Normally, getting a new class was cause for celebration. A Class would give me access to questlines, skills, ways in which I could boost my abilities and basically get stronger, faster, better. My previous class had been “Legendary Hero”, but of course, since the reset, I had been classless. And now…

“Status.” I was extremely put off by what I was seeing.

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ISEKAI HERO V2.0 Beta by XXXXXX

Name: Blanc

Level: 1

Class: Butler to a Disgraced Archmage

Employer: Magus Emeritus Aastor VII

Title: N/A

Fame: N/A

Skills:

As You Command (Lvl 1)

Equipment:

1x Chunk of Living Stone

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First of all, this was sparse! Sparse, I say. Where were my augmentations? I had enhanced my mind and body over years and years of training, and it seemed like the Summoning Spell had entirely wiped all those modifications away. Moreover, I couldn’t see any spells, any quests or even my XP Bar! I knew that XXXXXX (whoever that was), had updated the System, but this was a little bit like setting fire to a building and calling it a renovation. Arson and vandalism, not redecoration.

Still, it wouldn’t do to throw a temper tantrum just yet. Not until I knew at least a little bit more, and had actually had an opportunity to explore the Patch notes fully.

Aastor had been leading us down the Hallway, through a series of doors, as though he knew the place like the back of his hand. I suppose he was somewhat of a regular in this place then. Of course, knowing that and remembering the comment about not lasting a month….The facts didn’t exactly set me at ease. I wanted to ask quite a few more questions, really figure out exactly why this old man needed a Butler, and why he couldn’t have just hired some of the locals who were no doubt around.

“Hey-URRKH!” I began to speak, and suddenly felt a choking sensation around my throat. A strangling sound emanated from my mouth as I spluttered. It was an odd, phantom feeling, like my own throat had enclosed on itself to prevent the words from being uttered. As quickly as it came about, it stopped, and I was able to breathe again.

So, who exactly was casting magic on me, and right behind the back of a powerful wizard? Moreover, it looked like Aastor wasn’t even aware that I had made a sound, much less been choked and made the target of some kind of magical attack. Clearly, someone was skilled with stealth magic. I tried to speak again, this time using a low whisper to try and alert Aastor.

“Uhh, someon-HRRRKH!!”

Aastor still didn’t notice. We had exited the hallway at this point, and had only just emerged into a beautiful garden. It wasn’t in bloom, but it was still extremely well kept. The shrubbery was a gorgeous green, and there was a sparkling blue lake, shimmering in the center of the Garden. And right next to the lake, a young-ish girl, wearing a breastplate and a red beret was looking around forlornly, as if waiting for someone. Aastor was making a beeline for her, his pace quickening, and I had to nearly jog to keep up.

As I tried to figure out how I could silently alert Aastor to the possibility of someone attacking us using stealth magic, a little flicker caught my eye to my right. I whirled around to see…more shrubbery.

Ah, but the flicker hadn’t gone, just changed places. It was right…there! I turned again and saw…the door we had just used to enter the garden. The flicker was just at the edge of my vision, a mild annoyance in the corner of my eye. I tried to take a look at it without moving, slowly changing the field of my vision until my eyes were staring right at the flicker. As it turned out, not a flicker at all.

It was a blinking exclamation point, and as I finally laid eyes on it, a pop up opened up in the same way that the Status screen did.

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WARNING:

Class limitations when interacting with Entity “Employer”: All interactions must fall under Formal Conventions.

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Okay, so the new notification system was certainly annoying, but I figured I’d get used to it. Plus, at least it would no longer “DING!” loudly in the middle of the night and wake me up, which had always been an annoyance.

But more importantly….what? I read over the pop-up again, completely baffled. Class Limitations? The Hero class had never been subject to any limitations, or none that I’d come up against at least. I’d never tried to murder a civilian or anything though, so perhaps I simply hadn’t ever brushed up against them in the first place. But this was…odd. I dismissed the popup, and began to experiment.

“Yo du-RRRGGGHH!”

Ouch! Okay, still can’t speak, but the notification popped back up. And…yes, the same message. “Formal Conventions”, hmm? Well, I didn’t really know too much about what Butler’s did, but I had some idea of how nobility liked to be treated. No matter what world you went to, the Nobility, the Royalty, the Upper Class always wanted respect. Respect and order and power. And their lackeys were always polite, understated and yet somehow authoritative enough to make an ordinary peasant, or even a Legendary Hero, feel like dirt.

I shuddered at the memory of not one, but several Butlers and Manservants treating me imperiously, as though no amount of lives saved would ever redeem me from my common roots. Common Roots? Jeez, I wasn’t even BORN in your world!

“Ahem. Sir, where are we heading exactly?”

I kept my voice low. It wasn’t quite a whisper, but only Aastor would be able to hear me. And miraculously, I was able to speak again, so I guess that the only stealth magic targeting me was the System itself.

“If you look up ahead, boy, you’ll see a very lost looking young girl.”

“Yes Sir. Do you know her?”

Aastor whirled around, and there was a nearly demonic gleam in his eye.

“Know her? That’s the Chosen One! She was probably summoned about an hour ago, same as you, and made to wait for her Handler.”

“Handler, sir? Would that be you?”

The man was so excited, he was practically vibrating. I half expected him to simply disintegrate, given how jittery he was.

“Bahahaha, no, I don’t get to Summon Chosen One’s anymore. And before you ask, you don’t count.”

“Yes Sir. So then, why….”

Being polite was grating on my nerves. I could see why every well-trained, proper Butler I met spoke like they were being mentally tortured and wanted to take it out on whoever they spoke to: They absolutely were. Formal Conventions were ridiculously annoying.

“Bah, already beginning to talk like a real Butler, hmm? Half spoken sentences and all.” He looked satisfied rather than annoyed, so that was a positive. “Well, good! Maybe you’ll even last the Month. Anyway, we’re going to tell her to quit.”

“Quit what, Sir?”

At this, Aastor gave me a look of incredulity, as if he’d fully expected me to figure out the answer on my own. Damn it man, being a Butler doesn’t really give me anything in the way of wisdom, and I’ve been in this dang place less than a couple hours!

“Quit being the Chosen One of course!”