Vraxious- The Forsaken Lands
My own arrogance is going to get me killed by a fucking Spriggan Vrax; there are less horrible ways to kill yourself, and here I am still fucking classless, alone in a haunted-ass forest with whatever the hell a Betrayed Spriggan is. That will kill me before I even realize it sees me.
Vrax crawled for what felt like hours, only the steady brush of grass and leaves keeping him company as he prayed. Eventually he stood up into a crouch. As the grass led to a strange wooden surface. He had almost climbed down some kind of wooden staircase. Ahead, a staircase of fine black wood appeared to just grow into the ground, leading down five or six strides before it evened out into a tunnel that was surprisingly well lit by some kind of fluttering white moths that shone like torches. Vrax didn’t question it as he halfway stumbled down the staircase into the tunnel. Smooth, spiraling beams of wood reinforced the surrounding stone in the tunnel. He walked on for just a few moments before he could see light streaming ahead. Vrax looked out the tunnel exit in awe.
The circular room ahead had no ceiling greenery; dripped from the rim of the roof was cascading down along with a dozen small waterfalls. Creating a sense of unending motion and growth. The floor held inches of crystal-clear water gently swirling with lush water lilies that shone an almost pure red. In the center of the room, a grand circular stone platform rose up several feet; it held an inexplicable promise of power, of change. On the stone platform, two golden trees rose up, their white branches entwining into a perfect circle. Raw primal power radiated from this archway.
Vrax found himself standing on the platform; he didn’t even remember choosing to climb it. But here he was, and it felt right, like he belonged here. He wasn’t alone on the platform; two figures from an age long past had met their end here, locked in battle in this holy place. A desiccated skeleton in golden platemail unburnished by time or wear, still glistening as if it were just polished. A simple-looking wooden spear, with cracking veins of green power along the untreated bark. Had been thrust down through his neck and pierced the stone below.
Opposite the golden corpse was a figure hunched over a body balanced on the point of the greatsword through his midst. The body was completely overtaken by life. Mushrooms dwelled within his ribs, the network of their mycelium stretching out like they had tried to save him. Small white flowers sprouted from every exposed inch of his body, and one singular red lily rose tenderly from his jaws.
Vrax stepped towards the two figures, hands outstretched; he had to know more. Who were these warriors of legend? And what was this place? This had to be it. He paused his fingertip just a breath away from the strange spear. It called to him; he didn’t know why. But it felt like it needed him as much as he needed it. The power it had to offer. No, not the power; it was freedom. It screamed out for freedom. His fingertips gently alighted on the spear.
[System Quest Completed]
[Divine Pilgrimage of the Cycle]
[Calculating Reward]
Vrax felt a pure shock of emotion, his anticipation ripping him from the riveting piece of history before him. This could be it; this could be his path forward. His heart beat so hard his body practically pulsed.
[Hidden Conditions Met]
[Tier 1-foes slain at level 0 [297/100]
[Days survived, unaided in high mana density region [402/200]
[Eligible rare classes declined [4/3]
[Monsters utilized in combat with no taming skill [637/50]
Oh shit, the [system] must have counted all the carnivorous plants as actual monsters. So far this reads like a list of how haven't you died in the forsaken lands yet. Vrax made himself chuckle a little, helping to settle his pounding heart as the extensive list of survival and combat achievements continued to scroll by. He had always felt he had gone above and beyond what was normal in his quest for the right path. Apparently the system had agreed with him all along. It finally settled on the last few conditions.
[Pilgrimage for a diminished god]
[Witness the death of soulbound beings [12/10]
[Approval of Vurune, god of the cycle]
[Reward: (Unique) [Paladin Of The Cycle]
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You will safeguard the cycle of life and death. Wield the powers of growth, of change, and of decay to set the world free from those who would hold it stagnant. Stand tall with weapon held high and strike down those who would fetter you. You will adapt the life of the world around you to serve your will; life leads to change, change leads to death, death leads to rot, rot leads to life, and thus the cycle continues.
[This class precludes immortality; none escape the cycle.]
[This class grants a stigma of your god.]
Vrax was dumbfounded; he almost didn’t even know what to think of what he was offered. He had been striving for the perfect (rare) and had dared to dream of an (epic). Getting a (Unique) wasn’t even something he had considered. That would make him the only person on this planet with this exact class. It was a huge gamble for so many reasons. He examined the specific wording over and over again.
Powers over life and death, the power to change things around him. It was exceptionally vague, but it sounded like it could be incredibly versatile, especially if he intended to keep fighting like he did, starting every fight with a deciding advantage, always weighing the scales in his favor when possible. It specifically mentioned using weapons. So some kind of spellsword-aligned class. But it did seem to focus on his powers over the cycle more.
