Jack watched as five alternate versions of himself emerged from the shadowy mists projected onto the far wall. It was eerie. This display was a mixture of a hologram and a movie-theater projector. It was like the back wall had disappeared and had been replaced by a second room, this one filled with a thin layer of water on top of which the five alt-Jacks now stood.
“Future number one, please step forward!” Steward called out, and the alt-Jack farthest to the left stepped into the light.
He wore simple clothes, partially stained with mud and grass, and carried a large linen apron filled with all sorts of gardening tools. A mist gathered behind him, obscuring the four other alt-Jacks. When it had finished, small scenes started to fade into view around this gardener-Jack.
He saw this version of himself kneeling beside a lush, beautiful garden, smiling contentedly as he pulled weeds and smoothed the rich soil. Another scene showed this alt-Jack grafting a new branch onto an old tree, straining at the effort before spreading his fingers across the bark of the two woods, and magic danced across them. When he let go, the new branch was perfectly affixed to the tree.
More scenes like these played out, silent yet filled with color and emotion. In every single one of them, this Jack looked happy. Content.
It was harder to watch than the true Jack expected, and so he was grateful when a screen shimmered into existence in front of him. This one was different than normal system notifications, which were both intangible and exclusive to his vision. This one appeared to be visible to everyone, and a duplicate of the words was projected in the air above the gardener-Jack for the audience to read.
╔════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
║ ║
║ ROOTBREAKER ║
║ ═══════════ ║
║ Rarity: COMMON ║
║ ║
╚════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ DESCRIPTION │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
A class for those who've gotten their hands dirty tending the earth—
whether they meant to or not. Rootbreakers understand the stubborn
resilience of growing things and how to coax life from reluctant soil.
Not glamorous, but honest work that feeds communities.
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ ATTRIBUTES PER LEVEL │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
? Constitution : +2
? Perception : +1
? Free Points : +3
“Thank you, Rootbreaker! Now, let us see our contestant’s second future!” Steward announced, somehow able to sense when Jack was done reading, even if he was far from finished thinking.
That class makes sense, even if it’s a bit of a stretch. What I did can barely be considered gardening. I broke some roots, shoved some grass down, and picked some fruit, Jack thought as the mist dissipated and the Rootbreaker Jack returned to his position in the lineup.
The second alt-Jack approached the center of their ethereal stage. This one wore a long gray cloak and a large straw hat. In his calloused fingers was a fishing rod, but it appeared to be made exclusively to catch large whales, or perhaps another kraken. It was far too large, and the hook it boasted was freakishly serrated. Though he’d never read it, Jack imagined this is what the Moby Dick fisherman had to have looked like.
With a whoosh of air, the mist returned, and Jack could see new scenes play out in crystal focus. This Jack rode in a large boat while storms and waves buffeted and rocked his vessel. All the while, he stood proudly in the center of the ship, fishing rod bending dangerously over the edge. Lightning lit up the darkened sky, and the massive silhouette of a creature was briefly visible just beneath the surface. He cackled madly and began to draw the monster aboard his ship, damn the waves or consequences.
Another showed this alt-Jack diving deep into a thorny coral reef and wrangling a large sea serpent with little more than his bare hands and a gritty attitude.
With each one Jack watched, he got the impression that you would have to quite literally be mad to pick this class. Still, he read the description when it came, just to be polite.
╔════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
║ ║
║ DEEP ANGLER ║
║ ═══════════ ║
║ Rarity: UNCOMMON ║
║ ║
╚════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ DESCRIPTION │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
Not all hunters stalk forests—some read currents and peer into the depths,
unafraid of what ancient threat they may find.
Deep Anglers pursue the rare and elusive with patience and precision.
While their skills seem narrow, the patient fisher knows that understanding your
quarry is half the battle.
