am-books Book 5: Chapter 6: Class
Book 5: Chapter 6: Class
Book 5: Chapter 6: Class
Miguel tried to dodge the oncoming attack, but he was too slow. Always too slow. The voxxian monster’s claw ripped into his side, glancing off his ribs and showering his surroundings in blood and bits of his flesh. His breastplate had offered no protection, largely because half of it had already been destroyed, leaving a large opening for the voxx to attack.
And it had.
Repeatedly.
As a result, his entire left side looked like minced meat with a generous helping of exposed ribs. However, for all he was injured, Miguel was unfazed by what should have been a serious collection of wounds. After all of his drilling, he’d learned to separate himself from the unavoidable consequences of a life of battle. He’d always known he would get hurt. He would fail. Be knocked down. The measure of a real Warrior was in how he responded.
So, as the monster – it was a little larger than him, with a sleek body type that only hinted at its incredible speed – flashed by, he used Enrage.
Enrage
Channel Ethera into rage, increasing all physical attributes.
He felt a surge of power, and he used those increased attributes well. His armored hand darted out, grabbing hold of one of the creature’s prominent spines, then wrenched it aside. The thing’s momentum halted, but its legs kept going, overbalancing it to such a degree that its feet went out from under it. Miguel used that to his advantage, hacking down with his hatchet and scoring a brutal wound in the monster’s shoulder. The blade of the small axe cut deep, stopping only when it hit bone.
The monster went wild, tearing itself free of Miguel’s grip and rolling along the rocky landscape until it managed to recover its stance. Miguel never let up, though. Instead, he used Champion’s Shout:
Champion’s Shout
Strike fear into your enemies’ hearts, weakening their resolve.
The skill staggered the monster, but it didn’t send it scurrying away as one might have expected from the description. Still, Miguel had used the ability often enough to know what would happen. With a wince, he crouched to retrieve what was left of his spear. It had already broken, which left him with a three-foot section of wood capped by a chipped blade. He hoped it would be enough.
After hefting the broken weapon, he used Charge.
Charge
Dash forward at 200% your normal speed for three seconds. Your next attack will do 30% more damage.
The skill was difficult to control, but since getting it at level two, he’d spent countless hours drilling with the ability. It remained difficult, but with his rising Dexterity, he could harness the ability well enough to get some use out of it. Even so, it still felt like he was going downhill in a car with no brakes.
As a result, his aim was a little off, and even though he’d been aiming for the monster’s heaving chest, he hit its right hip. That was the bad news. The good news was that the spear held up, ripping through not only the monster’s durable scales but the flesh beneath, also well. The voxxian monster’s pelvis shattered, visibly collapsing its hip.
It hissed in pain, lashing out with a backhand that took Miguel in the shoulder. He went tumbling to the ground, his skid embedding quite a lot of sharp, black rock in his already-injured side. He’d already used Recovery, but its effect would only last so long. The moment it ran its course, his Regeneration would plummet. And when that happened, there was a good chance that he would bleed out.
Fortunately, the voxxian monster was even worse off than he was. Early on, Miguel had used Impale, which caused a persistent bleeding effect that took time to really show its worth. That, coupled with the half-dozen smaller wounds as well as the two much larger injuries Miguel had recently inflicted, meant that the creature was on the verge of collapse.
Miguel just had to outlast it.
No small feat, considering how powerful the vaguely reptilian monsters were. In the past, he’d thought they were just ordinary creatures. Now, though, on the verge of completing his first Rift, Miguel had amended that assessment. They were clearly on a different level, perfectly suited to pushing people to their limits.
And Miguel was close to his.
The creature knew it, too. It clutched the wound at its hip, shifting the bulk of its weight to its left leg. The other arm hung limp, disabled by Miguel’s hatchet strike. Blood, thick and nearly black, covered its blue-green scales.
Miguel wasn’t much better off than the monster. In addition to the wound on his side, he’d twisted his knee all out of shape. He also bore the signs of a concussion, and one of his eyes had swollen shut.
After Miguel rose, the pair of combatants – one monster, one Warrior – faced off, both wounded and neither willing to surrender. Even if it had been an option, neither would have been willing to back down. It had always been a fight to the death.
He dropped his spear. The head had already been chipped, even before his Charge, and it had fractured completely upon impact with the creature’s durable body. The weapon clattered to the obsidian ground, broken and useless. His hatchet wasn’t much better off. The handle had splintered, and the blade had long since fractured. Both were Crude-Grade weapons, just like his armor, which was all he could handle without putting undue stress on his pool of ethera. That would change when he attained a class. But he had to make it through the rift before he could think about that sort of thing.
In any case, Miguel drew his last available weapon – a long dagger, perfect for stabbing – and crouched in a knife-fighting stance. The pain of his wounds screamed at him, but he ignored their cries. His training – as well as the life he’d led before getting to his uncle’s island – had prepared him well.
The voxxian monster stepped forward. Miguel sidestepped, never crossing his feet, as he awaited an opening. The creature was smarter than any beast, but even if it was stronger and faster than him, it hadn’t displayed any understanding of strategy. It simply attacked, using its instincts as a guidepost. Miguel was better than that. Colt had drilled it into him so many times that the lesson had become internalized.
Battles were not won by muscle. The mind was his greatest weapon, and he’d honed it to a sharp edge.
But there was no great strategy to employ. No fancy plans to think up. There were just two enemies, both at the end of their ropes. And only one would leave the fight alive. It had become a battle of wills.
The monster staggered forward in a fast, but uncoordinated charge. Miguel danced backward, his knee screeching at him the moment he put weight on it. It held, though.
Barely.
He avoided the creature’s ungainly charge, rewarding it with a thrust of his dagger. The blade bit deep, slipping between its ribs and hitting its lungs. He withdrew it in the same motion, stumbling to the side as his leg buckled. He fell, the sharp obsidian cutting into his back as he hit the ground.
