Slapping his hand against the surface of the water a few times, Fyn resisted the urge to dunk his head into the river and then slowly backed up. Crows in the trees, wolves on the ground, probably man-eating fish in the water. It would be best to rest somewhere else for now.
Scooting back from the bank, Fyn stood and looked around. The wind rustled the flowers that stretched out around him. A lot of those flowers look familiar, like the nasturtiums or coneflowers he might plant in his garden, or the daisies and marigolds he spotted during hikes. They weren't quite right, leaves or blossoms subtly different from what he remembered, but it was encouraging to see something even a little normal.
Encouraging and frustrating. Marigolds, nasturtiums, borage, and dandelions were all edible. With water at his back, Fyn was certain that he was surrounded by edible plants, and he was equally certain that chewing on a flower stalk while he walked would be incredibly stupid. Those subtle differences in leaf structure could be the difference between nourishing and poisonous.
Fyn set aside thoughts of food for a moment. He had found water, shelter was next, though his stomach chose this moment to remind him that he needed to eat. Technically, as he was in a new world, occupying a brand-new body, his next meal would be the first one of his life.
But since he didn't want his first meal to be his last, Fyn didn't start shoveling fresh picked wildflowers into his mouth and instead firmly told himself that a person could survive for days without food. Pinching his arm and feeling the lack of fat there, Fyn adjusted that estimate from days to a few hours, and decided he needed to pick up the pace.
Turning in a circle, Fyn felt there was something off about his surroundings, but everything was so strange that it was ridiculous to try to put his finger on one particular detail. The clearing was large, and empty of trees, though bushes and shrugs were plentiful. At one end, in a direction Fyn randomly decided to call north, a waterfall cascaded over a cliff face twenty to thirty feet tall.
The western side of the clearing held the towering trees Fyn had gotten used to seeing. As he turned clockwise, the trees decreased in size, while increasing in variety. It was a sudden and unnatural change, as if the whole forest centered on this clearing.
Fyn made his way towards the northern cliff, his stomach growling with hunger and turning with unease. There was something disquieting about this valley, but nothing actively dangerous presented itself.
Maybe that was what was bothering him. The clearing was peaceful, a habitat for rabbits and chipmunks in a woodland of monsters. Perhaps it was just his nerves playing a joke on him which made Fyn distrust the quiet serenity.
A dozen feet from the bottom of the cliff and a good forty feet from the river with its waterfall, Fyn finally spotted what he was looking for. Ten feet up the cliff face was a short ledge around twelve feet long. The ledge came with a hollow spot, not quite a cave, not for a grown man, but a young boy could fit it in comfortably.
Fyn had been disappointed so far with the stamina of his new body, but his unfamiliar form was nimble enough. He scampered up the cliff face, small hands and feet easily finding holds in the rough stone. He pulled himself on to the ledge, marveling at how light his body felt. Rolling, he tucked himself away into the indent in the stone and sat with his back to the wall, looking out over the clearing.
Immediately, Fyn found the sloping nature of his hidey hole annoying. It would also be difficult to camouflage any shelter erected here. However, it would serve temporarily. The clearing stretched out before him, picturesque in its clean beauty, but Fyn only had eyes for the blue dot on the back of his hand, which he tapped with eager fingers.
His status snapped open. Fyn wasted no time poking at the section that read, Class, watching with pure satisfaction as the page unfolded.
When Fyn had observed Lucas doing this, the man's status had displayed a skill tree. Fyn's results were markedly different. He saw a grid of rectangles, each one baring a word such as "Farmer," or "Swordsman."
Fyn didn't know what he had expected. He did know this wasn't it. Dragging his finger up from the bottom of the screen, Fyn gaped at an endless list of the rectangular bars. Soldier, Sailor, Carpenter, Stable Hand, presumably each word represented a class that Fyn could choose, but with so many choices, how did he narrow things down?
Obviously, he needed the most powerful class, but how did he find it? What made a class powerful?
Fyn was about to curse when he realized the list he was staring at had changed. He was certain the class in the top-right corner had been, Seeker, before that thought of powerful classes had occurred to him. Now that corner rectangle read, Sword Saint. Other impressive sounding classes were listed next to Sword Saint, like Spear Lord, Weapons Master and Archmage.
Fyn's finger pounded at the box marked Sword Saint with lightning speed, afraid the class would disappear before he had a chance to select it. The moment his finger hit the text, a buzz like an electrical shock ran through his body and a messaged popped up on his screen.
"This is not a starter class," Fyn read out loud with his teeth clenched, "please choose again."
At least the message said please this time, Fyn thought, as he closed the window.
He should have known it wouldn't be that easy to leap to the top. And honestly, Fyn was a little relieved that his spontaneous choice hadn't gone through. What good was it to be a Sword Saint without a sword? Would that class help him find civilization or point him in the direction of food?
Fyn rubbed his palms together and squeezed his fingers. He had learned a few things from this mess. He inhaled slowly and exhaled through his nose as he considered his next move.
One, while his status relied on touch to make selections, there was a search function that was applied merely by thought. That was probably a safety feature to prevent stray thoughts from locking in decisions.