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ ATTRIBUTES PER LEVEL │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
? Perception : +1
? Dexterity : +2
? Resilience : +2
? Free Points : +2
Jack considered the attributes per level. A part of him was sad to see his free agency go with each of these class options. He’d enjoyed being able to distribute his stats as he saw fit. But at least even the Common rarity class had offered up more than the standard five attribute points he was accustomed to up to now.
At Steward’s command, this Deep Angler character retreated, and the third was called forth. He was dressed in sleek black linens, reminding Jack of a stereotypical ninja, equipped with two long knives. He was lean and bounced lightly from foot to foot, smiling confidently. When the hypothetical scenes of this future came, Jack had to admit that he was impressed.
“Look at how this version of Twenty-One smiles at the face of danger, running through the dangerous urban settings like he was born to them. Speed and stealth are his game, and he’s able to flip, run, and hide on a whim! See! See how he dances through the strikes of stronger foes, deftly dodging all attacks until just the right moment! This is the one for him! A runner!” Steward narrated, gesticulating with his free hand as scene after scene played out.
Jack rolled his eyes. Who was Steward kidding? He knew this TV show set was a hoax anyway. Why keep up the charade?
Focus, Jack reminded himself.
Despite Steward’s subtle dig about Jack being called to run from his enemies, he again had to admit a part of him was tempted by this class. The alt-Jack ran up the side of a building like it was nothing, flipping over it to land easily on his padded feet. In another scene, he slid through a narrow gap between two thugs wielding cudgels, nicking one of their oversized coin purses at the same time with one of his knives.
Got it. This is a freerunner rogue.
He got his suspicions confirmed just a moment later.
╔════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
║ ║
║ SHADOWSTRIDER ║
║ ═══════════ ║
║ Rarity: Rare ║
║ ║
╚════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
│ DESCRIPTION │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
Speed and stealth in equal measure. Shadowstriders excel at striking from
unexpected angles and disappearing before retaliation,
relying on daggers and knives to accomplish their dark goals. Not invisibility—
just exceptional footwork, timing, and the ability to exploit the split-
second advantage of surprise. Every shadow is a potential escape route.
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ ATTRIBUTES PER LEVEL │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
? Dexterity : +4
? Perception : +3
? Charisma : +1
? Free Points : +2
Jack whistled at the total stats from this rare class. Ten attributes per level was insane!
“That’s more like it,” he said to himself, nodding appreciatively.
He also wasn’t blind to the fact that all the rarities were going up. This next one would either plateau at the Rare rarity, or he was about to have his mind blown.
And there are still two more to go! He thought excitedly.
“Can future number four enter the limelight?!” Steward called.
The fourth alt-Jack emerged from the shadows and mist, and Jack’s pulse quickened to a ridiculous pace. He could already tell there was a qualitative leap between the Shadowstrider and whoever this was meant to represent.
This alt-Jack was shirtless and rippling with muscles. Each hand was covered in thick, heat-resistant gloves, and welder’s goggles were strapped to his head. He was tanned and sweaty, as if he’d just taken a break from some forge to make it here on time.
When the scenes came, Jack had to pick his jaw up from the floor. Image after image of this version of himself fixing, building, repairing, and tinkering with all sorts of magical related machines.
Granted, Jack hadn’t always been a mechanic. He’d loved it ever since he got into it during high school, but ever since Earth had started using mana crystals, he’d daydreamed about this sort of stuff. Not just fixing up his old Camaro, but making sci-fi stuff with mech suits and magical cannons—all of that and more were displayed in the scenes formed by the mist.
He witnessed this alt-Jack slam a hammer on a large steel gear, sweat caking the soot to his brow. Determination, focus, and a keen sense of purpose filled those eyes. It was awesome.
╔════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
║ ║
║ FRACTAL WRIGHT ║
║ ═══════════ ║
║ Rarity: Epic ║
║ ║
╚════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ DESCRIPTION │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
Where others see broken machines, you see possibility. Fractal Wrights
understand mana flow at an intuitive level, applying mechanical principles
to magical problems. You don't just repair—you improve, adapt, innovate.
