[Tax Collector].

  Those were the words the old man officiating the class selection boldly announced after Carrow touched the Selection Stone.

  It was a [Rare] class, the type that only one in 500 or so were offered. Tax collectors often worked for lords and other nobles, going around to local businesses and individuals and taking whatever was owed. They were tough, experienced fighters trained to both put down resistance and intimidate anyone they needed. They could also magically pick locks.

  Naturally, some with the [Tax Collector] class wound up becoming bounty hunters or doing other mercenary work. Some even worked for gangs collecting protection money and loan sharking.

  I imagined Carrow would do whichever part of the job was most cowardly, whichever most aptly fit his stupid bully status. Either way, he’d get pretty damn wealthy in the process.

  And he knew it. The smile on his face was so prominent it barely faltered even when he saw me. I thought I saw a flash of confliction across his face if for a moment, but it was gone before he could have any kind of moral epiphany.

  And why would he? He’d gotten way more than he could ever expect from this. He was an academic failure, his only redeeming feature the fat and muscle on his bones. His future was likely to have been unremarkable.

  Now, he’d stolen my future from me.

  A couple of others were called up, one after the other. I barely took in any of it. They got basic and common classes. [Baker]. [Courier]. [Bartender].

  Some looked a little disappointed, some a measure excited. They were told their options on apprenticeships and taken to the side to discuss it at the careers desk, and then another child would be called up.

  Eventually, that child was Summer.

  Even through my upset, her class got my attention.

  [Royal Knight]. It was an [Epic] class, something that only one in thousands of people were ever offered. I knew Summer had been going for either a combat or mage class, training in both to try and maximise her chances, but the system had just gone ahead and given her both rolled into one.

  Epic classes and above were special. Their potential could usually take someone much further and to a much higher Tier than a lower rarity class could, and they were often far more versatile. A general [Mage] class was [Epic] while a [Healer] class was [Rare]. This was because while healing gifts were rare, having a general command of magic and being able to specialise in any of it was infinitely more powerful.

  A [Royal Knight] was like the combination of an Epic [Mage] class and an Epic [Battlemaster] class. A [Royal Knight] wouldn’t grow as quickly in either spells or martial combat as they did if they had [Mage] or [Battlemaster], but the sheer versatility of being able to learn both quickly and to such a high level made the class incredibly powerful.

  Summer would have few limitations. She could go anywhere with that class. Do almost anything.

  The smile left her face when she saw me, replaced with concern.

  I shook my head at her, trying to signal she shouldn’t worry, and then watched her be led away to discuss career options with a very excited orientation worker.

  The orphanage had placed an offering for her during her selection. I wasn’t sure what exactly they’d placed, or how much it was worth, but it had surely paid off for them. The city would pay out of the nose for her. She might even be the subject of a bidding war. Her offers would more than cover her debt to the orphanage, and then—

  “Adam Hurst!”

  It took me a second to register they’d called my name twice. I heard a couple of snickers amongst the whispers as I walked up to the Selection Stone, my expression vacant.

  Maybe they were laughing at my lack of response. Maybe people had heard about me getting locked up last night, or even about Carrow robbing me. I wasn’t sure.

  I didn’t care much either. Honestly, at this point, it felt difficult to care much about anything. All that white hot anger and frustration had seared into my skin until it had gone numb, until the prospect of getting any more angry felt futile. What was the point?

  “Have you an offering for the gods, boy?” the older man on the other side of the podium asked, peering up at me from his seat.

  He was from the kingdom’s church, a priest that operated the selection stone. He looked at me curiously.

  “What’s in the bag?” he asked in a flat tone.

  “Money,” I replied, just as flat.

  “How much?” he pressed.

  “About forty coppers.”

  He scratched his beard. “Do you know who your parents were? What bloodline you came from?”

  “No,” I answered. “I was given my name here.”

  “Hmm…” he continued to run his fingers through his facial hair. “An offering so small is a gamble. The god of your bloodline might be offended by such a small sum and give you worse options.”

  I might’ve been alarmed by that previously. Right now, it was like hearing about poor weather.

  “Okay, so what should I do?”

  “It’s up to you,” the man said. “Some gods might not like it if you don’t offer anything at all. Do you have anything sentimental you might place instead?”

  I didn’t have to think about it; I didn’t have anything. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be something I was allowed to own in the orphanage. I shook my head.