Two, there were starter classes that could most likely become greater classes like Archmage with time. This piece of the puzzle wasn't that helpful at present. Good to know, just not immediately relevant.
Fyn closed his eyes and concentrated. Organizing his thoughts, he decided what he needed was a class he could select now. It should be one that didn't require any equipment beyond a knife to be useful. The class should also be helpful in his current circumstances.
When Fyn reopened his eyes, the grid had changed again, and he squinted as he read the new list. Explorer, Scout, Gatherer, Walker, Guide, Blue Mage… the list went on, and on, Fyn couldn't find any organizational logic behind it, or any hints that explained what each class did.
His hand lifted and almost touched the word, Explorer. He hesitated before his fingertip could connect with the surface of his status. This seemed like a big deal. Sure, he had slapped at Sword Saint with zero delay and without a thought in his head, but who wouldn't? Badass for life? Sign me up!
Now, however, Fyn couldn't help but wonder if touching the class would lock in his choice forever. Did he want to be an Explorer? What would that mean? Was there a lot of work available for that class? Were Explorers well paid and valued?
Fyn thought of Lucas. The man's status had said he was a Fighter. He had been employed as a guide and had a streak of thief in him that eventually got him pinned to a tree by a sharp length of wood. So, maybe your class didn't define you, that didn't mean it wasn't pertinent.
Needing further details regardless, Fyn shut down his doubts and his finger landed on Explorer. He held his breath as the page unfolded and didn't breathe out until he saw the back arrow in the left corner of the new page. Fyn chuckled to himself as he clicked on it. The laughter built as he selected more classes and backed out of them. He was going to be alright!
Once the frenzy inspired by his plethora of options passed, Fyn started to examine his status seriously. He tapped again and again, reading each word on the screen carefully, touching anything he could to see if new hints or prompts appeared, and gathering as much information as he could.
In the end, as the sun started to set, the results of Fyn's research with both vast and fruitless. Each class had a skill tree. The lines of the skill tree were broken by nodes of various colors. As far as Fyn could determine, each skill tree started with three white nodes, and one, the fourth, was always yellow.
These four nodes were the only ones with any description beside them. While he could see farther down the tree, he wasn't able to identify what any of the other nodes did. From what he could tell, the first three white nodes seemed to be basic knowledge, prerequisites to obtaining a skill represented by the yellow node.
For example, Explorer's three white nodes were:Terrain Features—> Weather Identification—>Setting Camp. After the three prerequisites, you had the passive skill, Sense of Direction, marked by a yellow node.
One thing Fyn made careful note of, was that the white nodes of Explorer, were dimmer than the nodes of some other classes. Blue Mage, for instance, had the nodes: Basics of spell casting—>Monster Identification—>Mana Sensing.
If the nodes of a Blue Mage were the brilliant white of fresh snow when you are walking towards the sun, then the Explorer's nodes were the dingy grey of soot cover snow at night.
Fyn's theory was that these nodes could be filled in through study or training. Which would have been bad news for him, since he had no access to a trainer or a library to complete the qualifications required. Fortunately, Fyn noticed that at the top of the page when he opened a skill tree, there were three white balls of light and one yellow one. He was positive these could be used to obtain a class, even though he hadn't tried using them yet.
What he was curious about was whether the brightness of the nodes had any significance. The three balls he had were just as bright as the nodes for Classes like Blue Mage, of which he had no experience whatsoever. Could one of those balls be used to complete all the nodes of a Class where the nodes were dimmer?
That assumption felt right. It felt fair, and that feeling made Fyn mistrust his thought process. Nothing that had happened so far was what he would call fair, and expecting karmic balance would be stupid.
He would have to make his choice based on the yellow nodes. All of those were of uniform brightness, and he only had one ball of yellow in his status. So regardless of what he did, he could only end up with one passive skill. It needed to be a good one.
Ignoring the hollow feeling in his gut, Fyn kept reading even as the sun set, and the night air started to cool. Shivering, he considered dozens of skills, trying to determine which offered the most help in getting him out of these woods alive.
Most of the Classes his search parameters had limited his options to, were related to either traveling, fighting with limited weapons, or outdoor survival.
Walker's passive skill was Long Step, Gatherer came with the yellow node of Fresh Picked, and Scout was equipped with Map. There were also Classes that used magic and a few stealth related skills that were particularly attractive. The problem was, Fyn couldn't determine what any of the passive skills actually did.
He thought the Scout's Map skill was undoubtedly what it sounded like, a map, most likely one attached to his status. That could come in handy. If it was a prefilled in map, his biggest issue would be solved directly. If he had to fill in the map himself, it would at least assure that he wasn't traveling in circles.
Fyn's arms circled his chest, hugging himself to conserve heat as he peered at his status. His clothes, still damp from sweat and humidity, stole the heat from his skin. He began to shiver lightly as he continued to look for the perfect skill.
Despite all his reasoning, it was his stomach that made the decision in the end. That grumbling, aching sack of emptiness didn't even consider the yellow nodes that Fyn's brain said were all important. His stomach found the white nodes of the Gatherer Class much more convenient. Teaming up with his eyes, the treacherous organ wouldn't let him look away.
Common Plant Identification—> Common Plant Usage—> Proper Harvesting