Battlefield reclaimer, p.1
Battlefield Reclaimer, page 1
Battlefield Reclaimer
by David North
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
High Peak Publishing.
Cover Illustration by MiblArt.
Copyright by David North.
Battlefield Reclaimer 1: Class Day
"Stupid, broken system," Sam grumbled as he kicked the rock in front of him. The last bit of hope in his future had just fallen away, leaving him bitter, as he saw the prompt at the corner of his vision.
"Why couldn’t I have been a Wizard or Healer? Or even a Farmer? But nope, it had to be the same damn class...."
The class his family had received for the last fifty years, ever since the World Law had started to fail. At least, that’s what the more superstitious members of the village thought was happening.
Once upon a time, his family had been Arcane Researchers, a well-respected subclass of Wizards who delved into the past. They worked for the really powerful battle wizards, creating spells and strengthening wards. They had accumulated a lot of wealth and even lived in the city.
But ever since his grandfather’s time, when the class had failed to be inherited.... The change was a death curse.
Now they were stuck living in this little village that was all he’d ever known except in his imagination.
The notification hung at the corner of his vision and he flopped down on a rock as he tried to wave it away. Instead, it opened again to the sound of cheerful trumpets. It was even outlined in gold light.
Congratulations! You have unlocked a unique class! There can be only one of these classes in each generation.
Henceforth, you are a Battlefield Reclaimer!
"Go away!" He shouted at it, waving his hand through the air where it appeared. Stupid cursed thing.
The class was completely broken. The realization that he hadn’t escaped his family’s fate was a mountain pressing down on his shoulders. It was crushing his dreams.
"Sam!" His dad’s cheerful shout came from across the field. He wasn’t far from their house, just around the corner. Like always, his dad knew where to find him.
Before long, the slightly portly man jogged up in front of Sam, grinning at the same time as he gasped for breath.
"Son!" He laughed as he grabbed Sam’s shoulders and bear-hugged him. "You got your class! This is excellent. You can come with me and explore the old ruins now. I think I’m getting close to unlocking a secret that will let us advance."
He let his father lead him back to their house, his head low. It was his eighteenth birthday and he couldn’t avoid the celebration his family had planned, no matter how embarrassing it was.
Their small house was warm and bright. His mother and little sister had decorated it with silver and gold streamers, which had probably cost too much, and they were waiting for him with smiling faces. His sister, Altey, grabbed his hand and danced around the room with him.
He couldn’t stop a smile.
On top of the chipped wooden table, there was a cake, which was also decorated in silver and gold. Colorful metallic icing and spell-inscribed candles shot little sparks into the air.
Eighteen was a special birthday, since it was the day you got your class. He had been hoping that he would be a powerful Battlemage or a Paladin, or even a Scholar or Farmer, any of which would have given him a clear path for advancement and useful innate skills and abilities to support his family.
Now, he was just sure that the cake had cost far too much. It had to have been at least worth a couple silver coins, which was a week’s pay for his father as an unclassed laborer.
His mother was from a different family line and should have been spared the curse, but she was unlucky in her own way. Her family class was Historian.
Not all of the classes in the world were easy to level and some were outclassed by much more powerful versions. Unfortunately, Historian was one of them. They could never measure up to an Arcane Researcher, much less the much more powerful Seer.
The class didn’t even have magic as one of its abilities. It was supposed to earn experience through reading and writing books about what had happened in the past. In a world that ran on power and magic...basically, they were useless.
They couldn’t even afford the paper to help her get past the first level.
When she first met his father, it had been at the unskilled laborer’s pool. Her family was as broke as his father’s, so they hadn’t been able to set her up for success either.
The only way to level a useless class like that was if you were a noble and had the time and resources to pour into it...and then you could at least learn some of the non-class specific skills and subclass as a swordsman or guard.
A Historian Swordsman, hah....
His mother’s bright smile washed away all of those thoughts as she pulled him and his sister towards the table. Looking at her, he felt ungrateful for even thinking such things.
"Happy Class Day!" His family cheered as they sang a birthday song for him.
"May you have great success on your path!" His little sister was first to offer the traditional congratulations. She was practically dancing in place, jumping around as she held onto his hand. She was only ten, and completely adorable with blond hair pulled up behind her head in a bun that their mother must have done for her.
Even coming from his sister, the words burned.
What path?! He cried in his heart. There was no future for this class! His father was proof of that. Even with the ability to earn experience from universal tasks, like killing monsters, farming, building, or other common professions, it was never equal to leveling your own class.
Even after all of these years, his father had only made it to Level 9. The Level 10 barrier required a class quest to complete.
A Wizard could have made Level 10 in a month.
