even though he’d never see them again. A fun group, but he couldn’t really say they were close.

For a moment, he wanted to pretend that he was really here. That he’d fallen asleep in his chair and that he’d dreamed the whole thing. [Know What’s Real] wouldn’t even let him pretend. He knew this wasn’t real. This was a dream, or illusion, or vision.

He stood up and went to the mirror, the one on the wall that he’d bought with some other random decorations he’d bought when people started asking why his walls were all so bare. In the mirror, he saw Brin’s scarred face staring back at him. He still had the bruise on one side and the adhesive bandage on the other, though he couldn’t really feel either.

He suddenly felt sick with anger at being here. This was Class Selection. The System had created this little mind palace. Why? To make him feel at ease? It was rank manipulation.

He calmly, carefully went over to the dining table, picked up a chair, and hurled it at the wall, shattering it.

He had been so close. He had almost gotten Magic I. Was that really too much to ask? The broken chair disappeared, and reappeared at its place at the table. Apparently, this space wasn’t going to indulge in his tantrums. He took deep breaths, trying to force the rage down.nôvel binz was the first platform to present this chapter.

This was Tawna’s plan again. Go into Class Selection angry and upset, and he’d definitely pick an evil Class, right? Well, he was upset, but knowing he was angry didn’t make it go away.

He heard a knock at the door, and it opened before he answered it.

Mark walked in. It was him, looking as he did in his old life. Somehow too skinny and too fat at the same time, his sandy blonde hair already balding.

The strangest part was what he was wearing–nothing but lederhosen. No shirt or socks either, just the shorts-suspenders combo that German children used to wear. They weren’t real leather, either; they looked like he’d bought them from a halloween costume store.

He went to the fridge and pulled out an orange creme soda, and then sat at the table and looked at Brin.

“Honestly, I don’t know where to start. Um. Hi. Welcome to Class selection?”

Brin frowned. “Hi. Who are you supposed to be? And can we do this later? I kind of had plans.”

“Ok, let’s start there. First off, I feel you. I really do. It sucks what just happened.”

Brin fumed, walking across the floor of the living room that now felt too small. “It sucks? That’s all you can say? I was so close. Why would she do this? What could I have possibly done to earn this ridiculous level of sabotage from her?”

“When I think about it,” said the lederhosen Mark, “everything she’s ever done to me hasn’t been because of what I’ve done, but because of what I could do in the future, or not do. I think it’s safe to assume this is to prevent some kind of bad future. The guess that she somehow figured out that I was planning on skipping town and that she needs Hogg here seems the most likely to me.”

“Why are you saying it like that, like you were this happened to?” asked Brin.

“I’m you. You can call me the Child.”

“Yeah, because that makes sense,” said Brin. He was irritated to find that it actually did make sense. [Know What’s Real] pointed it out; in some strange way, he was talking to himself. “What could she possibly gain from this? It isn’t just me this time. She screwed over the entire town with this stunt. People treat System Day like their wedding day and college graduation all wrapped up in one. This is going to piss everyone off. Why would the Prefit fall for that?”

“It’s not just that,” said the Child. “Hogg is going to murder her. He’s been sticking up for me recently, and even if he hadn’t been, do you really think he’s the type of person who’s fine letting himself be manipulated to this degree? This isn’t just mean, it’s stupid.”

“Exactly. I honestly don’t see how she thinks she’ll get away with it,” said Brin. “By triggering System Day, she’s completely stopped Hogg’s ability to track down the army. Or maybe that was the point. Are we completely sure she isn’t allied with the [Witches]? Hogg seemed pretty certain she wasn’t, and the visions I saw on her weaving showed her dead with the rest of the town. But I can’t think of anything else that would explain it. Maybe this is all just about getting me killed. Maybe she assumed Hogg would leave me to fend for myself and that I’d be comatose on the forest floor, perfect pickings for some monster to come along.”

“You really think this is all some complex plan to get a monster to kill me?” asked the Child.

“I think it’s a win-win for her either way. Either I die and her visions clear up, or I bring back word of the army.” Brin stopped pacing back and forth and slumped into the armchair. “Well, I could sit here making guesses all day, but we really won’t know until we get back to town. Let’s just get this over with. How do I select a Class?”

“Oh, buck up. You missed one achievement that you wanted, but you still have an incredible start. I don’t think there are even very many noble kids with as good a start as you. But yeah, time’s wasting. I already introduced myself. I’m the Child. I’m here to represent the possibility of choosing the [Child] Class. I’m you, but mostly I’m the you that would choose [Child].”

“If I choose [Child] I’ll go back to looking like I did before? And what’s with the lederhosen? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt? Don’t tell me you’re going commando.”

“Then I won’t tell you,” said the Child with a wink. “I think your subconscious couldn’t imagine that you would choose my Class, so it had a hard time coming up with what that would look like. But don’t worry! The other guys will get here soon. We just figured I’d come on ahead and explain how this is going to work. And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’. We’re all you. Different possibilities of you, based on what you choose today.”

“You’re really nailing this,” said Brin.

