1.03 – Debate

Natalie stared at The Bestower, at the sleek automaton of silver streaked with cobalt-blue accents. While unlockings weren’t often talked about, as most sacred events weren’t, there was little mystery behind them. Everyone experienced an unlocking, and Natalie’s parents, and Jordan, had told her what to expect.

‘Something else’?

A fourth class choice? There was no such thing. Three options. That was set in stone. Natalie’d never heard of anything different.

“This is an unusual opportunity,” The Bestower said. “And it comes with benefits as well as detriments. Would you like to hear more?”

Natalie glanced at the three pillars—at the three class choices which had been exactly what she’d wanted, expected, but were somehow, regardless, a disappointment.

“More?” Natalie asked carefully. She was still adjusting to the news, bewildered.

“You won’t be committing to anything.”

“Then … I don’t see why I wouldn’t,” Natalie said, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, unusual?”

“As I said, it is an opportunity afforded to few.”

“Okay?” The half-answer was unhelpful. Natalie thought it’d been intentionally so. “What is it? The class name.”

“Mm,” the automaton said. “There lies the detriment. You must accept before knowing.”

Natalie stared. A class whose details were revealed after accepting? That was … besides being unheard-of … risky. For obvious reasons.

“And the benefits are?”

“Potency.” The Bestower paused. “Uniqueness.”

“Potency?”

“More powerful skills than typical.”

For the second time, Natalie reeled at the announcement. Most classes were on the same footing. They were what you made of them. While skills varied, the instances where one’s abilities were much weaker or stronger than any other’s was … well, very, very unusual.

As all of this was.

“But I couldn’t know what it is, beforehand,” Natalie repeated.

She didn’t even know where to start with that. It was … insanely dangerous. Accepting a class, without knowing what it was? It was like jumping into a dark chasm, hoping there was water, and a big pile of treasure, at the bottom.

Except, in a roundabout way, she’d been promised there was treasure—the class would be strong. The question was how hard the fall would hurt. Would it be a class wholly unfitting her? Something she wouldn’t be able to make use of, by her nature? Natalie was a brawler; she would make a horrible [Spellweaver], or something of the sorts.  Even a [Ranger] she’d be a poor fit for—Jordan had always been ten times the shot she was.

Natalie was good with her hands. In being up-close and personal. Rolling around in a sweaty pile of limbs, in the chaos of a brawl. Honestly, that was almost all she was good at. Most classes wouldn’t fit well on her.

“I don’t even get a hint?”

“You do not.”

“And … that’s it? No more? Accept, and it’ll be strong, but I can’t know what?”

“Even I don’t know,” The Bestower said.

Which had Natalie blinking. Well … if that was the truth, then she guessed this creature wasn’t the omnipotent Architect, or the Maker. Not that many people believed that in the first place. Just one of many fantastical theories.

“Where did this come from?” Natalie asked. “Why me?”

The Bestower shrugged, which was an oddly human reaction on the thus-far impassive being. “That’s not for me to know, either.”

“Right,” Natalie said. “Okay. Sure.” It was probably too sarcastic of a tone, considering who or what she was speaking to, but her filter was falling away from shock.

She rubbed her face, then looked back at her other three choices. The ones she had expected, and wanted. Sure, they were boring, if she were being honest—and, inexplicably, the smallest bit a disappointment—but a person’s class didn’t need to be the most amazing thing in the world. Natalie could make great use of a [Berserker]’s skills, or an [Adept]’s. She already had a spot in Tenet, conditional on receiving an adventuring class.

Which startled her with the reminder. “Will it at least be a combat class? It needs to be.” She couldn’t risk it otherwise. Even if the class was powerful, Natalie had a path in life she intended to walk, no exceptions. She wouldn’t risk not being able to attend Tenet with Jordan.

The Bestower tilted her head, and Natalie was, oddly, struck by the impression she was conferring with someone. Did gods—or eldritch creatures—have parties? She didn’t see why not, odd as it was to think about.

“It will be a class with … combat applications,” The Bestower finally said. “That’s the most that will be provided.”

Despite saying earlier Natalie wouldn’t get a hint, the automaton had answered her. Did that mean … she wanted Natalie to accept? Or that someone did?

And again, Natalie noted The Bestower’s phrasing. Not, ‘I will provide’, but, ‘will be provided’. It implied something … even if Natalie couldn’t place exactly what.

But the answer had the tension draining from Natalie’s shoulders. A combat class. Or something with combat applications, whatever that meant. Why had the automaton put it that way?

Honestly, the clarification would fit a variety of classes. Mages, to name one. Some mages didn’t become adventurers, instead progressing through study and practice, locking up in collegiums and inventing spell formulae. The Bestower might have phrased it in that way to be specific; the class could be fully combat functional, but with other uses, too.

Either way, it served her purpose for getting into Tenet. Past that, did it matter? An unheard-of chance for a powerful class … it was something most people couldn’t dream of. How could Natalie turn the offer down? However strange, or ill-fitting, it might be.

And Natalie had always had an adventurous spirit. She didn’t take the road more traveled whenever possible. The opposite. Something as crazy as this? She felt compelled to accept, regardless the risk. Her only hard criteria had been a combat class, so she could follow Jordan to Tenet as had been their dream since they were kids. Beyond that … did it matter?

But gods, what would it be?

“I have time to think, right?”

“As much as you need.”

That part of her unlocking, then, wasn’t any different. She’d been told many times she would have plenty of time to consider her options. There was no need to rush into anything. Even Natalie, typically reckless, wouldn’t pick her class based on how she was feeling in the moment.

So. Time to think.

“Okay. Just … give me a second.”

Natalie sat down cross-legged, closed her eyes to focus, and thought.