Subclass (2)
‘I’m screwed.’
Solomon ignored the narrator’s nonsense echoing in his head and left the underground crypt with Violet. They passed Dr. O’Neil’s corpse on the way out.
‘Whether he lives or dies doesn’t matter.’
That was what the Uptown mage from one of the Five Great Families had said. But it wasn’t Solomon’s concern. His job was to kill the target. Once the request was completed, his role ended there.
“H-he’s here!”
“No way…!”
“……Ah.”
It happened the moment they stepped out of the underground crypt. An army of the dead surrounded the entire cemetery like a noose.
Just as Violet had described—zombies and skeletons armed with repeating crossbows, a few troll zombies. The horde stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, an endless black mass.
‘They really went all out.’
Solomon clicked his tongue silently. Yet, strangely, his mind remained eerily calm.
Compared to the fight they had just survived, no matter how many undead stood before them, it didn’t even qualify as a crisis. It wasn’t about character strength or quantifiable stats.
Through that previous near-death experience, Solomon had felt an indescribable ‘growth.’
‘The quest is done. I just need to grab the head and run…’
That was when it happened.
“Let’s finish our earlier conversation,” Violet said from beside him.
“What?”
“About my trade secret.”
“Oh, right… that.”
Honestly, he couldn’t care less.
“The truth is, me being a first-class fixer was a lie.”
But what came next was anything but trivial.
“Unofficially, I’m one of the seven Special Class Sword Watches in the entire organization.”
“What…?”
“After you ran, I was planning to handle that bastard alone.”
Even the previous statement had been shocking, but this was on another level.
“So all that suffering earlier was for nothing? You son of a—”
“Understand this. By regulation, we cannot leave witnesses alive.”
“!”
Witnesses cannot be left alive. She had casually spoken the truth she herself refused to fully acknowledge.
“And yet you came back anyway.”
“No, I didn’t see anything back then. Why the hell are you bringing it up now?”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m telling you.”
Solomon spoke in disbelief. Violet shook her head.
“Strictly speaking, you didn’t actually ‘witness’ anything. No witness, no reason to kill.”
“……”
“This is nothing more than respect.”
“Respect?”
“For the courage you showed by not running away earlier. It deserves to be acknowledged.”
Violet speaks calmly. Can you notice that the tips of her ears are *just a little* flushed as she says it?
The narrator’s voice continued. Solomon stayed silent, thinking it was just more barking.
“Well, thanks for not burying me with him just because you hate me.”
“Hmph. You could at least shed a few tears and act moved.”
“……Why are you bringing this up right now?”
They now stood before the necromancer’s army blocking their path. Skeletons and zombies, even troll undead, all armed with repeating crossbows.
“Close your eyes.”
“Aha!”
With those words, she removed her sunglasses. Solomon immediately understood and shut his eyes tight. He had no desire to become a witness and get buried alongside them. Less than a second later, her voice returned, accompanied by a faint wave of dissonance.
“Rise.”
“……”
A short silence. In that silence, Solomon swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the unbelievable sight unfolding before his closed eyes.
“By the way, that’s the title of my favorite novel.”
“……”
Violet shrugged as she spoke. Solomon answered flatly, setting aside whether such a novel actually existed in this world.
“And there was no one there.”
“You didn’t just bury them all under concrete or something?”
“Think whatever you want.”
Just as she said, nothing remained in that place except the two of them. Only a bleak wind swept across the cemetery.
From there, Solomon returned straight to Hotel Snark. He was so exhausted he could have collapsed on the spot, but a zombie hotelier blocked his path.
“My apologies, Sir Solomon, but congratulations on completing your request.”
“……Ah.”
He could guess what this was about. His rank must have gone up.
“From now on, in addition to your current floor, you may use Room 204.”
“Room 204…”
“For reference, this is the fastest floor ascension in the hotel’s history since its opening.”
Clap. Clap.
The zombie hotelier clapped with a lifeless voice.
“……What?”
The fastest floor ascension in history. At those words, Solomon forced his heavy eyelids open despite the crushing fatigue. These were not words he could afford to ignore.
Bernier had said that quite a few people had taken an interest in Solomon. Whatever they thought, one thing was certain.
Whether he liked it or not, there were now ‘people watching Solomon’—
It wasn’t that he disliked the attention. The problem was that the attention was far more intense than he was comfortable with. Just like what had happened earlier.
