She spotted Kurda at a table, using both of his left hands to write. His deep blue skin seemed to absorb the lantern light as he bent over what appeared to be an inventory list. Multiple columns of neat script filled the parchment.
The floorboards creaked under her as she approached. Kurda's eyes flicked up, darting between her face and her companion before returning to his work. Elara slid onto the bench across from him, careful not to disturb the cat's precarious perch.
The scratching of his quill paused. "Don't let Lana rope you into her dirty work." His gruff voice carried a note of disapproval. "She's perfectly capable of handling those tasks herself."
Elara shrugged, then winced as the cat's claws flexed to maintain balance. "It wasn't that bad." The lie tasted sour on her tongue as she remembered the weight of the rat-filled sack. "Besides, I had help." She tilted her head toward her armed companion.
Kurda hummed. His hands kept moving, making notes in different columns.
"What's my new scarf's name?" Elara asked, trying to break the silence.
"Satan," Kurda replied without looking up.
Elara's eyes widened. She cursed herself for not using her inspect skill earlier and quickly activated it, focusing on the feline draped across her shoulders.
A blue window materialized:
[Satan The Warrior Cat Lvl: ???]
"Is that... an appropriate name?" she ventured carefully, feeling Satan's piercing gaze bore into the side of her head.
Kurda looked up from his ledger, confusion creasing his blue features. "Why wouldn't it be?"
Elara's mouth opened, then closed. The weight of religious implications sat heavy on her tongue, but she realized Christianity might not even exist here. Better to keep quiet.
"Just thinking it's cute," she said quickly, forcing a smile.
Satan's intense stare softened, and the cat settled more comfortably across her shoulders, returning to its lounging position.
Her eyes darted back to the level indicator on Satan's status window. The cat must be more than twice her level. The spear suddenly felt much heavier against her neck.
"So," she cleared her throat, shifting carefully to avoid disturbing her armed companion. "What are you working on?"
"Supply list. Need to figure out what to bring to the dungeon."
"Dungeon?" The word caught her attention immediately. Remembering the reward she had gotten for her Class Roulette skill.
"Mm." Kurda's quill paused. "There's one not far from here. Planning to set up a temporary shop there." His blue features remained impassive as he glanced up. "Good opportunity to earn some coin and get Lana some experience."
One of his right hands tapped the parchment. "Need to calculate provisions, medical supplies, basic gear for repairs. Adventurers always forget something essential."
The idea sparked Elara's interest. It seemed far safer than her last dungeon expedition, when an innkeeper plans to set up shop. "How close is this dungeon?"
"Two hours west," Kurda replied, his quill resuming its scratching. "It was found about a month back."
Elara shifted in her seat, Satan's weight still pressing on her shoulders. "Any luck clearing it?"
"Not my business to clear it." One of Kurda's right hands reached for a fresh sheet of parchment. "First group showed up four weeks ago. They'd stop by regular at first, rest here between delves."
His quill paused again. "Then they set up camp closer to the entrance. Waste of time traveling back and forth, they said."
Elara's fingers traced absent patterns on the wooden table. "They're still working on it?"
"Mm." Kurda's expression remained neutral, but something in his tone suggested concern. "Been at it quite a while. Must be trickier than expected."
Satan's tail twitched against Elara's neck as she processed this information. A dungeon that experienced adventurers couldn't clear after weeks of attempts. Her hand instinctively moved toward her dagger, remembering her first dungeon dive. It took them less than a day.
"How many have gone in?" she asked.
"Started with one group." Kurda's four hands worked in perfect sync, organizing his papers. "Word spread. Now there's a small settlement forming around it. Good for business, if I can get there."
Elara nodded, understanding the appeal of setting up shop near a dungeon. Fresh adventurers meant fresh coin, and those who survived would need supplies for their next delve.
"When are you planning to head out?"
Kurda's hands shuffled the papers into neat stacks. He rose from the table, tucking the documents into various pockets. "Today."
"Today?" her voice cracked. Satan's claws pricked her shoulder at her sudden movement. "What am I supposed to do while you're—"
"Help, of course." Kurda's expression didn't change, but his tone suggested this should have been obvious. "You'll come with us. Extra eyes and arms are always welcome when setting up shop."
"I'll help," Elara said, straightening her posture. Finally, a chance to be useful instead of just taking up space.
