Part 3 - Chapter 20 (Patreon)

He gave into temptation, right before the System Day celebration. He brought out the little knife he’d made under Toros’ tutelage and cut the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes and let himself savor the experience, the fire, the sudden passion, the forbidden pleasure. He hadn’t taken the upgrade to turn pain into pleasure, so [Pain Resistance] turned his pain into heat and excitement. Even so, it was almost too much. Oh yes, it was going to be hard to stop himself from doing this. But he would. This wasn’t for pleasure. He actually had a reason.

Most of his wounds had healed completely, or as completely as they were going to. His whole body was crisscrossed with a web of jagged scars. They were cool-looking though, not ugly, blotchy blobs. Even the stab wounds had healed into thin white lines. Cool scars, like the… well, let’s face it. Like the heroes in anime had.

With the scars had come a bonus. [Heavily Scarred] wasn’t lying when it said healing would improve with each new scar.

Heavily Scarred

You have been scarred. You have upgraded this title twice. Your scars are regenerative.

Healing rate increases based on upgrades and the amount of fully healed scars

Your wounds heal 120% faster.

As good as it felt, this was just a test. This was an experiment to see what the title meant, in real terms.

Sure enough, the cut stopped bleeding right away. Then he watched, as the blood dried and a scab began to form. He counted one minute until the scab was fully hardened and started to look tasty. It was nothing like wolverine-speed healing, but it was still eerie to see the way the scab popped out in real time. Normally a cut like this would take a couple days to go away completely, but the way it was healing, he’d be surprised if it wasn’t gone by nightfall.

He closed his fist, resisting the urge to mess with it.

Time to get dressed. All the children, even him were to wear ceremonial robes, and his were currently on the bed. They were made of silk, according to Hogg, but he didn’t know what that meant in the terms of this world. He’d never seen any silkworms around.

The fabric was certainly smooth like silk, but also thick and warm. They were white, and were prismatic in the way they caught the light, putting little rainbows in the air around them that didn’t set off [Know What’s Real].

He shrugged them on and looked into the mirror. He looked like a devil in the clothes of an angel.

The only other item he was to bring was the tool of his trade. He brought the undead archer’s sword, belted around the outside of the robes at his waist.

Then he left the house. Hogg’s new place was right on the edge near the wall, of course, so there was a bit of a walk.

This part of the town was empty, but when he got to the connecting street, he was greeted by a warm glow. All the town’s adults were lining the streets, holding candles. They watched in silence, some with proud smiles, others solemn. Hogg was standing right at the corner, and for once he had forgone his black leathers for the elaborate formal clothes of the Bog.

The newly advanced children walked down the center, and some Skill had been used to make the streets flat and dry, completely clear of mud or detritus.

Brin was the furthest and the last, so as he passed, the adults ringed around and followed behind him. That got his back up, he hated the feeling of people walking behind him. The remaining unhealed wounds in his body gave him an uncomfortable amount of energy and he wanted nothing more than to dash forward and be done with this, but of course that wouldn’t be proper. No, it wouldn’t be right. He could control this.

He walked slowly as he could make himself, just barely faster than the other kids. And he had that +30% movement speed when out of combat from [Traveler], so basically he was walking like a turtle. Except… that wasn’t how it worked. He hadn’t been out at all since he returned to town, but already he could feel that improved how fast he could travel, not how fast he always would travel. His normal walking speed was still the same. He was just impatient.

He heard the sound of singing, and a lute playing, but it wasn’t the sound of country dances. This was slower, more spiritual, almost a chant. He could pick out a voice belonging to the [Bard] Jeffrey, and one other. Lower, rougher, and younger. A little shaky, but still on-tune.

He listened as he walked. The words were in Ithmallian, and he didn’t know what they said, but he knew what they meant. Peace, growth, and reverence. Actually he did recognize one word. “Lumina” kept repeating in the chorus, and without anyone ever having told him, he knew it meant “light” in the ancient language.

He let Jeffrey’s magic pour over him, hoping it could make him feel something different than the [Scarred One’s] ever-present simmering anger. It soothed him, but he felt vaguely hollow. His old emotions would have felt something here, he was sure of it. Holiness, maybe. Now what he felt was… grudging respect for something he couldn’t understand anymore.