It got progressively harder the higher you went, but the first twenty levels were nothing. Even once you hit 100 and you had to look for evolution paths to upgrade your class...that was still easier than trying to survive with a broken class.
"Sam!" His father called, pulling his mind out of its rut. He ran into the bedroom, the single other room in the house, and came out with a scroll wrapped in a leather tube. "I have your present!"
"Oooh, what is it?" Altey cheered as she jumped up and down. Her excitement was palpable. "Open it! Open it!"
Sam took the scroll from his father and, at an encouraging look, unrolled it.
It was a spell scroll.
"Now that you have a class, you can learn general spells," his father grinned at him, his enthusiasm unflagging. "Read it! It took a lot of work to prepare that for you. I know how much you’ve always loved the idea of being a Wizard! What’s more, learning a spell will give you enough experience to get your first level! Happy birthday, son!"
"Your father has been holding onto that spell for a long time, Sam," his mother said, smiling gently. "You don’t know, but it’s something your grandfather left him before he passed away...he’s refused to use it himself and has been saving it for you."
Sam’s hands trembled as he unrolled the spell scroll, reading the contents.
The scroll was an ornate swirl of sigils and runes, a spell pattern that flared into existence. The information swirled through his mind and settled into a prompt, translating all of that information in a way he could understand.
Aura Bolt.
Aura Cost: 1 AP
Duration: Instant
Classification: Damage.
Do you wish to learn this spell?
Sam’s hands trembled as he held onto the spell scroll. He couldn’t tell if it was rage or joy...or just self-loathing. He hated that he was such a failure.
That he would never amount to anything.
"This is too much...." His face was pale as he tried to push the scroll back, but his father just smiled and shook his head, refusing to accept it.
A lesser man might have become angry with him for rejecting a very expensive gift, but his father understood. He’d felt the same bitterness once.
"It will be fine, Sam," his father said proudly, as he patted him on the shoulder. "Read that scroll and then let’s eat this wonderful cake your mother prepared!"
A burst of warmth spread through Sam’s chest as he let out a sigh, finally accepting what he couldn’t change.
He might be a failure, but at least he had his family.
The spell scroll crumbled to dust in his hands. The sigils on it flared into brilliance, forming a pattern in the air that sank into Sam’s forehead.
Congratulations! You have learned Aura Bolt!
A chime of experience flashed as a wave of power flowed into him. It was something he’d never felt before and amazement filled his mind. The ability to gain experience required a class, and that only happened when you turned eighteen.
It was only a small spell, but it had given him ten experience points just for learning it.
That announcement was followed immediately by another.
Congratulations! You have reached Level 1!<
br />
Your Status is now available to you.
A new notification popped up in front of him, drawing his attention towards a flashing icon that looked like a scroll.
Sam Hastern
General Level: 1
Experience to Next: 15.
Class: Battlefield Reclaimer, Level 0.
Sub-Class: None
Profession: None.
Race: Human
STR: 8
CON: 10
AGI: 9
WIS: 8
INT: 10
AUR: 10
CHA: 10
Spells: Aura Bolt.
Skills: None.
As soon as that screen appeared, another notification popped up.
Your life before receiving a class has been evaluated by the World Law. You have gained a Profession.
Scholar, Level 1.
That was expected, as was its level. Professions couldn't be higher than your level. His family had always been well educated, and his father had made sure that their history as researchers had not gone to waste on him.
You Have Also Gained a Trait.
Defiant.
For just a moment, Sam’s hope shot upwards, as his eyes widened. It wasn’t everyone who could get a trait as soon as they got their class! Then he read the description.
Your desire to rebel against the World Law has marked you. This trait results in town guards, magistrates, and officials of Law regarding you with disdain. This trait grants you CHA - 2.
CHA: 8.
"Damn you!" Sam howled towards the sky as he read the trait. His hands clenched into fists.
"Haha, it’s all right, son." His father patted him on the back. "The old Defiant trait got you, eh? Don’t worry so much...no one out here cares about that. We’re too far from the cities for it to matter. Your grandfather had that trait too, and so do I. It comes with the territory."
"What?" Sam turned towards his father, his mouth dropping open in surprise. "You..."
"Don’t look so surprised, lad. We’ve been struggling with this class for a long time. Do you think I always accepted it so easily? No!" His father laughed as he patted him on the back again.
Before long, the birthday cake was finished and his father had taken him away for a father-son discussion, sharing more about the struggles of the Battlefield Reclaimer class.
"Your grandfather and I have always been trying to overcome the barrier of this class. Your grandfather actually created that spell hoping it would help us gain experience. He had two copies of it and they were the culmination of his life’s work. He used the first one himself, but it never helped him much. Perhaps he was too old by then."