Kurda nodded, gathering the last of his papers. Without another word, he headed toward the cellar door, disappearing down the wooden steps.
Elara turned to Satan, still perched on her shoulders. "What about you? Coming with us to the dungeon?"
Satan's tail flicked once against her neck. The cat gracefully leaped down, its spear glinting in the lantern light. Before she could reach out to touch that soft-looking grey fur, Satan padded up the stairs, leaving her alone in the common room.
"Right then," she muttered, watching the fluffy tail disappear around the corner. A pang of disappointment hit her chest. She'd hoped to at least pet the warrior cat once.
Elara settled back onto the bench, fingers drumming against the wooden table. Better to wait here until someone needed her help. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling as her mind wandered to her Class Roulette skill.
When had she last used it? She counted on her fingers. The day she got the Voidstalker class... then leaving with Flamebeard... meeting Esme... That was a few days ago. Her eyes widened. Today is the day she could spin again.
The Token of Specialization from the dungeon burned in her mind. A chance to choose her class archetype rather than leave it to chance. She'd been so distracted by recent events, she'd nearly forgotten about it.
Elara hurried into her room, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft thud. She locked it; the click echoing through the small space. The room was sparse, with only a bed, a chest, and a few other necessities.
Satisfied she was alone, Elara activated her Class Roulette [lvl 1] skill. A golden wheel shimmered into existence before her, its surface gleaming with a hypnotic light. She could make out the labels etched onto each slot, but staring wouldn’t change anything. The outcome was never something she could predict.
Beside the wheel, a yellow window flickered to life—one Token of Specialization available.
She weighed her options. A warrior class would make her tougher, her strikes hit harder—good for close combat. A mage, though, meant more mana and greater freedom with her skills, which had its own appeal. Another rogue class might suit her evasive, hit-and-run style. A healer could keep her alive when everything inevitably went wrong.
Trying to clear her mind of all these thoughts. She knew she had to decide quickly. She activated the Token of Specialization and watched a text input window appear.
Sad at not having a list appear that she could browse, she quickly typed in what she wanted.
Not wanting to keep the roulette visible for too long, she reached out and gave the wheel a spin, watching as it twirled. The golden light danced across her face as she waited with bated breath.
As the golden light faded, she stared at the name that had landed on. The system window appeared announcing her achievement.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Congratulations! You have fulfilled the requirements: [???] for attaining the class Vessel of the Divine.
Vessels of the Divine are those deemed worthy by higher powers—chosen not by merit alone, but by a god’s will. They serve as living conduits of sacred intent, selected for their unwavering devotion, selfless resolve, or incorruptible spirit. The power they wield is not their own; it flows through them, a gift granted in trust, not ownership.
Would you like to equip the class [Vessel of the Divine] to your second Class slot?
Elara stared at the title. Vessel of the Divine. It sounded like a textbook support class, probably the kind that focused on healing others.
The “Divine” part made sense—she expected some holy-flavored class to exist.
But it was the Vessel part that gave her pause.
A vessel wasn’t just a healer. It was a container. Something meant to be filled—used.
Did that mean the power wasn’t hers? It said so in the class description. That she was just a conduit for some higher being’s will. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t want to be hollowed out to serve someone else's design.
Still... it was another class—it might be worth it.
She reached for the [Yes]—
The window glitched.
Lines of text warped and blurred before snapping into something new.
?? Warning: Connection Timeout
No god has claimed ownership of this Vessel.
Divine link: Unsuccessful
Core abilities may be compromised.
Initiating fail-safe contingency...
Elara's hand hovered above the confirmation prompt, motionless. No god has claimed ownership. The words sent a chill through her. Ownership. Had she nearly sold herself to a god?
She stared at the message, trying to make sense of it. Were the gods even there?
Or had they simply refused to answer?
A knot twisted in her chest—uncertainty, dread, and something she couldn’t name. This class had been built for communion—for surrender—and no one had come to claim what she’d unknowingly offered.
And yet, beneath the confusion, a quiet breath of relief stirred.
She knew far too little about the divine to trust one, let alone bind herself to their will. The thought of becoming someone’s chosen vessel—her body used as a mouthpiece for a god she barely understood—made her skin crawl.
Maybe this silence was a kind of mercy.