‘I took down an Uptown mage… with my own hands.’
And not just any noble. He had killed a noble from one of the Five Great Families. Strictly speaking, the Sword Watch had delivered the final blow, but the end result was the same.
Solomon had been there. He had contributed to that outcome.
It wasn’t hard to imagine the aftermath that act would bring. No, it was terrifying. The mere thought of it was enough to make him shudder.
In other words, that very achievement was paradoxically drawing more attention to Solomon and dragging him into unnecessary trouble.
‘And now I’m tangled up with those Black Museum bastards, my life on the line…’
It was precisely because of feats like this that such problems arose. The very struggle to survive was ironically turning into a Greek tragedy on repeat.
Running from the oracle only to charge forward faster than anyone, begging for death.
‘……I’m fucked.’
Even as exhaustion threatened to knock him out, his mind was in chaos.
‘Did I really just kill a mage from one of the Five Great Families…?’
As he savored the weight of that fact, his heart suddenly sank.
Solomon headed straight for Room 204, the room granted to him in honor of the fastest ascension in the hotel’s history.
He opened the door, collapsed onto the bed, and fell asleep in less than a second.
‘……The narrator mentioned something about my level earlier.’
In that final second, he thought it. Then sleep swallowed him whole.
Welcome, Solomon.
The voice was sickeningly familiar. Solomon opened his eyes without surprise.
“……Game Master.”
Solomon spoke the name. The Tabletop Room. The robed man—Game Master and narrator.
“Looks like I leveled up, huh?”
[Oh……]
At those words, the Game Master smiled, the darkness beneath his hood rippling. The void under the hood curved like a crescent moon, twisting into a grin.
[It was a level you could have gained on your own. However, unfortunately, *party play* does not work that way.]
“……”
[Still, it is true that you gained quite a bit.]
He hadn’t leveled up. The experience had been split with his companion.
“My level’s the same, so why the hell did you drag me here?”
[As you know, level is not everything. You understand that well, Solomon.]
The man answered.
[The level of your subclass *Reaper* has risen, granting you one point to learn a new perk. More importantly……]
His voice was more meaningful than ever.
[The victory you achieved was no ordinary victory.]
“Then what was it?”
[According to the rules of the game, we call it a *Fated Victory*.]
Fated Victory. Solomon frowned.
[It is different from a normal victory. As the name suggests, a Fated Victory is an achievement that carries significant weight on your destiny, Solomon.]
“What are you trying to say?”
[There is good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?]
The Game Master asked. Solomon answered without hesitation.
“The bad news. Start with the worst one.”
[You have lost 50 Favorability with the *Uptown* faction. As a result, you are now in an unconditionally *Hostile* state with all Uptown factions. The Five Great Families, their branches, and anyone else—no exceptions.]
“……”
A Fated Victory did not mean everything was fine. The fact that he had killed an Uptown mage would haunt Solomon endlessly from now on.
“What’s the next bad news?”
[With one of the Five Great Families, the *Lancaster Family*, your Favorability has dropped to -100.]
“……Not the Arrowhead Family?”
[Oh. It is not quite good news, but the Arrowhead Family’s Favorability is the ‘only one that did not decrease.’]
“What…?”
[In the end, the Lancaster Family absorbed that -50, so the total remains plus-minus zero.]
Even though he had defeated an Arrowhead Family mage, their favorability hadn’t dropped.
‘……I have a vague idea why.’
The Game Master continued calmly.
[Now, three pieces of good news await you. Wow, isn’t that amazing?]
“Just tell me.”
[You have acquired the trait “Potential Heavyweight.” From now on, you will gain +30 Favorability with all Hotel Snark factions and clients who speak with you.]
“……Is that it?”
Solomon was dumbfounded.
[Oh, please wait a little longer. Those who possess the *Potential Heavyweight* trait acquire one more thing.]
The Heavyweight Die. Solomon blinked.
[When dealing with factions whose Favorability is over +30, you may roll this die and add its value to any social interaction rolls.]
Heavyweight Die
Tag — Special Die, Non-Consumable
When interacting with factions whose Favorability exceeds +30, add this die’s result to any social interaction roll.
In exchange for being marked by Uptown’s nobles, he had gained favor with the Hotel Snark faction and the people in this industry. The die was proof of his new status as a potential heavyweight.
