Luke stared at his identification tab for a minute. Although it was short, with little detail to consider, his current XP always seemed to arrest him whenever he laid eyes upon it. -235, he breathed, wary of the effort it would take to bring it up to 0. That was the only way to get his level progression back on track.

Level penalties weren’t a novel occurrence, but a penalty of up to 5 levels wasn’t something anyone could take with a smile. Well, he thought, at least it happened early in my progression, and better this than… he trailed off with a shudder at that thought. It would’ve been worse if he’d faced a regression.

Regressions came from traumatic experiences, and when it came to classes, they could mean as little as losing levels, regressing to a less favorable point somewhere along one’s leveling path; to losing the option of further path progression altogether, which was almost impossible for anyone below level 45.

Levels 45 to 55 presented a leveling gully to all initiates who’d managed to make it that far. Once one hit the gully, the requirements for leveling would shift from being a matter of quantity of experience, to one of quality, with each progressive jump requiring more impressive feats to trigger. This requirement is what made regressions more likely in the gully, as the more an initiate upped the ante with little rest between subsequent trials, the more likely they were to make mistakes, or bite off more than they could chew.

It would be a long time before Luke had to worry about the gully, seeing as he’d be stuck at 9 for a while. “Ok Luke! Glass half-full time!” he said out loud, “Instead of 5 levels from the start, I’ll just take this as the 2 level-ups it is from where I’m currently at,” he concluded, minimizing the loss before moving on to his Classes tab.

He took a more haphazard approach to his classes, totally ignoring the primary class and the first 3 secondaries and starting with Wind Mage. The name and old level were crossed out, and an arrow proceeded the old level, pointing to dashes, the new value. This signified a Type 3 Regression, officially known as Path Regression, which led to a class regressing to its base class, closing off future progression prospects down that path. This is why the attending nurse had pitied his hope, as recovery from such a regression was close to impossible.

Next, he considered the Scholar class, which had reappeared in his list. Though this was just a hypothesis on his part, Luke assumed all base classes would be marked by an Alpha symbol instead of a level to signify the rank-up to a higher-level class. This signifier would then modify the display properties, hiding the base class from view without actually removing it. This would come in handy for instances like these, when regressions occurred.

The Alpha signifier for Scholar was now visible, albeit crossed out; and an arrow proceeded it, pointing to the value it had regressed to; 9. This signified a Type 2 Regression, officially known as an Out-Rank- or Resurgent Regression. Type 2 and Type 3 Regressions always came in pairs, and as such, the resurgence of Scholar was obviously linked to the loss of Wind Mage.

Moving on, he skipped Farmer, for there wasn’t anyway he could think of to exploit this in his escape, and also skipped Acrobat, whose uses were too obvious to dwell upon. He landed on Fencer, which was his only combat class. It appeared normal when compared to Scholar and Wind Mage’s display, but a regression had also occurred on this one, which he only knew due to knowing what his previous level had been.

He had been a 9 for Fencer, a level away from beta-leveling the class. Beta rank-ups, or more descriptively, second-degree higher-level classes; came from maxing out first-degree higher-level classes. This was in no way a small feat, and it usually took substantial amounts of time to even get close to achieving, but he’d managed it at such a young age due to incorporating some of his wind abilities into his Fencing. Now that he’d lost his ability with that affinity, Fencing had naturally regressed.

These were the effects of Type 1 regressions, better known as In-Rank Penalties or Minor Regressions. They were the most common of all, appearing temporarily at times, due to status effects. Amazingly enough, a lack of practice could result in a [Rusty] status, and this would be reflected in an initiate’s class levels via In-Rank Penalties. Given all the regressive effects from the incident and prolonged recovery stint, he’d have to rely most on the one which couldn’t face degradation due to idleness. I’ll just have to rely on wit over physical feats in this condition, he concluded, picking his plan of action with regards to the Scholar class.

He moved on, skipping both the affinities and attributes sections, for there was nothing new to consider there. His attributes would just tell him to think and run his way out of all his problems, whilst the affinities would tell him nothing at all, which was due to the cryptic nature of the stats on that page. He could understand such dashes being uniformly spread for Wind, but it didn’t make sense for the same dashes to appear in other affinity columns, especially when there was a mismatch in Capacity and Generation. He would investigate this further when he had the leisure to.

Traits and Perks were the next stop, with a heavy emphasis on perks. Due to the cloak and dagger nature of his next undertaking, diurnal wouldn’t benefit him; instead, he would lean on nocturnal as much as he could, leveling it on the go. Crit-sight would come in handy if he ever faced any obstacles, but he’d couple its use with back-stabs from his Fencing repertoire. Timed and positioned perfectly, he could incapacitate whoever stood in his way with little-to-no long-term consequences to their wellbeing. This way, the mayor wouldn’t have an excuse to come after him once he managed to escape beyond the town limits. Fast Learner, though relatively high amongst his perks; was still too low to do much for him in live combat. He would thus skip that application altogether, using it where it worked the most.

