Outside the sun was setting; at least, that’s what Liam would’ve seen if there were any windows inside the banquet hall. Several hours had passed since he arrived here, and Sherry had already treated his wounds. Without any modern painkillers, it made him thankful for the lack of feeling in his feet as he didn’t suffer as much when the glass was pulled out; the same could not be said about the shoulder.

Liam stared at the worn-out pair of shoes on his feet. After Sherry had finished her treatment, she told him to take a pair of shoes from one of the deceased patients. At first, Liam was hesitant; the thought of wearing a dead man’s clothes was unsavory. Getting up, he had gone over to the pile of corpses forming in the corner and began digging through it – it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The fetid scent when he lifted the cloth was stomach-churning, remembering it was enough to make him gag.

Survivors continued to arrive, entering through one of three separate doors, one for each of the hallways. While Liam didn’t actually know what was in the left and right halls, based on the injuries of the people arriving, he had formed a general idea. The survivors coming from the right doorway had deep lacerations and, in some cases, even missing limbs. Those from the left had broken bones. Regardless of which door they entered from, everyone had expressions befitting the nightmare they had experienced.

Among the survivors, some had familiar faces. An hour or two after Liam, Aaron, along with a few others, had entered the room. There was no sign of Dan or Michael, but Claire and Erika trudged behind Aaron, who carried an unconscious girl, presumably Alexandra, in his arms. It appeared that the scream and corpses he had seen on the street, didn’t belong to them. While he was a bit curious where Dan and Michael were, he could tell the group wasn’t in the mood to talk, nor did he care that much.

Aaron had various cuts, bruises, and bite marks covering his body, more than Liam remembered. His battered body was indicative of the struggles they had faced getting here.

The other two girl’s appearance was no better. The area below Claire’s elbows was coated with dried blood, and her clothes were stained where blood had been wiped, like a field medic after treating a soldier bleeding to death. Her face was twisted in frustration as she dragged Erika along behind her, forcefully pulling on her arm. Showing no resistance, Erika shuffled along, staring blankly at the ground.

At some point, the doors had stopped opening, and no other new survivors arrived. The work of the voluntary medics lessened as they stabilized existing patients, but…

A new issue emerged in the room, the need for food and water. There was no food, and water was limited, distribution was being tightly regulated. But now that the day was ending and people were settling down, they were demanding more, the reason – they were trapped.

The doors from the halls were one-way only; you could enter, but not exit through them. People had been thoroughly searching the entire room, checking behind the curtains on the stage to even the floorboards for a hidden passage but found nothing.

“Give us water!”

“Stop hoarding it for yourselves!”

“We’re going to die! We need water!”

A mob had started to form near the tables distributing water; it consisted of mostly people who sustained minor injuries. Compared to them, Liam’s condition could be considered more severe.

“Everyone, please calm down! I can assure you that water is being distributed fairly. We aren’t going to let anyone die of dehydration.”

A mature man in charge of the water distribution addressed the crowd, trying to settle their agitation. He was also one of the volunteer medics; both the water distribution and medics all worked as one group.

“That’s bullshit! Do you think we’re stupid! There’s enough water for you to give out twice as much! You just want to keep it for yourselves!”

“YA!!!”

The mob roared as a young man in his earlier twenties, stepped up, and got right in the mature man’s face.

“No, you’re misunderstanding… We need to keep water for sanitary needs too. The medics need to clean their hands and tools to prevent infections. We aren’t-”

The man distributing water desperately tried to explain the situation, but he was cut off before finishing.

“Who cares about that?! We’re going to die of dehydration before an infection!”

“Fuck this! Let’s just take it ourselves!”

“YA!!!”

“No, please wait, listen to-!”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH!!!

Suddenly, a sound that was tens of decibels louder than a fire alarm started ringing.

Reflexively Liam covered his ears. The noise reminded him of the ringing of an audio feedback loop in a microphone. He put more force into his hands over his ears, desperately trying to block out the sound; it felt as if his eardrums were about to burst. Finally, the noise stopped, and a female voice could be heard.

“Good… Looks like you’ve quieted down.”

The voice was far colder than the air outside; there wasn’t a hint of compassion in her voice, making her sound robotic. Liam’s eyes drifted towards the stage where it originated.

Clack…clack…clack…

An elegant young woman walked across the stage; the room remained silent except for the clacking of her heels against the hardwood floor. She was wearing a lapis colored dress that accentuated her womanly figure. Her golden blonde hair was tied into a bun, and her porcelain skin was free of any blemishes except for a single beauty mark under her lower lip.

…clack…clack…clack!

Upon reaching the podium, she stopped. She ignored the whispering crowd as her eyes scanned the room.

