Chapter 119: Long Awaited Destiny pt. 2

Kaius stared at the aged clone across from him in bald faced shock. It wanted him to do what?! It couldn’t seriously be asking him to cull all classes lower than Heroic could it? That was utter insanity. While the rarity of your starting class was not the be all and end all, having a higher rarity class did drastically increase your chances of pursuing the sort of feats that were required to evolve them further as you developed through the tiers.

Heroic… That would mean eleven stats per level, and class skills of a minimum of fucking Unusual! That was the main reason starting off with a class higher than Rare was considered so much of a boost over the lower ones, you removed your chance of getting offered Common skills.

It couldn’t be right. Surely. He gulped, dry tongue catching in his mouth, like he had been chewing on cotton.

“You can’t be serious.” He whispered.

Kaius the Elder showed him his teeth. “Try me.”

He breathed out long and slow, his ears ringing as the ground started to pull away from him. Shooting out one hand, he caught a tree and leaned bodily into it. “That’s it right? I can’t have possibly gotten anything higher than Heroic, can I?”

The construct laughed. “Unfortunately not. It's not even possible to get higher than Heroic for your first class. That said, you have done well enough that you have a couple to pick from. We both know that anything else isn’t worth your time. Though, if you wish, I would be happy to go through them with you.”

Kaius narrowed his eyes. “How many Unique classes do I have available that fit the criteria?”

The construct's green-gold eyes bore into his own. “Thirty-Seven.”

His knees gave out, and he was forced to clutch the tree tight before he could straighten himself. “And Heroic?” he asked in a small voice.

“Three.”

Kaius shuddered, taking in a deep breath. “What about without any criteria?” 

“Seventeen.” the construct replied, slow and serious.

“Fuck.” Kaius whispered. That was… too much. Far too much. His aged clone had the right of it. No matter how unnatural it felt, he had to cull.

Swallowing again, Kaius forced the words out. “Cull everything that isn’t a class focused on swordplay and glyph-binding, and is of a rarity lower than Heroic.”

Kaius the Elder gave him a deep and satisfied smile, his grey streaked hair shining in haloed light that filtered through the canopy above. “Good shit.” Then the construct spun, striding off into the forest. “Follow.” he said, turning back for just a moment to focus a proud look on him.

Kaius gulped, hurrying after the Elder. They weaved through the undergrowth, working their way over densely knotted roots through tangled brambles. For anyone else, it would have been a treacherous hike through hellish terrain.

For Kaius it felt like being welcomed home. He danced through the underbrush, easily keeping pace with the construct, who themselves walked through the Sea like they had been born in it.

Eventually they stopped, a grand clearing opening up before them. Lush grasses drenched in sunlight covered the open space, a riot of wildflowers washing the green in sprays of purple, yellow, and red.

There, at the centre of the meadow, a trio of venerable ash trees stood. Each was massive, larger than anything he had seen in the outskirts of the Sea before. Heavy and aged limbs sprouted from their trunks, layered in calloused bark.

“Almost there, let's head to the trees.” Kaius the Elder said, striding into the waist high grass. Kaius hurried after the construct, watching the trio of trunks with curiosity. It was obvious they would have something to do with his class options, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what.

The construct ahead of him kept a leisurely pace, apparently in no rush to cross the open field. 

“So, before we get to your selections, there’s a few things you should know. Context about classes, and other such things. First, you won’t be able to talk about your experience here to people who have not gone through the selection themselves, except in the broadest sense.” The Elder said without looking back.

“Wait what? Why not?” Kaius asked, confused. While that might have explained why despite his begging Father had not once slip what class selection was actually like, he still struggled to understand the reasoning. Why on earth would the system want to give them less ability to prepare for the most important moment of their lives?

“To prevent influence. In aeons past there was something of a problem with impressionable youngsters trying to emulate ‘perfect’ builds. It invariably led to substandard performance.” Kaius the Elder responded. “Considering that I am here, you have all the advice you need. On that topic, I need to make you aware of certain aspects of the selection.”

“Such as?” Kaius asked curiously.

“Classes unlock a few additional facets of the system. Namely skill Affinity and Type. All skills have them, and most classes will provide a bonus to Type. Only some will provide a broader bonus to Affinity. It is a good thing to pay attention to. You should also be aware that once you gain your class, your Honours will gain a small percentage bonus to your stats. Finally, there will be skill resonance, which is incredibly important during your first class. It will show which general skills are aligned with your class, and the stronger the resonance, the more likely that that skill will evolve to align. This chance is greater when the skills are capped, which is why it is so important. Though it is worth noting that if a skill is already closely aligned to the class, it will likely have a weaker chance of evolving.”