The whole town was circled around the square so he couldn’t see what was there right away, but he saw hundreds of floating paper lanterns above it, suspended in the air.

The song grew clearer, and he thought he started to recognize the second voice in the song. Then he was through the crowd, and he thought of the answer right before he saw the hulking lad.

Davi. Davi stood next to Jeffrey, standing over the rest of the children, welcoming them. Brin didn’t even need to fire off [Inspect], but he did anyway, just to be sure. Davi had gotten [Bard].

Davi? How was that fair? Brin had never so much as seen Davi lift a musical instrument, and he got offered [Bard]? Where was the reward for all the hours Brin had spent practicing that lute?

He clamped down on that line of thought quickly. That’s not how you treat a friend. You were happy for them. He still remembered his true self well enough to know exactly how to smile, in surprise and delight. Davi caught his eye and smiled back while still singing, visibly relieved to see a friendly face. Brin made motions showing his brain exploding, then gave a hearty thumbs up. Davi’s smile grew, but then he had to look down so that he wouldn’t start laughing.

Brin held the smile as long as he thought he could, though it felt plastic on his face.

The other children started to take their places. He saw a boy, the same Rodrige that Zilly had mentioned the day before, bring out carpenter tools and a block of wood, and start working with them on the grass. The other children did the same with their new tools, mending tools, digging in the earth, one girl even fried eggs on a self-heating frying pan.

It should have been silly and sort-of wild, but with Jeffrey and Davi’s song in the air, it was a thing of peace and beauty. A time of revelation and discovery, though Brin didn’t feel that either. The first levels were the easiest, so many of them would get their very first levels tonight if they had been able to resist getting some this past week. Brin sure hadn’t.

His place wasn’t with any of them, though. He walked past and then stood on the outside looking in. He drew his sword and held it point down on the ground, resting both hands on the pommel. The protector’s place. The place of a [Warrior].

To his surprise, Zilly stepped up next to him and placed a sword of her own point down into the ground. Zilly, the [Warrior].

She gave him a quick, nervous smile, then looked back at the town’s young adults. He’d been coached to keep his eyes on them, as their protector. A ceremonial role, obviously, but an important one.

He watched the emotions on Zilly’s face, since he couldn’t seem to feel them for himself. He saw her face whiten a bit, perhaps as the symbolism of it all started to dawn on her.

This celebration was for them, for the Common Classes, for the peaceful people. Her job would be to protect them, but in times of peace, times like tonight? She didn’t really have a place with them. She stood on the outside, looking in.

Brin watched them, watched them jump to their feet with joy as their first levels came pouring in.

Myra was there, red-eyed, but with complete contentment in her expression as she moved threads by hand through a darning loom.

He saw Tawna in the crowd, and for once, the sight of her didn’t fill him with anger. The Prefit hadn’t been lying; according to Hogg, the town council was fiercely debating giving her the death sentence. But he wouldn’t be able to tell that looking at her. She wore her finest dress, and her eyes were wet with unfeigned joy and pride as she watched her daughter work. Even Tawna, for all her crimes, hadn’t been excluded from the beauty of this moment.

Only Brin was excluded. Because of his choices, and because of Tawna’s. His heart didn’t seem to want to feel anything at all.

The ceremony was long. And boring, for him at least. He was sure that for the rest of the young adults and their families, it would be a night they remembered for the rest of their lives.

Well, Brin would always remember this night as well. He’d remember how much he really didn’t want to be this person anymore. Hopefully, this boring, failure of a night would help him remember why he threw away twenty levels, something that it took most people years to earn.

There was a feast next, and dancing, and Brin could still enjoy those things at least. Everyone stayed pretty close to their families, but he did manage to congratulate Davi and have a quick, four-sentence conversation with Zilly.

“What are we going to do, Brin? Can we really do this?”

“Of course you can do this, Zilly. And for me, well, I’ve already done it.”

She laughed, and then her sisters pulled her away.

When it was finally over, Brin walked away, at a pace that was comfortable for him

This time, it was Hogg that had to jog to catch up.

They walked in silence as Brin tore up the road, walking as quickly as he could without turning it into a full-on run. He worked off all the uncomfortable excess energy, trying to order himself, trying to find himself. Trying to figure out what was real.

They walked in a circle, going a whole block around his destination.

