Tiberius gaped at the blatant example of witchcraft floating before his eyes. Of course, he was no stranger to magic. Their very presence in this new and unfamiliar place had been proof enough that it did exist, its manifestations far more direct than he’d ever before experienced. But seeing it physically manifest like this was a different matter entirely.

The overweight “leader” of the town let out a high-pitched squeal of fright, his jowls quivering. “Y-you—! You can’t depose me! I’m the mayor! This is—!“

At a sharp look from Tiberius, the sweaty man clamped his mouth shut with a soft whimper. The text followed his eyes, continuing to obscure his vision annoyingly. He reached out to wave it away, and the golden letters vanished as though snuffed out.

He schooled his face to its usual impassivity and looked back at Marcus. The implications of the message, if it could even be trusted to begin with, were something he could deal with later. For now, he had other matters to handle.

“I will rule over this land and its people. However, I see no further use for you,” he scowled at the mayor and the bard both. “What use do I have for fops such as yourselves?”

The mayor began squealing once more, blubbering out some incomprehensible nonsense as he begged for his life. Marcus, on the other hand, remained calm. He extended a leg forward and gave a flowery bow that would have made even the most boot-kissing courtesan blush. “I assure you, I am more than capable in a variety of areas. What I have offered freely barely scratches the surface of my knowledge. Not to mention…” He gave the Legatus a meaningful look. “I am a level 21 [Royal Bard].”

Tiberius’s brow furrowed. “A what?”

***

The way Marcus saw things, he had two options.

He would have had more, if he’d been able to order Tiberius around. Unfortunately, his attempts to give the Legatus directions had failed miserably. Even something as simple as having the man call him by name resulted in little more than annoying him. Perhaps he needed to be more authoritative with his orders, but judging by Tiberius’s bearing… Well, he wasn’t inclined to try too hard. A failure would probably just get him killed.

That left the other options. The first was to do as the Legatus suggested and continue being useful. That wouldn’t be too hard. A [Royal Bard] wasn’t just an entertainer, after all. His skills could be put toward any manner of useful things—negotiating diplomatic deals, rallying the troops, more clandestine work… The list went on and on. There was a reason his services had once been in such high demand.

The second option, if he’d caught the implied threat correctly, was to die. That, or be subjected to whatever kind of enslavement, imprisonment, or other punishment a peeved warlord playing at emperor might seek to visit upon him.

Needless to say, it was a pretty simple decision.

However, he ran into a snag almost immediately. Rather than the awe and respect he’d hoped for, his big reveal of his class and level had just made the Legatus confused, somehow. Of the surrounding crowd, only the mayor seemed duly impressed, gaping at him with wide eyes.

Something wasn’t right. As powerful as these men were, a level 21 was nothing to scoff at. Not with such a rare class. Perhaps they were shortsighted enough to only value combat?

With a thought, Marcus quickly activated [Appraisal] on Tiberius. Nothing happened. He blinked, trying it again to the same effect. Shifting his attention around the plaza revealed that the skill was indeed working on the Mayor and the few townspeople visible in the distance. However, not a single one of the summoned men gave him a shred of info.

He frowned. He didn’t have that much experience with summons, but surely they were like anyone else, weren’t they? It was possible they were obscuring their information somehow, but it didn’t seem quite right. Unless…

“…If I may be so bold,” Marcus remained in his bow, “May I ask for your own class?”

The Legatus stared at him for a long moment. “Class?”

“Your class, your System-assigned specialization. You have chosen one, correct? You’re certainly of age.”

“Explain.” The Legatus’s reply was short and direct. Marcus couldn’t help but do a double take. It would be one thing if the man had yet to choose a class. A stupid, rare, unheard of thing, yes, but explainable. But to not even know what the System was? What kind of backwards place had they come from?

“Of course, of course. Just to clarify… have you ever seen one of these before?”

Marcus made a broad, sweeping gesture toward the monolith in the center of the square. The class stone seemed to sparkle in response.

The Legatus crossed his arms before his chest. “It is a stone. I do not see the point of your question.”

At the man’s continued frown, Marcus realized he’d hit the nail on the head. He had no idea. For all the pompous asshole’s declarations, he didn’t even know what a class stone was. He probably didn’t know what a skill or level was, either. Somehow, this man was completely in the dark. It was incredible.

It meant that his earlier reveal had all the effectiveness of casting pearls before swine. But still, he could turn this into an opportunity.