◆◆◆

He minimized his status upon reaching his skills tab and reserved further analysis for his next activity. Leaving his room, he headed down for the double doors at the end of the eastern hall, playing up his hobble for anyone who might be observing him. With a shove of a bum, the left door moved in, creating enough space for him to squeeze inside.

There he was, in a room full of dusty trash he’d make into treasures within hours. All the clinic’s old furniture was stored in here temporarily, until someone came to collect and dispose of it; but lucky for him, that someone rarely made good on that duty, leaving stuff to pile for months.

Pulling up a kerchief from his inventory, he fashioned it into a face mask and got right into it, inspecting the wares one by one till he spotted his first item of interest, an old chair. Its exterior comprised of a cheap leather imitation and bad needlework, but his interest was more in its guts, which spilled out from the torn seat and backrest. He approached the chair and inserted a curious but cautious hand inside, feeling around until he hit his target, the springs inside. Drawing a spring to its limits with one hand, he summoned his smallsword with the other before using it to server the coil. With a mental command, he stored the coil and the sword in his inventory, and surprisingly, the twang that had resulted from the severance immediately vanished.

You have acquired and stored 1 x You have stored your weapon, You have stored an instance of

That last notification, though a welcome biproduct of his actions; was still a surprise, seeing as he’d never been able to capture sound like that before. It would be useful in minimizing detection, but only when it could be used repeatedly, and with deterministic results. With that thought in mind, he went about the collection of more coils, honing the skill until there were no more coils to retrieve. Halfway through he’d received a satisfying notification, putting name to the effects he’d been able to accomplish with his blade.

Fencing Skill: ; has been discovered. , level I: Stores [--redacted--] of sound resulting from your sword attacks.

There was that redacted word again. Whatever mechanism made this possible, it seemed like it was linked to whatever his hidden class was, and that Loop modifier he’d seen in his inventory. He initially considered the redacted words to be the same in both instances, but then thought otherwise, given how one had been capitalized and the other in small letters.

Having finished with collecting coils, he took a minute to steady his breathing before going straight into his next activity. For this he would need the storage cabinet, which was on the opposite end of the hall, next to the kitchens. He hobbled his way there, requiring even more effort in his farce as his jovial mood made it harder. Reaching the end, he bumped into one of the nurses, who eyed him with suspicion.

She maintained unflinching eye contact, even when he leveled an equal stare her way. “Up and about are we now?” she said, breaking the brief staring contest. “And what were you doing in the old storage room?” she asked, in a nasal and condescending tone; to which he responded, “Just looking for something to aid in my recovery and comfort. Last thing I received to that end was this cane, 3 weeks ago.”

His implication of the clinic’s neglect was obvious, but she ignored it, pressing her offense instead by hitting where she knew would smart, “Ah! Your body still causing you distress, your Air-ness? At least you’re alive to feel the pain, unlike those who followed you to their deaths.”

Luke quirked a brow at the last part, which seemed to anger the nurse. For a second, it looked like she would strike him for that questioning look, but she managed to restrain herself in the end. She clutched at an unseen object just under the crook of her neck, rubbing it a few times. The ritual seemed to calm her down, and he took an interest in the object. He stared hard at the area and willed his appraisal.

[Analyze] has been invoked on . remains unnamed. Insufficient ability to fully analyze human objects. Object recognized. Descriptor has been tacked to . WARNING: is staring at you, staring at her…

That explains it, he thought, connecting the nurse’s disdain for him to the Adherents of Radiance. It wouldn’t be surprising for anyone who’d lost someone to the Hatchery Incident to hold some animosity towards him, but that wasn’t the case here, since he would’ve known who the woman was. He had made it his business to know all the band members’ family and friends, in case he had to relay news of their demise to them in the future. Unless she had been a distant relation, brand new or hidden love, the chances of this woman being related to anyone from the band was slim to none.

Knowing what likely drove her venom, he chose to leave the matter, seeing as he couldn’t win a zealot over to his side. He excused himself, walking through the doors and towards the tinker table, all the while escorted by her venomous glare. He hoped she was a unique presence in the clinic, but leaving nothing to chance, he appraised every nurse he ran into. 1-in-3 appraisals dropped his mood, bringing it to its lowest at 11 nurses. Of the 11, only 8 had been linked to the Adherents. 2 had been flagged as being in the mayor’s employ by the impression their broaches would’ve made, should they be used with ink and paper. Those had been a welcome surprise, the revelation being a detail he’d never known prior to his interface’s upgrades.

With 10 accounted for, there was only 1 left and to Luke’s dismay, she wasn’t the least. She had been flagged as an independent contractor, which came to Luke as ‘Classy Mercenary’. Her appraisal notification lacked detail, but what was there gave him pause. It told him all he needed to know about any future interactions with her, and that was to make sure they wouldn’t happen.

DANGER: of unknown affiliation encountered. has sensed your appraisal!