*Whiiiiiiieeee*
"Shit! The coffee!"
A disheveled young man reached over to turn off his stove, and his tired eyes gleamed as he poured the brown liquid into a cup. Art was an avid gamer and after a long night grinding away at a popular MMO with his clanmates he was mentally wrecked. They had just completed an extreme level boss battle which they had only won by the skin of their teeth, Art had been the main reason for their victory.
Why do you ask?
He was the raid party's one and only healer. (Classic)
Glancing at his watch he realized he was late.
"Fuck!? It's already 7:30! My boss is going to kill me if she finds out I was late again."
Rummaging around he picked up the deodorant off his bed and gave himself a quick college shower.
"I showered yesterday it should be fine."
He then changed into his orange work shirt and a pair of gray jeans. His look, complete with a pair of beat-up sneakers gave off a carefree student vibe.
After grabbing a bag and his keys he walked out into the hallway of his apartment building. After getting into the elevator and pressing the down button he started to think about his life leading up to this point.
...
He had arrived in this country at the age of 6. His parents had run from their war-locked country in hopes of a better future for themselves and their only son.
Their escape from their country had nearly been a success but then, disaster struck. The family got spotted by a passing border patrol. Art's father in that situation thought of only one thing, and that was saving his family. He quickly pulled out a handgun while shouting at his wife to take the kid and run. The last words Art heard were:
"I love you both to the bottom of my heart, I hope the one above protects you. Now come at me motherfuckers!!"
As the pair escaped the unloading of clips and the screams of men were the only things that could be heard filling the cold night air.
...
After two weeks of travel, the mother-son duo made it across the border of the free country. They got accepted into an immigration plan for refugees from their nation and were assigned some council housing. Art's mother got a job at a restaurant to take care of their bills and to pay for her son's learning.
The now single mother and her son Art lived a peaceful life. He got into college while she got promoted to shift manager at the restaurant. They were both satisfied with their lives. On his 18th birthday, Art received an apartment as a gift from his mother, to which he promptly moved, while she stayed at their council home.
Two months after his birthday he got some terrible news from the hospital. His mother had been accepted in after an accident at her work. Following some thorough scans, the doctors deemed that she had cancer.
Sadly they had found out about this way too late. The doctor in charge of his mother's ward told him that she only had a few weeks left.
This news shook him up he ended up spending at least 6 hours a day by her bed just talking to her. He fell off on his studies and lost contact with all of his friends.
A deep sadness enveloped him but he never missed a day to talk with his mother. He brought homecooked food made fresh by him every day, she had always complained about the hospital food being disgusting, remarking that.
-I didn't teach my bright son to cook like a chef to spend my last days eating this hospital garbage.-
Whenever anyone heard her comment she was showered by envious looks. Art could only smile as she said these words day after day.
...
The call came while Art was working at his barista job in the big city. He didn't tell anyone what happened, just told his boss he was taking sick leave.
When he got back to his apartment he sat down and just stared at the wall. After what felt like hours he got up and went to take a cold shower to clear his thoughts.
When he got out he glanced at himself in the mirror, he was greeted with a face that was handsome yet ordinary. The only features that made him stand out were his long messy hair and a scar on his jawline, his mother had told him that this was an old gunshot wound from a stray bullet.
Looking down you could see a lean and athletic physique nurtured by years of running and a good diet.
At that exact moment, he realized just how much his parents had sacrificed just for him to have a good and fulfilling life. His father had given his life for the family's future. His mother had overworked herself doing overtime every day so he could get a better start at his adult life.
Thinking about all of these memories he felt a warmth filling his heart. That night he cried himself to sleep for the first time.
...
When the day of the funeral came around it rained.
As his mother's casket was lowered into the ground Art glanced around.
"May the one above accept her into the afterlife, she was..."
Only the cleric who read the deceased last blessings was present.
Having lost contact with just about everyone he didn't invite other people as he felt no one knew him.
"Well at least you'll be with dad now."
Art muttered through held-back tears.
Art then put in the first shovel of dirt and lit a candle, after thanking the cleric he left.
...
3 years later he had graduated from medicine in college with flying colors.
*DING* *DING*
He was knocked out of his thoughts by the sound of the elevator arriving on the first floor.
Walking out into the street he made his way over to the small brunch and coffee shop at which he worked.
Taking a step onto the crosswalk he noticed his manager in the store window. She was waving at him and mouthing something.