  He said nothing. I placed the coins to the side of the Offering Circle and nodded that I was ready to proceed.

  Screw it. I might not have as impressive of a skillset as Summer with her magical prowess, but I had more skills than most my age. Offering or not, my selection should reflect my potential.

  I placed my hand on the Selection Stone. As soon as I did, a system screen flashed to life before me.

  [Unclassed identified. Class selection proceeding.]

  [Scanning…]

  [Subject name: Adam Tallow.]

  [Bloodline: Rat]

  [Skill list:]

  [Fortitude: 8]

  [Haggling: 5]

  [Grappling: 5]

  [Trap-making: 5]

  [Literacy: 5]

  [Climbing: 5]

  [Jumping: 5]

  [Unarmed Combat: 5]

  [Persuasion: 5]

  [Stealth: 5]

  [Running: 5]

  [Tinkering: 5]

  [Mathematics: 5]

  [Polishing: 5]

  [Throwing: 5]

  [Sleight of Hand: 5]

  [Perception: 5]

  [Cooking: 3]

  [Whittling: 3]

  [Intimidation: 2]

  Yup. It was all here. Every skill I’d ever tried to learn and even a few that I hadn’t were available and on full display in this system window.

  It sounded like a lot, but how much of it would end up really mattering?

  [Compiling options based on subject’s most prominent skills and offering.]

  [Compiling…]

  [Your potential classes have been selected. Please read through all three of them and make a selection. If you wish to reject your class options, you may choose the Reject option.]

  I blinked, watching as my future unfolded before my eyes. I looked down to see what awaited me and found…

  [Shoe Shiner (Common): A low-paid job suited for slum workers and unskilled individuals. Difficult to earn a sufficient living wage. If chosen, you will receive heightened growth in cleaning/polishing related skills and a slight boost to haggling.]

  I felt my throat close up as I read it. No…

  I skipped it. Tore my eyes to the second option.

  [Beggar (Common): A profession that arguably cannot even be called as such, beggars are held at the behest of others’ pity to keep starvation at bay. If chosen, you will receive heightened growth in constitution-based skills, as well as a slight boost to persuasion.]

  No. This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening!

  I’d done so much to prepare myself for this. I’d toiled my entire gods damned life. I’d worked and I’d worked, but I guess I had nothing to show for it! I guess all of my work had been for nothing and had barely kept me alive, because I didn’t have even a penny to offer now! Like a beggar!

  I felt tears blur my vision as I tore my eyes away, not wanting to look at the third option.

  It couldn’t be worse than the preceding two, could it? Surely the best was saved for last?

  After some heavy mental goading, I forced myself to see things through and checked what remained for me on the list.

  I was right. The rarest option was saved for last. But it was…

  [Court Jester (uncommon): A fool and a storyteller, the butt of many jokes, an acrobat and an entertainer. Showcases some versatility in skills regarding literacy, performance, and acrobatics. Difficult to find employment with, as jesters are in far less demand than the commonality of the class might suggest. Looked down upon by society.]

  Nope. That was it. I started crying.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried. Maybe some vicious beating I received when I was about nine. A few things had made me tear up since, including the whole debacle of last night, but nothing had broken me until this moment.

  A jester. A fucking jester.

  If only I’d hid my money better. If only I’d not had it taken from me.

  My tears dripped down into the Offering Circle. I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to regain my composure. It barely worked. I felt a sob die in my throat as I once again stared at the three options before me, eyes bloodshot, not knowing what to do or where to go from here, feeling lost for the first time in a life where I’d always carved my own path without any direction or help.

  It took a bit of time for my perspective to shift… but shift it eventually did; I wasn’t confined to three options here…

  No. I had four options.

  And that [Reject] button was growing more tempting the longer I stared at it.

  Rejection was for pampered nobles who wanted something better. It was for those who could pay for tutors and afford to live without work as they relentlessly trained for five more years.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  They weren’t for people like me. The button hadn’t been added with me in mind.

  But it was still there. And I could press it.

  I could refuse to be any of this.

  I could reject the gods.

  I could be Unclassed.

  “Is everything alright, boy?”

  The man must’ve noticed that I’d been hesitating for a while. He waved a hand before me.

  I didn’t look at him. I just watched my tears evaporate on the Offering Circle.

  “I think…” it took me a while to find my voice. But find it I did.

  “I think I wanna reject my options.”

  “Wh…” The priest looked between himself and the two companions on either side of him. He craned his neck forwards. “What did you say, boy?”