“Alas, it seems that you have not yet wrung me dry of information yet,” he tapped his nose knowingly. “Perhaps I could aid you further in learning the ways of this land—”

“Explain.”

Marcus grimaced at the demanding tone. Clearly, the Legatus was someone used to getting his way. Not that he wanted to try obstructing him. And so, he obliged.

He started with an overview of the System as it was explained to children. The concept of levels, classes, stats, and how every person could unlock access to the System by touching a class stone at age sixteen. As he spoke, he observed a few of the aides around them noting down every word on some sort of small tablets stored at their sides. Even Tiberius listened far more patiently than expected.

Having the rapt attention of a full audience invigorated him. Having his words recorded by another? Well, he could get used to that. It wasn’t often that people took down his stories and clever witticisms nowadays. Aside from other bards hoping to steal his work, of course. Perhaps they could do this more often.

Though the fact remained that this information wasn’t exactly a secret. Most of it could be gleaned by asking just about anyone, and even a child could tell you what a class stone did. Still, that was even better in Marcus’s eyes. It meant that, for all his appearance of helping, his actions weren’t really doing too much to enable the warmongering invaders. Not in any practical sense, at least.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

As he finished speaking, the Legatus stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This is the class stone you mentioned, then.”

“Why, yes, my lord,” Marcus said with another bow. “If you’d like, I can demonstrate how it works?”

At the man’s nod, Marcus stepped forward. He paused for dramatic effect, his hand hovering half an inch above the stone as he breathed in deep, enjoying the feeling of everyone’s gaze on him. Finally, he placed his hand down.

At first, there was nothing, as usual. After a moment of waiting, a soft golden light rose from the base of the stone, suffusing its entire surface in a shimmering wave. Once it crested the top, the light broke apart into pinpricks and began dancing beneath the surface as though someone had shaken a bottle full of glowflies.

Marcus heard mutters of alarm rise from Legion soldiers around him. He smiled. Class stone activations were quite the show, he had to admit, albeit one he’d long since become used to. But if it was their first time seeing something like this, he couldn’t blame the men for their surprise.

“Be at peace, friends,” Marcus called over the din. “This is completely normal and perfectly safe.”

All at once, the motes of light pulsed once and darted toward Marcus’s hand in a swirling mass. A warm, tingling sensation flowed through his fingers and up his arm as the light rushed through him, making his eyes flare briefly with golden light. But that wasn’t the important part. No, that distinction belonged to the glowing golden text that materialized in front of his eyes.

Information:

Name: Marcus

Age: 23

Class: Royal Bard (Rare)

Level: 21

Experience: 1,231 / 2,100

Stats:

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 29

Constitution: 6

Charisma: 53

Wisdom: 13

Intelligence:11

Titles:

Chronicler of Novara

Dashing Dastard

Traveler of Novara

Harbinger of Rome

Skills:

[Charm] (Uncommon) – Lvl 22

[Silver Tongue] (Epic) – Lvl 3

[Appraisal] (Uncommon) – Lvl 18

[Sleight of Hand] (Common) – Lvl 25

[Inspirational Song] (Rare) – Lvl 5

[Critical Reception] (Rare) – Lvl 7

[Spellcraft] (Uncommon) – Lvl 3

[Glamor] (Uncommon) – Lvl 19

[Dagger Proficiency] (Common) – Lvl 4

[Camping] (Common) – Lvl 2

Marcus smiled at the results. This past day had earned him a lot more experience than he expected. At this rate, he might even reach level 22 soon, something nearly unheard of for someone his age in a non-combat profession. On top of that, it seemed that successfully casting the Rites for the Summoning of a Roman Legion had pushed him over the edge and netted him a new level in [Spellcraft]. At least he’d gotten something nice out of all this.

However, his new title almost made the smile slip from his face. As much as he liked new and shiny things, this one seemed… ominous. Bombastic and appropriately dramatic, sure, but Harbinger of Rome? A Harbinger was known for bringing calamities or great changes to the world. Marcus always expected to leave his mark in a grand way, but not like that. He always figured that his bardic deeds fit better with a Herald title—something like Herald of the Age of Song or Herald ofRomance. Curious, he focused on the text.

[Harbinger of Rome: Summoner of a Roman Legion. May your fates be forever entwined. +50% effectiveness to any charisma-based skills or effects targeting Legion members.]