“I can’t help but notice that we aren’t going back to the house,” Hogg observed.

“I have one last thing I need to do first,” said Brin.

Hogg sucked in a breath to say something, then let it out. Then again. Finally, he said, “I wasn’t going to tell you to do it. I was going to support you whatever you decided. It’s my fault you got this way, and I decided I was going to live with the consequences and stick by you no matter what.”

“But you do want me to change it,” said Brin.

“I do.”

“Then you need to know. I’ve conquered this Class. It tried to get to me. It tried to twist me, to change me into something vile, and it couldn’t. With every choice I faced since I got this Class, I chose to do the right thing. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You should have drunk the– no. You’re not wrong,” said Hogg.

“And I might even be a better person with this Class, you ever think of that? I won’t let things go. I see something wrong, and I’ll put a stop to it. I won’t let things build for weeks and months, I’ll say something right away.”

“I think you’ve learned that lesson, no matter what Class you have,” said Hogg.

“You weren’t going to try to convince me, so don’t,” said Brin. “I can live with this. I can control it, and use this power to do something good. Do something great!”

Hogg walked along silently. He twitched his head in a nod.

“I like the way it feels, most of the time. I feel safe. I feel like nothing can hurt me,” said Brin.

Hogg said, “I understand.”

Brin abruptly veered away, toward the temple.

“Thank ye,” said Hogg.

“Oh, shut up. This isn’t for you. I want to feel safe inside my own head again.”

Costanza the [Midwife] stood in the doorway, next to Ellion the priest.

She was a plump, white-haired woman, with the mannerisms of a drill sergeant with a toothache. Without preamble, she lifted up Brin’s robe and placed the palm of her hand against his bare stomach. He was wearing shorts underneath, but people in this town had very little respect for privacy, and [Midwives] had even less.

“Internal injuries are good enough. I’ve seen hundreds of women survive worse. Bit of achiness, nothing major.”

“Thank you,” said Ellion.

She turned on her heel and marched away.

Ellion looked at Brin, unflinching at all his scars. “Come in.”

Brin didn’t tell Ellion why he was here. He hadn’t warned him in advance. He supposed he didn’t need to.

Ellion walked slowly towards the shrine. Slower than normal, to be honest. A reminder, maybe, that the gods wouldn’t move to the pace that Brin set.

He indicated the shrine, a stone block, unadorned, where any of the gods could be called upon in prayer. “Seek peace with the gods. But first, perhaps a donation–”

He was interrupted by the sound of heavy gold hitting the donation bowl, courtesy of Hogg.

“Very good.”

He indicated the shrine again, and stepped back.

Brin knelt. “Solia. Don’t be too mad at me for breaking an Oath, ok? This is for you, partly. Anshar, don’t take this as an insult to you. I’m doing this for me, but make no mistake; my conquest has only begun. To you two and any other gods out there, give me a way to do this that isn’t breaking a sacred Oath, and I’ll do it, alright? This is the System you set up. Don’t fault me for playing by your rules. Amen.”

Maybe it wasn’t the most respectful of prayers, but [Scarred One] wasn’t really much for prayer and he didn’t think faking it would be the right move for something like this.

He felt nothing, no eyes, no sense of peace, or anything at all, and he was grateful for that.

“You may begin,” said Ellion. “Swear whatever Oath you wish, only do not swear by any gods, lest you risk offending them.”

He briefly thought about breaking his Oath with the Heroes, but his reasons for keeping it were the same. He didn’t want to betray something they’d trusted him with.

“I swear on my Class and Levels that I will never speak the word I am thinking of out loud three times in a row. So help me… no one in particular.”

“You may proceed,” said Ellion.

Brin gulped. He glanced at Hogg, who bit his lip. He looked at the ground. Then up, towards the high ceiling of the temple. “Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice.”

It didn’t hit all at once. He expected fatigue, or a huge burst of pain. Instead, it was like the weight of the words slowly descended on him. Gravity was heavier. His bones began to ache, and it got worse and worse until he could barely stand it.

He was in pain. If all his emotions before were tinged with red, now they were tinged with blue. Even if he’d had another Class before the ceremony, it still would have been ruined. He was so sore.

The words he was waiting for finally appeared.