His father shook his head.
"I have been saving that one as a way of easing the blow for you. I know how hard it is to suffer with a broken class."
"He made this spell?" Sam’s eyes widened as he looked at his father for answers. This was something he’d never heard about.
"Yes, his profession was Arcane Scribe. It was his gift." His father nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, the materials to make spell scrolls are extremely expensive and finding a pattern for an unclassed spell like this one is even harder. Making those two scrolls was all he could do."
His father grinned, his belly shaking as he patted Sam on the shoulder again. The two of them were sitting on some flat rocks a little way from the house.
"He always claimed that he based the spell on everything he could figure out about the class, but he never had any luck in making it work. I’ve been studying the same thing, but I never found a way to use the spell to unlock the class and gain experience in it. So, instead of wasting it on myself, I saved it for you. Maybe you’ll have better luck."
"What do you mean?" Sam frowned. "How can the spell help gain class experience?"
"You know how classes work, right? I gave you a good education in that." His father’s answer was a question that turned the subject back to him, as it often was. He wanted him to think it through.
"Class experience comes from class quests, sub-professions, and nearly anything that levels one of the class abilities...but our class doesn’t have an ability, because we’ve never been able to unlock it. That’s one of the reasons it’s broken. A class should have a clear path of progression, with abilities starting at the first level, but ours doesn’t."
"Correct." His father grinned. "So, what do you think your grandfather planned?"
Ideas raced through Sam’s mind as he tried to put the parts together.
"If we’re able to gain regular experience...we can still hunt beasts, get professions, and so on, but ...how do we break past the Level 10 barrier? We need to accomplish a class quest for that."
"Correct again." His father smiled in approval. "So, what’s the name and description of the class?"
"Battlefield Reclaimer..." Sam mumbled, as he accessed the class description that he already knew by heart. He hadn’t even bothered to look at it until now.
The Battlefield Reclaimer is an ancient enchanter and smith who uses aura and essences from the elements, including rare ones like the sunset, aurora, or ocean light, to imbue items with rare and inexplicable properties.
This class allows the user to become attuned to concepts beyond mortality.
Seek out a battlefield and learn how to reclaim the artifacts of the past.
Then, for the first time, he saw something underneath the description.
Initial Class Quest (Unique to Battlefield Reclaimer): Reclaim an Aura.
Required to Unlock Class Abilities and Gain Class Experience.
Normally, a quest would have a description along with it, but this one didn’t. It was as if the system thought it was self-explanatory. That sort of thing was why it was a broken class.
"What...?" He wondered as he looked at the quest.
He was a smart fellow, and the connection between "Reclaim an Aura" and the Aura Bolt spell his father had given him was obvious. He just wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it or how he could possibly "reclaim" an aura.
It was part of the title of the class, sure, but...what did that even mean?
Apparently, his grandfather had never managed to pass this step, and he’d known far more about Aura than Sam did. He’d even been able to create a spell based on it.
"Now you see," his father laughed. "That’s the key we’ve all been chasing. Since you’re an adult now, I won’t hold back from swearing a bit. Feel free to ask me, ‘What the hell does that mean?’ And I’ll tell you that your guess is as good as mine. Neither your grandfather nor I ever figured it out. Hopefully, you have better luck."
His father patted him on the shoulder again as he stood up from the rock, groaning slightly as he stretched his back.
"Meet me here tomorrow and I’ll take you to the ruin I’ve been exploring. It’s ancient, something from before the World Law was broken, if you believe the superstitions. Perhaps it can give you a hint."
With that, his father headed back into the house.
Sam’s thoughts were tumbling like mad through his mind as he tried to sort out the information he’d just learned with the class quest, guessing wildly at what it could mean.
But...his father and grandfather had spent their entire lives on this quest. How could he possibly figure it out?
His eye was drawn to his status sheet again as he pulled it up, glancing towards the bottom where the cursed trait was visible.
"Defiant, am I?" He swore at it. "I’ll show you defiant."
Battlefield Reclaimer 2: The Old Dungeon
Sam was out behind their house in an empty field, near the low wall that surrounded the village, as he focused on the spell he'd just learned.
Aura Bolt.
Despite everything else that had happened, the ability to cast a spell was something that hit a place deep in his heart. His father had known exactly what to give him for his birthday.
Sparks of blue light surrounded his hands as he focused on channeling it. The spell pattern rotated in his mind.
It was a spell and it was his.
He'd never heard of one that could focus aura before, but that didn't matter. The pattern was a series of interlocking runes that inscribed a blue circle on the palm of his hands.
The circle was about three inches across. The runes floated in an outer band, leaving the center empty. It rotated slowly in the gathering dusk as night fell.
