The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 5: Luck of the draw

Entering Class Selection. Environment based on player data.

The words echoed in a monotone robotic voice, then the sound of quiet conversation brought Blake back to reality. For a moment he thought it had all been a bad dream. He opened his eyes and saw a busy coffee shop bustling around him, a pretty barista who smiled at him from the counter, and a sleek, new laptop sitting before him on the table.

Blake closed his eyes and breathed. Then he read the text on his screen.

Welcome to class selection, said the same sexy, British woman in his mind as he read. This is an extremely important choice, as it will shape all your future decisions to come. The list has already been made according to your talents, but pick the one you feel is best in a vast, chaotic world. Remember the goals of the game. And please inspect your profile.

With a reflexive thought, said profile appeared on the screen.

Blake accepted his new world and forced his fears behind a layer of will. Then he stared at his skills and education and frowned at the label of ‘none applicable’. Well if that’s not a condemnation of the education system, he thought, I just don’t know what is. And what about all those project management courses?

His statistics weren’t exactly a shock in terms of their weight, though he had no idea if a two was terrible and if a six was awesome or just alright. A forty-two luck seemed much higher than anything else, but he supposed that might be just how the stat worked.

Your genetic and background assessment are completed. Initial class suggestions determined. Please stand by.

Blake’s laptop screen lit up with a list of classes, just like a damn video game. He snorted when he realized the little avatar under each was actually him, dressed variously in different outfits, generally looking like a caster type in robes or a staff blasting magic. Though there was also a version in a suit shooting waves out of his head. Another guy was surrounded by allies, and looked like he was supporting them by healing their wounds. The list was fairly extensive, and Blake scrolled and scrolled, no idea how he’d choose.

Abjurer? What the hell did that even mean.

Enchanter? A specialist who could maybe infuse items with magic. Too specific.

Conjurer? Some kind of pet class, which was appealing, but sounded too vulnerable.

Priest? No. Just no.

As he kept scrolling he began to feel like he needed to apologize to a girl or two who’d called him afraid of commitment. He was feeling vaguely terrified of choosing any of the specialties on offer. What if the magic specialty he chose turned out to be rather…underwhelming? Or just useless too much of the time? Or chosen by practically everyone else? He wanted flexibility. He wanted opportunity. OK, he wanted it all.

Finally he scrolled all the way back to the top and realized he’d basically missed a class in his enthusiasm to search. They were listed alphabetically.

[Arcanist. A magical master of none, but often better than a master of one. The arcanist can choose any magical path in the game.]

Blake looked around at the somewhat blurry faced patrons of his imaginary coffee shop, and grinned. That was it. That was his class. He’d always been a generalist. The image of him on the screen had many hidden pouches and tricks, in a library surrounded by books. Thinker. Problem solver. A knower of everything. That’s me, Blake thought. Adaptability and charm, that’s how Blake Nimitz survived in the old world, and that’s how he’d survive the new. No doubt he should have thought more, weighed all the options, checked out all the classes and compared and contrasted. But as he did so many times in life, he had a gut instinct that told him this was the right thing, and he went with it. He picked Arcanist.

Initial class selected. Please select your initial powers. You may choose two.

Power list. Right. Well this was going to be considerably harder. As before the list was vast, maybe in the hundreds, and the descriptions were pitifully brief.

Blake suspected the Arcanist in particular had a huge range of choices compared to something more specialized, which would benefit him in the long run but might screw him at the start. Anyway how could he pick without knowing what challenges he’d face? Broad use, he supposed, something flexible. He suspected even in a world of chaos he’d be working with others. That’s what he always did, and going it alone in this world wasn’t a thing for humans. At least not humans who planned to live long. They were social animals, they worked best in groups, and Blake was a leader of groups. His ‘presence’ stat was also highest, and powers would likely scale or at least synergize with stats, because well, video game.

He found a power called Mental Influence, and forced himself to take it. If someone had told young Blake he’d one day get to have some kind of mind control superpower, he’d have danced a bloody jig. He couldn’t let the little guy down.

But he needed something if words failed, too. There was offensive powers, that was for sure. Fire and ice blasts, electrical touches and acidic spits. That was all fine and dandy but again Blake wanted something…subtle. Something…flexible, because you just never bloody knew. And frankly roasting things alive just wasn’t his style.

He smiled when he found Telekinesis. Moving things with his mind? Throwing knives? Undoing bra straps? Avoiding manual labor forever? Um, yeah. That was another damn superpower, and Blake wasn’t about to betray his younger self. He picked it without hesitation.

Excellent choices, and congratulations! You are now ready for the tutorial. Please select your tutorial preferences. You have one minute remaining. Good luck!

His what nows?

The power list vanished on his laptop, replaced by some very simple choices.

Forest? Mountains? Desert? Island?

A tropical island sounded pretty nice. Blake picked that without much thought.

Alone, or with others? Again, pretty obvious. He pushed with others and drummed his fingers on the table.

Thank you, intoned the voice. You are now ready for your tutorial. Good luck, player. As always, we are rooting for you.

“I appreciate that.” Blake forced himself to smile, then cringed slightly as the people around him seemed to literally melt into the floor. The pretty barista collapsed like she was made of sand, then the chairs, then the walls, until Blake realized they had literally collapsed into sand. He was suddenly standing on a beach.

He heard the gentle sound of waves, and when he blinked the blue sky had appeared above—mostly clear, with a slight breeze blowing a spattering of clouds. He breathed in the salty air, then turned to see a few trees and rocks and other vegetation, but mostly nothing except him on a white, sandy island.

“Hey,” he frowned, “I was supposed to be with others.”

Just as he’d finished speaking, he heard a slight splash from the water, and turned with no idea what he’d do if it was an enemy. Then with a toss of her long, blonde hair, a young woman emerged and swayed her way up the beach before she noticed him and froze. Blake grinned his most charming grin.