The Fool's Freedom

Alan let himself get dragged to a fairly empty place near one of the ruins. It was dangerous, but he trusted [Mortal Peril] and the last cast of [Monochrome Armor] he had left.

The woman’s [Class Trainer] class had certainly sounded interesting and he wanted to hear what she had to say. He was stumped where his path had led him, and it would be great if she gave him any ideas.

The first thing she said, though, was quite surprising.

“You need to get your head out of your ass, boy.”

What?

“Excuse me?” Alan asked. He felt like a kid in front of an angry teacher for a moment, and then the feelings fled, leaving only mild amusement.

“You are a dark mage, or a witch, or possibly a warlock,” she whispered close to him, and he strained to hear her words. “No, Rosalyn didn’t tell me anything. I’ve talked with a few of those, and you feel the same, but different. You have turned your class into something it was not supposed to be, not that there is anything wrong with that. However, you seem to have neglected what your class can do at its core. Haven’t you? You are fighting like a [Rogue] or a dexterity-based [Warrior], not like a mage. I don’t have to see you fight to know. You carry yourself like someone who is making up for something.”

Alan gaped at her for a few seconds. The old lady was sharp and it was worrying someone could get that much information without ever having witnessed him fight. He was more and more convinced that classes that were focused on excelling at one thing were broken.

Was she right? Was he making up for a life of suffering and low mobility?

“I had a condition… weakness. But the class gave me the skills it gave me. I’m responsible for only very few of the choices.”

Why am I defending myself?

Reba sighed and looked around with squinted eyes. “It is a complicated issue. Your case has been bugging me since I first saw you. Classes are at their base… a door towards skills and knowledge—a path to follow. But it is my understanding that they are also a sponge. They influence you, while your actions, your subconscious fears, and insecurities influence the class. It has offered you what you wanted. And what you wanted was perhaps to be the opposite of what you were…?”

The last part was more of a question than a statement. Alan had to admit that the old woman had a point. It was neither the place nor the time for a longer talk, but her words resonated with him. Hadn’t he always hated his condition and his weakness? And now he was one of the fastest out there, despite picking a caster.

The first skill he had gotten was one that helped him move, while the second made use of his mental faculties. Yet, he had fully ignored the possibilities and the knowledge that came with the diversity. Why was he wielding blades like a warrior?

Maybe I should have picked the class guide in the Dungeon.

He frowned. No. His choices and skills had gotten him this far. Even if he had influenced the class to give him suboptimal skills, he could turn this to his advantage. He could freely give mana the shadow attribute, couldn’t he do way more?

“Thank you, Reba. I should have sought you out sooner.”

The old lady nodded, never meeting his eyes. “We will talk more if we survive. It’s good that you seem to have realized something from what I have said. I only have vague information and hunches, but I’ve let my class influence me a lot and my desire to guide is too strong sometimes. I like it though; it saved my life.”

Alan nodded. He felt similar, even if his path was much different and in no way had anything to do with helping others.

“One last thing. One of your skills is taking deep roots. Stronger skills might lead to changes, much like classes. I don’t understand much about them, the road is long and the knowledge vast. Just be careful.”

Alan sighed. He knew that using [Monochrome Armor] was doing something. It was in the goddamn description. He had no other choice though.

“Oh, no,” Reba exclaimed and looked toward the pillar of light that still connected the heavens and the earth.

Its intensity grew rapidly and a large amount of spawn shot out, raining like hail upon the Sanctuary but concentrated near the base of the light, instead of all over.

Then the pillar slowly grew dimmer and disappeared as if it had never been.

The aura that spread like a wave from the direction of Emerson’s place was unlike anything.

***

“Those souls you sacrificed were quite pathetic.”

Emerson knelt on the ground, overwhelmed by the presence of the one before him. He also couldn’t help but stare at the thing the voice came from. The supposed Hierophant, chosen by the Goddess as a guide of humanity, was a strange sight.

The body was a mess of shifting white and dark flesh that moved and flowed oddly into one another as if the Goddess had used sentient playdough to create her servant. He had three evenly placed eyes, a mouth that went from ear to ear, filled with sharp evenly spaced teeth, and no nose.

With a wave of a hand, a chitinous white robe appeared over the sexless body.

“This body is so weak. The System suppression coupled with the weakness of the sacrifices and those trash souls amounts only to this much, huh? Ah, whatever.”

The being frowned and looked over the ruined Sanctuary.

“Why are they still struggling? Why have you not forced them to offer their lives? Are you useless too?” the Hierophant asked.

Emerson’s mind shook. Offering their lives? Him, useless? This was not how one who represented the Goddess should carry themselves.

“Answer me, scum!”

The pressure that descended almost made Emerson prostrate on the ground, but his skill [Chosen’s Tenacity] managed to help him resist. He was chosen, and his people were to be helped, not killed.

“Respectful messenger, please stay your anger. The Goddess has said—”

The being laughed and the sound made the ruins around them shake. Emerson could swear the grass wilted a bit.

“The Goddess? Newly integrated worms are always so easy to trick. Do you think the actual Goddess of Purity would speak to someone like you? That you were chosen by a being sitting at the very top of the power chain? Ha! YOU are not special. YOU were not chosen. I used the little bit of authority I have been granted, and made you a [Novice Paladin]. I whispered in your ears, and I used your stupidity to make you sacrifice the souls of your people.”

Each word cut like a knife through Emerson’s mind. This couldn’t be true. He was supposed to help his people, not doom them…

“But…” he tried to speak but the pressure only grew, forcing him to clench his jaw in fear of biting his tongue.

