Jasper’s memories resumed the moment he stopped playing. He could almost, barely, remember the last note, a fading sound of total longing that reverberated sweetly in the air.

All around him, drunken snoring filled the air. The first light of dawn was coming through the window shutters in silky threads of gold. It was morning, and by the looks of it, the party had only just now rolled to a halt. People lay where they had fallen, tankards spilled from their hands. Flies buzzed above the sticky spill.

He was slumped back in his seat, exhausted. A thin crown of sweat clung to his forehead.

What…

What was happening when he played? It didn’t always happen– it seemed to have a will of its own. And he could remember nothing, not one moment of the night after he put his fingers to the strings. It was unsettling.

Setting the borrowed instrument aside, Jasper picked his way over the fallen bodies. Pushing out into the morning, he gazed up at the sky, eyes pricking after a sleepless night. The sun was rising over desert hills, tangled in the leaves of the palm trees that rose along the river’s green-blue run.

Jasper had a whole day ahead of him.

And it felt fantastic.

— — —

Jasper's first stop was by one of the little white-clay ovens where cooks prepared street food; only the very poor cooked for themselves in this city. Two copper bits bought him a cake of pounded, rolled grains that was delicious and sticky and savoury-sweet, coming wrapped in fried leaves that had a sugary crunch before dissolving on his tongue.

As he licked his fingers clean, he was noticing something strange in the air. A certain buzzing excitement in how people talked.

"Hey," he asked the food-seller. "What's up with today?"

The man gave him a crooked look, like he was the last to know. "We found a Ruin yesterday. Saltboon just went up in the world."

"Oh, I know. I was there. Actually–" Jasper added. "I think I fell into it. I just, ahh, being from Ardaen and all, I don't really know what a Ruin is…"

"One of those adventurers, eh? Here I took you for a local boy." With casual skill, the cook drizzled sticky sauce over a cake and folded it into a wrapper of leaves, passing it over to Jasper. "My son was on that expedition. Well... Ruins are a kind of treasure trove, always full of long-ago riches, magical artifacts, that kind of thing. 'Course, that's just what I've heard. They're also full of monsters so you wouldn't catch me wanderin' in for a visit. But oh, young bucks like you, they'll be eager to test their luck and see what they find down there."

Jasper nodded along. About what he'd expected– as long as he thought of this world as following game logic, he could usually tell how things fit together.

I wonder what it says about the gods, that they're so obsessed with games…

"There's a lot of money in a Ruin, then?"

The man grinned.

"Saltboon's luck is changing, mhm. I paid for a fortune this morning, and the witch said there was opportunity in the air."

Opportunity in the air…

— — —

His next stop were the bathhouses. Built into the river, they channeled water into stone pools lined with smoothed pebbles. Jasper rented a private room, contained behind reed screens, and bought a little tray of lotions and oils that bled fragrant aromas.

He sighed as he put his armor aside and sank into crystal-clear water. It had been a while since he had a true bath…

And what had seemed like an annoyance to avoid back on Earth was now the height of luxury…

Relaxing against the edge with his eyes closed for a long moment, he eventually turned to the notifications that hovered around the edge of his vision. There were three of them waiting now–

— — —

The Great God Aquoth Blesses You

Skill ‘Marathon' is now Level 1.

The body is a gift; to never know its full potential, to die weak and soft, is a waste.

The Great God Aphon Blesses You

Skill ‘Command' is now Level 1.

A battle must be won in the heart before it can be won in the field.

Two new skills from the battle. Jasper was surprised he still didn't have a 'true' combat ability, but then, fighting was still a last resort for him. Maybe his mindset was influencing what skills he developed.

Sarabas had taught him a little about the gods, and which skills they watched over.

Aphon of the Sun was the god of music, creation, and charisma. Craftsmen and travelling players swore to him.

Maerith of the Shadow was the god of deceptions, tricks, and forbidden knowledge. Politicians and thieves shared his worship.

Thaen of the Candle was the god of magic itself. His domain was narrow but powerful– and he had been a Midlund god, once, before turning.

Aquoth of the Ox was the god of physical strength and domination. Warfare and labor fell beneath his domain, and only Aphon, his brother, was stronger.

Iskatae of the Owl was the god of knowledge and wisdom. They were also the local god of Saltboon, worshiped in the city's lone temple.

Each god with their own domain…

And every step you took along your Class path brought you closer to being one of them.

Letting the notifications fade, he braced himself before opening the third.

The Great God Aphon Smiles Down

Skill ‘Performance' is now Level 11.

Choose a Gift for this Milestone

Talent - [ Captive Audience ]

When you play your instrument, you may choose one creature that can hear you. They become captivated, losing sight of everything but you, and suggestible to your command. Pain or other sharp stimulus breaks this effect.

Gift - Reforging

Strengthens body, mind, and soul alike, granting slight compounding increases to all aspects of the mortal flesh. Adds a small amount of longevity to your lifespan.

Like he'd thought. He'd crossed his first Milestone.

And the choices were…

Hmm. Captivated Audience was useful, no doubt. In battle, a moment of distraction could prove fatal, and being able to use his music to sway people to his side…

But on the other hand, it was limited. It filled a niche role and required him to stand back and play music, rather than fighting or working magic.

Hypnotizing people sounded like a benefit…

Until those people figured him out.

In the end he'd only be able to choose one talent from the Sun god. Choosing something this specific seemed likely to carry him to a dead end. Whereas 'reforging' his body would only become more valuable the more times he went through the process.

The first increase was estimated at something like five percent, but the benefits compounded over time.

Sarabas had even told him of monks who'd reached something called the Golden Flesh, and were effectively immortal. So long as they continued to hone new skills they would gain infinite youth, as reforging gave them back more years than they spent on each craft.

