You’ve earned enough experience to progress to level 3! Prior to advancing, you will be required to select a class! Are you ready to select a class?

  Yes/No

  He had been staring at the message for more than an hour, guessing, and then second guessing the “advice” Brannoc had given him. Essentially, he’d told him to make sure whatever he picked was to his strengths and would be good when he was with a group or by himself. What the hell kind of advice was that? Don’t pick a bad class. Thanks.

  He dismissed the message, then brought it up again, then dismissed it. Maybe he just didn’t understand the wisdom being imparted. Think harder. What were his strengths?

  Basically none.

  He was a scrub.

  Greg let out a low growl and flung his head back against Maeve’s couch. The most experience he had with anything like this was video games. Those he always picked big flashy magic users with wild magic that would no doubt get him killed with his volatility and resonance meters. Not to mention he had no practical experience with it. At least he could swing a sword.

  Then there was the matter of his stats. He’d gotten the boost from the swordsmanship skill book, but he’d been unable to find anymore anywhere. It was obviously some quirk that he could absorb them because he was summoned, so he didn’t want to just go around asking librarians and shop keeps for them.

  How did he want to fight?

  The more he asked himself the question, the deeper into the philosophical rabbit hole he fell. What are you fighting? Why do you want to fight? Is the fight worth it? This was all a waste of time. He wasn’t a banker anymore. He wanted to fight, because that’s what he was now. A fighter.

  Yes.

  Generating class list…

  List genera[Fragment Surge—Error]ted…

  His character sheet faded into the background, and a list popped up in front of him. There were three options at the top with big yellow stars next to them. The stars flickered, but each time he thought they were going to go out, they flared right back up. The weird errors were not instilling confidence. Whether it was some need to rebel against the UI, or genuine curiosity, he ignored the stars and started perusing the rest of the list.

  He immediately regretted his decision. The list was too much. The first portion had a bunch of things he was familiar with. Fighter, rogue, wizard, barbarian, soldier, officer, assassin, spy, and so on. It covered every game he’d ever even considered playing, and then some that he hadn’t. Then the wild shit started: Paradox Incarnate, Cacophony Shepherd, Woe-Touched Cataclysmist, Errant Apostle of the Unraveled Path, Catastrophe Sommelier. Sommelier…aren’t those the wine snobs?

  Greg’s head started to throb as the list turned into jumbles of letters that he could barely decipher. Eventually, he gave up and scrolled back up to the top to look at the pinned selections. A tiny box popped up to the side of the list when it stopped scrolling.

  Proud of yourself?

  “Fuck off.” Greg rolled his eyes.

  “Huh?” Maeve sounded from behind him, making him jump.

  “Shit!” He held his hand to his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” Greg took a shuddering breath and laughed nervously.

  “No worries.” Maeve grinned at him. “Got you some food if you’re hungry.” She waved a paper box in his direction.

  “Starving.” He complained, taking it from her and popping a piece of fried meat into his mouth. “Maybe you can help me with something?”

  Maeve hopped onto the couch across from him, crossing her legs underneath her as she dug a fork into her food. “Sure, what is it?”

  “Class choice.” Greg frowned. “Brannoc was all—Make sure you pick something that can work by itself and with a group—which was not helpful.”

  Maeve nodded and pointed her noodle ladened fork at him. “Obviously something you can use your sword with, right? Unless you’ve been practicing other techniques while we weren’t watching?”

  “Yeah, but there is no going back once I choose.” Greg sighed and looked to the list again. “Maybe I should just go with one of the ones the my interface suggested.”

  “So weird.” Maeve muttered at the mention of his UI. “Brannoc said it’s there to help you, right? Probably not going to be bad selections. Read them to me.”

  “He also said it doesn’t give complete information.” He leaned back and looked over the list again before opening up the first option and reading it out to Maeve.

  Riftborn Siphoner

  Primary Statistics: Intelligence, Wisdom, Constitution.

  Preview: Revolves around maintaining distance while weaving chaotic spells that drain life, warp reality, and effect the sanity of your foes. Can create large areas where the laws of physics become negotiable, throw bolts of energy that confuse targets and deal damage, and cast rifts in space that leech health from enemies. The more you cast, the stronger your spells become. The stronger your spells become, the more they increase your resonance.

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  Stat growth per level:

  +3 Intelligence

  +2 Wisdom

  +2 Constitution

  +1 Luck

  +2 Free Points

  “Tearing holes in reality sounds really bad ass.” Greg commented mostly to himself.

  “Didn’t you say your intelligence was like two?” Maeve shook her head, slurping up some noodles. “That ain’t it. Next.”

  Threshold Guardian

  Primary Statistics: Constitution, Strength, Wisdom

  Preview: Threshold Guardians are living bulwarks that get stronger the longer they hold their ground. They anchor themselves to locations, creating zones around them that enemies struggle to penetrate. Absorbing more damage unlocks more powerful retaliation effects. Stand between danger and those who can’t take the hit.

  Stat growth per level:

  +5 Constitution

  +2 Strength

  +1 Wisdom

  +2 Free Points

  Maeve’s eyebrows rose as she nodded. “That doesn’t sound bad. I’d even think about hanging up the wrench and joining you if you were gonna tank all the hits.” She gave him an assessing glance then shrugged. “You could use the boost in strength too. You’re a little scrawny.”

  “Thanks Maeve. You’re about as helpful as Brannoc.” Greg rolled his eyes and moved to the next one.

  Gloamstrider

  Primary Statistics: Dexterity, Luck

  Preview: Dance between the light and dark and learn to walk the razor’s edge. Gloamstriders are masters of adaptability, turning their contradictory nature into devastating precision. They are mobile skirmishers, using a host of abilities to move through the battlefield, enhance strikes, and ensure they never get hit.