[Finally…… you have acquired the trait “Mage Hunter.” Since you killed a mage from one of the Uptown Great Families, it is only fitting you receive appropriate compensation. This is not a trait one can obtain by killing just any mage.]
“Oh, is that so?”
Both the positive and negative effects he had gained were tied to his ‘reputation.’ Which factions’ favorability had risen or fallen, and so on. But the last one was different.
“Mage Hunter……”
It was a trait he had heard of and knew well.
Mage Hunter
When attacking a mage-class opponent, deal +2 additional damage.
+2 damage. But unlike ambush skills, it required no special conditions or situational setup. There wasn’t even a ‘melee’ restriction. The moment the opponent was a mage, it added fixed damage without question.
The actual AP cost to learn this trait was a hefty 4 points.
Four points was not worth investing under normal circumstances. Not because the trait was worthless, but because there were far better options available.
However, as a free trait, it was pure gold.
“……At least that’s some good news.”
[It will prove useful going forward. Whether you like it or not.]
“I’m so fucking honored I could cry tears of blood.”
He couldn’t bring himself to be happy even though he knew the reason. Considering which faction he had just massively reduced his favorability with, even an idiot could see the result.
In the end, Solomon had now made enemies of the pinnacle of this city—Guild City—the Five Great Families of Uptown.
All because of that Fated Victory.
“……Let’s talk about the subclass instead.”
[Very well.]
At the Game Master’s gesture, a piece of paper with the texture of medieval parchment slid in front of Solomon.
On it was a star map-like diagram of countless branching points and lines starting from a single dot.
Among them, the path of stars branching into three from the first starting perk he had learned—“Inevitable Fate”—was glowing.
Clearly connected possibilities. Three perks he could learn at the end of those paths.
Subclass: Reaper
Available Perks:
→ Finishing Blow
→ Blade of Tuning
→ Excessive Bleeding
The first two were simple differences between dealing immediate, clear-cut damage or slowly accumulating higher damage over time. Solomon didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll learn Excessive Bleeding.”
He already had more than enough immediate attack power. At this point, balance wasn’t about stubbornly focusing on the center, but about filling in the most neglected virtue.
[Understood.]
The Game Master replied.
Among the countless dots arranged like constellations, the letters for “Excessive Bleeding” began to shine brightly.
The branch of stars connected to the first learned perk glowed, a sign that the light of possibility was blooming like a flower.
Subclasses were useful.
Just as “Inevitable Death” had become the death of the spear-wielding spectral mage during their fight.
In any case, the more dice you rolled, the better.
The next morning, in the grocery district of Downtown’s 8th Ward.
Violet left an old couple’s bakery with a bag full of freshly baked croissants.
With the pouring sunlight at her back, she walked down the street and thought absentmindedly.
‘……What was that?’
It had started with a faint sense of dissonance. The same dissonance she had felt from that man last night when he fought the so-called “Arrowhead.” At first, she had assumed it was his ability to read information. That was why she had asked. Looking back now, she had been completely wrong. Terribly wrong.
‘That guy’s ambush back then… didn’t it fail?’
Her grip loosened without thinking. The bag of bread and freshly baked croissants spilled all over the street.
She was struck by a shock as if she had been hit in the head with a hammer. The word “oops” wasn’t nearly enough.
‘It failed. Yes, that’s right. That crow-head’s ambush clearly failed……’
Yet the ambush that should have failed had ultimately succeeded. And it really had.
Just like her Schrödinger’s Swordsmanship, she was skilled at sensing overlapping possibilities and their branching points. She could even manipulate those possibilities directly.
After all, the bag of bread and croissants that should have been rolling on the ground were now back in her hands.
That was the point.
How could a mere contractor from Hotel Snark use an ability permitted to only an extremely small number of people like her?
‘That man… no, how…?’
He had clearly used a ‘manipulation ability’ of the exact same nature as Violet’s. A talent allowed only to an extremely small number of people like her. And his was far more elegant and precise than hers.
It wasn’t even at the level of manipulating possibilities. It touched something far deeper—essentially the very end of the realm Violet herself pursued.
‘Don’t tell me he unconsciously manipulated fate…?’
At that point, Violet reached a single, incredibly bold conclusion.
It wasn’t the correct answer.
But it wasn’t one hundred percent wrong, either.