The system adjusted. A new window blinked into place.
Class evolution initiated.
[Vessel of the Divine] → Analyzing failed parameters...
— Divine link: missing
— Core miracles: unavailable
— Grace protocols: invalid
Reconstructing class framework... Substituting divine channeling with internal source logic. Adapting abilities for unassisted function.
New class formed: [The First Unanswered]
The interface dimmed to a muted silver-gray, the golden filigree of the original class stripped away. In its place, the new name pulsed softly at the top of the screen—somber and solitary.
Class: The First Unanswered
No deity responded. No bond was formed. You are not a vessel. You are what remains. You carry no blessing, only the weight.
Would you like to equip the class [The First Unanswered] to your second Class slot?
Lost on what else to do, she clicked on yes.
Congratulations!
You have successfully changed your second class to [The First Unanswered]. As a reward for your choice, you have gained the following stat points:
Strength: +0
Vitality: +15
Dexterity: +5
Intelligence: +5
Wisdom: +10
She looked at the stat distribution, raising an eyebrow. The heavy focus on Vitality caught her attention, making her wonder about the reasoning behind it. But she could understand the need for durability in a healer class.
She leaned back, savoring the anticipation. The system did not disappoint. A new window materialized, detailing her newly acquired skills.
Passive Skills:
Unyielding Presence: Increases the maximum health by 20% and grants 10% increased resistance to all damage types.
Empty Blessing: Reduces the duration of debuffs by 30%.
Active Skills:
Healing Touch: Channel healing through physical contact. The higher your wisdom, the greater the healing. Mana Cost: user defined. More mana spent, the greater the healing.
Lance of the Faithless: Fires a piercing lance of arcane energy at a target, dealing arcane damage. The longer the lance travels, the more power it loses, reducing its effectiveness with distance. Mana Cost: 120 mana per cast.
Absolution’s Cost: Cleanses all debuffs from an ally. Mana Cost: 2100 mana per cast.
Her eyes widened. 20% increased health? 10% damage resistance? Those were solid bonuses.
Empty Blessing sounded useful should another silenced status effect affect her.
She scrolled down, intrigued by the active skills.
Lance of the Faithless seemed straightforward enough, a ranged attack. Healing Touch made sense, healing at the cost of mana. Absolution’s Cost sounds amazing to be able to clear all debuffs, could that skill have healed Velma? Maybe, but the mana cost is far too much for her right now.
She wondered just how strong the healing would be. She needed to test everything. Trying it herself might be an option, but her poor health made her question the wisdom of such a risk. It would be better to have someone else to test it on. Her thoughts drifted to the dungeon. Maybe she would get her chance there.
The urge to test her healing abilities was strong, but the thought of intentionally injuring herself made her uneasy.
She takes out the Solstice Shard. The blade's edge caught the light filtering through her window.
Her eyes scanned her body, searching for the least painful spot. The forearm seemed safest.
The dagger hovered inches above her flesh. Her heart hammered against her ribs. One quick cut, that's all she needed. Just enough to test the healing.
The blade pressed against her skin. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and dragged the edge across her arm.
Fire erupted along the cut. Tears sprang to her eyes as blood welled up from the wound. The sight made her head spin. A blue notification appeared in her vision, showing her health drop:
[Health: 462/477]
The cut wasn't deep, but it stung far worse than she'd expected. Her hands shook as she activated Healing Touch, pressing her palm against the wound. Warm energy flowed from her core, down her arm, and into the cut.
The sensation reminded her of sunlight on her skin, but concentrated on a single point. Her mana rushed out like water breaking through a dam, pouring into the healing skill without restraint.
The cut sealed itself before her eyes, flesh knitting together in seconds. The pain vanished, replaced by a pleasant tingling sensation. Leaving her skin unmarked.
A quick glance at her status showed her mana had dropped.
[Mana: 351/390]
She ran her fingers over the healed area, marveling at the smooth skin. The spell had consumed 39 mana to restore 15 health points. But something puzzled her. While her health bar had filled gradually, the physical wound had closed almost instantly.
She frowned at her arm, turning it this way and that in the light. The disconnect between her visible healing and her status screen made little sense. Perhaps Krill, with his experience, could explain the mechanics behind it.