  “I said, I think I want to—”

  “We know what you said!” A female priest added in a hushed tone. “Do you know how much you’ll add to your existing debt if you refuse all of your class selections? The penalty is huge!”

  “It’s true,” the older man added. “You’ll be paying back your debts for the entirety of your childhood. Finding work will be a struggle.”

  “I don’t have options,” I countered, reciting my class selections to them. “All of these suck. None of them are going to get me to where I want to be in life.”

  The priests’ eyes shifted between one another as they took in my class options, and their faces began to shift.

  “We… understand that some class selections can be… disappointing,” the old man started.

  Disappointing? That’s what you called this?

  “But Shoe Shiner is still a reputable profession with frequent work, and while jesters are in low demand, you could one day use those skills to join a circus, or—”

  I started drowning them out. I couldn’t help it.

  I didn’t care. Maybe what they were saying was true. Maybe it was possible for me to scratch out a living as a shoe shiner. I’d been able to make a bit of cash doing it over the years, even if it was a pittance. Perhaps with a class, I’d be that much better? Shine shoes twice as fast and get paid an extra copper?

  It wasn’t what I’d worked for. Neither was being an unemployed jester hoping a hiring circus came rolling into town.

  None of this was good enough for me. It wasn’t what I’d strived for. It wasn’t what I wanted.

  It wasn’t what I was destined to achieve.

  I could do better than this. I could do so much better than this, and I knew it. I pressed the [Reject] button, ignoring the warning prompt that came up and pressing it a second time. I cared not about the ramifications, nor the risks, nor the hard work it’d entail. I’d not pushed myself so hard for over six years to back down now, not spent every moment since I became conscious in search of this dream just to resign myself. I’d rather die destitute and penniless than struggle to eke out a pointless existence for the rest of my years in this world.

  I pressed [Reject], and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I felt the burden of choice cessate. The conflict within my body abated.

  I was locked into my path now, and it didn’t matter how much I’d struggle from here. I’d always struggled. It was nothing new to me.

  I’d survive these next five years and become what I always wanted to be.

  No.

  I’d become something better. Something astounding, like Summer. Maybe even better than that.

  I’d show this shitty world, this stupid orphanage, and the asshole deity that decided I was a joke to it that I was worth something more than the pittance I’d been shown here, that I deserved freedom and respect.

  [Class selection rejected. Subject is Unclassed. Skills are now hard-capped at level 10. Physical and spiritual growth is reduced. Next class selection is available in 4yrs, 364 days, 23 hrs, and 47 seconds.]

  Well, great. That was over. Now all I had to do was find some work suited to an Unclassed and—

  [...]

  [Offering Recieved!]

  I almost missed the text as I was so deep in thought. It cut through everything and slammed me back to attention.

  [Your deity, the Golden Rat, has recognised your resolve and your toils, and has chosen to grant you his favour. Since you have already rejected your class options, your deity cannot improve them. Therefore, you will instead be granted a new skill.]

  [Hoard (Lvl 1) has been granted.]

  I blinked at that. [Hoard]?

  I’d never heard of such an ability. Was it something that came from my bloodline? I knew about the rat bloodline, but I’d never heard of any Golden Rat. Was that some obscure god my ancestors had worshipped?

  “Wh-what? What is it, boy?”

  The old priest was staring at me. His eyes looked to be filled with curiosity.

  Did he know that I’d pressed reject already? Was he aware of this new skill I’d gained for my efforts?

  When he reached forward and shook my arm, my lips finally moved. I made eye contact.

  “I rejected my class,” I said, plainly and truly.

  He looked at me in turn. His eyes were filled with pity.

  “...go to the careers desk. Inform them of your Unclassed status and they will take it from there.”

  I nodded and left. I almost wanted to tell the old priest about the ability I’d been granted just to assuage his clear concerns, but I kept it to myself.

  I hadn’t had a chance to even look at it yet. It might be valuable and it might be shit. It might be something I was best telling others about, or it might be something I got screwed over for sharing.

  As I left the desk, I went to pick up my pouch of coppers. As soon as I did, a new notification flashed in front of me.

  [Would you like to store Bag w/ Coins? Y/N.]

  Wait. Would I what?

  I almost stopped walking as I read the strange notification, gripping the bag and stiffly walking if only because I didn’t want to seem too off.