That was certainly strange. The last part of the title was clear enough, but the first seemed far more vague than Marcus was used to. Regardless, the title was clearly linked to the Legion and its summoning. It might also explain the strange, ephemeral link he still felt between him and each of the men. So far, it didn’t seem as though he could do anything active with that link aside from locate them, but it was something that bore investigation. Maybe he could learn more by looking into other Harbinger titles.

The Legion soldiers seemed to have calmed down somewhat, though they continued muttering to each other as Marcus mulled over his status. He figured that it wouldn’t hurt to take a bit of extra time looking over his skills. If nothing else, it would make the class stone interaction seem appropriately momentous.

[You have new skills available. View available skills? WARNING: After viewing, unassigned skills will be permanently lost!]

Marcus breezed past the familiar prompt. He always found it needlessly alarmist. Once a person assigned a skill, it was always available for them to reequip at any time, even though they’d have to start leveling it from zero. It meant that the risk of “permanently losing” a skill wasn’t really as extreme as it was made out to be, if one paid the slightest bit of attention. Besides, most of the skills that the System doled out weren’t anything to write home about, like [Breathing] or [Apple Picking].

As expected, none of the new offerings were of particular interest. Though they did raise some questions. How had he even managed to qualify for [March] and [Shield Wall], anyway? Those were Uncommon skills, but the most he’d done in those areas was watch the Legion soldiers do them earlier that day.

He shook his head and dismissed the list. Most of the common skills he’d long since turned down, and even the uncommon ones he chanced upon every once in a while held no real attraction for him. The idea of leveling up a skill from zero yet again wasn’t exactly the most enticing, not to mention that he didn’t need to. His current set worked well enough that he had no reason to change unless he was offered some sort of evolution. That, or his situation improved drastically. He looked forward to the day where he could drop [Dagger Proficiency] and [Camping] for more bardic skills once again.

After making sure there was nothing else to take care of, he checked in on his audience with [Critical Reception]. They appeared to be just on the brink of losing the dramatic tension he’d been aiming to build. With a satisfied nod, Marcus took his hand from the stone and watched as it pulsed once more with a dim golden light. It slowly faded as he stepped back and bowed to his crowd.

“And there you have it,” Marcus declared. “It’s as simple as that. If you haven’t yet activated a class, then the stone will glow a little more brightly upon your touch. But otherwise, your experience should be much the same. I can even guide you through the menus and answer questions you have, though your status will be visible only to you.”

The Legatus gave the monolith a wary look. He didn’t look particularly convinced. “And this… System… it does not require offerings? Sacrifices?”

“Goodness, no. Well, you do need to kill monsters or perform class-related tasks to level up, so I suppose you could call that an ‘offering’ of sorts… But aside from that, it is entirely passive. It’s quite unlike the gods in that way.”

“And this is a standard fixture amongst your people?”

“So standard it hardly bears mentioning,” Marcus smiled reassuringly. “I understand your hesitation. Considering how capable you and your men have shown themselves thus far, something like this may seem unnecessary. But I assure you, any fighter or army worth their salt in this world is bolstered by skills, levels, and stats, to a point that even you will find difficult to match. The benefits a class grants extend far beyond that of a pretty light show.”

Tiberius looked at him dubiously, his eyes flicking between Marcus and the stone. The bard stepped aside graciously and, with a flourish of his cloak, gestured to the monolith. “My lord. Whenever you’re ready.”

The Legatus, unfortunately, didn’t stride forward and regally place his hand on the stone as the presentation demanded. Instead, he held back and talked to his aides. They spoke in hushed voices, stepping away from Marcus and the still-cowering mayor so that they couldn’t be heard. He even saw a few soldiers come and go from their gathering, sent off for who knew what reasons.

The sun had arced its way far above the horizon by the time the men finished talking. Marcus was even starting to feel a little restless. Eventually, though, Tiberius stepped forward. It was everything Marcus could have hoped for, it was as if the man was a thespian learning to play the role for years. The man strode forward with confidence, his head held high and his shoulders back. As he stopped before the stone, he reached out with a hand that looked like it could crush granite and firmly placed his palm against its surface.

A second passed. Then two. Then five. Marcus felt his heart begin to pound as the stone remained still and silent. Something should have happened by now. He’d never seen a stone just fail to react like this. Maybe—

A brief instant of rumbling was all the warning they received. Then, the pillar erupted with light.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep