Chapter 3: Debate

Natalie stared at The Bestower, at the sleek automaton of silver streaked with cobalt-blue accents. While unlockings weren’t often talked about, as most sacred events weren’t, there was little mystery behind them. Everyone experienced an unlocking, and Natalie’s parents, and Jordan, had told her what to expect.

‘Something else’?

A fourth class choice? There was no such thing. Three options. That was set in stone. Natalie’d never heard of anything different.

“This is an unusual opportunity,” The Bestower said. “And it comes with benefits as well as detriments. Would you like to hear more?”

Natalie glanced at the three pillars—at the three class choices which had been exactly what she’d wanted, expected, but were somehow, regardless, a disappointment.

“More?” Natalie asked carefully. She was still adjusting to the news, bewildered.

“You won’t be committing to anything.”

“Then ... I don’t see why I wouldn’t,” Natalie said, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, unusual?”

“As I said, it is an opportunity afforded to few.”

“Okay?” The half-answer was unhelpful. Natalie thought it’d been intentionally so. “What is it? The class name.”

“Mm,” the automaton said. “There lies the detriment. You must accept before knowing.”

Natalie stared. A class whose details were revealed after accepting? That was ... besides being unheard-of ... risky. For obvious reasons.

“And the benefits are?”

“Potency.” The Bestower paused. “Uniqueness.”

“Potency?”

“More powerful skills than typical.”

For the second time, Natalie reeled at the announcement. Most classes were on the same footing. They were what you made of them. While skills varied, the instances where one’s abilities were much weaker or stronger than any other’s was ... well, very, very unusual.

As all of this was.

“But I couldn’t know what it is, beforehand,” Natalie repeated.

She didn’t even know where to start with that. It was ... insanely dangerous. Accepting a class, without knowing what it was? It was like jumping into a dark chasm, hoping there was water, and a big pile of treasure, at the bottom.

Except, in a roundabout way, she’d been promised there was treasure—the class would be strong. The question was how hard the fall would hurt. Would it be a class wholly unfitting her? Something she wouldn’t be able to make use of, by her nature? Natalie was a brawler; she would make a horrible [Spellweaver], or something of the sorts. Even a [Ranger] she’d be a poor fit for—Jordan had always been ten times the shot she was.

Natalie was good with her hands. In being up-close and personal. Rolling around in a sweaty pile of limbs, in the chaos of a brawl. Honestly, that was almost all she was good at. Most classes wouldn’t fit well on her.

“I don’t even get a hint?”

“You do not.”

“And ... that’s it? No more? Accept, and it’ll be strong, but I can’t know what?”

“Even I don’t know,” The Bestower said.

Which had Natalie blinking. Well ... if that was the truth, then she guessed this creature wasn’t the omnipotent Architect, or the Maker. Not that many people believed that in the first place. Just one of many fantastical theories.

“Where did this come from?” Natalie asked. “Why me?”

The Bestower shrugged, which was an oddly human reaction on the thus-far impassive being. “That’s not for me to know, either.”