“Enough, worm. I could still consider sparing you for your work. I don’t know if the System will after what you’ve done for me. Sacrificing souls has been deemed taboo in this universe, and the System will reflect that. Silly rule. But I could help! Let’s see… all you have to do is kill ten, no, twenty more of your people! Yes, crush their skulls with the divine strength I have granted you in the name of the Goddess.”

The being chuckled again. “Stupid human scum.”

This could not be real. Emerson's instinct was to pray, but as the first syllable left his mouth he stopped himself. The laughter of the Hierophant echoed all over. The being was having trouble moving with the strange body but still found the energy to mock him.

Could this be a test? A ploy? No. Wishful thinking would not get him anywhere. He had sinned. He had doomed all in the Sanctuary, and maybe this new world.

He felt the guilt take hold of his heart and tears lick at his cheeks; the being’s laughter only grew colder.

It was at this moment that tens of white five-legged spawn walked out from all over, gathering at the feet of the Hierophant.

***

“It is time we end this. The forest around us, the world we now live in, are all there to test us. Now we have some alien bastard trying to fuck things up even further. Let’s end this insanity. The strong will survive and see an unimaginable future! The universe is within reach to explore, and I think that’s worth fighting for!”

Rosalyn’s voice echoed all over, empowered by the artifact around her neck. The percentage bar hadn’t stopped climbing since the siege had begun and now read 66% and wasn’t slowing down. There were still many out there, fighting and killing. Maybe the suicide laser beams of the 60+ leveled spawn had something to do with it, but the aura that had washed over them had made the excitement go down.

Alan sighed and prepared to head out. He had greatly overestimated his strength. His skills, the shadows that wrapped around him and made him faster and faster, the [Synaptic Failure] that promised him safety in almost every one-on-one against a human or beast, had all warped his perception.

Reba’s not-so-vague but yet cryptic words still echoed in his mind. Most of his troubles had come from people who had been influenced by the nature of their class choice, while he had influenced the class instead and made it develop in accordance with his insecurities and weaknesses instead of playing to his strengths.

The spirit had also played a role in that, to some extent. Alan didn’t believe he would be here without [One Mind, One Body]. It was a debt that he would never forget.

Rosalyn riled the people up some more, but Alan tuned her out. He was ready to fight. He had one last cast of [Monochrome Armor] left for now, but his mana was full and whoever it was that was behind it all, they had to die.

Fortunately, Rosalyn had the charm and the aura needed to command authority and respect in those she spoke to. She started her trek towards Emerson’s house and many followed in small groups, trying to not bundle too close together lest they died from a suicide beam attack by one of the higher levels.

Alan nodded to Walter and tried to find some more familiar faces. There was no sign of Tullis or Mr. Muge, nor could he see Cole’s team.

Odd silence slowly took hold of the Sanctuary as the people moved. The fighting seemed to come to a halt. Despite the recent shower of new spawn that had fallen, they met none on the way.

The trek was uneventful. They saw a few of the smaller purespawn walk on walls and move through the wreckage, rushing in the same direction they were going – Emerson’s house.

Many more joined them along the way and Alan was surprised at the amount of strength that the Sanctuary held. Few gave him a feeling of danger that he had not experienced from another human. Maybe Ashlyn, but she was not dangerous to him, only to others.

Cole was near, with a very large amount of people around him. His class seemed to excel in leading. Some of the other gangs could be seen too, but Alan didn’t care enough to learn all of their names.

Finally, they neared the place where the pillar of light had connected heaven and earth.

And in front of them stood an army of purespawn. There were at least a few hundred of them, with most being of the smaller variety. However, looking at them all together now that there were not so many ruins to hide between, the sea of white was quite frightening. The purespawn all stood deathly still.

It was a bizarre alien sight. Alan was not excited at the prospect of an all-out war. But he felt excitement grow as the battle neared. It was a different, colder, more controlled form of battle lust. That was good.

There was something else behind the army. A… throne? Some of the spawns’ bodies seemed to be melded together into a high chair, upon which sat a humanoid creature with three vertical eyes and a wide mouth full of sharp teeth.

Its white and brown flesh wriggled weirdly and Alan felt the weird notion that the being was in pain. If it was so, then good.

Was this the thing that had spoken to Emerson? The thing that had fucked with his head and brought down all of those monsters upon them?

Below the weird twitching throne of white chitin, was the man in question. Emerson, to whom Alan felt indebted. And who had slowly gone crazy just like everyone else seemed to do, without Alan doing a damn thing about it.

All was happening too fast, and it was too new, but still…

Emerson looked like he had been broken. He was sat on his heels at the base of the throne, unseeing and unhearing the commotion around him. The purespawns were silent, but the people coming for them were anything but.

Battle cries, screams, and animalistic sounds that sounded like they belonged to beasts and not humans came from their large group. Alan wondered how many different classes there were and how many people here had hidden their strengths.

He felt himself get irritated. At himself, at the bastard on the disgusting chair, at Emerson.

Anger was good, it fueled him to be cold. He had resolved himself to stop with the drama bullshit. The most important thing was survival.

There was no reason to be confused. All he had to do was kill the enemies before him, and he would grow, and he would live. The System made things simple like that. Thinking about his choices and path would not do him any good right now.

He had wasted enough time.

All he had to do, was embrace the shadows, and the slaughter that came along with them.

All else be damned.

Fifteen minutes. I better make them count.

***

Ashlyn struggled with herself next to Alan, but ultimately, she took out a vial from one of the pockets of her cloak. It was pale werewolf blood.

She let a drop fall on her finger and smeared a single line on her face.

The beast would serve her from now on.