Class Selection Initiated

Class Automatically Assigned

You are now a [Glasser]

With the cruel inevitability of an avalanche, the messages came.

Strength 149 -> 42

Dexterity 84 -> 34

Vitality 146 -> 39

Magic 41 -> 29

Mental Control 59 -> 32

Will 59 -> 33

Ugly on the Inside removed.

Pain Resistance removed.

Mana Scars removed.

Bloody Vengeance removed.

Inspect removed.

Hide Status removed.

He kept [Know What’s Real], [Monster Sense], [Battle Fury], and [Battle Sense], and all his Titles and Achievements. Those practically had the power of a Class all by themselves.

You have 1 free general Skill.

You have earned a new Skill! Heat Resistance

You have earned a new Skill! Shape Glass

So much lost, for so little in return.

Brin closed his eyes. The disappointment on top of all the aching pain was too much to hold back the sudden tears. He’d really thought he was going to get–

“YES!” Hogg shouted.

Brin looked up, feeling betrayed.

Hogg had both hands in the air. “YES!” he yelled again. The sound echoed in the vast hall. Ellion’s eyes were opened wide, looking at Hogg in horror.

Brin couldn’t believe it. A Common Class. He’d hoped for [Illusionist], to be a little like one of the Heroes he admired so much. And honestly? He’d hoped that Hogg would want that for him to. It left him hurt, and empty.

He couldn’t speak. He whispered. “[Glasser].”

“[Glasser]! Exactly! What’s the one piece of advice I gave you for System Day, do you remember?”

“Don’t pick an evil Class,” said Brin, starting to get his tongue back. He felt a little hot in the face. Nice to know his anger hadn’t completely left him.

“The other thing,” said Hogg.

“Always ask for the lesser version, the Class that can evolve into the Class you want,” said Brin as it started to dawn on him.

“Exactly. And what are the two Classes that can evolve into [Illusionist]? I’ll give you a hint, they’re [Glasser] and [Smoker].”

“[Glasser] evolves into [Illusionist]! I should have known. The first thing the [Illusionist] told me when I met him was that I should pick [Glasser] instead. I can’t believe I almost forgot to ask about that,” said Brin.

“Class Selection wasn’t over when you were interrupted, remember,” said Ellion. “I feel certain you would have remembered in time. It is my distinct feeling that this is the Class you would have picked, given enough time to make the proper choice.”

His distinct feeling, or an impression distinctly given to him by the gods?

“I don’t know about that,” said Brin. “It’s the best choice overall, but it’s going to take a lot of time to ramp up. I would’ve been worried it would take too long to get the power I’ll need during the crisis that’s coming. I probably would’ve wanted to do this, but then I would’ve made the more responsible decision.”

“Then thank the gods that for once you didn’t get the chance to make a martyr of yourself. One of my biggest regrets in life was that I didn’t take [Smoker] when I had the chance. [Illusionist] gives you a ridiculous amount of magical power, but nowhere to stick it! If I’d had [Summon Smoke] I could’ve been choking out my enemies with poisonous gas this whole time,” said Hogg.

“Then why doesn’t every [Glasser]--”

“Because it’s incredibly difficult to evolve [Glasser], or [Smoker] for that matter, into [Illusionist],” said Hogg. “Unless you have, I don’t know, a bonded animal companion with illusion magic, and a mentor who knows literally everything there is to know about illusion magic. In that case I’d say it would be pretty easy.”

“Oh. OH!” said Brin. “I’m going to be a [Glass Mage].”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. At the very least, you aren’t going to be a normal [Illusionist].”

“That’s right. Instead I’m going to be a Bog Standard [Illusionist].” Brin laughed. “Bog Standard. That’s actually pretty funny. You used an entire town-wide Skill just to go all-in on an inside joke. I love it.”

“Right? RIGHT? I about smacked you upside the head, telling me it’s dumb. Little scarred prick. It’s amazing, is what it is,” said Hogg.

“This is still a temple to the gods,” said Ellion, though he bore a half-smile at their antics as well. “Please take this outside if you must be so loud.”

He and Hogg did, still chuckling, but the smile died on his lips when he saw who was waiting for them outside.

Prefit Elmon waited for them in the dark with [Weaver] Tawna by his side. Her head was bowed and her hands were bound together with rope; a formality, no one would believe a [Weaver] could be restrained by ropes. She hadn’t needed to wear the bindings at the party; this was out of respect for him, a reminder that her crimes weren’t forgotten.

