I nodded toward everyone, then turned my attention back to the faint glow of my Status Window.
The others were talking quietly among themselves, but my mind was elsewhere.
How was I supposed to choose a class?
Did the System just decide for me, or was this really up to me?
Before I could finish the thought, a soft chime cut through the silence.
Blue light flickered across my vision, sharp and familiar.
The System's voice followed, calm and detached, echoing in my head.
[System Notice — Class Selection Unlocked]
Class choices are influenced by combat behavior, personal history, and performance under stress.
Selection is permanent. Choose carefully.
The text pulsed once before fading into a new window.
My reflection shimmered faintly on its surface, fractured by the glow as words began to assemble line by line.
[Analyzing Candidate: Jasmine West — Title: Medusa]
Combat Data Detected: Stealth kills, multi-weapon adaptation, efficient close-quarters execution, survival under extreme conditions.
Psychological Profile: Controlled aggression, tactical instinct, high resilience threshold.
Then came the choices.
[Recommended Class Paths]
FighterRoguePhantom StalkerGravehoundShade DuelistWarden of Ash
Six options.
Each name pulsed faintly, waiting for me to decide.
Before I could reach for any of them, another message appeared—this one colder, almost curious.
[Optional Evolution Available: Racial Subtype Selection]
Certain Class Paths unlock latent or adaptive racial traits.
Racial evolution is optional but may grant unique abilities, stat bonuses, or resistances.
Note: Once accepted, it cannot be reversed.
That made me pause.
A class was one thing. A role or a path.
But changing what I was? That was something else entirely.
The System's window lingered, patient as a loaded gun.
I exhaled slowly, steadying my breath.
"Alright," I muttered. "Show me what they do."
The text shifted again, the lines rearranging into neat blocks of information. Each word glowed faintly in the air before settling into focus.
[Class: Fighter]
Type: Combat
Class Tier: Common
Recommended Weaponry: Swords, Spears, Axes, Shields, Simple and Martial Weapons
Core Attributes: Strength, Constitution, Dexterity
Description:
A Fighter is the backbone of any battle, disciplined, adaptable, and trained to survive in any circumstance.
They rely on technique over talent, endurance over luck. While not specialized, they excel through sheer persistence and skill refinement.
Passive Bonuses:
+10 % Weapon Proficiency Speed +5 % Physical Damage +10 % Stamina Regeneration Rate +10 % Efficiency with Melee Weapons
Skill Unlocks:
Combat Stance (Active): Temporarily increase Defense by +10 % and reduce incoming stagger for 10 seconds.
Weapon Mastery (Passive): Gradually increase damage with equipped weapons based on continued use.
Enduring Guard (Passive): Gain +5 % Damage Resistance when Health drops below 50 %.
Potential Evolution Paths:
Weapon Specialist (Uncommon)
Warrior Adept (Uncommon)
Battle Master (Rare)
[Optional Racial Evolution: Ironborn]
Description: Adapted to harsh combat environments. Skin and muscle density increase under duress, enhancing physical resilience.
Stat Effects:
+10 Strength +10 Constitution +5 % Physical Damage Reduction –5 % Mana Regeneration
The glow dimmed. I read it twice, maybe three times, before closing the window with a slow blink.
Fighter.
Reliable. Predictable.
Exactly what you'd expect for someone who knew how to fight but didn't have the edge to make it mean something.
It was safe, maybe too safe. I'd already lived a lifetime surviving on technique and discipline. I didn't need more of the same.
The next option replaced it before I could even ask.
[Class: Rogue]
Type: Combat
Class Tier: Common
Recommended Weaponry: Daggers, Shortswords, Throwing Knives, Light Crossbows
Core Attributes: Dexterity, Perception, Instinct
Description:
A Rogue thrives in the unseen moments between heartbeats, striking first and vanishing before the counterattack comes.
They live by precision, mobility, and deception. Fragile but lethal in the right hands, Rogues master positioning and timing over brute strength.
Passive Bonuses:
+10 % Critical Hit Chance +15 % Movement Speed while crouched or concealed +10 % Evasion Stealth Noise Reduction (Minor): Movement and actions are 15 % quieter
Skill Unlocks:
Backstab (Active): Attacking from behind deals +50 % bonus damage.