  People were starting to realise something was up. There were whispers spreading as they watched me walk to a new desk, as my body had refused to glow.

  I’d expected the priest to announce ‘Unclassed!’ like he had of the other children, but I was at least spared that indignity.

  Still, plenty figured it out, and those who didn’t assumed I’d gotten something terrible.

  I didn’t care about any of that right now. I was too busy trying to decipher what the hell [Hoard] was.

  It took a little searching around my system menus to finally find the entry on [Hoard]. I read it, my eyes widening as I did.

  [Hoard (Lvl 1): Allows user to place and store items inside an imperceptible pocket space that only the user can see, as well as remove items. While items are stored within this space, user may read a description of the items placed within.]

  It was about as mind-boggling as it was short.

  It was also freaking frustrating. I’d really been given this by the deity that looked over me? Something I could’ve used desperately for the entire last day, and only got now when everything had blown up in my face already?

  Besides… a pocket space? How did it work? How much could it store? What kind of description would I receive when I placed an item in there?

  Could I use it anywhere? What counts as an item? Were living creatures items?

  I’d asked myself about fifteen questions by the time I was sitting in front of the careers advisor, and before I could ponder fifteen more, the burly man cleared his throat.

  “Name?”

  “Adam Hurst,” I responded, vaguely aware my system had said a different name to me.

  He scribbled on a piece of paper.

  “Class?”

  “Unclassed.”

  I heard the pencil press into the paper so hard it almost snapped.

  The man looked up at me.

  “You joking?”

  I looked down at the bulging veins around the man’s bald head and the grimace on his face and slowly cleared my throat.

  “Unclassed,” I repeated, my tone more gravelly than I expected.

  “Well, shit, what the heck am I supposed to do with you?” the man asked as if he expected me to answer. He stared down at the mess of papers on his desk and sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air.

  “Can you list your skills to me?” the man finally said, already sounding exasperated.

  I did as he said. He nodded along glumly at first, but by the time I was about halfway through, his eyes were wide. After I’d finished, he looked astounded.

  “Why are you Unclassed?” the man wondered aloud. “You’ve got a bunch of good skills at five, plus a broken soft cap. You should’ve gotten at least an uncommon class even without an offering, or at the very least a reliable common.”

  “I did get an uncommon class option.” I nodded. “Court Jester.”

  “And why the hell didn’t you take it?” the careers officer asked, his eyes narrowed.

  “I didn’t want to,” was the simplest and least trauma-filled response I could give, so it’s what I said.

  The man stared at me as if I were a lunatic.

  “You realise how hard you’ve just made your life from here on out?”

  I nodded. I thought I got the gist already.

  He leaned in close. “I’ll be honest, you’re not gonna enjoy the next five years of your life, kid. It’ll be hell. If you think living here was tough, it’ll be a picnic compared to what you’ll have to do just to make ends meet from now on. I hope you’re ready for that.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “We’ll see about that. Just tell me where I can work.”

  “Alright, give me a minute.” The man ran his hand down his face as he started to flick through papers. “Making my job harder. You know how many places specify they don’t take Unclassed?”

  “No idea,” I answered coldly.

  “Well, the answer’s a damn lot.”

  He continued to file through papers, earmarking a few.

  The process continued on like this for a few minutes, to the point that a bit of a queue was beginning to form behind me. I ignored it and kept waiting. I wasn’t in the mood for any of this. Honestly, I wanted to get the hell out of here and focus on figuring out my [Hoard] skill.

  But I knew that I had to at least find out my options first. See if there was anything better than the concepts I had in mind, or if what I was starting to think up was even possible.

  “Okay,” the bald man finally said, having gone through his stack of papers twice and separated a short handful. “I’ve got a list of work you’re either probably or definitely approved to do, plus a figure to illustrate your debt to the orphanage.”

  With that, he scribbled on a piece of paper and then handed it over to me. I took it in my hands, stared at it.

  I owed the orphanage 2550 gold pieces, and 1400 of those were incurred the moment I’d refused to take a Class. Five gold a month for feeding and clothing me as well as providing me with both education and a bed to sleep in, about thirty gold for things I’d allegedly ‘broken or damaged’ over the years, 200 for my assault on Carrow yesterday, and another hundred in doctor’s fees.

  Yeah, because I remembered ever having seen a doctor in my life. Honestly, they made this shit up as they went along.