He selected the second option–

And felt a gentle, radiant power flow outwards from his mana-core. His skin began to flush with light, his veins and bones exposed as shadows within. Slowly… the veins faded away, the same luminous power filling them. His organs vanished, the dark blots of throbbing tissue filling with glowing blood. The bones were last to go, as the brilliant power worked into the marrow…

For a moment every portion of Jasper shone brightly. He held up his hands and stared at them in awe.

And then the light faded, leaving him feeling reborn.

Every trace of exhaustion, every lingering bruise, had been wiped clear. His mind was racing, all the little clutters and confusions, the stray unhelpful thoughts, swept away.

He felt focused and powerful. There was more definition to his body, more muscle there…

Looking down, Jasper thought the features of his face had shifted slightly. More angular, more symmetrical…

He could see why the monks dedicated their lives to chasing this feeling.

Jasper spent a little while cleaning himself off, rubbing the oils and soaps down into his skin and splashing about in the water, letting the weightlessness of his body almost ease him into sleep as his eyes slipped closed for a time…

It was good to relax. If he didn't stop now and then, he'd keep hurtling between one horror after another– he'd go mad.

But he couldn't spend the whole day idly. There was one more thing to do.

Owl was a nocturnal god. At this hour, the temple would be nearly empty.

Swimming to the edge of the pool he reached into his clothes and found the rough-edged Shard of salt, lifting it up. There was a glittering scar down the center of the pink-white stone.

Jasper took out the twenty-sided die as well…

One by one, he pulled them into the Child’s Blessing, allowing him to see their natures.

(1 Link)

Thirst

Mana Sink

Passively steal a sliver of mana from all nearby creatures.

(1 Link)

Fortune

Chosen

Increase the gods’ influence over your fate.

And just as quickly, he spat them out again. Thirst was useful, but nowhere near as useful as sacrificing it to gain a Class.

Fortune… was something he’d never use. He’d already had enough of Bell’s meddling, and if he had to guess, the Ardish gods were no friends of his. No, the last thing he needed was giving the gods a bigger hand in steering his new life.

What he needed was to figure out what he wanted…

— — —

As Jasper wandered through the town, Saltboon was waking up. Merchants were setting up their stalls, drinking and chattering with one another before traffic turned the bazaar into a warzone; maids were drawing silk from the spinnerets of the massive spiders; the potters were digging the riverbed for mud and the farmers were setting out into the fields.

So many small, drifting lives…

In another world Jasper had lived like that. Except he hadn’t found any happiness, any peace, in just letting the days roll by. There’d been something missing.

He’d gotten angry, blamed the world for that anger, and let his soul turn sour…

So what was it he wanted?

He’d come here with the adventurers to learn about the world. Now, with the sorcerer helping him, he had that in hand. Did he just continue on with Teysa and Amun and Thorn? Roaming the world, having adventures and sleeping under the open sky?

It wouldn’t be a bad life. Yesterday had been terrifying, but he’d felt alive in the heat of battle. Some part of him wanted to chase that feeling…

Or did he go to the Bard’s College that Teysa had mentioned, and try to make something of this gift he’d been given?

It would certainly involve less blood. He could still remember the glass-eyed look of surprise on the men who’d been laid down dead in the sand. Fighting and brawling was all good fun– until suddenly the fun was over.

Go back to Earth?

Jasper cracked a smile, snorting. No, no thank you. The only person he’d miss was his mother, and when he thought of her–

He thought of her going tearing down the highway with a beer can held high, a cigarette between the knuckles of the hand that gripped the wheel, roar-singing along to hard rock oldies radio.

He’d miss her, but she’d be fine without him.

Looking up, Jasper realized he’d arrived. The columns of the temple were carved into massive owls of white stone with their wings drawn up around them, their faces masks of bronze. The inner space was wide and beautiful, with trickling fountains that drew water not from any pipe or engineering, but from fragments of cool blue stone that constantly dripped a steady stream, feeding beds of flowers and ivy that draped itself over trellis screens.

The floor beneath was a massive mosaic, depicting Owl as a white-cloaked sage with flowing blonde hair, neither male nor female. They held up a blazing wand and stood in the shadow of a massive dragon, the beast sprawling across the mural in a knot of blue scales.

The priests here were all very menial sorts, tidying up or working in the flowerbeds to tend to the plants.

Jasper strolled right past them, heading for the altar, Shard nestled in his hand. If he was lucky, this wouldn’t cause a big fuss and he could walk right out again with a second class.

But when…

Oh when…

Was he ever lucky?

Who are you? Intruder…

The whisper blew past his ear like a cold wind, and Jasper turned. Nobody had spoken. Nobody else had heard.

He took another step forward.

Thing from another realm. Begone, begone from this place.

Yes, flee, get thee gone.

The whispers poured from the ceiling, from the walls, from the floor. They pressed against his mind, a grinding mental weight like a vicious headache.

Jasper turned and ran.

It was too late.

Intruder!

Intruder!

Intruder!

Creeping treachery!

Foul thing of the void!

From where does it crawl on two legs?

Why does it slither into our temple sweet and fair

Intruder! Intruder! Intruder! Intruder! Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!

Mewling man-thing! Void-spun trash! Insect-being, whelp of mother’s milk, tasteless soul destined for the grindstone, worthless cattle for the slaughter! Intruder! Intruder! Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!

Each word came with a pounding spike of pain at his temples. Jasper lurched, unsteady, crashing down the steps two at a time…

His foot twisted on the last step and he plunged forward, hitting the sand and hard-baked earth.

Intruder! Intruder!