Every challenge is an opportunity to build something better.
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ ATTRIBUTES PER LEVEL │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
? Strength : +4
? Perception : +4
? Resilience : +2
? Free Points : +2
Jack cursed under his breath as he took this class in. It was staggering to see how much AP it offered, and that was just icing on the cake compared to what the description promised. When combined with the scenes he’d watched, this might just be the class he was looking for. The class that would let him rise above it all, one invention and repaired tech at a time.
Hadn’t Olric himself said that Titanhold was filled with old tech from some science freaks? All he’d need to do is collect them, fix them up, and he’d be unstoppable!
“Thank you, number four. Now, let’s see what our contestant has in store for his last possible future!” Steward leveled his Cheshire smile on the audience. “And you know I always save the best for last. Future number five! Show us what you’ve got!”
Mist burned away to reveal a man with the best boxer’s physique Jack had ever seen. He moved with the nimbleness of the Shadowstrider, but with the force and presence of the Fractral Wright. Like the one that came before, this one had an aura about him, even through the projection. Air seemed to warp slightly around, as if invisible heat were rolling off his body. He was shirtless as well, though his arms were covered in tightly wound gauze.
Around each of his considerable biceps was an unadorned brass band. Then, right as the mist reformed, the alt-Jack raised his fists. His entire arms were instantly wreathed in flames, and his eyes started to glow hot-white. He punched forward, and Jack stumbled back as a jet of fire extended from the strike to end just inches before where he stood.
A memory flashed in his vision. That night, near-dead, against an orc scout by Olric’s farm. Hadn’t he used a lesser version of this same power? How was that possible?
Jack watched on, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and wariness. The scenes in the mist were all outstanding. This pugilist-focused warrior danced through a dozen battlefields, bending and melting metal as readily as bones in his blazing momentum. His speed was on another level, but Jack noticed that it was second to his ability to quickly read his opponents and strike smart, not just hard.
And he struck hard.
From the flame-wreathed fists to intense bursts of power, this creature of war was an unstoppable force of nature. If he were to take these scenes as accurate examples of what he could turn into, then this was the best option for him. He knew it deep in his gut that this was the best.
The Fractal Wright was amazing. There was no question in his mind about that. But this…
This spoke to him at the very core of his being. He needed to feel that fire again. And he knew that gaze. He knew what lay behind it.
There, in that blaze, he could be enough.
There, he’d be strong enough to burn his way out of the darkness.
Still, he needed to be sure.
╔════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
║ ║
║ CINDER SOVEREIGN ║
║ ═══════════ ║
║ Rarity: Legendary ║
║ ║
╚════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ DESCRIPTION │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
Some fires refuse to be smothered. Cinder Sovereigns carry an ember of
something ancient and furious—divine flame that answers to will alone. You
don’t just fight with fire; you are the fire, burning through any and all obstacles
with relentless intensity. Every strike carries heat. Every breath trails smoke.
Your enemies fear the moment you stop holding back.
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ ATTRIBUTES PER LEVEL │
└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
? Strength : +3
? Dexterity : +3
? Constitution : +2
? Resilience : +2
? Free Points : +4
Jack watched numbly as the fifth and final version of himself retreated back to the lineup. His mind was in a daze.
Fourteen. Fourteen attribute points per level. And four free points each time, Jack observed. That means I basically get a free level’s worth of stats each time I level up, and get to boost some of my favorite stats each time anyway, meaning that I can make sure none of them lag behind too far.
His fingers shook from the raw nerves and excitement of his choices.
“So, which will it be, contestant? Don’t disappoint us!” Steward declared.
“Can I ask questions?” Jack asked quietly, his gaze far off.
“Certainly!” Steward replied in what was almost a congenial tone. “So long as they pertain to the classes, that is!”
When Jack turned to the powerful entity, he saw the madness there, concealed behind this veneer of civility.
‘Don’t push your luck,’ those eyes said.