Elmon stood proud, and the look in his eyes was that of intense relief. Brin hadn’t decided yet whether he would take [Hide Status] again and pretend to be a [Warrior], but it was too late for these two. They saw what he was. They knew what he’d done.

The [Prefit] stepped forward. “Despite all our blunders, you’ve still somehow turned into a fine young man. This town owes you a great debt. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” said Brin.

“I know. And that alone speaks to your character. You did it on your own because it was right, not out of any force or pressure from others,” said [Prefit] Elmon. He put a hand on Brin’s shoulder and opened his mouth as if to say more, then closed it again. He patted Brin’s shoulder and then stepped back.

Tawna lifted her head. “I think I have grown to approve of you, somewhat.”

“I don’t care what you think,” said Brin. He still hadn’t completely sorted out his feelings, but he did know that much.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I especially owe you a great debt,” she said. “Two dooms departed from me the moment I realized what you would choose.”

Two dooms? He’d probably saved her life by switching his Class. She’d still be punished; no doubt Hogg would insist on it and so would Brin, for what it was worth, but it wouldn’t be death. They wouldn’t execute someone for driving a child to an evil Class if the child in question already switched to something else. She was right, this time: She owed him.

He sighed, “It looks like you did actually save my life by asking the Prefit to move System Day up a week. It still galls that I didn’t get– nevermind. The fact is, you did save my life.”

Elmon frowned. “The things before that though, the needless cruelty, and the lies. She could have chosen a different path. She had no call to treat you that way.”

“Knowing what I know now, perhaps I could have,” said Tawna. “But with the fate that was visible to me then, I cannot say I chose poorly.”

“You’re not helping,” said the Prefit.

Brin shook his head. “Don’t act like you’re blameless, Elmon. You were ready to pillory me in front of the whole town and that was a big part of what pushed me to [Scarred One]. You could have given me a helping hand at any point, but you didn’t. Tawna at least had a good reason, as misguided as I think her actions were, and no one can say her plan didn’t work. You were just being callous.”

“I will say in her defense…” Hogg started, looking cautiously at Brin.

Brin made the “get on with it” hand motion.

“It bothers me that we’re pinning all this on her. All of us here, and I mean all four of us, bear a large amount of responsibility for the pain Brin went through. Tawna started it all, but can you honestly say you wouldn’t do the same in her shoes? Forget bullying a child, any of us would murder a child if that’s what was necessary to protect that town, especially if that child were a [Witch].”

Prefit Elmon put an arm between Hogg and Tawna, as if to shield her. “Only her own crimes will be pinned on her; those are grave enough. And as the Prefit, it’s my duty to advocate for the maximum punishment. I will recommend her death to the council. They will decide if her sentence should be lessened.”

Brin looked at Tawna, eyes wide at the Prefit’s declaration, but she looked back with absolute serenity. She knew she’d be fine. She’d probably already seen the council’s verdict in her fate.

Elmon looked at the ground, almost shamefaced. “They certainly will lessen it, but I will see to it that it’s not by too much.”

“That’s not good enough,” Brin said to the Prefit, then looked at Tawna. “From now on I want total transparency from you. No more going behind my back, no more subtle manipulations or cryptic warnings. If you see something in my fate, you tell me and only me, and let me decide how to deal with it. We’re done with this stupid game.”

“I accept,” Tawna said with a nod. “I swear on my Class and Levels to abide by your terms, in the spirit in which they were given. So help me, Nedramus. And in the spirit of total transparency… this Oath will do wonders for earning the sympathy of the council.”

Brin groaned. She just couldn’t help herself. “Whatever. I’m done with this.” He turned and walked away.

--

They ended up having a second little celebration in town. Hogg had bought a little cake for the two of them; easy to do stuff like that when you lived within the walls. It was a brief, happy little thing, but it was also pretty late at night, and soon they drifted into silence. Hogg sat on his favorite lounge chair, nursing a glass of wine, while Brin sat on the sofa with a small-beer.