One inescapable detail was that it was a (Paladin) class the one ubiquitous skill they all got at the start was some kind of divine smite. Vrax didn’t know if this being a (Unique) would make that break from the norm, but he doubted it. Why would the system bother to name it [Paladin] otherwise? Also, what would a smite even look like from this deity? Vrax got lost in thought, pacing back and forth on the altar of stone, his footsteps softly echoing through the chamber.
Then there was the immortality aspect he personally didn’t aspire to; he knew that if you advanced far enough, aging could be halted permanently, but that kind of life always seemed more like a curse to Vrax. Who would really want to be here forever? The stigma, though, that would be a visible sign of his divine alignment. Members of Rembrand’s Order carried visible brands on their bodies, showing what God held claim on them. He doubted it would be a brand from the god of death, life, and nature, but it probably would be damn noticeable.
Vrax kept mulling over possibilities, but one fact kept popping back up: no matter what, it would be better than what he had been doing. holding out for a perfect safe choice. He was stagnating, and he needed to break free from his own fears and take the plunge. With a sudden, abrupt change of posture, worry was replaced by resolve. Vrax knelt on the altar beside the two ancient warriors and let himself drift into his [System Sanctuary].
Vrax opened his eyes within his soul, fondly gazing at the reflections dancing across his lake. He hoped his sanctuary wouldn’t change too much; he quite liked this place. Minus the background. Vrax shivered slightly, looking at a fleeting humanoid shadow that danced just beyond his sanctuary’s boundary.
He didn’t need to speak aloud to summon the system here, but this moment felt too poignant for him to not have at least a little fanfare. “System open (Unique) class options.” Vrax fondly patted a flower that was edging closer to him, trying to steal a nibble of his cloak. The Devourers all started wandering in his direction, curious about the disturbance. “Hey guys, hope I see you on the other side.” The Devourers bobbed happily in response to the friendly tone.
[Unique Options Available One]
[Paladin Of The Cycle]
Vrax braced himself and reached out to select the information hovering in his soul. He grasped it, attempting to express his acceptance.
[Class selection is permanent. Are you sure this is the path you wish to tread?]
“Yes.” Vrax watched as his sanctuary fell out from under him, streaming into geometric chunks of existence. The world went black for a moment. Then a pinprick of light came whipping towards Vrax from the distance, coasting to a stop within reach.
[Begin [Skill] selection]
Vrax found himself an outside observer over a battlefield. A man cloaked in green wielding a longsword faced down a great clawed beast. He dashed forward, the very grass around him rising with his steps, before swinging the sword in a mighty arc. Jagged blackened thorns grew from where his sword tore into the beast, seemingly growing from its blood and searching for more. The ground around them exploded into a field of roses that reached for the monster longingly.
Suddenly the man was reset just before his charge; again, this time his cloak was stained red with his own blood. Massive clawed gouges were torn from both his face and arms. Weapon held at a low ready, he dashed towards the beast, the grass as his feet seemingly turning to dust with each step. With a spiraling swing, he brought the sword down. Slashing deep into the creature's chest. It’s flesh bubbled and roiled away, exposing bones, the grass around them turning to a grey paste as the man seemingly siphoned the life from his surroundings, wounds knitting closed as he dug the sword deeper.
The man reset again. This time he was surrounded by knights in green armor in various states of injury. He did not charge this time; he stood tall before the monster, countering its charge with a stalwart deflection. With a swift swing of his sword towards his fallen comrades, a wave of soothing green passed along the ground, causing plants to bud and the grass to grow. When it washed over the men, blood withdrew from the grass back into the wounds, and bones began to snap back into place. In just a few seconds, the man had healed a mortally wounded squad of knights.
The scenes began replaying over again one at a time. Vrax knew what it wanted; this was his divine smite. It wanted him to choose which path he would start down. They were all possible uses of his smite. One called out to Vrax more than the others as a way to keep on fighting through wounds and always have an emergency out. He was already brainstorming how he would craft the skill over his career. Vrax let his will lock the second version of the man in his mind. “I choose rot leads to life.” His voice echoed throughout the infinite possibility that was his soul, and then something inside him clicked. His body shuddered as essence Formed a new sculpture within his still unseen sanctuary.
[Skill acquired]
[Decomposing Smite]
Infuse your blows with entropy, corroding your foes and using their essence to heal your wounds.
[Mana Cost Variable]
It was simple compared to the version he had been shown, but Vrax was ecstatic; it was a fantastic skill combining devastating offense with a passive healing effect. He would have to experiment and see what variable really meant for the mana cost. He expected to only be able to use this once or twice per fight, at least to start. Hell, Vrax didn’t even know what his mana pool would be yet; he was hoping for decent, but he had never been the most gifted in magical arts.
Vrax breathed a deep sigh of relief as his vision swung once more to another overhead view. At least this unique class did start with two skills and not just one very offense-focused one. He prepared for his next skill, already theorycrafting what could interact well with his smite.