“How did I qualify for that final class? Or any of the rarer classes, for that matter?” Jack inquired.
He was curious about the answer, but it was admittedly a stalling tactic. He needed to think.
“Oooh, our fresh meat thinks he’s unworthy? Isn’t that refreshing!” Steward laughed, and Jack distantly heard several of the women in the crowd catcall him. “Fear not! There’s a perfectly justifiable reason, Twenty-One.”
The wiry man leaned in and continued in a stage whisper. “Your benefactor wanted to make sure you had a fighting chance. Let’s just say he made it worth my while to pad your qualifications a smidge so that you got at least one Legendary class. That, combined with a particular knife wound you took, let you barely slip into qualifying for this particular class.”
“My… benefactor?” Jack asked, shocked from his reverie.
He’d guessed that his strange use of the fire during his fight might’ve given him this class, but to know that a secret benefactor helped secure it was beyond alarming.
Just who are they? Why would they help me get this legendary class? What would happen if I choose something else? Will they be upset, or is this some sort of test?
“Naughty, Naughty! No questions that don’t pertain to your class selection, contestant! That’s one strike for you! Strike out again, and I won’t be nearly so nice!” Steward warned.
Despite the uproarious laughter from the audience, Jack felt a spike of danger come from the creature before him.
“Fine,” Jack grunted, sneering at the unhelpful host. “What are the skills for each of the classes?”
“That’s a fine question, but sadly, it is against the rules to know what the class offers before taking it. It’s a surprise!” Steward said this last part like it was the best thing in the world, but all Jack could do was grit his teeth in frustration.
“You really are the worst host and steward. You know that, right?” Jack commented dryly.
Steward’s returning smile exposed far too many teeth. “I live to please, Twenty-One. And I think it’s past time you chose. You’re starting to overstay your welcome.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” Jack said, and he folded his arms.
Jack thought through everything he knew and had been shown. The gardener and fisher were out of the question. While interesting and potentially rewarding, they would not help him resolve the Banisher quest line.
The same was true with the Shadowstrider class.
He loved rogues as much as the next guy, but as much fun as it would be to run up walls and slip into the shadows on a whim, he simply didn’t have that kind of time. To be an effective ambush predator, he would need loads of time. Sure, he’d be quick and nimble in a fight, but if he was going to kill an orc general—and God only knew what else—in the shroud, he had to pack a punch.
That left him the Fractal Wright and the Cinder Sovereign class.
He really liked the idea of building and repairing all sorts of magi-tech gear leftover from a previous age of this world. Jack was running into the same problem. How much time did he really have to dedicate to understanding advanced tech like that to a proficient level that he could repair it? Additionally, in all the visions of the Fractal Wright, he had not seen a single fight.
That wasn’t good.
He may have a million unanswered questions about this world, but that wasn’t one of them. He knew that no matter what route he would take, it would always end in a fight.
Olric’s advice came clamoring for attention in his mind.
The farmer mentioned that he was limited by the blade he had available and handicapped by lesser swords or knives. That meant that items and gear were just as important as the skills themselves. And in all of the scenes Jack had just watched, there was not a single instance of a person being able to conjure gear or weapons of any kind.
And with how people feel toward mechanics, if I started building up a garage of ancient tech, it’d be stigmatized and opposed by commoners and the military alike. Especially if anyone caught wind of what I was trying to rebuild, I would be hunted for an altogether different reason. Again.
Even if none of those things were a concern, that still left the need for proper tools and gear to acquire, fix, and build all the tech he had in mind.
Each class is limited by the gear it requires.
In a perfect world, that wouldn’t matter. If he had been any other Banisher, he’d be able to choose any class and have entire kingdoms back his pursuit of power.
But this was far from a perfect world, and Jack knew that in the marrow of his bones. And of all the classes, only one needed nothing more than his grit, and two raised fists against the world.
Jack met Steward’s gaze, his decision made.
“I’m ready.”