  Stat growth per level:

  +3 Dexterity

  +2 Constitution

  +2 Luck

  +3 Free points

  Maeve was slowly shaking her head, staring at him through half-closed eyes. “You’re going to pick the edgy one, aren’t you?”

  “How is that more edgy than creating rifts in space that leech life from my enemies?!” Greg fired back defensively.

  “Dance between light and darkness? Walk the razor’s edge?” Maeve mocked him. “Are you going to start quoting philosophy to me while you sink into the shadows?”

  “Don’t be an asshole.” Greg waved a hand at her dismissively. “What do you think, seriously?”

  Maeve grinned at him and and shrugged. “Definitely not a magic man. I could see you getting all bulky and tanking hits for people. Put a little meat on you, might even make you nominally attractive.”

  “Wow.”

  “But, in all seriousness, the last one is most you. You don’t have a permanent team, so it allows you to work solo, but if you do end up finding some people willing to risk their asses with you I imagine you could do some serious damage.”

  “That’s what I was thinking too,” He said softly as he read over the selections again. As cool as being a blackhole generating mage sounded, it was likely a death sentence. If he’d learned anything thus far it was that controlling volatility and resonance levels was incredibly important. He’d only grazed the limits and he was already terrified of them. Threshold Guardian was probably the smartest option if he planned on getting a team, which he wasn’t sure about, but the idea of being forced to hold his ground and take a beating…It gave him phantom knee pain just thinking about it.

  He made an idle popping sound with his mouth as he read through the description of Gloamstrider again and again, trying to nudge out information from the text that wasn’t there. The feeling of fear started creeping into his mind. What if there were a better class down the list? What if he regretted the decision after a few weeks? Before it could really dig into his brain, he hit the accept button at the bottom of the description.

  He’d expected the boxes that flooded his vision, stacking on top of each other and only giving him brief glimpses at what was to come.

  New Ability

  Volatile Step

  Abilities [Flame Strike] [Radiant Strike] [Ruin Edict] have evolved

  Even the strange stretching and tightening of his muscles as his stats increased.

  Dexterity

  increased from 8 to 11

  Constitution

  increased from 4 to 6

  Luck

  increased from 1 to 3

  3 points have been added to your character sheet. You may distribute them as you see fit.

  The voice, however, he was not prepared for.

  [Fragments Recovered]

  [Persona Unlocked]

  [Soul Link Finalized]

  “Greg? Can you hear me?” It was sultry, deep, and alluring—something he’d expect from a femme fatale from an old film noir flick.

  Greg’s eyes shifted back and forth as he dismissed messages as fast as he could, expecting to see someone else in the room with them. All he saw was Maeve’s look of awe turn to one of confusion.

  “You alright?” She leaned forward and waved her hand in his face. “Hellooo…Greg?”

  “She can’t hear me. I’m in your head.” The voice sounded again, and his fingers gripped his pants.

  He hadn’t felt this way in months. Not since that first day. That slow descent into insanity. Whatever he’d done, whatever those fragments were, they’d broken his mind. He’d finally lost it.

  “You’re not crazy, Greg. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

  “Greg!” Maeve clapped her hands together right in his face. “Get it together!”

  He flinched and took a deep breath, fingers still trembling. “Sorry…Sorry. Wasn’t expecting the sudden power spike. I think I need to go lay down.” He lied, and judging by Maeve’s face, she knew it.

  “I’ll come check on you in a little while.” She jerked her head in the direction of the room he’d been staying in.

  Greg eased himself off the couch and took hurried steps to the room, closing the door securely behind him. “I’m totally fine. My magic brain boxes aren’t talking to me like a normal person. Just another glitch. Right magic UI?”

  “Wrong.” She said with an air of self importance. “You’re progressing much better than I’d expected. Brannoc has done a masterful job teaching you up. I’m quite proud…of both of you.”

  “Fuck me…” Greg groaned, dropping onto the bed and covering his face. “I just wanted cool powers.”

  “The class you chose is actually perfect for you.” The voice echoed in his head. “I’m very glad you didn’t choose the mage.”

  “I was finally starting to get the hang of reading the messages, and the constant bars in the corners, and the notifications about safe locations.” Greg whined, totally ignoring the voice. “Now Marilyn Monroe lives in my head.”

  “How dare you!” The voice gasped. “I am far classier than that hussy. I’m at least as refined as Hepburn, if not Grace Kelly.”

  “Well, that’s just rude.” Greg blinked, then shot up into a sitting position. “You know who those people are?”

  “Of course I do! Ooooh…” The voice paused for a moment before continuing. “I apologize, I was so excited you were strong enough to get my pieces into place I may have skipped a few steps. In a strange, macabre way, we’ve sort of already met, but official greetings are in order. My name is Isabella. When you were being ripped through the dimensions and reconstructed, I hitched a ride in your body. I’m here to help.”

  The buzzing hadn’t returned, but he was confident he could feel a stroke coming on. “You hitched a ride in my body? Why?”

  “To help. I already said that. I know you’re slow, but do try to listen.” Isabella chided him.

  “I’m not slow.” Greg rolled his eyes. “Why am I talking to you? You’re not even real. The UI finally broke, and I’m spiraling.”

  “I’m not going to pretend you’re completely sane, but I’m not an auditory hallucination. Even if I were, what would it change? All I represent is another resource you can use.”

  “What you represent is my declining mental st…” Greg frowned again. “Hold on. You said we’d met before? Are you from Earth?”

  “Originally, yes,” Isabella confirmed. “That’s not what I was referring to, though. I left Earth in 1975. My husband took you to my grave.”