Chapter

Thirty-Three

The next day, Davi came over for their workout and breakfast again, and he stuck around for a bit to play Jogosa. Davi won the first three games handily. It was surprising how good he was, actually. Brin had never thought he was dumb exactly, but he’d also never pegged the big guy as a tactical thinker.

By the fourth Brin was starting to get the hang of it. He won the fifth game, but then Davi won the sixth game.

Davi gained a point in Mental Control for it, and left soon after. Brin asked Hogg to play a game, and was surprised when he said yes.

Hogg completely obliterated Brin. It was great. He already had ideas on how to do better next game.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Hogg said, looking pointedly at the math primers.

Brin sighed. “I guess.”

He gave it two hours of solid effort, but then let himself get distracted by lunch. After that, well, he really didn’t want to get started again.

“Hey, didn’t you promise to show me how to use the sword?” asked Brin.

“Well, yeah, but honestly we’re this close to System Day, we might as well wait and see what you get. Swords might not even be the best weapon for you,” said Hogg. “It takes years to master the sword. Not something you can do in a day.”

“Can you get a basic foundation in a day, though?” asked Brin.

Hogg tilted his head side to side while he thought it over. “Might be a good idea. Alright, meet me out front.”

Brin waited in the clearing outside the house, and Hogg joined him a moment later, carrying two of the blacksteel swords the undead had carried.

“Make no mistake, these are still too heavy for you. But if we’re doing this, you might as well get a workout,” said Hogg. “Now. Do this.”

Hogg placed his feet in a forward stance and pulled the sword back to a ready position. Then he walked over and adjusted Brin’s feet and elbows until he was satisfied.

“Remember that chop I had you do when we were running from the army?”

“Yes,” said Brin. It was crazy to think of how much he’d grown since that day. This sword that he could barely lift back then was barely a burden to him now.

“Do me a favor and forget all that,” said Hogg.

“What?”

“It was all you could do to get the sword in the air back then. A real downward strike looks like this.” He moved slowly into a two-handed chop.

Brin moved to copy it, and again, Hogg adjusted his form until he was satisfied.

Brin went through the motion again and again. Repetition is the mother of learning, or so they say.

Hogg urged him to chop faster and faster. “You need to count on fighting enemies that are faster than you. Every blow needs to be as quick as you can make it.”

His arms were burning five minutes into it, and after ten minutes, Hogg was satisfied. “Alright, now do this.”

He showed Brin how to slash from the side, and they went through all the steps again. When he mastered that, they went on to the next motion. Brin learned to slash from each side, cut upwards, and then thrust.

“The thrust is the most important. There are enemies you won’t be able to cut but who can still be pierced. Step forward with this one, you’ll want to give it all the power you can muster.”

Then Hogg had him put them all together. Down, left, right, up, thrust.

“Yes! Combo attack!”

“Don’t look so happy. This isn’t going to work against a real opponent. We’re just practicing your form,” said Hogg. He stepped forward with his sword in the ready position. “Against me, this time.”

Brin struck with as much strength and speed as he could from the get-go; there was no use holding back against Hogg.

The older man blocked every blow, easily, just as Brin expected him to.

“Again. Faster,” said Hogg.

Brin did his best to comply.

He practiced again and again, until the minutes turned into an hour and he thought his arms were going to fall off. Hitting Hogg with the heavy blacksteel sword felt like he was striking an anvil, and he’d grown bruises on his palms.

“Good enough,” said Hogg. “Now it’s time to learn to block.”

Hogg’s sword came down from above, and it was all Brin could do to get his up in time. He managed to stop the blow, no doubt because Hogg let him, but the old guy went straight into the next one, and the next one, relentless. Brin blocked most of them, but any time his form was even a little bit off, Hogg knocked the sword straight out of his hands.

By the time Hogg finally let him go, Brin was happy to get back to something as simple as math. He literally couldn’t lift the sword anymore; Hogg had to bring it back inside.

When he got back and sketched some math problems into a bark-paper writing pad, his hands were shaking so much it was barely legible.

He put it down and focused on rubbing some life back into them instead.

“By the way, don’t go around telling people you know how to use the sword now. You don’t,” said Hogg.

Brin chuckled. “Thanks.”