Quickstep (Active): Instantly dash up to 3 meters to evade an incoming attack.
Ambusher's Instinct (Passive): Gain +5 % Critical Rate and +5 % Damage against unaware targets.
Potential Evolution Paths:
Assassin (Uncommon)
Shadow Dancer (Uncommon)
Phantom Stalker (Rare)
[Optional Racial Evolution: Umbravore]
Description: Adapted to shadow and low-visibility environments. Vision adjusts to darkness; body temperature stabilizes for concealment.
Stat Effects:
+10 Dexterity +10 Perception +10 % Resistance to visual detection –5 Charisma (Unsettling Presence)
I stared at the window for a long time.
Of course, Rogue was there. It would've been insulting if it weren't.
It was the first thing The Pit had taught us: how to vanish, how to strike, how to make it look easy while the world bled around you.
Rogue was muscle memory. It was every lesson burned into my skin.
The System didn't even have to guess. It knew exactly what I used to be.
But I wasn't sure I wanted to be that again.
The glow faded slowly, waiting for me to make a choice, to accept the simple truth: this was my baseline, the start.
Except I'd already left the shadows once.
And this time, I wasn't sure I wanted to crawl back in.
I flexed my hand, knuckles tight, the faint shimmer of the next option forming in the air.
"Let's see what else you've got," I said quietly.
The blue light dimmed for a heartbeat. Then it came back sharper, colder, like the System knew exactly what I was waiting for.
[Class: Phantom Stalker]
Type: Assassin
Class Tier: Rare
Recommended Weaponry: Daggers, Short Blades, Throwing Knives, Light Swords
Core Attributes: Dexterity, Perception, Instinct
Description:
You are the shadow between heartbeats. The unseen, the unheard, and the unforgiving.
The Phantom Stalker thrives where others hesitate, striking from obscurity and fading before the world remembers its pain.
Assassination, misdirection, and perfect timing are your greatest weapons.
Passive Bonuses:
+15 % Critical Damage +10 % Movement Speed while in Stealth +25 % Damage when attacking from behind or unseen Noise Reduction (Moderate): Footsteps and Equipment
Skill Unlocks:
Shadow Veil (Active): Bend light and sound to fade from detection for up to 10 seconds or until attacking.
Marked for Death (Active): Designate a single target; your first strike against the mark deals +50 % bonus damage.
Predator's Grace (Passive): Reduces stamina drain during stealth or precision movement by 30 %.
Potential Evolution Paths:
Phantom Lord (Epic)
Silent Reaper (Epic)
[Optional Racial Evolution: Tenebris]
Description: Survivors reshaped by darkness itself. Their physiology adapts to silence, blood pressure lowers, muscles compress, and heat dissipates evenly. They blend not by magic, but by instinct.
Stat Effects:
+10 Dexterity +10 Perception +5 Instinct +10 % Damage to Unaware Targets –5 Charisma (Predatory Presence)
I stared at the screen a long time after the description faded.
Phantom Stalker.
If this had been years ago, back when I lived in the shadows and made a name that people whispered like a curse, I would've chosen it without thinking.
It was everything I'd ever been: precise, ruthless, invisible. A weapon-wearing skin.
The stats were perfect. The bonuses are clean. The power is undeniable. It was efficient, surgical, exactly the kind of class that could carve through armies before they even knew they were bleeding.
But as I looked at the glowing words, I realized I didn't want to be that person anymore.
I'd spent a lifetime hiding behind masks, killing for contracts, surviving in places where no one was supposed to. That version of me, Medusa, knew how to end lives. But what I needed now was someone who could protect them.
My family.
My people.
The world wasn't going to give us safety; it had already taken too much. If I wanted to lead them, to build something that could last, I couldn't keep crawling through the dark and calling it strength.
I needed something that could stand in both.
My eyes lingered on the line about the racial evolution: Umbravore and Tenebris. The thought of becoming something that lived in shadow, half human, half ghost... it made sense for who I'd been.
But it didn't fit who I wanted to become.
I closed the screen for a moment, the blue light fading against my skin.
"Great class," I muttered. "But I've had enough of being an assassin."