After several minutes of playful insults and reluctant negotiation, the voice finally convinced Damien to carry him—chair and all—toward the golden walls. Damien's mind wandered as they walked, no longer focused on the walls or the strange being's identity. Instead, a more personal thought surfaced: Why the hell does this idiot look like me? Arguing with someone who wore his face felt like standing in front of a distorted mirror and yelling at his reflection. It left a strange pit in his stomach.
"Well, you know, it's not exactly a dream for me either," the voice grumbled. "I'd much rather share a bikini model's body, but alas—fate is cruel."
Damien rolled his eyes. The voice hadn't answered his question, but he'd left just enough breadcrumbs. We're one, Damien realized. He's not just in my soul… he is part of it now.
Eventually, with more effort than he'd like to admit, Damien lowered the chair and its smug occupant in front of the eight towering walls. His breathing was shallow, not quite labored but definitely annoyed. "Alright," he said, brushing his hands together. "What now?"
The voice grinned. "What else? Time for your first ability."
Damien's eyes lit up. First ability. The word echoed in his mind like a promise. If there was a first, there could be a second… maybe a third. A hundred, even. His imagination leapt ahead—fire bursting from one hand, lightning from the other, shadows cloaking his body as he soared through the skies with the wind.
Of course, the voice was quick to ruin the moment.
"Let's not get carried away," he said, waving a hand. "It took you four hours just to find your soul. You're barely a functioning mortal. There's no way in hell you're ready for more than one ability."
Still, Damien refused to let the sarcasm dampen his excitement. "But eventually… I will be," he said with a grin.
"Yes, yes, eventually. Now stop smiling like that, it's unsettling. Listen closely. Thanks to me, you can read the runes that describe each ability. Pick one out, and I'll try my absolute best to teach it to you… even though you're tragically helpless."
Damien stepped closer to the glowing walls, scanning them carefully. Thousands of symbols shone across the surface, calling out to him with a kind of sacred hum. The runes were beautiful. Intimidating. There were so many options that he stood frozen for a second. How the hell am I supposed to pick just one?
"Oh! Almost forgot," the voice chirped. "Your body can hold eight abilities in total. BUT—there are rules."
Of course, there are.
"You can only choose one ability from each of the eight classes. To prevent your soul from imploding, I assume. And, of the ranks—you're allowed one from S, A, and B, two from C and D. No stacking multiple high-rank attack skills or anything dumb like that."
Damien's thoughts spun. Okay, eight classes, eight abilities. One from each class. Then: one S, one A, one B, two C, two D. He repeated it to himself, over and over.
"I think I got it," he said aloud, mostly to anchor himself.
"In record time," the voice said with slow, mocking claps. "I'm so proud."
But something didn't sit right. Eight abilities, but based on the selection rules, I can only pick seven…
"Twenty points to Damien!" the voice cheered, raising his hands like an announcer at a sporting event. "Yes, your math checks out! The eighth class—Magic—doesn't have ranks. That's your starting class."
Damien turned toward the fourth wall. As the voice said, there were no rank divisions. The wall listed six abilities, one beneath the other, glowing like ancient scripture: Water, Fire, Wind, Light, Lightning, and Shadow.
All elements? That surprised him. He half-expected something more abstract—gravity, time, space—but elemental magic made sense. His mysterious new "teacher" seemed like the flashy type. And what's flashier than mastering the elements?
"If you focus on a rune, you'll see its description," the voice called out. He was now flipping through a Harry Potter book.
Damien blinked. "Where the hell did you get that?!"
"Focus, Damien," the voice said, lowering the book like a disappointed dad. "It's like teaching a puppy."
Grinding his teeth, Damien returned to the wall and focused on the rune for Water.
The symbols shifted and ran down the wall until they were eye level with Damien.
Water: A tranquil river runs through your body, drowning anyone who dares to cross it.
Tranquil? Damien frowned. Wouldn't something like a tsunami be more useful?
Next, Fire.
Fire: The scorching sun resides in your body, incinerating foes—and your soul.
Damien's heart skipped a beat. Why would I want an ability that burns me?
Then Wind.
Wind: You are the caller of winds, their leader. They answer your every call.
Now that was promising. He imagined soaring through the sky, untouchable. The thought was so tempting, he nearly stopped there—but forced himself to continue.
Light.
Light: You are the light that embodies the world, but beware of the darkness lurking below.
Damien narrowed his eyes. Darkness lurking below? Sounded like there was a catch—maybe Light couldn't be used in darkness?
Next up: Lightning.
Damien had high hopes for this one. It felt like the runes were reaching out to him—he could almost feel the crackling energy pulsing through the air, brushing against his skin like static.
The runes read: "Zeus' blood runs through your veins. The lightning is your friend—summon it at any time, and it will not disappoint."
Damien's breath caught. Zeus' blood? Even if metaphorical, the idea thrilled him.
Finally, Shadow.
It took longer. The runes hesitated, reluctant.
Shadow: You are one with the shadows. Few can detect you, but beware of the ever-burning light.
Another trade-off, Damien noted. Powerful, but situational. Still… the idea of being unseen, untouchable, was alluring.
"That one's not for you," the voice interrupted. "Trust me, kid. The Lord of Shadows? He's a whole different kind of treacherous."
Damien threw him a side-eye. "What are you on about?"
"Oh, nothing," the voice replied, leaning back smugly. "Anyway, have you decided?"
Damien ran a hand across the glowing wall. The elemental runes thrummed beneath his touch. Each one whispered promises of power and danger.
"I think I have," he said softly, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.