I scowled down at Orlok. “What have you done? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Orlok. “However, in exchange, you will be able to learn your very first Profession, and in turn, increase your chances of surviving this horrible game.”

“No,” I said, and I could feel myself shaking from anger. “What did she mean by ‘my life’?”

“Fear not, Attainer,” said Aling Asunta. “Your umalagad was a most persuasive talker. She convinced me to grant you my knowledge and abilities in exchange for a single heart of your Ginhawa.”

“What?” I looked at my hearts. Suddenly, from three, one popped like a bubble. Now there was only 2 left, along with the 2 temporary hearts that I had. “What the hell?”

“With this,” she said, as she a heart wreathed in white flame materialized over her head and slowly fell to her hands. “I shall live longer.” She smiled, and for a second, I could see the shadow of a hooded figure dancing across her grin. A crooked, elderly woman with incomplete teeth. That apparition only lasted for a few moments, and when she straightened her back and loosened her shoulders, she was once again back to that old, sensual middle-aged body, with a body worthy of striking down goddesses of beauty and grace.

“Now hold true to your end of the bargain, witch.”

“Nuno, I ask you, please do not strike any more bargains without my consent.”

“Descendant—“

“Nuno.”

There was an awkward silence, and then Orlok went silent. I sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Very well,” said the witch. “In exchange for a portion of your Ginhawa, I will be teaching you a portion of my power. Come, and let us sit while I make dinner.”

She walked out of the hole and over to a stack of firewood she had outside of the hole of the church. It was placed atop a roofed bamboo housing as well, although it had no walls. There was a rattan matt beside the cooking pot, placed below a sitting pillow. There she set up a stone pot over the firewood. She took a step back, snapped her fingers, and her anklet shone. In the next moment, embers danced on the firewood, which met each other, and then ignited into a flame, heating the stone pot.

Then, she walked over to the tapayan to grab a few chunks of meat, which she threw into the pot. “I’ll be cooking some fried meat.” She grabbed one of her glass containers and dabbled frying oil into the pot, and then covered it.” Then she waved her hands once over the flame, and the flames grew.

With that done, she walked over to the church pews and grabbed another feathered pillow, slapping it against the table to clear it of dust and residue. Then she grabbed a rattan mat from the side of the altar, and made another sitting cushion beside the pot.

“Come,” she said, as she sat on her side of the bonfire. I looked at Orlok, who still didn’t talk to me, and shrugged. I walked over to the sitting pillow she had set and sat, thanking her for her hospitality.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I don’t usually get visitors, you see.”

I looked about the area. We were sitting in the middle of a small clearing. To my front, past the witch and a wall of trees, I could see the village, which was abandoned. To my left was the same wall of trees, and I knew that we were in the middle of that crown of trees that I had seen beforehand.

Behind me were more trees, but there was a path that led to another clearing in the back, among the trees. I decided not to ask about that for now. I had other questions.

“What happened to the villagers?”

“Oh, them?” She looked behind her. “Gone, as you probably might have guessed. They’ve been gone for a hundred years.”

“Huh? Why?”

The lady stared at me, and then said, “Because the Attainers failed.”

I asked her what she meant because her short little answers surely did not give me enough to go on.

She sighed, peeking into her stone pot. Frying something was going to take a while, I knew. “All right. So, the story goes like this: the God Within the Cathedral has set up a cruel game: He asks to be killed, for His existence is wretched, and so is this broken heaven. Every time He is killed, He would be brought back to life after 333,333 years. And so, every 333,333 years, the greatest of heroes would set forth to kill God.

“The catch is, 333,333 years ago, the Attainers died. Now that God in the Cathedral has been wreaking havoc across all of the worlds. Failing to kill Him caused His influence upon the world only to strengthen, and His Hatred grows immensely powerful. So powerful, in fact, that it infests the world itself, as the manufactured warriors known as Maligno, and the corruption that is the Malign. Now it is up to you to kill the God Within the Cathedral.”

“So what, the world ended… that long ago?”

Aling Asunta nodded. “The world is dead, and so are many others. The Attainers have failed. And so this is where we are now. In truth, I am surprised to find out that the game is still on. The Idiot God who finally won… does he still seek death? Eternal rest?”

“But wait, if God will just return when he is killed, then why does it keep going?”

At that, Asunta simply shrugged, staring at the embers of the bonfire.

I decided to move the situation to another, somewhat lighter tone. “Alright, um, what’s with ‘Attainers’?”

