Title: Summoned Hero*
Language of men - Lvl 10 - Passive
Identify Lvl 3 - Active
The second night, we were all sick. So sick, Vitality leveled up.
It was probably the food, but it could have been a lot of things, considering how dirty the camp was. Still, despite feeling horribly ill and generally unwell, our group earned a small victory.
... and, maybe some minor form of dysentery.
Thankfully, it was over by the morning. Which was good news. Also, part way into the second day, Jones managed to obtain a class- which was also good news.
In the middle of a swing, beside me I saw Jones get... faster. Stronger? It was sudden, and even I could recognize a before and after. As it turned out, he became a member of the [Soldier] class. Looking at Jones and focusing a bit, I could make out the [Soldier] as a status, similar to my own status windows. It sat beneath the [Summoned Hero] indication we all shared.
When it happened, Kepler stopped the session, and actually seemed to brighten up a bit. He didn't say much, but he did nod approvingly. At Jones, at least. Not at the rest of us.
Still, it hammered the point: if even Kepler seemed happy about something, getting a class was clearly important.
When we all sat down after training to talk and eat the leftover bread, Jones revealed "why."
Apparently, it came with some perks. By some, I mean- a lot. His stats had all increased, and he gained an ability call [Hardy] which said it would let him live in "rougher" conditions. He also gained something call [Soldier's March] which would let him travel easier.
We all shared what messages had come up, too. Mike, apparently, had leveled strength and dexterity far more than I had. Mars said she'd leveled intelligence when trying to figure out how to read a book she'd found back at the palace. It seemed that these incremental jumps would come right along with our actions, so long as we pushed ourselves in some form.
Eventually, of course, talk shifted to when and how we were going to get home. No one had a good answer for that, certainly not me.
After eating, after we all spoke, and Jones left with the few coins he had left to try and secure us more food. Apparently, not having a class was a part of the reason it had been difficult the last time, so he seemed more optimistic. The rest of us settled in, or went back to their bunks, but I went back out alone into the training space, beside the tent.
I'd heard enough to know what I needed to do.
It was evening by then, and I spent another few hours going through the forms of the spear we'd been shown. Though most of the others looked at me funny, Mike eventually joined in. We didn't earn a class, but before we gave up, I found another point in strength was added to the tally. Mike seemed to indicate something similar.
Turning in to my bunk, before I went through my routine of [Identify]-ing whatever happened to be near me, I saw Kepler looking in our direction.
"You're all dismissed." Kepler stated, ending the training on the fifth day, waving our group to disperse. "Actually, stop." He raise a hand. "Before that, what are your stats?" He looked us over. "Direct order, tell me what you're at."
"Which one?" Jones asked.
"List all of them." Kepler snapped his fingers, gesturing impatiently. "Go."
"Vitality is 22, Endurance is 27, Strength is 30, Dexterity is 26, Intelligence is 33, Wisdom is 35."
"Of course... of fucking course." Kepler muttered to himself for a moment, looking the rest of us over. "You." He pointed to Mars. "Stats, list them."
""Vitality is 14, Endurance is 21, Strength is 14, Dexterity is 19, Intelligence is 29, Wisdom is 36."
"Hmm. Shame we're not a company of Mages." Kepler hummed to himself for a second, looking up towards the sky as he rocked his head side to side. "You." He looked down to point at Jones. "You might live. I can try to get you a skill, but it's not going to be pleasant."
"What about me?" Mars asked.
"What about you?" Kepler frowned at her. "Jones, come with me."
They left shortly after.
The rest of the afternoon was spent wishing we had more bread, complaining about said-bread, and Mars calling Kepler a complete jackass. These were all valid points, but like routine, Mike and I sluggishly made out way out to the training field beside the tent that evening.
While it didn't earn me much but another level in dexterity, Mike said he'd finally made a break-through.
[Spearman] now showed, when I looked at him. When he moved the weapon, it seemed much more fluid, much less a practiced motion- and more a mastered art.
Emboldened by Mike's progress, we practiced until Kepler and Jones returned. Surprisingly, it was Kepler who stopped to talk for a moment. He asked Mike for his stats and nodded approvingly before leaving us. Quite the opposite, though: with a murmured greeting, Jones didn't speak much, and went right to his bunk.
We found out why the next morning.