One bright spot was the painkillers. It turned out, the [Pharmacist] made really effective drugs, and Hogg had some. That got Brin to thinking about what effect they would’ve had with his [Scarred One] Class. Too late to test something like that. Maybe he’d meet another [Scarred One] someday. If he did, though, he’d probably just turn around and walk the other direction.

[Glasser] didn’t have much for him right off that bat. [Heat Resistance] would let him work closer to flame without discomfort, but he still didn’t think a drop of molten glass would feel very good. The only other Skill was [Shape Glass], which Hogg said would eventually let him move it freely, even launch it like bullets, but right now he couldn’t seem to get it to do anything. Hogg told him that he should keep the Class until he got [Summon Glass], even if that meant he’d lose out on ten or fifteen levels worth of attributes that [Illusionist] would’ve given him.

Right now, [Glasser] was… nothing much. Barely better than [Child]. He tried not to think about all the power he’d given up. It was for the best, he knew, in the long run. He wanted magic, but for now, the wound was still raw, and he was back to feeling his pain again. The painkillers helped.

Checking his status in morbid fascination, he noticed one small shift to his Title that hadn’t come with a notification.

Scarred, but Healing

You have been scarred, but you’re healing. You have upgraded this title twice. Your scars are regenerative.

Healing rate increases based on upgrades and the amount of fully healed scars

Your wounds heal 160% faster.

“One thing I still don’t get,” said Brin, closing his status screen. “How did they know where we would be? How did Tawna know all the things she did, for that matter?”

“Two separate questions. According to Tawna, she didn’t know anything about anything. All she knew was what actions she could take to lead the town to a future where all of our deaths were a little less certain.”

“But the undead army. How did they know that you were the [Illusionist], and that you would be out that night, and where to set up the army?” asked Brin.

“Not just that, but why wouldn’t they assume that Gustaff was the [Illusionist]? You’d have to observe him up close to know for sure that he’s not capable of that. And another thing, why does Arcaena think they can manage this town by cutting us off rather than killing us all? Sure killing us would cost them thousands of undead, I’d make sure of that, but still, what makes them so certain they can control us?

“Also, how they knew I wasn’t at home that night. Well, anyone in town knew. When System Day came early, an angry mob landed on the Prefit’s door, demanding answers. Tawna spilled everything, including that you were in danger and that I’d gone to rescue you. That’s another part of the story you don’t know, the Prefit led a team out to rescue us. He and fifty men, including ten [Hunters]. But they got lost in the forest, and ended up back home before they found us.”

“But–” Brin started.

“You heard me right. The Prefit. And ten [Hunters]. Got lost in the forest they’ve lived in their entire lives.”

“What could do something like that?”

“Just ask,” said Hogg.

“Is there a [Witch] in Hammon’s Bog? A spy?”

Hogg downed the rest of his wine. “Yes and yes.”

Brin felt a little dizzy, even though he was already sitting down. It was late. “Do you have any ideas on who it might be?”

“It’s not like I’ve been doing nothing this whole time, you know. First thing you should know, is that you were sort of right about Evil Classes. They’re rough if you get them young, but an adult should be able to resist the temptations. If you’re a [Witch], just don’t make anyone sick or steal their youth. Simple. The other thing you need to know about [Witches], is what their starter Class is.”

“[Enchantress]?” asked Brin.

“Yes. And [Weaver],” said Hogg.

“Oh…”

“And [Cook]. And [Laundress] and [Baker] and [Cleaner] and [Gutter Sweeper] and about two dozen others. That’s why everyone, the nobility especially, is so terrified about [Witches]. Incredible power, coming from commoners, and it can come from anywhere. That’s also why [Witch]-hunts get so bad, because the [Witches] in question inevitably start pointing fingers in order to shift the blame away from themselves.”

“Are there [Witches] in Hammon’s Bog?” asked Brin.

“Like I said, it’s not like I haven’t been doing anything this past year. There are seven [Witches] in Hammon’s Bog. Tawna isn’t one of them. Neither is Myra, in case you were worried. Most of the [Witches] are innocent. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say all of them were, but the facts are out; no use pretending.”

Hogg stood and walked to his room. In the doorway, he paused.

“There are seven [Witches] in Hammon’s Bog, and one of them is a traitor.”

.

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Final chapter of the book. There will be an epilogue Monday and then a week break! After the break, I will be moving to a twice-a-week schedule. I will keep you informed.