“It is the sobriquet for those chosen to kill God,” said Aling Asunta. “It comes from the ancient phrase when the game was first created: Nine shall come to Heaven, attain the blasphemous name of Karanduun, and kill God. Karanduun was the title for all those that changed the world. It was the name for epic heroes of legend.”

“And I’m supposed to attain that name? But how?”

“Gather enough Gahum, embrace power, and enslave others to your will. Then you shall kill God.”

I sighed, rubbing my head. “All right, well, let’s backtrack for a bit. My head’s going to hurt with all this cryptic talk. So you’re telling me everyone in this village is dead?”

She nodded. “Has been dead for almost over a hundred years. When I first arrived here, the village was infected with that crawling, viscous corruption known as the Malign. But I have since purified it.”

“That’s good. I guess that’s why the air is so nice here.”

“It is comfortable. See, a bit west of here runs a river, which rushes from the waterfall that runs down from the mountain altar that you have come from. There I get to fish and other provisions, and sometimes traders come by from upriver settlements.”

“So there are people still living about, going about their lives?”

Aling Asunta nodded again. “Now, the food is ready. I have some leftover rice in my tapayan. Let me go get some.”

Before long, we were sitting in front of each other, with a makeshift bamboo table floating upon invisible legs. It was surprisingly stable, despite being held up by weird sorcery. She had porcelain plates and cups, within which was water. When I smelled the cooked pork, I suddenly remembered to be hungry.

We ate mostly in silence. She asked if I would like tea, and I said that that would be nice. She brought out some clay cups and a ceramic teapot, which she heated to a nice boil with a simple snap of her finger. The tea was seemingly steeped with whatever she had lying around. It was nice, and had the fragrance of jasmine.

As I ate, I felt myself rejuvenated, ready to take on whatever challenges I would face. Strength built up on my hungry muscles, and I wondered how I could’ve lasted 333,333 years without eating a meal such as this.

In a few minutes, we were done eating. I had shoved the fried pork pieces into my mouth with the rice. As we lounged about digesting our food, Aling Asunta said, “Give me a few minutes, and then we will begin your training.”

I nodded, and then my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You keep saying that but I don’t actually know what you’re going to be training me in.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll see.”

She took me to the back of the church, where there was a wider clearing past a huge sprawling garden of herbs and spices. There in that clearing, was a stone cliff that led down to more plains. Then past the plains, a river. From here, I could see large mountains afar, and the sun slowly beginning to dip.

“Here, put this around your neck.”

She threw me a necklace made of gold, with a symbol of a gumamela upon it. The symbol seemed to have been made out of hardwood. I put it on.

“What’s this? A magic item?”

“A Profession Agimat,” she said, tying her hair up high atop her head. “Agimat are, well, magic items in this world, that give a variety of effects. Necklaces, trinkets, bracelets, even armor: all Agimat. Now, the Agimat you hold is a Profession Agimat, and is something not may get a hold of, for construction of it is lost to the Kedatuan of Pinakaumpisa, the First State of the First Age. There a people known as the Ilaka, the first people, created vast magics, the imprints of which you can still feel today. Like that Profession Agimat.”

I stared at it. It burned a great pale yellow at me. “What does it do?”

“It stores the things you’ve learned from the Professions you take up. Professions in this world are things woven into the threads of reality, for every thing has a spirit, and so do professions.”

“Ah, is that why I’m considered Unemployed?”

“Yes. Mostly children have that Profession,” said she, as she removed her shirt and then stretched.

I blinked. “Should I remove my shirt as well?”

She shook her head. “I am simply irritated at the fabric rubbing against my skin. Ignore me and stay on topic. The first thing you must know is that there are many kinds of Professions. There are the Venturing Professions, which most Attainers take up. There are also Trade Professions, which are the most common type of Profession, for they are what you must take up to create a living in this dead world. These Professions, in truth, do not need a Profession Agimat to learn. You simply practice the trade and then they become part of your self. Those with the Profession Agimat have an advantage. When you learn skills and rank up in your Profession, it goes to your Profession Agimat, and not just your soul. Then, you can Switch Professions simply by changing the Agimat you wear.”

She held up her finger then, and spoke a word. A blue witchflame danced about it. Then, with her other hand, she pointed down, and spoke another word, and a flower sprouted from it, immediately blossoming, as if it had gone through its entire life. “I am of the Profession known as Mangkukulam, a witch profession that studies the Black Lore. The Black Lore, simply put, are destructive and transmutive sorceries.”

I looked pointedly at the flower. “That doesn’t look destructive nor transmutive.”