‘Huh, shouldn’t there be more of them?’

With an expressionless face, she pulled out some papers and leisurely flipped through them.

‘Let’s see… What? Only 64 out of 300 survived. That’s it? That can’t be right…’

She continued reading the report.

‘…It says 27 died to the Cleaner, 62 to the hounds, and 43 to the traps in the castle… So, what the hell killed the rest of them?’

Her eyes narrowed as she discovered the answer; despite her unchanging expression, there was a hint of distaste in her eyes as if she had taken a bite of spoiled food, and the vile aftertaste was still lingering.

‘11 committed suicide, 26 died to other humans, and the rest to other causes… Trash – they’re all trash. Even the ones that made it here are trash… I knew it. I should’ve refused this promotion… They expect me to welcome such useless pieces of… Damnit! We should just kill them and redo the Earthling summon rather than waste resources.’

Of course, she knew most of the deaths were due to her lack of instructions. The Gods had put her in charge of the ‘trails’ for the new Earthlings. She decided what items they were given, instructions they were told, and their objective. However, since she didn’t care, she just threw them into the middle of town with a bunch of monsters, hoping most would die before they reached the castle; the faster this was over, the faster she could leave. The only hint she gave them was leaving the lights on in the castle. If these Earthlings had any survival instincts, they’d head toward it; where there was light, there was life.

She looked up from the report and scanned over the survivors in the room again, making sure she hadn’t missed anyone that stood out. After confirming that, at best, there were a few above-average Earthlings, she came to a decision.

‘Well, I’ll just get this done as fast as possible. No point in wasting too much of my time when they’ll die before getting out of Kelm.’

If she had more authority, she would’ve killed all of them and summoned new Earthlings, but she didn’t. Getting this over as fast as possible was far less problematic than pissing off her bosses. Nodding to herself, she addressed the restless crowd.

“Quiet.”

Instantly, the room fell silent. The woman's voice wasn’t loud nor hostile; it was void of emotion. Instinct caused everyone to listen obediently.

“I’ll keep this brief…”

Clearing her throat, she continued.

“I will be your Host for this evening. I congratulate you on being selected to partake in this once in a lifetime opportunity. You’ve been given a chance to gain riches and fame beyond your wildest dreams. You might even say that you’re the chosen ones…”

Her unenthusiastic tone, coupled with the poorly written script, fell far short of inspiring, much less motivating anyone. It resembled a scam sales call telling you that you’ve won a free vacation to the Bahamas.

“… If you haven’t figured out already, this isn’t Earth. You’re in Orbis now. And no, this isn’t one of your Earthling games… Please, do yourself a favor and understand that… With every batch of you Earthlings, a few dumbasses think this is a game and end up dying some stupid way, hoping to revive. I don’t know how it works in your world, but in Orbis, death is permanent.’

This admission caused the room to stir. Liam was also surprised; he had been convinced this was virtual reality. But it didn’t change anything. He was already treating everything as if it were real-life, so the Hosts words were unnecessary. He would prefer to learn answers to some crucial questions: Why were they summoned? Who summoned them? What were those monsters in town? What is the status window? Can they go back to Earth, and if so, how?

“Listen up because I’ll only explain this once.”

The Host clapped her hands, pausing for a moment while attention fell back onto her.

“I’m sure that you’ve all seen the status window by now. I’ll explain a few things about it. Open it up and follow along.”

Following her instructions, Liam opened his status.

[Status Window]

[General]

Name: Liam Harvell

Age: 23

Class: Ranger (Rank 1)

Sub-Class: None

[Skills]

None

[Stats]

Strength: E

Stamina: E-

Agility: E+

Endurance: F

Magic Power: C+

[Personal Traits]

Distrusting – Does not trust others.

Cold – Hard to approach, unfriendly.

Loner – Prefers to be alone.

Levelheaded – Maintains calm.

Fast Learner – Improves quickly.

Upon re-opening, Liam noticed that it had changed. His previously unassigned class was now Ranger.

“Everyone has been assigned one of four classes: Warrior, Ranger, Cleric, and Mage. The Gods assigned your class by observing you, and the actions you took to get to this room. They choose the class they believe best suits you.”

The Host’s explanation was brief, but it made sense to Liam. Class was determined by the methods of problem-solving they used. There had been many problems on the way to the castle, passing the two-headed dogs and traversing the hall of traps were just a few. People could solve these in many different ways, using force, wits, leadership, teamwork, observation, stealth, strategy, and more.

In Liam’s case, his methods were closer to a Ranger than a Warrior or Cleric. Starting from when he proposed climbing over the wall to clearing the hall of traps, his actions were based on observation and stealth; he wanted to avoid conflict as opposed to Aaron, who charged in headfirst. Even when they fought the dogs, Liam hung back, allowing him to kill the dog that had attacked Dan. Although he had failed to be stealthy on numerous occasions, it wasn’t for lack of trying, his peers had always drawn attention. The Ranger class fit him.