The monster followed, its claws glancing off of Miguel’s hastily raised arm. His bracer held, filling the air with the unholy screech of scratching metal. Miguel thrust his dagger forward again, the movement short and rapid. Once. Twice. Three times, all in the space of a second. It was like a sewing machine needle, puncturing the creature’s scales with ease.
The monster couldn’t avoid Miguel’s attacks. It didn’t even try. Instead, it snapped with its jaws, biting down on Miguel’s head. It squeezed. And Miguel kept stabbing. The pair rolled along the ground, their blood mingling and pooling on the ground as they tried to end one another.
Monster.
Man.
Claws and teeth and a dagger.
Miguel screamed as he felt his skull being compressed. The pain pushed his efforts to new heights, and yet, he could only stab so quickly. He rammed that dagger into the creature’s side, into its chest, and through its arms. All the while, the thing clawed and scratched and clamped its jaws shut with enough force to crumple steel.
But Miguel was strong. He was durable. And most of all, he was persistent.
He lost track of how many times he stabbed the monster, but he felt every single gouge of its claws. Every extra pound of force it employed as it tried to crush his skull. Every bruise. Every drop of blood that fell from his body.
And yet, he endured.
At some point, he realized that he was stabbing a corpse, the sound of his hoarse screaming accompanying the wet squelch of the many wounds he inflicted. With great difficulty, he pushed the creature off, and for a few moments, simply lay there, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps.
A notification appeared before him:
Congratulations! You have reached level ten, earning two free attribute points. Would you like to allocate free attribute points?
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Class: Green Warden
The Green Warden is a Knight that specializes in using wooden weapons and armor while employing nature spells.
Required Archetype:
Warrior
Required Achievements:
Proficiency with weapons and heavy armor. Three Feats of Strength before choosing a class. Nature Attunement.
First Ability:
Wood Armor Affinity
Attribute Allocation:
Strength, Constitution, Ethera, Regeneration
Compatibility: 99%
Miguel very nearly chose the Green Warden class without even looking at the final two options. It seemed like a blend between a Druid and Warrior, which was everything he’d hoped for. The only issue was the mention of wooden armor. Until that point, Miguel had been banking on using his mother’s expertise as a Blacksmith to give him a leg up. But she had no skill with woodcrafting, and so, he’d have to find an alternate means of arming and armoring himself.
Even so, it seemed perfect, a factor that was reflected in the high compatibility. Still, he reluctantly put it aside so he could inspect his other options. The fourth class available to him was called a Sentinel, though it sounded quite similar to Vanguard. The biggest difference was that it seemed to focus a little more on guarding things, rather than leading the way in battle. It also required two Feats of Strength, which told him that it was a high-grade class.
Either way, it was not the choice for him, and for the same reasons he’d already moved away from Vanguard.
Finally, he was confronted with his fifth choice:
Class: Champion
The Champion is the pinnacle of first-realm Warrior classes. Proficient with weapons as well as the use of armor, the Champion is a versatile class that can hold its own in any situation.
Required Archetype:
Warrior
Required Achievements:
One Feat of Strength before awakening an Archetype. Three total Feats of Strength. Reach the first stage of overall cultivation before attaining a class. Proficiency with weapons.
First Ability:
Virtuous Strike
Attribute Allocation:
Balanced
Compatibility: 99%
It was not what Miguel had expected, though he was familiar with the class. In fact, it was the one at the top of every list he’d read.
“You alright, hoss?”
Miguel looked up at Colt, who was walking beside him along one of the trails that led to Ironshore. “I was offered the Champion class.”
Colt let out a low whistle. “Damn. Guess you’re takin’ it, then?”
Miguel wanted to say that he was. The class featured incredible attribute bonuses, and its abilities were quite potent as well. However, there was one glaring issue with it.
“It’ll mean abandoning the nature attunement,” he said. It was one of the few classes that required such a sacrifice. In reality, it shouldn’t have been a huge issue. Anyone who was offered the Champion class would have at least a secondary battle attunement, and Miguel was certain that, even though his nature attunement was more prominent, it couldn’t have been much better than the battle attunement.
Yet, the idea of moving away from nature just felt wrong. Perhaps that was the attunement itself speaking to him. Or maybe he was caught up in emulating his uncle. It was also possible that he didn’t want to abandon the advantages of the grove, which were mostly contingent on his retaining his nature attunement.
“What’re your other options?” Colt asked.
As he hobbled along, using an extra spear as a walking stick, Miguel described his class choices. He explained the suspected benefits and weaknesses, ending with, “I think it’s down to Green Warden or Champion, but I’m not sure how I can turn down the second one.”
“Is that the only reason it’s still in the runnin’?” asked Colt.
Miguel shrugged, which sent a wave of agony through his side. “Maybe? I don’t know. I just want to be strong,” he said.
“You already are, kid, and neither of those choices is gonna change that overmuch,” Colt stated. “The next step is to choose the one that feels right. The one that will make you happy. Which one do you think that is?”
Miguel responded, “The Green Warden.”
That answer wasn’t a flippant one. He’d never been happier than when traveling through the wilderness with his uncle. In addition, Nerthus had often spoken of building a community dependent on the grove, and Miguel expected that a Green Warden would fit right into those plans.
But was that reason enough to choose a class? Especially if it was inferior to the other choice?
Once, Miguel would have answered in the negative. Before coming to the grove, he was entirely wrapped up in becoming as strong as possible. And he still wanted that. But he wanted more, too.
“We should always strive to be the best we can be,” Colt said. “Work hard. Become strong. But don’t forget to be happy, too.”
Miguel nodded.
Then, he chose Green Warden.