Light blue and purple text sprouted up in front of Liora as she focused on the Accept option.

  Adarin studied her—her giddy bouncing, the wide, naive smile lighting up her face. She’s already made bad decisions. I need to prevent her from making any impulsive mistakes now.

  The side of his mouth twitched. I need to learn to control her better. Otherwise, she won’t be an asset. She’ll be a liability.

  A list unfolded in a glowing script before her, words radiating soft hues of energy. Alongside each entry, a label flickered.

  Healer – Medium Rarity

  Specialize in alteration magic and master the art of magical healing.

  Necromancer – Medium Rarity

  Let the will triumph over the flesh. Become a necromancer, a summoner of spirits.

  Witch – High Rarity

  Through ritual, learn the arts of using the cycles of nature. Healer, serve and protect—or curse and condemn.

  Priestess of Ishna – Medium Rarity

  Be ordained as a priestess of the goddess Mother Ishna.

  Study healing. Lead the faithful.

  Draw power from the faith of those around you. Gain a connection to the avatar.

  Cycle of Life – Greater Rarity

  You have become death. You have become life.

  Your affinity connects you to both. You understand that death and life are not absolutes, but parts of a greater whole.

  Walk the full circle and become its master.

  Select Class for E-Tier

  Current Class: G-Tier – Acolyte of Ishna

  Adarin saw the moment Liora’s eyes landed on the second-to-last class.

  A broad smile bloomed on her face like the first flowers in spring.

  Luckily, she didn’t select it immediately. Instead, she bowed her head and murmured a prayer.

  “Mother…” was the only word he could make out.

  Adarin cleared his throat. “Let us think about this before you do anything—”

  He barely swallowed the word stupid before it left his mouth.

  Liora turned toward him, something flashing in her eyes. That same iron-hard resolve that only surfaced when she was in real danger.

  “What is there to think about?” she asked. “I am an acolyte of the goddess—and she has offered me ordination.”

  Adarin thought fast. She’s a believer. I can’t win a theological argument.

  “So… before you select anything,” he said quickly, “I wanted to thank you. For your support.”

  “We wouldn’t have made it out of this without you. Really. Thank you.”

  She blinked, visibly taken aback, then smiled—surprised and touched.

  “Thank you, Adarin.”

  She spoke his name like she was tasting it for the first time.

  Then she turned back to her menu.

  Adarin shook his head slightly. This is not over, girl.

  “So, tell me,” he said, keeping his tone light, “what do the rarities mean?”

  Liora turned, her smile returning.

  “Well, the rarer a class is, the more powerful it tends to be,” she said. “It also means that greater mentors will be available to you.”

  Adarin nodded slowly. “So basically, only someone with very high potential is even offered a greater rarity?”

  Liora nodded. “Yes. It’s rare that such a thing happens at all.”

  She looked back to the list and softly murmured the words: “Life and death…”

  Then she shook her head. “But I have to take the Priestess class.”

  Adarin tilted his head. “Why?”

  Liora looked at him, then hesitated.

  Adarin continued, pressing gently, “Is becoming a priestess of the goddess the only way to serve her?”

  “You have so much potential,” he added.

  He remembered what he’d seen in her mind—those buried memories. The raw magic. The vision Rüdiger had glimpsed.

  That madman will be furious if she doesn’t choose something necromantic.

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  The only question now was…

  He looked at the two classes—Necromancer and Cycle of Life.

  Which one do I push her toward?

  “It isn't really a question,” Adarin said calmly. “Only the powerful get to rule—or even survive.”

  He tilted his head slightly. “You are already an Acolyte, are you not, Liora?”

  She nodded—though her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “So you already serve the goddess,” he continued. “Wouldn’t greater power—a class of greater rarity—let you serve her better?”

  He saw a flash of something on her face. Resistance. But also… desire.

  “If you become a Priestess, what would really change? Would your vows matter more—or would you just have a prettier title?”

  Liora drew in a breath, jaw tightening.

  Adarin raised a hand and cut her off before she could speak. “You don’t have to decide right now,” he said softly. “Just ask yourself which choice gives you more strength to protect what you care about.”

  She let out a long breath. Then closed her eyes and whispered another prayer.

  They stood there in silence. The Soldier and the Acolyte. Two worlds, connected—yet distant.

  Liora blinked her eyes open.

  “The goddess…” she whispered. “Maybe I…”

  She cast her eyes down.

