"Would any of you like to join me, or shall we simply part ways now? It would allow you heathens to follow your quaint paths until you inevitably kneel before my lord's radiant light but it's still a choice I shall permit you all to make." Hana's voice was a chillingly sweet melody, utterly devoid of the casual indifference she feigned, as if discussing nothing more profound than the weather.
Stacy scoffed, fire in her eyes. "You do you Psycho Barbie. We'll forge our own path. But mark my words, the next time our paths cross, I'll incinerate you to ash more completely than you did that poor dog boy." With that declaration, she strode out of the building as everyone else began to follow in her wake, their expressions resolute.
Hana let out a theatrical sigh. "Such a pity these blind heathens refuse enlightenment. They invite such unnecessary suffering upon themselves later." Her feigned disappointment, however, was betrayed by the subtly pleased tremor in her voice as she, too, exited with a wicked glint in her eyes.
The jester then turned, his attention sharp, focusing entirely on John. "And what of you? Everyone else has made their choice and it seems they've found some direction. But you my friend, linger so come on, as I've said, I don't have all day. Choose already." The jester's foot began to tap a restless rhythm, impatience clearly taking hold.
John, however, remained unruffled, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I'll choose in a moment, but this isn't like choosing what to watch or eat and I've read enough novels, watched enough anime and consumed more than enough manga to know that rushing headlong into the unknown is a fool's errand in regards to something like this. I see one option that piques my interest, but I have a few questions first." He met the jester's gaze calmly.
The jester sighed, a seemingly practiced and almost robotic sound. "If your question concerns their sudden shift in personality, I cannot answer. If it's about their altered attire, that's merely a visual manifestation of their chosen class. And no, even as a game master, I cannot show favoritism, not even to a curiosity like you who showed enough brains and guts to want to ask me questions." His tone suggested these were well-worn responses, delivered by rote.
"No, no, I understand the rules," John countered smoothly. "Favoritism, even for small groups, risks displeasing higher powers and then incurring their wrath or worse. Anything I might glean from you would need to be discreet and far from so many watchful eyes. And the personality shifts? That's either an overload of raw power or the influence of a higher-level entity overwhelming them. My questions are simpler, there's just three of them. Firstly, do these higher beings align into factions? Light versus dark, good versus evil and so on? Secondly, if I select a class, will I gain comprehensive knowledge about it? And finally, will I be able to communicate with the higher being who grants my class, especially if it's something extraordinary, like that girl's… unique selection?" John paused, then added, "Also, I understand you're incredibly busy. This entire region, I imagine, is under your purview, or at least the individuals responsible for maintaining it such as setting quests and so forth. You don't strike me as the type to be on the ground like this unless the situation is truly dire, much like those dragons you mentioned – not the 'baby dragons' you expected, but full-grown mothers."
A slow, knowing smile spread across the jester's mask, his head tilting in what felt like genuine amusement. "Well, now, what a clever little fucker you are. And indeed, you are correct."
"What gave it away?" John prompted.
"Your keen observation, for one. And yes, my presence here is due to the imps – they are the ground-level operators, meant to keep things running, ensure rewards are distributed, events unfold and necessary adjustments are made. You might encounter one later if you're unfortunate and mess their own little plans up. But as for your questions:
"One: Yes, there are various factions and sides and conflicts are frequent. However, there are also neutrals who belong to no allegiance, either drifting between or steadfastly minding their own affairs.
"Two: Yes and no. You will certainly learn details about your chosen class, but not everything. For special classes, the deity who bestowed it would need to provide the finer points. The reasons for this, I cannot divulge further.
"And for your final question, it's intrinsically linked to my second answer. You will be granted five minutes of direct communication with them upon selecting your class with no time passing here. After that, you'll need to either meet specific requirements or be incredibly lucky to speak with them again but they should be able to contact you for a cost. But a final tip: the more gods watching you, the better your prospects if they like what they see. They can see the name of your chosen class, but nothing more and they have a distinct fondness for the edgy-sounding ones with what they feel could be entertaining."
The jester finished, his gaze fixed intently on John, who nodded slowly before pressing an option on the translucent panel before him. "Then I choose this one," he declared.
A blinding flash of light erupted, momentarily engulfing John. When his vision cleared, he found himself not in the building, but in a vast, brightly lit grey room. Or perhaps it wasn't grey at all, for the bizarre decorations and twisted paintings adorning the walls seemed to shift and writhe with every blink of his eyes. The intricate carpet beneath his feet felt alive, as if tendrils sought to unfurl and ensnare him. Strange, contorted statues lined the perimeter, their forms so unsettling they caused a dull ache behind his eyes and a sensation of something clawing at the edges of his mind.
Quickly averting his gaze from their disturbing shapes, John focused instead on the monumental shadow, a swirling, obsidian mass, that now loomed before him. A single, bloodshot eye the size of a carriage wheel pulsed within its depths.
"So," John said, meeting the immense eye without flinching, "I take it you're the higher being whose class I chose."