  I half-scowled, half-laughed at the debt and placed the paper down. I kinda felt glad I hadn’t picked a class at this point. To think that the orphanage would’ve profiteered off of whatever I’d taken, that they would’ve sold me like property and taken a tidy sum for the bare minimum they’d put into my development, it sickened me.

  If I was any more petty, I’d have intentionally taken the lowest paying job to ensure they didn’t make more than a few coppers out of me.

  But I wasn’t that stupid—I needed to work. I’d managed to make a living my entire life up until now. I could continue doing so. I knew I could.

  And so I listened to the options presented.

  The fact that shoe shining was even on the list made me laugh. It was considered unskilled enough that I could do it without a class, but refusing to take one had still landed me with a 1400 gold penalty. Would taking [Shoe Shiner] also have resulted in me gaining a penalty? Would it have been smaller?

  It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to be shining shoes. My shinebox was officially retired.

  The next few options didn’t sound much better. Gravedigger, fish canner, road sweeper, dish cleaner…

  None of these paid more than a couple of coppers a day. Gravedigger was the best option at six daily coppers.

  I wasn’t sure if six coppers a day could even afford me room and board, especially if 30% of my earnings were going back to the orphanage until my debt was cleared. In the next five years, not only would I struggle to survive, but I’d barely make a dent in what I owed. The chances that I’d never earn enough to gain an education, to attain valuable skills… that I would have put myself through five years of labour to receive nothing at the end of it, they were steadily increasing.

  This wasn’t good enough. I needed something more drastic.

  I told the officer to not bother showing me anything that averaged less than two gold a week. He laughed at that. That was skilled worker pay, the kind someone with a decent class and some experience could expect. Not the likes of me.

  I knew that, but I insisted he show me anyway. Maybe there was something here I could do. Maybe I could spin up pay like that if I used the money I earned to make more, invested it somehow.

  The job listings became increasingly demanding and bleak. That said, most of them didn’t even say that they accepted Unclassed, they just hadn’t taken the time to write ‘no’ to Unclassed on their job descriptions.

  After a good deal of page-turning, baldy came across a sheet of paper that he glanced at for a few seconds and then set to the side. I asked him about it.

  “What’s that?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing worth worrying about. It fits your criteria, I think, but…”

  “Tell me what it is,” I insisted.

  “Fine.” The officer reclaimed the previously discarded paper and read aloud from it:

  “Unwanted children are sought to enter contracts with the Rift Delving Association. No particular skills required. Potential for high payment in both gold and valuable items. A negotiable signing bonus will be paid to the parent or guardian of the offered child…” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not something that’s been around long. It’s not clear exactly what work they’re offering, either.”

  “Well, what do you know about it?” I asked.

  “The ‘Rift Delving Association’ is a private company. They aren’t sanctioned or endorsed by either the Melusian government or the Adventurer’s Guild. I know there’s an active legal battle to have them audited, and that five-year mortality rate for their workers is showing at around 40%. They’re almost definitely bad news.”

  “...but they pay well?”

  The careers advisor stared blankly at me. “You heard everything I just said, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t care if they pay in diamonds. I’m not sending you to a place like that,” the advisor said, shaking his head. “You’re going to struggle as it is. You’d be better off doing something safe.”

  I crossed my arms. “And who are you to decide that?”

  “Someone with a conscience. If you want to get a normal job, then I’m happy to help you. Otherwise—”

  I went through the rest of the conversation with increasingly thin patience. I ended up agreeing to work at a clothes factory which were able to provide basic accommodations for workers as well as one meal a day. I was scheduled to show up there tomorrow.

  I knew I wouldn’t make it to the factory. If this guy didn’t want my potential death on his hands, fine, I’d go to the Rift Delving Association and check it out myself.

  I’d heard of the place already. I’d even overheard conversations about a few kids that went there last year. I wasn’t sure of their outcomes, though. The rumours varied.

  Frankly, I didn’t know as much as I’d like to about rifts or the work that went on around them. It was a relatively new industry, with most rift delvers up until now being adventurers that tamed and closed dangerous rifts.

  But I knew they were a source of big money. That some of the most renowned and famed rift delvers made absolute fortunes before they were even out of their twenties.

  And if there was money to be made somewhere, that was exactly where I wanted to be, stacking up every last penny that I could.

  Screw the risks. I might’ve been Unclassed, but I wasn’t powerless.

  From this second onwards, I was going to prove that.

  First step? Figure out how the hell [Hoard] works.