“Well sorry,” said the Child. “I didn’t get any time to prep, ok? I’ve only existed for like two minutes. Or I’ve existed your whole life, because–”

“Because you’re me. Got it,” said Brin.

The Child chugged his orange creme soda, straight down. Then he got up and grabbed himself another. Those were the expensive brand, so he had to drive to a special store in the city for them. He didn’t complain, though, because they weren’t even real.

The Child slammed his empty bottle on the table. “Alright, so first things first. Where are we? This is your soul space. It can be anywhere, but we decided on a place that would feel comfortable and familiar to you.”

These increases are capped at +100%. These increases expire thirty minutes after you leave combat.

The child sighed dramatically. “The only good thing about [Child] is that it lets me delay my choice. When I do pick a real Class, it’ll give me all the attributes I missed as if I’d been leveling in that Class the entire time. I guess there’s one other thing. If there’s a certain Class you really have to have, and you have someone willing to teach you, you can use [Child] to give yourself a better chance.”

“I can get [Mage] that way?”

“Yes,” the Child said reluctantly. “But some nobles have to try six or seven times before they finally get it. That’s six or seven years. That’s the other thing. Choose [Child] and you won’t be able to switch Classes for another year. Not even breaking Oaths will work.”

“But that will work for other Classes?”

“Sure, if you have a Class you really can’t stand, break an Oath and you’ll get something else. But it’ll be automatic. You won’t get to choose. And [Child] is the most common Class to get automatically assigned to. Try to choose something you really want.”

Brin nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The Child nodded. “Cool. Now, for the record, please state the reason why you’re not going to choose me.”

Brin didn’t really love how the Child acted like he knew what Brin was going to say. He probably did if he really was him somehow, but that didn’t need to act like it.

But he was right. “I’m done with being a child. I’ve had enough of it for two lifetimes.”

“Yup. Alright, so like I said, time is still moving like normal. We’re probably fine with Hogg watching over us, but for the rest of the... spirit vision or whatever, I’m going to be looking through our eyes and hearing through our ears, just in case. I’ll tell you if something happens.”

“I appreciate it,” said Brin.

The Child took another soda from the fridge, and sat down at the gaming computer, putting on the headphones. He was really going through those sodas. But why not? It wasn’t like he could get fat. Brin stood and got one for himself, a black cherry. It tasted exactly like he remembered. The rush of sugar was intense after months of eating unprocessed foods. Probably a mistake. They didn’t have anything like this in his new world.

As soon as he was back on the sofa, the door burst open.

Brin walked inside, only it was an older version of him in his new-world body. This guy looked to be around twenty. He wore heavily battered and burned leather armor, was darkly tanned, and every inch of exposed skin was covered in scars. They crisscrossed everywhere, some wide and jagged, some thin white lines. The two that stood out were the two he also bore, the one on the forehead and the slice on his cheek.

The scarred Brin walked in with restless energy. He immediately darted from window to window, peeking outside, and when he was satisfied, set to pacing back and forth across the room like a caged tiger.

“That’s the Scarred One,” said the Child.

“No,” said Brin.

“Just hear me out,” said the Scarred One.

Brin would, but only because he was morbidly curious. Looking at his choices was like looking at what the System actually thought of him, of what kind of person he was on the inside. But he would not be choosing that guy. Hogg said you turn into the thing you choose, and this guy looked like a murder hobo, plain and simple.

Before the Scarred one could make his pitch, the door opened again.

The next choice to enter was more normal looking. Him, if he was in his thirties. He had Brin’s same scar on his forehead and the scar on his cheek was healed, but no other scars, and he dressed like Gustaff, in a long blue robe bedecked with stars. He didn’t look comical in it, the way Gustaff did. He looked professional, and there was a hardness in his eyes. He gave the [Scarred One] an appraising glance, then took the other armchair in the corner.

“[Illusionist]?” asked Brin.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’m the Class you’re going to pick.”

“Nice confidence,” said Brin.

The [Illusionist] shrugged. “But you should really consider the next guy instead.”

The next guy was Brin in his middle years. This one was calmly confident and fairly ordinary-looking. He wore the nice traditional clothes of Hammon’s Bog. He looked solid enough, but not threatening in the way he met the eyes of every other man in the room, one by one. He gave Brin a nod, and then went to the fridge. He took a soda, and clinked it against the Child’s on his way to the sofa.

He picked up the remote and turned on a football game, which for some reason Brin couldn’t see or hear. The man lifted his drink. “Glasser. Or Glassmaker, whichever you prefer.”

“Ok,” said Brin. That would be the common Class, and for some reason, he already felt oddly compelled by that choice. That was the only version of him that wasn’t hard and lean. He was strong, but soft, like someone who didn’t have to fight with his life on the line every day.

“Let me go first,” said the Scarred One.

Brin stood up to face him, eye to eye. For some reason, despite the evil Class’s clear penchant for violence, Brin didn’t feel intimidated looking at him. Maybe because [This Was Real] made him sure that this really was some version of him. Even evil Brin still had Brin’s best interests in mind.

“Not going to lie; I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will change my mind,” said Brin.

“I don’t want to hurt anymore,” said the Scarred One.