Hogg suddenly looked pained. “But… I have to admit. You did pretty good out there. I thought you’d give up after ten minutes. You’re no swordsman, but you’ve got the basics. When we met I figured you’d get [Rogue] or possibly some kind of Class that’s intellectual like [Philosopher]. Now, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if you really do get [Warrior].”

“Th-thanks,” said Brin. Hogg was pretty stingy with compliments, which meant that Brin would probably end up remembering this one for the rest of his life. He really had worked hard, hadn’t he?

He looked down at his math homework. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. He stood up to go sit next to the coffee table, where they’d left the Jogosa game. He looked up at Hogg with puppy dog eyes.

He hadn’t been that into chess back in his old world, but he had been addicted to games, and now that he’d been reintroduced to one, he’d awoken a deep hunger for them.

“Oh, fine,” said Hogg, and pulled a stool over to the other side.

Brin made the first move, predicting that Hogg would use the same strategy from last time. Hogg did something completely different that left Brin scratching his chin.

“What’s Class selection like? Can I ask?”

“Well, I was planning on having this conversation a little closer to the night before System Day, but there’s no real reason I can’t tell you now.”

Brin perked up, extremely interested.

“Most people get offered two Classes. One is [Child]. If you really don’t like your choices, you can take [Child], and you’ll have better options next year. It really is a valid option. No one will look down on you for taking it,” said Hogg.

“Can you⁠—”

“You can’t get the pre-System Day achievements that way,” said Hogg.

“Shoot. Worth a shot,” said Brin.

“Everyone will also be offered at least one Common Class. Most people will have two or three. For me, I could’ve chosen from six, but only one was a real temptation,” said Hogg.

“What was it?”

“[Smoker]. They can do stuff with smoke. Also, lung protection,” said Hogg.

“No offense, but I think you made the right choice,” said Brin.

“Sometimes I wonder about that,” said Hogg.

Something about the term [Smoker] made Brin picture young Hogg as a stoner. Hogg smoked a pipe occasionally, but not more than once a week or so. Had he toned it down for health reasons? Was this the origin story for Hogg’s gravelly voice?

Brin stared at the board. He seemed to be doing really well, but he didn’t really understand what Hogg was up to. What was he missing? He moved his queen. Hogg moved to block and—oh. He was three turns away from losing. Could he turn it around?

Hogg talked while Brin stared at the board. “Some people get offered a Rare Class. I don’t need to explain to you why they’re worth taking, so let me tell you the exceptions instead. Remember to ask what the pre-evolutions are. If you get offered [Knight], ask if you can have [Squire] instead. If you get offered [Mage], ask if you can have [Student of Magic]. You’ll still end up with the more advanced Class eventually, but you’ll be much better off for it in the long run. Some Classes aren’t worth it, though, and don’t bother with Common Classes. [Tinker] to [Smith], for example. Don’t take [Tinker] unless you like to tinker.”

“I can remember that,” said Brin.

“Next…” Hogg looked down, clenched his jaw, then looked back up. “Don’t take an evil Class, alright? It’s not just [Witch]. There are plenty of Classes that are predisposed towards the unsavory.”

“Can a Class really make you evil?” asked Brin.

“No. But actually, yes. The gods won’t take away your freedom, but you can take it away from yourself. There are Classes that bend your mind, that remove your compassion, that give you dark appetites. Maybe you think you have the willpower to resist those appetites. Well, good for you. Resist taking the Class in the first place and make it easier on yourself.”

Brin didn’t see a way out in this game. Hogg had him beat. He made a random move, hoping that maybe something he hadn’t noticed would save him. Hogg’s next move surrounded Brin’s citadel. Sure, they could play it out, but the game was basically over. He started setting up the board to play again.

“How will I know if a Class is evil?”

“There are obvious things I could say. Don’t take plague Classes. Don’t take anything pre-undead. But honestly? Just look at them. The System isn’t going to hide anything from you. Evil Classes will look evil. If you take the Class, expect to become the kind of thing that you’re looking at. I know I’m talking in vagaries here, but the process is a little different for everyone. If you’re ever in doubt, find out what you have to do to gain experience.”

Brin was doing better this game. He gave up on long-term strategy and tried to capture as many of Hogg’s pieces as he could, something that Hogg was finding very frustrating from the long pauses he kept taking.

“Doesn’t everyone get experience the same way? Killing monsters? Except people with Common Classes, I guess.”