“I also know the ways of the Albularyo, the Folk Healer Profession which studies the White Lore. The White Lore is the opposite of the Black: they are regenerative and manipulative sorceries.”

I nodded, understanding. Slowly it was dawning upon me.

“So you can have multiple Professions in a single Profession Agimat?”

She shook her head again, flicking her wrist and letting both the flame and the flower fade. “I have what is called a Dual-Profession Agimat. It lets me learn two Professions at once. However, there is a catch: I can only learn half of each Profession.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.”

“Versatility needs some caveats. That is the harshness of this game,” said Aling Asunta. “Now, come and take my hand. I offer to train you in the ways of the Dabbler, the beginner Profession of the secret Lores. It’s the least that I can do, and the Dabbler is one of the rarer beginning professions to begin with, after all.”

“Dabbler?”

And then, in my mind’s eye, I saw the information for the Dabbler rise up.

Dabbler

Beginning Profession.

Notable Unlocks: Herb Lore. Harming Curses. Light Elemental Manipulation.

The Dabbler is one of the two beginning Venturing Professions, the other being the Fighter. Those that Dabble learn the ways of the Lores, how the world works and its secret, sacred, sympathetic language. From herbs to the spirits within them, from simple harming curses to manipulating existing elements. The Dabbler branches off to four Intermediate Professions: Mangkukulam, Albularyo, Babaylan, and Red Scientist.

I nodded. “I see, I see. You know what, sure. I’ll take it.” I stepped forward and reached out to grasp her hand, but then I stopped. “But wait, don’t you think that my Traits wouldn’t fit it?”

She shrugged. “You have a Superstition of 1. That should be enough.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, and closed my hands into a fist, hovering above her outstretched fingers. “Where do you think I can get someone who can train me to be a Fighter?”

“Fighters are easy to come by, many men that run carinderias usually have a background in fighting, and they’d be more than happy to teach an Attainer, I’m sure.”

I pouted again, still lingering for a few more minutes. If… I could learn Dabbler now, I could use the mystical abilities to supplement my fighting style. Like a roving spirit warrior or something. However, if Profession Agimat are few and far in between, then it would be hard for me to grab another Profession Agimat to learn the Fighter… unless…

“Witch, you said that people without Profession Agimat learn a profession and have it woven into their soul. My question is, if I learn a Profession without a Profession Agimat, and then learn another with a Profession Agimat, can I switch between them, as I normally would?”

The witch smiled. “Aye, that you can. That is a certain trick many use. For example: my Soul Profession is different from what I wear with my Profession Agimat.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“A secret for your teacher to keep. Now, are you willing to take my goodwill? Its flames are fanning out.”

I shrugged. Knowledge of the secret lore… what’s the worst that can happen? I’d need it anyway. Perhaps spells don’t break after a few battles, in this cruel game.

And so, I opened my hands and clasped it down to grab her. A pale yellow light emanated from her hands, and my Profession Agimat shined as well.

Something in mind’s eye burned:

Dalita, Gahum 1

Went from Unemployed to Dabbler!

After that exchange, I let go of her hand, and she smiled. “Let us begin, shall we? The first thing that Dabblers should know is that the universe is alive and breathing. It responds to your commands, so always give it respect. Reach up to the sky, and look at that sun.”

I did so, squinting as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon.

“See that sun?”

I nodded.

“That sun is dead. The second rule of being a Dabbler is learning that this living, breathing world is but a corpse of its former self. The spirits that thrive—even we, all of us—are just ghosts. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

Damn. I blinked and stared at my hand.

“Now back to specifics. As a Dabbler, you begin at Rank 1. Being Rank 1 gives you the benefits that you probably see in your Soulsight right now.”

And I did:

Dabbler

Rank 1

Rank 1 Unlocks:

Brew Remedy - You can brew Remedy recipes. You must get recipes first.

Dabbler Tricks - You can learn Dabbler Tricks, which are small spells that exploit the little sympathies and spirits of reality.

“Alright. Brew Remedy and Dabbler Tricks?”

“Yes. Dabbler Tricks are not huge sorcerous workings, unfortunately, but it will surely help you. While giving you a remedy recipe will be enough for you to brew it, for Dabbler Tricks, I much teach them to you. So now, come and I shall show you how to perform this Dabbler Trick.”

And she turned to one of the trees—old and broken, leaning over the cliff—and she snarled a word I cannot write here, for her words and syllables were an unwriteable language. Then, an invisible force slammed into the side of the tree, breaking it completely in half, and sending its upper part tumbling down to the plains.

She turned to me and grinned. “Hamok.”