Kaius’s mind raced. It was a lot of information, and he was thankful it had been shared openly. The part about the Honours did not surprise him, frankly their stat boost had always seemed a little lacklustre for something that was the stuff of myth. A percentage boost was different, that would scale with him as he grew, giving him a permanent edge. As for the types, affinities, and resonance, he supposed he would have to wait to see what his potential options were before he could really contextualise it. He just had one question.

“What of class skills? Is capping them just as important? I’ll get my final class skill only twenty levels before I tier up, right? That seems like a bit of a squeeze.” Kaius asked, brushing aside a particularly stubborn bush that blocked his path.

The construct chuckled. “No, thankfully not. In the second tier, the levels you would have gained a skill is instead the level where it evolves to the next tier. You’ll want to reach the tier cap for that skill by then to maximise the options available.”

Kaius sighed in relief. That was much more manageable.

They reached the trio of ash trees, each one looming far overhead, shading them with their wide and low canopies. Taking a single step forwards, Kaius crossed an invisible line. The air took on a strange, charged quality, haze settling across his vision. He could taste it. The magic. Pure distilled potential radiating off the trunks, wafting promises of power, responsibility, and purpose. He gasped, arcane force tingling as it flooded his lungs.

“Quite something isn’t it? Thankfully you culled quite a few options, otherwise we would have had to wait quite a while for you to acclimate. That, and it would have taken days for you to deliberate.” The construct teased, hitting him with an easy smile. The same one that crossed his face whenever he bullied Porkchop. 

Seeing his own face, weathered and venerable, was still weird. Still, the comment did its job. Kaius shook off his fugue, breathing slowly as he adjusted to the weight of the moment. His final action as a boy, his first decision as a man. 

“Come along then! Your first option awaits.” The construct beckoned to him, waving at him to follow as it circled around the first trunk.

As they reached the side that reached the centre, the tree’s bark pulled back, revealing a rich and intricate carving set deep in the wood. It seemed to pulse, shifting with vivid lifelike motion before his very eyes.

It depicted…him. Shirtless, covered in light wounds that writhed, sealing themselves closed in moments. Kaius knew he was heavily muscled, even as tall as he was, he’d always had a thick physique, one that had only bulked up further in his time in the Depths. The carving took it to another level. He looked like he could bend an iron bar in his hands.

The carved depiction held a longsword in both of its hands, focused and intent on some far off foe. Every inch of its exposed skin was covered in thick, angular, runes. They burned, bolstering the carving with powerful magics. 

More than anything, he could feel the feral ferocity that rolled off the carving in waves. Promising a future of blight and slaughter, one where all who stood before him fell, crushed and dismembered. Yet there was wisdom and intelligence there. Even devoted to the hot rush of war, it was one that understood the world for what it was. A trial, where one should live their life to the fullest extent.

Staring agog at the carving, Kaius looked over to his guide in confusion.

“Just focus on it. A status page will pop up.” The construct explained patiently.

Kaius frowned, but did as was suggested. He focused on the eyes of the carving, feeling them drill into him. A system description flickered into view:

Warsworn Rune-Acolyte:

Class - Tier I

Heroic

Relevant Feats:

Has slain at least 4000 foes of at least level 15 while unclassed. Has slain at least three Champions in single combat while unclassed. Has slain at least 100 foes with glyph-binding while Unclassed. Has slain a foe of at least level 30 while unclassed. Has obtained at least three Honours while unclassed. Has a complete set of legacy skills. Has capped all base stats at 20. Has a weapon mastery skill of at least Unique rarity. Has a self healing skill of at least Unusual rarity. Has at least one Heroic skill. Has a rune mastery skill of at least Unusual rarity. Has survived multiple mortal wounds. Has fallen to fury in battle. Has disregarded injury with fatalistic regularity.

The Temple of Ish’tar is a desolate place. Penitents and would-be Acolytes must make pilgrimage through deserts of bone and lakes of fire. Even when they arrive at the steps of the monastery, the adherents of divine combat are not so easily impressed. Only if they survive the trial of blades will they have the opportunity to attempt being anointed with sacred glyphs of healing and fury.

The lowest of the adherents of Ish’tar, the Warsworn Rune-Acolyte is a being of anger and fury. Focusing on savagery and persistence in battle, they are adept close-quarters combatants. Differences abound between Acolytes, but they have one commonality. A sacred glyph of rage is burnt into their flesh during initiation, subsidiary workings empowering them with persistent spell effects when they tap into its vigour.

All Body Reinforcement, Self Healing, and Self Enhancement type skills are improved by 60%

Stats:

 +3 Vitality, + 3 Strength, +2 Intelligence, +1 Endurance, +1 Will, +1 Free Stats per level

Skill Resonance:

Warforged - Moderate

Adamant Body - Strong

Runic Lexicon - Strong

Mana Manipulation - Moderate

Lesser Regeneration - Strong

Kaius gulped.

A/N: Peace offering emerges from beneath the fireproof blanket