She wiped her dagger clean on her black shirt, grimacing at the dark stain it left behind. The dried blood flaked off easily enough, but the shirt was another matter. She should have asked to get it washed yesterday, the fabric already carried enough dirt and grime from her travels.
A soft scratching sound drew her attention to the door. Her hand tightened on the dagger's hilt before her brain caught up with her. The noise came again, followed by a distinct meow.
She opened the door to find Satan sitting primly in the hallway. The cat's extra set of paws near its neck made it look like it was wearing a fluffy collar. But what caught her attention was the small bundle tied to Satan's miniature spear.
Her heart melted at the sight. The fierce warrior cat had somehow attached what looked like a cloth-wrapped package to its weapon. The spear balanced perfectly despite the added weight.
Satan meowed again, more insistent this time, and turned toward the stairs. The cat paused at the top step, looking back at her with an expectant expression that seemed to say, "Well? Are you coming?"
Elara followed Satan down the stairs, wondering what could be inside that tiny bundle.
The common room buzzed with unusual energy. Lana darted into the kitchen, emerging seconds later with an armful of containers.
Elara blinked, watching the whirlwind of activity. Whatever had gotten into Lana seemed to have transformed her into a blur of perpetual motion.
Making her way to the bar, she settled onto a stool. Satan leaped onto the counter with silent grace, the bundle still attached to its spear. The cat's tail swished back and forth as they both watched Lana race past again, this time carrying what looked like bedrolls.
Elara drummed her fingers on the counter, curiosity gnawing at her. But she knew better than to get in Lana's way when she was in such a state. Better to wait until the assistant slowed down enough for a proper conversation.
She turned her attention to Satan, who sat regally on the counter, spear and bundle still perfectly balanced. "Looks like we're going to be traveling companions," she said softly.
Satan's gaze remained steady, those intelligent eyes fixed on her face. The cat's tail swished once, then settled.
Elara's fingers twitched with the urge to touch that soft-looking fur. Last time she'd tried, Satan's spear had served as a clear warning to keep her distance. But now... Satan seemed different, more relaxed. Besides, she reasoned, if the cat truly objected, they'd make it known.
She slowly raised her hand. Satan watched the movement, whiskers twitching slightly. She moved her fingers closer to Satan's side, giving the cat plenty of time to retreat or object.
Instead of pulling away or brandishing the spear, Satan lifted one of their front paws. Elara froze, unsure what to expect. The paw descended onto her hand, pressing it firmly against the counter's wooden surface.
A wave of joy rushed through Elara as she felt the soft squish of Satan's paw pad against her skin. The sensation was impossibly gentle, like pressing against a tiny velvet cushion. She barely dared to breathe, afraid any movement might break this moment of connection.
The gentle pressure on her hand increased. Satan's paw pressed down harder, claws pricking against her skin. The message was clear. Her joy at the contact had been premature and unwelcome.
Pain shot through her hand as Satan applied more force, tiny daggers digging into her flesh. Elara kept her face neutral, refusing to give the cat the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort. The pressure built until her knuckles turned white against the counter's worn surface.
She met Satan's steady gaze, noting the calculated look in those feline eyes. This wasn't an attack, it was a lesson. The cat's other paw remained wrapped around the spear.
The claws dug deeper. A drop of blood welled up where one particularly sharp point broke skin. Still, Elara didn't flinch. She'd faced down a dragon. She could handle a cat's disapproval, no matter how pointed it might be.
The cat's claws remained firmly embedded in her skin. They had made their boundaries clear before. No touching. Yet she'd ignored that warning, pushed past it because of her own selfish desire for fluff.
"I'm sorry," she said, not dropping her gaze from those piercing eyes. "You were right to stop me. I shouldn't have tried to touch you without permission, especially after you already showed me you didn't want to be touched."
The pressure on her hand eased slightly, though Satan's paw remained in place. A drop of blood trickled down her hand, staining the wooden counter beneath.
"I won't do it again," she promised, meaning every word. "I should have shown you proper respect from the start."
Satan's claws retracted fully, though the paw stayed pressed against her hand for another long moment. When the cat finally lifted their paw, Elara kept her hand exactly where it was, showing she understood the lesson.
The tiny wounds stung, but she resisted the urge to heal them. They would serve as a reminder to respect others' boundaries, even those of a cat with an extra set of paws and a miniature spear.