‘If that’s what determines a Ranger, what about the other classes?’

The most notable trait for Warriors was strength. Aaron was the ideal image of someone who fit the Warrior class. Strength, when pertaining to Warriors, is usually thought of as physical power, the use of force, and even violence, but that’s not always true. It can refer to mental strength and leadership ability. If someone led a group safely to the castle using strategy and teamwork, was that not the action befitting a Warrior?

Liam's thoughts shifted towards Cleric. This one was simple. Since a Cleric was a healer, the only candidates for it were the volunteer medics who treated others or displayed medical knowledge like Dan.

‘But, how is Mage determined?’

This was the hardest one for Liam to figure out. There was no such thing as magic outside of fiction on Earth, so Liam didn’t know the traits of a Mage; he had some ideas, but at best, they were guesses.

The first was that the Magic Power stat determined it in the status window. However, that would mean the class was determined by luck or genetics as there was no way to raise the Magic Power stat on Earth; this went against the notion that your actions determined your class.

His next idea was that it had to do with intelligence, as many works of fiction depicted them that way. Was it based on logic, or something else? Liam couldn’t say that any of the problems he had faced had a “solution” that a Mage would choose based on intelligence alone, so he concluded it must be something else. Maybe it was a mixture of a few different qualities.

‘I’ll figure it out eventually...’

He continued to listen to the Host.

“Your stats are your physical capabilities. They go from A to F in grade, and there are three stages in each grade. Some people may experience a burst in strength after receiving their class, but…”

She paused and looked around the room.

“… It won’t affect any of you, so don’t worry about it.”

Her condescending tone, sounded as if she was saying, ‘you’re all trash,’ upset more than a few people.

“Finally, your sub-classes and skills are determined the same way your class was. Just keep in mind that actions and choices affect the direction of your class as you rank up…”

Liam equated it to: If a Ranger used daggers, then they would gain sub-classes and skills that would be more roguelike with each rank increase. Likewise, if a Mage used fire magic, then they would become a Fire Mage as they ranked up. Subsequently, the classes would grow according to the direction you desired. Assuming you performed the necessary actions, it could lead to an unlimited amount of unique class possibilities.

“Okay, that’s enough explaining. Stand up and get on stage, it’s time to leave. Line up before entering the portal.”

The Host pointed towards a pitch-black doorway, similar to the one Liam had passed through to enter the hallway leading into the banquet hall.

Everyone obeyed and got up, forming an orderly line. Some people rushed up, eager to leave while others stayed behind, helping the injured.

Liam was part of the former group, wasting no time in getting himself into line. He noticed a table with a pile of small bags, with the Host standing a few paces away. Once everyone was in line, the Host made one last announcement before allowing them to depart through the portal.

“Take one bag. It’s a welcoming gift from the Association. There’s thirty nickel inside, so don’t be stupid and lose it. You won’t get another.”

Liam never imagined that they would receive generosity from the Host or any of the organizers, especially not after the ordeal they had been put through.

The line began moving, and one by one, people took the bags and passed through the portal. Liam watched the Host who was paying little to no attention to them whatsoever. Between her brief explanations and lazy, unmotivated attitude, Liam wished that there was a customer satisfaction survey or somewhere he could leave a scathing review.

Suddenly, the Host spoke as a thuggish man with notable gang tattoos on both arms slyly shoved three bags into his pockets.

“Didn’t I say only to take one? I'll give you another chance. Put the others back and leave.”

“Tsk.”

The thug clicked his tongue and dashed towards the portal. Immediately, another thug with similar tattoos grabbed a handful of bags and ran after the first. The Host pinched the brim of her nose as if she was trying to suppress a rising headache, while the second thug turned around and flipped her off.

“Fuck you, you arrogant bi-!”

The man stopped mid-sprint, unable to finish his sentence. Both men were frozen like ice statues stuck in mid-motion; neither of them had a chance to realize what had happened, as their expressions hadn’t changed.

Crash!

Falling to the ground, they shattered into thousands of shards of glass. Every cell in their bodies had been transformed into ice. Even if de-frosted, they could never return to their previous form; all that would be left would be a puddle of liquified human remains.

At a complete loss for words, all anyone could do was stare at the Host. She had a single index finger extended towards the men. She looked as if she had just killed an ant, an action so insignificant that she didn’t think twice about it.

Returning her arm to her side, she glanced at the crowd staring at her with a look stating, ‘why did you stop?’ The line resumed moving at a quickened pace.