He tiredly waved back trying to discern what she was trying to communicate. It went something along the lines of:
"watch... truck... left"
His fatigued mind couldn't comprehend all she was trying to get through to him, but he still glanced to the left. What greeted him was a semi-truck nearing his location.
Only one exact thought crossed his mind.
"Am I about to get isekai'ed by a truck?! Fucking classic!"
*SKREEEEECH*
The sound of tires squealing and then an unsavory
*SPLAT*
were all that was heard.
Art's vision turned black.
...
"Aaaaaa What The Fuuck!"
"Hello Art."
"Aaaaaa the fuck are you!"
"Who me?"
"Yes you, the voice inside my head."
"Oh me? mmm... I don't know myself, but that doesn't matter right now."
"Where am I?"
"You Art are in the world called Kittirath. A land filled with magic, beasts, and all sorts of things that I have no clue about!"
"So what are you? Some kind of all-knowing guide?"
"That's right you could call me your guide."
The voice in Art's head said smugly.
"But are you not a bit of a trash guide if you aren't fully omniscient?"
Art's remark was followed by a period of silence. The voice then carried on cheerfully.
"Now that you are in the world of Kittirath before doing anything you will have to choose your class. Shortly you will be shown 3 classes, each with a short description. These classes are based on what you did in the past. Choose wisely, as the class you pick will be the one you have till the end of your journey in Kittirath."
Soaking in this information Art asked.
"So how can my adventure in Kittirath end?"
"Death!"
"Oh..."
It was Art's turn to be stumped. And awkward silence ensued.
"Is there any other way for this journey to end?"
"Nope!"
More silence.
Acknowledging what he had just heard Art looked around. He was in a clearing in the woods. All that he heard was the chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl.
Looking down he saw that he was wearing a brown tunic and some matching pants, his feet were bare.
He then quietly muttered.
"You can carry on with the explanation from before."
"Thank you, Art! Now, as I was saying. You will be able to choose from 3 classes. These vary from person to person. Kittirath is a world with endless possibilities. You may be able to become a mage and control an element that you have an affinity to. Or a fighter that can overpower any beast or monster with his overwhelming strength and finesse. Even a ranger with an eagle eye who can snipe their enemies from a distance."
"Wow! Just like the MMO, I used to play."
"That is true, your analysis is correct."
"How do you know that?"
"Well, you see, most of your memories have been absorbed by me to better help you assimilate to Kittirath"
"Makes sense, I guess."
"Now Art. Place your right hand on your temple."
"Why?"
"STOP ASKING QUESTIONS FOR JUST A MINUTE AND DO AS I SAY!!"
Startled by the change of tone Art didn't hesitate any longer and touched his temple.
What happened next made him realize that this was no ordinary dream and he wasn't going crazy.
In front of his eyes appeared a glowing blue interface. Just like something out of a game. Next to it was an avatar that resembled him to the dot.
He reached out to touch it. The 20cm he spun slightly, he recognized he could check his body's condition with this new tool.
"How cool!"
He thought.
"Hello... Hello Art... you still there?"
The voice that had gone back to normal asked.
"Yep, still here."
"That's good, some people had mental breakdowns after seeing their interface for the first time."
"Wait... WHAT?!"
"Your mind is quite sound. I can see you getting far in this cruel world."
Hearing these two remarks Art was shocked, but he now knew better than to interrupt the voice.
"So, let's see what three classes you'll be able to choose from."
Following these words, three cards floated out in front of Art's interface.
They were as follows:
Witch Doctor
Healer
Cleric
Witch Doctor: High LVL support and healing abilities. Their main downside is the need to sacrifice their vitality for their spells. (A plague doctor that cuts himself to acquire power. FUN!)
Healer: Highest LVL of healing abilities with slight buffing capability. As a healer, you have no know downsides. Well except for the fact that you are useless without a party. (A child with a pool noodle has higher combat potential!)
Cleric: Mid LVL support and healing abilities. As a cleric, you aren't that great at anything. You don't seem to have any glaring weaknesses. (Well at least you can fight by yourself.)
"Wow..."
The voice said quietly with no hint of emotion.
"Nobody ever wants to be the healer yet you still got only healing-based support classes."
"It can't be that bad right?"
Art asked with a hint of fear in his voice.
"Mmmmm..."
The voice hesitated. Then the howling of a wolf could be heard.
"Well it was nice knowing you, Art. I hope our last moments together were not that unbearable."
"What do you mean it was nice knowing you?!"
He got no further reply from the voice.
Reaching out with his hand he chose the most logical option for his current situation.
CLERIC.