  “But if I use that kind of magic… would I still be serving the Holy Mother—or betraying her?”

  Her gaze became unfocused, and Adarin didn’t need to read her mind to know what filled it.

  A dead family. A dead dog. Her rotting sisters.

  Adarin stepped forward and gently wrapped her in a hug.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured, as the sobs began to shake her.

  He held her quietly for a while.

  Then, red-eyed, she looked up at him.

  “Do you think…” Her voice trembled. “Do you think I can change anything? Prevent…”

  She swallowed. “Prevent those things from happening, if I…”

  She looked back at the glowing text. At the list.

  At Priestess of Ishna.

  At Cycle of Life.

  Adarin nodded slowly. “Only the powerful get to decide what happens. When you were taken prisoner, there was no one to defend you.”

  He lowered his voice. “How did it feel… marching in the center of our army? After we had won?”

  A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. A spark that almost shone—then died.

  She pressed her lips together.

  Then nodded, though her eyes still flickered between the glowing names. Priestess. Cycle of Life. Her lips moved in silent prayer before her gaze finally lingered on Cycle of Life.

  Do you want to accept the E-Tier class of greater rarity: Cycle of Life?

  Y/N

  The Y blinked.

  Liora focused on it.

  New words arranged themselves on the screen before her.

  And then, three ghostly figures appeared around her on her side of the platform.

  One was an elegantly dressed man with a staff and long, flowing hair—his robes shimmered like molten silver, power radiating from every gesture. His smile stretched too wide, revealing fangs where grace should have been.

  The second was a bald man in simple robes. His head gleamed as he held his hands folded in a seal that pulsed faintly with golden light, each line etched with hidden strength.

  And in the center—

  A large, lizard-like creature. Two heads—one black and skeletal, the other green, young, and vibrant.

  It had a shared, snake-like body that coiled through the air.

  Liora gasped. “A Wyrn. A flightless dragon…”

  Adarin and Liora both turned to study the new text that appeared:

  Select your initial mentor:

  Archmage Malleus – Higher Rarity

  Master Xin Lu – Higher Rarity

  The Twin-Headed Hydra – Greater Rarity

  Liora seemed taken aback by the reptilian creature’s appearance.

  Adarin frowned. She’s not used to different bioforms?

  He skimmed her memories. Surprisingly, she had only interacted with humanoids.

  Then he remembered the intelligence reports. How the System had favored the humanoid races. How certain species—like the Medusae or Hyphants—hadn’t survived integration in any known cases.

  A bias built into the machine, he thought grimly.

  Liora glanced between the three choices, then stepped back slightly. Her shoulders were tense.

  Adarin reached out and steadied her, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. He felt the stiffness in her muscles.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  She looked to the ghostly figure of the elven mage.

  The image smiled at her—revealing sharp, pointed teeth. Fangs.

  “He’s an elf,” she said quietly, with disgust threading her voice. “A high elf. But still a member of… that race.”

  Adarin almost shrugged but caught himself. What’s that about? I guess it makes sense. If she’s never known other sophonts in her world… isolation breeds xenophobia. Sad, really.

  She spun around, eyeing the bald human in simple robes.

  Then she leaned toward Adarin, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

  “He… I think he’s from the South. From the Foggy Hills.”

  She glanced back at the ghost. “It’s a barbaric region,” she whispered, almost spitting the word. “Their holy orders burn villages in border wars. Warrior-priests—they think cruelty is piety.”

  Adarin raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. She’s dismissing the mage and the monk… but what about—

  He turned and looked at the large, twin-headed reptile. The Wyrn.

  The one she’s been ignoring completely.

  “The Wyrn?” he asked aloud.

  “I do not know,” Liora admitted, voice tight.

  “I think it’s a Hydra?”

  The two heads turned toward them simultaneously.

  They spoke in eerie unison, their tones perfectly aligned:

  “We are Hydra. Of the Southern Jungles.”

  Liora shrieked, recoiling as the ghost of the creature grew more concrete. It took a slow step forward, serpentine body weaving through the empty platform space.

  Both heads lowered toward them, voices vibrating through the platform like a drumbeat.

  Liora stumbled back in terror and slammed into Adarin’s chest—he caught her reflexively, pulse spiking at the sheer weight of the creature’s presence.

  The Wyrn’s twin maws opened as one, hot breath ghosting over them. Liora clutched Adarin’s arm, trembling. And still the voices rumbled in unison:

  “Choose.”

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