CHAPTER 7 - TRUST ME, BRO, IT SOUNDS COOL AND NOT WEIRD

  Levan made a break for it.

  Arms pumping, throwing stealth to the wind, he took off.

  A notification popped into his head and disappeared just as quickly.

  [ Item Unequipped: Acolyte’s Sandals ]

  Acolyte Sandals were apparently not meant for sprinting. That didn’t matter, not now.

  Broken stained glass cut into his bare feet and his heel slipped and skidded on blood as he raced towards the far end of the temple, keenly aware of the attention of the masked soldier on his back.

  He heard yelling, the sudden realization of his presence as the rest of the soldiers turned to race after him.

  He passed the last pillar and the glowing Ability Core pictogram.

  Is this another best-fit thing? He wondered.

  [ Rule 714: The Chosen Soul must be presented with the Ability Core that they are most likely to choose. Rationality for power potential, best fit, and other logical points in this decision is not implied, and in some cases, is to be ignored. Rule 714 states that the most likely choice must be presented to the Chosen Soul. ]

  The knowledge appeared in his mind, solid and stuck to the front and center of it with external and effortless force.

  [ Ability Core: Crafter ]

  [ Ability Core: Crafter | System(s): Crafting, Fabrimancy, Recipe Discovery | Skills: Variant | Example Techniques: Variant | Elemental Affinity Influence: Variant ]

  [ Note: Ability Core (Crafter) is not a primarily combat-focused Ability Core. A Chosen Soul is encouraged to pick a Combat-focused Ability Core, unless they have significant applicable combat training through the Emberlaines. Even then, due to the unknowns of a new world, a Chosen Soul with extreme combat training is still encouraged to pick a Combat Ability Core that best fits their current combat skills. ]

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  [ Note: Ability Core (Crafter) is included due to Rule 713 and Rule 714, and no relevant starter skills match criteria: “Current Situation” ]

  Levan reconciled the information as he tore down the bloodstained carpet of the temple.

  Crafting?

  Crafting?

  That’s what he was most likely to choose? Did that include most likely now?

  Shadows stretched across his vision.

  The soldiers were after him. This was happening. His escape. The time was now.

  “I have to pick predator,” he thought to himself, “I have to pick predator if I want to get out of here with my life. Better to live—and besides, it sounds cool.”

  [ Ability Core: Predator ]

  [ Confirm? ]

  Levan scrambled for the final columns and the large double doors at the far end of the temple, turning only when he was almost at the safety of the last pillars.

  Not fast enough.

  It was the soldier in the mask who caught up with him.

  In a near blur, he crossed the temple, reaching the doors before Levan did.

  Then the soldier cut to the right, strafing with such speed and force that red carpet fibers and blood cut in a searing line from his heel.

  Pale blue eyes—arctic cold, with pupils the size of pinpricks and a dangerous, wild, and feral might behind them stared out at him.

  Levan staggered backward.

  The other soldiers were already on him, swords in hand, charging down the length of the temple.

  The leader in front of him, the soldiers behind.

  He was caught. Out of options.

  And he had to choose.

  None of this feels real, he realized. None of it.

  The temple.

  The soldiers.

  The spider-crab and water-woman.

  The information in his head.

  It wasn’t quite settling in.

  And yet…

  Somehow that made it more real.

  Because in questioning it, in interrogating the feeling of unreality, he understood just how real and concrete it was.

  It wasn’t the cloud of a vivid, strange, and lucid dream slowly burning away in the sunlight that caused the unreal feeling.

  No.

  It was the immense gravity of reality—this reality—that this was reality pressing him into dust.

  The soldier in the mask raised a single fist, gauntleted with bronze and red dyed leather. His men stopped, keeping a distance of ten or twenty meters from Levan.

  “And I’m most likely to pick the Crafter core?” he thought to himself, with a bitter laugh. “How in the world is that going to help? Let me guess—Gather sticks? Make a wooden pickaxe?”

  [ Ability Core: Crafter ]

  [ Suggested Task: Gather Sticks, 0/10 ]

  Levan frowned.

  Well….

  I am a sucker for gathering sticks /10.

  He pushed the thought aside. He had much more pressing issues, like the soldiers cornering him. Like the soldier in the mask.

  He took a weary step backward, too many thoughts pulled in too many directions to keep from being overwhelmed.

  Only the masked soldier approached, and when he did, he did so with slow curiosity, like a biologist approaching a rare animal.

  “Wh—“ the soldier in the mask began.

  It sounded like maybe “who” was the word the soldier was going to say, but it was cut off mid-syllable when a trebuchet stone the size of a house blew a hole in the temple wall.