“Except ninety percent of people, you mean? You can get experience from killing, but for the most part you get experience from doing what your Class is for. There’s power in that. Lots of Classes that seem worthless will turn out extremely powerful due to how easy or fun they are to level up. [Gambler], for one. Nobles will generally try to get a magical Class due to the prestige, but it’s absurd how many high-level [Philanderers] there are in the upper echelons.”

“You’re kidding,” said Brin.

“Nope. Get a Class doing something you like to do, that’s rule number one. On the flip side, some Classes are strong, but hard to level. [Assassin], for example. On the surface, it looks like it’s an advancement from [Rogue] in every way. Well, there’s a problem with that. [Rogues] can gain experience from all kinds of things. [Assassins] have to kill people, and only people—monsters are no good. If you ever meet a high-level [Assassin], it’s because they spent years and years leveling up as a [Rogue] and then changed their Class once the levels weren’t coming fast enough to be worth it anymore.”

There was still a rebellious part of Brin that wanted [Witch], just to prove that he could handle it without turning into a psychopath. Before Hogg’s change in attitude, that had started to seem like a good option. Now, though, it sounded like a whole lot of extra trouble for no good reason. Well, maybe he wouldn’t even get the choice. He couldn’t know until System Day.

They played a few games more, and Brin studied the rest of the day.

The next morning, Brin took both tests. They weren’t exactly easy, but the questions were very similar to the ones in the primer. He didn’t even need Hogg to score them to know he’d gotten a perfect score.

For your feat of mental discipline, you have been awarded the following.

Mental Control +1

For your feat of mental discipline, you have been awarded the following.

Mental Control +1

Congratulations!

You have gained an achievement.

Disciplined I (Common)

You have reached 26 Mental Control

+10% focus and concentration + 10% Mental Control attribute growth

Congratulations!

You have upgraded an achievement.

Workhorse (Rare)

Now gives you:

+1 Mental Control per level.

When he shut the book, Hogg gave him a long, steady look that seemed to communicate trust, but not a little worry.

“Well, I’ll be busy today. Entertain yourself or whatever. I won’t be watching.”

It was today. Today he was finally going to kill a monster.

When he’d planned this out in his mind, somehow he’d always pictured it happening at night. Obviously that was stupid. Why make it harder on himself? He was already doing something dangerous; he needed every advantage he could get. Even if night would’ve been more romantic.

At least the sky wasn’t blue; it was the color of a moody gray, like it hadn’t decided yet if it wanted to rain or not and it was still grumpy from being woken up so early.

He carefully put on the leather armor. He hadn’t even thought about a helmet, but Perris included it. The armor felt solid. Strong. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw a young warrior staring back. Excited, he strapped one sword to his back and put the other in a sheath at his belt. The one on the back would be harder to pull quickly, but two at his belt would be too awkward. It would have to do.

He put the rest of the items he’d prepared in a backpack. It didn’t take long at all to get ready. Minutes. He felt like it should’ve taken longer. He walked out the door.

Marksi came along beside him. Would he get a better achievement if Marksi stayed home?

“Marksi, I’m going to do something dangerous. You’d better⁠—”

That was the wrong thing to say. The snake flashed up his back and wriggled around his neck so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe.

“You can come!” he gasped. When Marksi loosened up a little, he continued. “But you’re going to stay safe. I’m fighting the monsters. You’re going to hang back. Actually, let’s do this.”

Brin took a minute and taught Marksi that when he yelled, “Run!” Marksi was supposed to get away as fast as possible, and not return until Brin called him back. He stayed until he was sure Marksi would listen.

Then he was out of excuses. It was time to move.

The last thing to decide was where he’d check for monsters first. He figured that the places that [Hunter] had cleared most recently would be the least likely to have new monsters. Or would they be the most likely? He didn’t know why monsters returned to the same spot, or if they really even did. He didn’t even know where monsters came from. Were they just larger-than-average beasts, or did the word monster indicate there was something magical about them?

He hadn’t made it far when he saw a female figure standing in the middle of the road. Long black hair, clothes fit for a princess, and a surprisingly pretty face when it wasn’t in the middle of a scowl. Just the sight of her made his stomach clench with irritation and anxiety.

“I would have a word with you,” said [Weaver] Tawna.